Summary: What would happen if Simon could cure River?
Disclaimer: Render unto Joss what is his.
Companion piece to Into The Sun
And God help you if you are a phoenix,
And you dare to rise up from the ash.
32 Flavors -- Ani Difranco
Its scares him that I might get better. More than black, open space. More than bounty hunters. More than two by two. It terrifies him that his frantic late night scribbling and his glacially methodical calculations will actually amount to something. That he will be able to bring me back out of my own mind. That I’ll be able to formulate proper sentences and that I won’t hear what ever it is that I hear. That maybe, just maybe, I won’t need him anymore. And when that happens he isn’t going to like the man he becomes. Then he’ll have to try and love her like she wants him to even though he can’t. That just isn’t the way he works, he has to possess and she is like a wild sea bird. He will try and put her into a gilded cage but it will still be exactly that, a cage. So she will fly away and he will be alone again. Then he’ll turn to flesh and stubble and gun oil and fucking and it will be good. I can feel how good it is going to be at night when he practices alone in his bunk, but it won’t be enough and they’ll both want to grip too tightly and it will tear them to pieces. Then he shall become the man Mother assumes she raised him to be. He’ll sit in her shuttle and pretend to be civilized out here in a place that they both know isn’t and they will drown their sorrows in cups of sake laced tea and each other. Soft, and silent; no names, and no regrets. It won’t last long, she is too tall, he too cultured. And that is when he will turn to the Latin. That is where I will lose him to the complex grammar and suffixes and conjugations. That is why it scares me that I might get better. So I swallow the pills only when he is watching ever so intently, and ignore the clearing in my mind after injections that work far better than he’ll ever know. I spin and cry out in the middle of the night with tears in my voice so that we can both have an excuse. And God help me the day I can’t be broken anymore.