Firefly fic
Nov. 21st, 2005 10:56 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
serafina20Or, serafina returns to her slashy roots.
Simon fled down the hall, heart pounding. Sweat was pouring down his face, blurring his vision. Oh, God. Oh, God oh God oh God oh God.
The door bruised Simon's palms as he slammed it open. It smashed into the wall, and he heard the painting hanging on the wall fall to the ground, glass shattering.
"Simon?" he heard someone say, but he didn't pause, merely continued his flight to the bathroom.
He barely made it. He'd just gotten the toilet seat up when his body convulsed, breakfast rushing back up on him.
"Shhh," he heard Prophet's soothing voice say. "Shhh, it's okay. Calm down."
"I can't," he croaked. "Oh, God, what the hell was I thinking?" He spit into toilet and flushed. Even though his stomach was still quaking, the smell was making him feel worse.
"Drink." A glass of water was pressed into Simon's hand.
He sipped at it, stomach rebelling momentarily. Sweat breaking anew over his body, Simon leaned back over the toilet. His mouth was filled with bile again.
"Simon, you need to calm down. Camille is okay. She's..."
The image flashed again in his mind, Camille lying still and pale on the gurney, Mal breathing for her as her heart raced out of control. She'd been so close to going into cardiac arrest as the tachycardia had risen to critical levels. She could have died. Simon had almost killed her, just like the Alliance had killed countless children in the quest to create their army.
Simon lurched, stomach leaping up his throat. The top of his head felt like it was going to explode as he vomited bile and acid into the toilet. Tears leaked from his eyes, snot dripped from his nose as his body shook and tried to rid itself of its poison.
Prophet put his hand on the back of Simon's neck. It was cool against Simon's fevered flesh; his long fingers stroked Simon's neck tenderly. "You know, I thought you were a hot shot doctor. You'd think you'd be used to having patients almost give out on you."
"This is different," Simon said, flushing the toilet again. He picked up the water and took another sip. "I can't do this. This is torture."
"No it isn't."
"I stuck *needles* into Camille's brain!" he shouted hysterically.
Prophet raised an eyebrow. "Yeah? You do realize that the brain doesn't feel pain, right?"
"That doesn't matter! Camille was terrified, and I forced huge probes through her skull into her brain."
"Camille was terrified because of what the Alliance did to her. To us. Not you and not the doctors here."
Simon shook his head and pressed his forehead against his knees. "No. This isn't right. I almost killed her. I'm a yao guai. An ying de sang shen. An chi wu mei. An chi wu zhi ye. An ying de sang shen."
"Hey." Prophet grabbed Simon and shook him hard. "Stop it. And calm down, ju nu wang. You are not a disgrace. You do not deserve death." He touched Simon's cheek lightly. "And you're the prettiest monster I've ever seen."
"This isn't funny, Prophet." Simon pushed him away. "What the Alliance did to you was unethical and *I* just did the same thing!"
"No, you didn't."
"Then why did she almost die?" snapped Simon.
"Because Garrison and I majorly fucked up, that's why," Prophet shot back. He sighed, sinking down and folding his legs in front of him. Lowering his head into his hands, he said, "We fucked up. It wasn't you."
"How in God's name could it be your fault?"
Looking weary, Prophet massaged his temples. "First off, there were too many people in the room. Camille was having her powers tested and there were too many minds in there. And then, neither Camille nor I saw fit to tell Garrison that your captain is a sensitive."
"Sensitive?" Simon repeated.
"He's particularly prone to sensing psychic powers. He can feel it when he's being read, he can sense it when a psychic is dreamwalking, which I know Camille tends to do."
"Dreamwalking?"
He nodded. "It's just reading people when they're dreaming, only it's more intense because they're dreaming. Sometimes, we're sucked into the dreams, get to participate. At least, if they're a sensitive."
"I didn't know... Does that mean Mal's psychic?"
"No. No, he can't read people or anything. He's just... sensitive to when other people are reading. River. She really likes your captain, doesn't she?"
Simon nodded, rubbing the back of his neck. "She bonded to Mal fairly quickly. I don't know if it was the same for him, but I could tell she was comfortable around him. Intrigued." He smiled, remembering. "She began to refer to Serenity as home and Mal as Daddy within a few weeks. It took me awhile before I realized whom she was talking about."
