InsaneJournal

Simon wakes up in a bed that isn't his.

It's twice as big as the bed he's gotten used to, almost three times as big as the one he slept in on Serenity. The sheets are dark gray and smooth, and he's just in his underwear.

The alarm is going off, but the sunlight isn't yet coming in through the big windows lining one wall of the bedroom. Before dawn.

It's only after he rubs at his eyes and sits up in confusion that he realizes this bed is his, but it hasn't been his for some time. This was his room when he lived in Capital City. This was his bedroom, in the new apartment he'd moved into. He'd liked it because it's close to the hospital. He'd also liked it because it has high ceilings and sparse, modern architecture, and when people walked in they immediately got a sense that the man inside had his life together. He remembers thinking to himself that this was the apartment of a man who was going places, who had a career.

This is the home he left behind when he went to find River.

He wonders if he's gone back home, that the portal's returned him to his world — but he's not in the place where he left off. Everything they said about returning to the same point in time and not remembering Fairharbor, that's not true. He remembers Fairharbor. He remembers having a conversation with Granby over the phone before going to bed.

He reaches for the nightstand to check his phone, but his phone isn't there. In its place is a familiar electronic organizer for keeping appointments. He switches it on and gazes at the agenda for the day: breakfast, exercise, research, continued research, meeting with River.

With River.

He has it marked on his calendar, like a special event. He flips back through the dates. The last time River was mentioned, his last meeting, was two months ago, sandwiched in between research and an amputation.

The appointment is thirty-five minutes.


***


He sees her from across the room, and she is beautiful. Her hair is glossy and bouncy, her eyes bright. She's wearing a dress that Simon knows to have cost a fortune, and she's greeting everyone in flawless Chinese, bowing her head politely to some and kissing others on the cheek.

"River—"

Simon dashes to her and he wraps his arms around her, cradling her tiny frame against his body and holding her tight. He always has to hold her like he's going to lose her.

"Ow. Simon. Simon." River fusses and untangles herself. When she pulls back and looks at him, she has a vague, confused smile. "What's gotten into you?"

I'm not the same person I was yesterday. Simon doesn't know how he got here, or what this life is, but River looks radiant. He holds her out at arm's length, and though he knows he needs to hide it, there are tears in his eyes. "Nothing, just ... look at you."

"I did, in the mirror," says River with a roll of her eyes. Always a brat. "You can let go of me now."

Simon does, but it hurts.


***


River can't decide what she wants to study. She's graduated from her general education, but she's studying everything and can't seem to pin her life down. She wants to dance, she wants to paint, she wants to write books that change the world, discover the cure for every disease, become a politician. It's almost her eighteenth birthday, and the world is at her feet. She could do anything she wants. All she has to do is try.

There's no mention of the Academy. There's no talk about Serenity, or anyone they know.

River answers his eager questions but she's not overly friendly or forthcoming. Thirty-five minutes are up. Simon's organizer keeps beeping with messages.

River glances at where it rests on the table. "Are you going to get that?"

"I don't care about that," says Simon, turning it over.

River snorts. "That's all you care about," she says. It's mean and disappointed.


***


Simon learns that he doesn't have friends. He has colleagues, and he has rivals, but he doesn't have friends. People don't engage him except to talk about work. It turns out he dated another surgeon for a month and it fell apart because Simon couldn't make time for her. She's actively not speaking to him.

He feels a pang of longing for Granby, but there's no way to reach him. This reality is what he has, now.

He thought he wanted this life: money, success, prestige. It feels good, but a day turns into a week. A week turns into two months. It's lonely. It's isolating. He dives into work because he's alone, and that only perpetuates the cycle. He doesn't know where to start over.

But River is safe. River doesn't want much to do with him, but she's safe.

He turns out the light beside his bed on the sixty-first day, and decides that's all that matters.