bottleneck | ▌│█║▌║▌║ open post ║▌║▌║█│▌

"You should've gone to the nearest fully staffed facility as soon as you could after this happened."

So, definitely not about Eros. He understands the impulse to take the big hit to help someone else, he understands sacrifice. He also understands that letting a machine treat you with the most slapshod band-aid of a solution to the problem at hand is idiotic.

Well, it's at least enough to lower his hackles enough to continue this conversation.

"There wasn't time for that," he admits.

First there was Eros, and finding out what really happened there, and trying to stop it from destroying Earth, and then there was Ganymede, and the war, and everything else. But that isn't entirely true, is it? There was time he could've, and didn't, take.

"Okay, fine. Do you have any suggestions?"

He ambles a few steps closer, as though to take a look at all of Simon's notes.

Yeah, Simon doesn't look like he buys it, but he doesn't keep pushing it.

"A few, but I want to go over your chart and the readout from the autodoc on your vitals' fluctuations before I narrow it down."

The notes are open for viewing. His own handwriting is atrocious in his notebook, a kind of shorthand he learned ages ago. When he writes something someone else needs to read, he takes the time to make it legible, but for now? Scribbles. Literally. And every book and screen open to a different theory or detail -- tumor growth, (relatively) ancient chemotherapy, metastasis, and a few articles on treatments specific to the hospitals he's worked in. Alliance tech, which isn't a comforting thought, but it works.

There's something discomfiting about seeing it laid out like this, across all these pages and screens. About the disease, about what's happening in his own body as they speak. Cell cycles spinning out of control, mutating, and then getting destroyed by his meds. All it'd take is a device malfunction, a missed day, a mass developing resistance or evading detection, and this would be his reality.

On the other hand, that's assuming some (probably protomolecule-related) bullshit doesn't kill him first.

"You want a readout now?"

As in, should he be putting on that familiar arm cuff?

The protomolecule is not an excuse for bad medical care.

At least now, even if Holden is discomfited by the information laid before him, Simon seems somehow more relaxed. He knows what to do with this, he knows the steps he needs to take to move forward to a stable solution.

"If you don't mind. I've changed some of the settings on what information it'll get during the routine scan to make sure I'm not missing anything."

Simon can be a funny mix of polite and no-nonsense. He says if you don't mind, but there's clearly not much question to it.

Holden sits himself down and puts on the cuff, lets Simon run whatever he needs to. After all, all Holden really needs to be doing here is sitting still and doing nothing, which isn't exactly strenuous.

(Though it does feel like his time could be better used elsewhere. He can always check the news feeds on his hand terminal, but Simon likely wouldn't appreciate a distraction that could affect the readouts. Like, say, his blood pressure.)

"I appreciate that you take your work seriously," he says, because he does. "But I didn't bring you onboard to fix my chronic conditions. That's my problem; it doesn't have to be yours. You don't owe me anything."

He's a funny guy like that. Probably why he focused on trauma surgery and not direct patient care.

Holden says his piece, and Simon focuses for a few moments on transferring the readouts to another device, glancing over them for anything that might need immediate attention. When he looks back at the captain, he looks a little grim.

"You're my patient now, no matter the reason behind why I'm here. Which makes it my problem."

It's been a long time since he worked in a hospital, under optimal conditions, but he's always taken pride in his work. There's no excuse for letting something like this go without the best treatment. And, maybe, this is the best way to show his own gratitude to Holden for bringing him and River on in the first place. There isn't a lot else he has to offer beyond his skills.

Well, as long as Simon is clear he isn't obligated....to do this.....anyway, they can always revisit this conversation if need be. Instead, he notes the grim look on Simon's face.

"What is it?"

Oh, he's absolutely obligated. That's just how he functions as a person, apparently. Obligation and responsibility, all wrapped up in a barely functional young man.

And on this point, he might have expected more of a fight.

Simon shakes his head, sets down the data and crosses his arms across his chest as he leans back against one of the medbay's counters. Casual, a signal that the argument (such as it was) is over.

"Would you have seen anyone if I hadn't come on board?"

For now, it's not worth fighting over. If it starts causing a problem, or getting in the way of things they need to do, or if Simon seems worryingly fixated on this...they can revisit this.

Anyway, he shrugs.

"No."

Keeping it real.

He is absolutely going to fixate on this, at least when he has time away from fixating on River's treatments. Simon has already sunk a decent amount of time on research on any differences in this system's med supplies for anti-psychotics and treatment plans. This is just, you know, a fun side-project.

(One he might actually make satisfying progress on, but he doesn't let that thought linger.)

"Well, now you're stuck with me," said with a sigh, because that's about what Simon expected. How he manages to end up on ships with self-destructive men at the helm is beyond him, but it speaks to his general luck in life.

The thing is.

The thing is, if it isn't broken, he doesn't want to fix it. He keeps an eye on his own health, quietly. He has regular scans on the autodoc for tumors, keeps his implant full up with power and medicine. Makes sure their stock of meds never dips dangerously low. This is a solution that may not be perfect, but it works. It makes it easy for him to keep on top of his treatments, keeps him active and present and able to deal with every challenge that comes their way.

The thing is, he's the captain of this ship. He doesn't want to make them worry: Naomi, Alex, Amos. He's here to take care of them, of the Roci, and he can still do that. They need to be able to rely on him.