"Psychics feel comfortable around sensitives. They're easy to project into. If we need to, we can call to them and make our mental voices heard."
"That's why Mal stayed," Simon said slowly. He remembered Zoe pulling Mal away and how, at first, he moved to go before abruptly turning back. "Camille called to him."
"Maybe." Then Prophet shook his head and said, "Probably. She was pretty connected to him the whole time. That what's happened. How it started, I mean."
Simon folded his legs in front of himself and moved closer to Prophet "How it started?" he said, putting his hand on Prophet's knee.
Prophet looked at Simon's hand before answering "Camille latched on to your captain's brain and tried to pull something out of it. I'm not sure what, but it seemed specific. She was searching for something in there and was finding it in pieces. It was hurting your captain because she was distracted by everyone else. If it'd just been the doctors, the captain, and maybe me, it would have been okay. But the full house made it hard on him. So I stepped in and deflected her mind from his. That was it. All I did. Only River decided to help me. I didn't think ..." He stopped talking and swallowed before saying, "I didn't think to talk to her before. To tell her that... that she's so powerful. That she probably shouldn't..."
"It wasn't your fault."
"Gou shi," Prophet said harshly. "I'm ten times more powerful than Camille, it's dangerous when I try to block her powers. River's, like, a hundred times more powerful than I am. I should have said something. To her, to Garrison. I should have thought, but I didn't and we almost killed her." His chin started to tremble. "I almost lost the only person I have in this stupid universe."
Simon sighed and took Prophet's hand. "You didn't. She's alive, you didn't lose her."
"No thanks to me."
"Well, thanks to me. And doctors Douglas and Yasbro, and Captain Reynolds." He took Prophet's other hand and squeezed them both. "Despite everything, it turned out... not badly. But I don't know what to do now. I can't do that to my sister. I don't see the point."
"In order to help River get better, you need to know what her powers are like now."
"But I don't want River to be compelled to use her powers to fight in Garrison's vendetta against the Alliance. I don't want her to be in danger. I just want her to be better so we can fade away in peace."
"Okay, but her psychic powers are a part of her, and in order for her to get better, she has to learn to control them."
"How do I know that that's the truth and not just some party line you've been fed? I mean, how do I know that you're even the good guys and not some elaborate ploy to get River back under the control of the Alliance?"
Prophet sighed and shrugged. "Faith. And you have to trust River. She can read everyone's mind, you know, and people can't hide things like that."
"And I only have your word on that," Simon snapped, stomach turning. "And you only have Garrison's and the people working for him."
"I have twenty-one years of experience, Simon. No one has ever been able to lie to me. Not even Garrison. Not even my parents. Not the Alliance, either." He swallowed, face pale. "I knew they were lying when they asked me to join the program. They made it sound like a choice. I had a lot of potential, they said, and I could do great things. I wanted to do great things, right? And, yes, of course I did. Who doesn't?" His mouth thinned. "The Academy was all about my mind. Our minds. And I knew they weren't saying so much, and I could feel the horrible things they'd do in the name of progress, but I thought I could take it. Let them make me more powerful, stronger, better, and then... But I was a ben dan." He sniffed, looking away. "Just like always."
"You're not a fool," Simon said. He ran his thumb over Prophet's knuckles. "To be offered that kind of power is exhilarating. Flattering." He smoothed his finger up Prophet's index finger until they were flush. "They did the same to me. Came to my school. Pulled me out of class. Told me that they thought I'd make an excellent trauma surgeon and they wanted to put me in an accelerated program. They came right before..."
Prophet snorted. "Right before they took River," he said wryly. He straightened his fingers so his palm was pressed against Simon's. "We're all the children of Blue Sun, created by special vitamins and genetic engineering to create the next leaders, servants, and warriors of the supreme Alliance."
Frowning, Simon said, "Blue Sun?"
"The true power behind the government. They have their fingers in everything. And they, along with the Alliance, especially the Parliament, love trying to make a better world. All of them better worlds." He moved closer to Simon, eyes blazing. "We, all of us, you, me, Camille, River, we are all part of their great experiment to make people better. You wondered it yourself the first day. Why are there so many psychics? Why are there so many of us that came from the upper echelons of society?" Prophet smiled cynically. "The answer is easy. They chose the people who wouldn't rebel when Unification came, the people they could always keep track of and have access to."
"Did our parents know?" Simon asked, too easily convinced by the logic of what Prophet was saying and how closely it mirrored his own thoughts on the subject. Of course, Prophet might just be telling Simon what he wanted to hear, but that was the risk Simon ran.
"Yes, they knew. They agreed to it for position and money and certain advantages. And then they didn't back out. Any siblings just live off their gifts, not caring what happened to those of us who were sent to the trenches." Prophet lightly traced Simon's face, sending tingling sparks skittering over his skin. "You see why you're such a hot commodity around here."
Simon smiled lopsidedly. "No, I don't see. You're the only one hanging around nonstop. Everyone else is ignoring me."
Prophet rose to his knees, pressing close to Simon. "Well," he whispered, his breath hot on Simon's face, "I'm a jealous man, and they know better than to touch what's mine."
His lips were soft and he still tasted faintly of syrup from breakfast that morning. His hand was on the back of Simon's neck, and he held him gently as his tongue stroked Simon's upper lip, causing Simon to shiver.
"You taste like vomit," Prophet whispered into Simon's mouth.
"Yeah," he breathed, stomach quivering as he sat there, hands against his thighs, entranced and unable to move. "I could brush my teeth."
"Good idea." Prophet moved away from Simon to allow him to rise and go to the sink.
He did so as in a fog, suddenly unsure of what he was doing or why. This was crazy, absolutely insane. Simon barely knew this boy and what he did know drove him crazy.
And yet... and yet, Prophet was right last night. After two days of almost constant companionship, Simon was having a hard time thinking of life without him.
"You think too much," Prophet said, standing behind Simon. He wrapped his arms around Simon's waist and kissed his neck gently.
"So I've been told."
"You care so much for River that you don't leave anything for yourself." His hand crept up the front of Simon's shirt, bright, penetrating eyes meeting Simon's in the mirror. "Let go and give yourself this." Prophet's teeth sank into Simon's neck, biting and holding on.
The lightest of pain twisted through Simon; there was an answering throb in his groin. "This is so unfair," he sighed, head tilting back to rest against Prophet's.
"Why's that?" Prophet's breath was warm on his face. His lips brushed lightly over Simon's cheek.
"You're so beautiful. And I'm... so lost right now." He leaned forward and rinsed his mouth out. "Besides," he added, turning in Prophet's arms. "Wouldn't you rather be with someone who's a sensitive?"
Prophet's eyes were dark and intense. He leaned forward and kissed Simon, tongue insistent and probing, hands holding Simon in place as his knees went weak.
"I'd rather have you," Prophet said.
Simon groaned softly resting his forehead against Prophet's. "Am I allowed to bring up the fact that you've just lost someone very dear to you and are vulnerable right now? I feel it's the responsible thing to do."
He hesitated, pulling back. "It doesn't have to be more than just sex."
Simon raised an eyebrow. "Is that really what you feel?"
Prophet's face fell and he stepped away from Simon. "Do you have to make things complicated? Why can't you just accept what I'm offering?"
"Because that's not who I am. Because you've managed to make me feel for you as more than just a pretty boy. Because I want it to be more than just sex and I'm not used to rushing into things."
"Trinity dying doesn't matter."
"It did last night."
"It's a new day."
Simon said nothing at first. Then he reached out and took Prophet's hand. "It is a new day. But that doesn't change yesterday."
The expressive blue eyes rolled. "Look. The one thing I've learned from life is this: anything can be taken away at any moment. Anything and anyone. I've had so much taken from me. My family. My childhood, my innocence, my best friend, my life. I've learned to take happiness when I can and where I can get it. I want you. If you don't want me, that's fine. That I can accept. But using what was done to me or Trinity's death as an excuse not to be with me, that is go shi. So the question is, Dr. Simon Tam, do you want me?"
He didn't know what to say. As annoying as Prophet could be, he was also strangely charming. He was a good conversationalist, easily the smartest man Simon had met in years, and was by far the most beautiful that he'd ever seen in his entire life.
And Simon was only human.
He sighed and cupped Prophet's cheek. "I thought you were a mind reader."
Prophet's eyes sparkled and a wicked smile curved his beautifully full lips. "That's right," he whispered, moving in for another kiss. "I am."
* * *
Simon fled down the hall, heart pounding. Sweat was pouring down his face, blurring his vision. Oh, God. Oh, God oh God oh God oh God.
The door bruised Simon's palms as he slammed it open. It smashed into the wall, and he heard the painting hanging on the wall fall to the ground, glass shattering.
"Simon?" he heard someone say, but he didn't pause, merely continued his flight to the bathroom.
He barely made it. He'd just gotten the toilet seat up when his body convulsed, breakfast rushing back up on him.
"Shhh," he heard Prophet's soothing voice say. "Shhh, it's okay. Calm down."
"I can't," he croaked. "Oh, God, what the hell was I thinking?" He spit into toilet and flushed. Even though his stomach was still quaking, the smell was making him feel worse.
"Drink." A glass of water was pressed into Simon's hand.
He sipped at it, stomach rebelling momentarily. Sweat breaking anew over his body, Simon leaned back over the toilet. His mouth was filled with bile again.
"Simon, you need to calm down. Camille is okay. She's..."
The image flashed again in his mind, Camille lying still and pale on the gurney, Mal breathing for her as her heart raced out of control. She'd been so close to going into cardiac arrest as the tachycardia had risen to critical levels. She could have died. Simon had almost killed her, just like the Alliance had killed countless children in the quest to create their army.
Simon lurched, stomach leaping up his throat. The top of his head felt like it was going to explode as he vomited bile and acid into the toilet. Tears leaked from his eyes, snot dripped from his nose as his body shook and tried to rid itself of its poison.
Prophet put his hand on the back of Simon's neck. It was cool against Simon's fevered flesh; his long fingers stroked Simon's neck tenderly. "You know, I thought you were a hot shot doctor. You'd think you'd be used to having patients almost give out on you."
"This is different," Simon said, flushing the toilet again. He picked up the water and took another sip. "I can't do this. This is torture."
"No it isn't."
"I stuck *needles* into Camille's brain!" he shouted hysterically.
Prophet raised an eyebrow. "Yeah? You do realize that the brain doesn't feel pain, right?"
"That doesn't matter! Camille was terrified, and I forced huge probes through her skull into her brain."
"Camille was terrified because of what the Alliance did to her. To us. Not you and not the doctors here."
Simon shook his head and pressed his forehead against his knees. "No. This isn't right. I almost killed her. I'm a yao guai. An ying de sang shen. An chi wu mei. An chi wu zhi ye. An ying de sang shen."
"Hey." Prophet grabbed Simon and shook him hard. "Stop it. And calm down, ju nu wang. You are not a disgrace. You do not deserve death." He touched Simon's cheek lightly. "And you're the prettiest monster I've ever seen."
"This isn't funny, Prophet." Simon pushed him away. "What the Alliance did to you was unethical and *I* just did the same thing!"
"No, you didn't."
"Then why did she almost die?" snapped Simon.
"Because Garrison and I majorly fucked up, that's why," Prophet shot back. He sighed, sinking down and folding his legs in front of him. Lowering his head into his hands, he said, "We fucked up. It wasn't you."
"How in God's name could it be your fault?"
Looking weary, Prophet massaged his temples. "First off, there were too many people in the room. Camille was having her powers tested and there were too many minds in there. And then, neither Camille nor I saw fit to tell Garrison that your captain is a sensitive."
"Sensitive?" Simon repeated.
"He's particularly prone to sensing psychic powers. He can feel it when he's being read, he can sense it when a psychic is dreamwalking, which I know Camille tends to do."
"Dreamwalking?"
He nodded. "It's just reading people when they're dreaming, only it's more intense because they're dreaming. Sometimes, we're sucked into the dreams, get to participate. At least, if they're a sensitive."
"I didn't know... Does that mean Mal's psychic?"
"No. No, he can't read people or anything. He's just... sensitive to when other people are reading. River. She really likes your captain, doesn't she?"
Simon nodded, rubbing the back of his neck. "She bonded to Mal fairly quickly. I don't know if it was the same for him, but I could tell she was comfortable around him. Intrigued." He smiled, remembering. "She began to refer to Serenity as home and Mal as Daddy within a few weeks. It took me awhile before I realized whom she was talking about."
"Psychics feel comfortable around sensitives. They're easy to project into. If we need to, we can call to them and make our mental voices heard."
"That's why Mal stayed," Simon said slowly. He remembered Zoe pulling Mal away and how, at first, he moved to go before abruptly turning back. "Camille called to him."
"Maybe." Then Prophet shook his head and said, "Probably. She was pretty connected to him the whole time. That what's happened. How it started, I mean."
Simon folded his legs in front of himself and moved closer to Prophet "How it started?" he said, putting his hand on Prophet's knee.
Prophet looked at Simon's hand before answering "Camille latched on to your captain's brain and tried to pull something out of it. I'm not sure what, but it seemed specific. She was searching for something in there and was finding it in pieces. It was hurting your captain because she was distracted by everyone else. If it'd just been the doctors, the captain, and maybe me, it would have been okay. But the full house made it hard on him. So I stepped in and deflected her mind from his. That was it. All I did. Only River decided to help me. I didn't think ..." He stopped talking and swallowed before saying, "I didn't think to talk to her before. To tell her that... that she's so powerful. That she probably shouldn't..."
"It wasn't your fault."
"Gou shi," Prophet said harshly. "I'm ten times more powerful than Camille, it's dangerous when I try to block her powers. River's, like, a hundred times more powerful than I am. I should have said something. To her, to Garrison. I should have thought, but I didn't and we almost killed her." His chin started to tremble. "I almost lost the only person I have in this stupid universe."
Simon sighed and took Prophet's hand. "You didn't. She's alive, you didn't lose her."
"No thanks to me."
"Well, thanks to me. And doctors Douglas and Yasbro, and Captain Reynolds." He took Prophet's other hand and squeezed them both. "Despite everything, it turned out... not badly. But I don't know what to do now. I can't do that to my sister. I don't see the point."
"In order to help River get better, you need to know what her powers are like now."
"But I don't want River to be compelled to use her powers to fight in Garrison's vendetta against the Alliance. I don't want her to be in danger. I just want her to be better so we can fade away in peace."
"Okay, but her psychic powers are a part of her, and in order for her to get better, she has to learn to control them."
"How do I know that that's the truth and not just some party line you've been fed? I mean, how do I know that you're even the good guys and not some elaborate ploy to get River back under the control of the Alliance?"
Prophet sighed and shrugged. "Faith. And you have to trust River. She can read everyone's mind, you know, and people can't hide things like that."
"And I only have your word on that," Simon snapped, stomach turning. "And you only have Garrison's and the people working for him."
"I have twenty-one years of experience, Simon. No one has ever been able to lie to me. Not even Garrison. Not even my parents. Not the Alliance, either." He swallowed, face pale. "I knew they were lying when they asked me to join the program. They made it sound like a choice. I had a lot of potential, they said, and I could do great things. I wanted to do great things, right? And, yes, of course I did. Who doesn't?" His mouth thinned. "The Academy was all about my mind. Our minds. And I knew they weren't saying so much, and I could feel the horrible things they'd do in the name of progress, but I thought I could take it. Let them make me more powerful, stronger, better, and then... But I was a ben dan." He sniffed, looking away. "Just like always."
"You're not a fool," Simon said. He ran his thumb over Prophet's knuckles. "To be offered that kind of power is exhilarating. Flattering." He smoothed his finger up Prophet's index finger until they were flush. "They did the same to me. Came to my school. Pulled me out of class. Told me that they thought I'd make an excellent trauma surgeon and they wanted to put me in an accelerated program. They came right before..."
Prophet snorted. "Right before they took River," he said wryly. He straightened his fingers so his palm was pressed against Simon's. "We're all the children of Blue Sun, created by special vitamins and genetic engineering to create the next leaders, servants, and warriors of the supreme Alliance."
Frowning, Simon said, "Blue Sun?"
"The true power behind the government. They have their fingers in everything. And they, along with the Alliance, especially the Parliament, love trying to make a better world. All of them better worlds." He moved closer to Simon, eyes blazing. "We, all of us, you, me, Camille, River, we are all part of their great experiment to make people better. You wondered it yourself the first day. Why are there so many psychics? Why are there so many of us that came from the upper echelons of society?" Prophet smiled cynically. "The answer is easy. They chose the people who wouldn't rebel when Unification came, the people they could always keep track of and have access to."
"Did our parents know?" Simon asked, too easily convinced by the logic of what Prophet was saying and how closely it mirrored his own thoughts on the subject. Of course, Prophet might just be telling Simon what he wanted to hear, but that was the risk Simon ran.
"Yes, they knew. They agreed to it for position and money and certain advantages. And then they didn't back out. Any siblings just live off their gifts, not caring what happened to those of us who were sent to the trenches." Prophet lightly traced Simon's face, sending tingling sparks skittering over his skin. "You see why you're such a hot commodity around here."
Simon smiled lopsidedly. "No, I don't see. You're the only one hanging around nonstop. Everyone else is ignoring me."
Prophet rose to his knees, pressing close to Simon. "Well," he whispered, his breath hot on Simon's face, "I'm a jealous man, and they know better than to touch what's mine."
His lips were soft and he still tasted faintly of syrup from breakfast that morning. His hand was on the back of Simon's neck, and he held him gently as his tongue stroked Simon's upper lip, causing Simon to shiver.
"You taste like vomit," Prophet whispered into Simon's mouth.
"Yeah," he breathed, stomach quivering as he sat there, hands against his thighs, entranced and unable to move. "I could brush my teeth."
"Good idea." Prophet moved away from Simon to allow him to rise and go to the sink.
He did so as in a fog, suddenly unsure of what he was doing or why. This was crazy, absolutely insane. Simon barely knew this boy and what he did know drove him crazy.
And yet... and yet, Prophet was right last night. After two days of almost constant companionship, Simon was having a hard time thinking of life without him.
"You think too much," Prophet said, standing behind Simon. He wrapped his arms around Simon's waist and kissed his neck gently.
"So I've been told."
"You care so much for River that you don't leave anything for yourself." His hand crept up the front of Simon's shirt, bright, penetrating eyes meeting Simon's in the mirror. "Let go and give yourself this." Prophet's teeth sank into Simon's neck, biting and holding on.
The lightest of pain twisted through Simon; there was an answering throb in his groin. "This is so unfair," he sighed, head tilting back to rest against Prophet's.
"Why's that?" Prophet's breath was warm on his face. His lips brushed lightly over Simon's cheek.
"You're so beautiful. And I'm... so lost right now." He leaned forward and rinsed his mouth out. "Besides," he added, turning in Prophet's arms. "Wouldn't you rather be with someone who's a sensitive?"
Prophet's eyes were dark and intense. He leaned forward and kissed Simon, tongue insistent and probing, hands holding Simon in place as his knees went weak.
"I'd rather have you," Prophet said.
Simon groaned softly resting his forehead against Prophet's. "Am I allowed to bring up the fact that you've just lost someone very dear to you and are vulnerable right now? I feel it's the responsible thing to do."
He hesitated, pulling back. "It doesn't have to be more than just sex."
Simon raised an eyebrow. "Is that really what you feel?"
Prophet's face fell and he stepped away from Simon. "Do you have to make things complicated? Why can't you just accept what I'm offering?"
"Because that's not who I am. Because you've managed to make me feel for you as more than just a pretty boy. Because I want it to be more than just sex and I'm not used to rushing into things."
"Trinity dying doesn't matter."
"It did last night."
"It's a new day."
Simon said nothing at first. Then he reached out and took Prophet's hand. "It is a new day. But that doesn't change yesterday."
The expressive blue eyes rolled. "Look. The one thing I've learned from life is this: anything can be taken away at any moment. Anything and anyone. I've had so much taken from me. My family. My childhood, my innocence, my best friend, my life. I've learned to take happiness when I can and where I can get it. I want you. If you don't want me, that's fine. That I can accept. But using what was done to me or Trinity's death as an excuse not to be with me, that is go shi. So the question is, Dr. Simon Tam, do you want me?"
He didn't know what to say. As annoying as Prophet could be, he was also strangely charming. He was a good conversationalist, easily the smartest man Simon had met in years, and was by far the most beautiful that he'd ever seen in his entire life.
And Simon was only human.
He sighed and cupped Prophet's cheek. "I thought you were a mind reader."
Prophet's eyes sparkled and a wicked smile curved his beautifully full lips. "That's right," he whispered, moving in for another kiss. "I am."
* * *