The thing is, they were the last ship off Eros. He and Miller took enough radiation to kill them several times over; but a hundred thousand people didn't make it off Eros. Even Miller didn't, in the end, not really. If he could change anything about that day, it wouldn't be the radiation. It'd be all the people he didn't save. And that's a regret the whole crew will carry for the rest of their lives.

The thing is, Holden's living on borrowed time. He survived that day because he was lucky; because Miller was there to help him make it to the docks, because Naomi made sure the ship waited for them. That's all there is to it. So he'll take whatever extra time he gets with gratitude, and try to put it to good use.

What he says, looking upwards at Simon as the autodoc beeps quietly, is, "You know, when people say someone around here can't help trying to save people, they're usually talking about me. I'm starting to think that's just because they hadn't met you yet."

Simon manages a laugh at that, though it's...

Quiet, amused but held back. A little bitter. Maybe a lot bitter.

Most days it isn't hard to wonder about what-ifs, the past. He'd wanted to be a doctor for as long as he could remember, wanted to be the one that fixes people. That takes something impossible and heals it, restarts a heart or replaces a lung. There's power in it, a kind of high knowing he has the knowledge and the skill at his disposal to save a life. Others in his class were after that first and foremost, and the credits it would earn them, but from Simon's perspective it was a duty, too. Money wasn't a real goal, considering his family, and power had never really interested him.

He wanted to help. He felt responsible. Why would he be so good at this if he wasn't meant to use it, to do what he could?

Ever since River went to the Academy, that sense of responsibility narrowed down to a single point focused on her recovery, but he's not going to ignore a problem that's right in front of him. He's going to do what he can.

"The God Complex of a doctor. They get handed out when you start medacad," is meant to be a joke, but there's more truth in it than he'd like to admit.

He laughs, obligingly. Just briefly. But what he remembers is Dresden in the echoing hallways of Thoth, ranting about the protomolecule and the fate of humanity and brushing aside the deaths of everyone on Eros like they were nothing. Less than a rounding error, he'd said.

"There are worse things."

Not all doctors and their God Complexes are created equally. It's not lost on Simon that there are those out there doing the worst with the skill they have. How can he, when he's reminded of it every time he sees his sister? How can he with this crew, where even with the barest details about what happened on Eros he knows the story already: someone decided to test the limits, and didn't care about who died to make it happen.

He doesn't laugh when he agrees, just a tired, "Yeah, a lot worse," before the autodoc beeps its indication of being done with the scan. He also doesn't elaborate on that observation, just pushes off from the counter to undo the cuff for Holden.

"That's all I need for now. I'm sure you have other things to take care of."

For a while, that's the end of it. Life goes on as it does on the Roci, which is to say they get swept up in multiple system-wide crises in between quieter gigs to bring in some cash. They acclimate to the Tams' presence, and hopefully the same happens in return.

And then Simon suggests returning to his own system for medical supplies.

"Excuse me?"

They do acclimate, in bits and pieces. River probably better than Simon at most turns, even if she finds every opportunity to remove her magboots and walk barefoot through the ship. Most of his time is spent in the medbay, working on treatment plans or immediate traumas of the day's crisis.

For this conversation, though, they're in the kitchen. With coffee, because neither of these men know how to just stop and rest, and this is something Simon has been considering for a while.

"There's a treatment plan I think is worth attempting, but the drug series is only available through Alliance-based pharma." He says it steady, like he's rehearsed it in his head.

"A treatment plan."

His mind goes to River, because that's the natural assumption. It's usually River's treatment that's the concern, Simon constantly troubleshooting her health and trying to figure out better ways to help her approach some semblance of normal.

"What drug series is this? Maybe we can try finding it on the black market before making a trip over there."

It ought to be something for River. Simon is well aware that she should be his focus, but he tells himself that this is the relatively easier puzzle. This is a puzzle with all the pieces still on the board, one that can be solved. (He ignores the implication that his sister cannot be solved, leaves that resignation for another day.)

He considers Holden's suggestion, though.

"We can check, of course. But cancer meds barely make it out to the Rim, let alone to inter-system black markets."

Holden had been turning back to the coffeemaker, a hand reached out to pick up his mug. And then Simon's answer starts to register, and he pauses.

And then Simon's answer fully registers, and he turns around.

Meanwhile, Simon was under the impression he'd been clear about this from the beginning, and is standing innocently considering the potential availability of the drugs on the black market.

"We can always try to get in contact with the Serenity again, if we need to."

"Hold on a minute."

He punctuates that with holding his hands out briefly so Simon stops.

"You want to go back to your system, the same place where you and your sister are fugitives, where the government is experimenting on kids, to find...some different anti-cancer meds?"

Well, he gets Simon to stop, so there's that.

Though he does stand back a little, arms crossed in what is an attempt to look casual and not defensive.

"I think want is a little hyperbolic."

Want doesn't factor into it, really. Getting Holden better treatment is what he's supposed to do, end of story.

"Then what is so special about these meds that you believe they're worth all that risk?"

He crosses his own arms, not exactly demanding, but. Definitely judgmental.

Simon watches as Holden takes the most captain-y stance possible when they're standing around the kitchen and tries to not feel like a child. (He is a child. He and River both are children alone in a world that they don't know.)

"They get the best results with the lowest risk of catastrophic side-effects."

PICK YOUR POISON
PIC PROMPTS / TFLN / RANDOM SCENARIO
HAN SOLO velocities	BETTY MCRAE bombsheller	RIVER TAM subsulcus	RIVER TAM (AU) comprehender
SIMON TAM vest	BRIA THAREN exulted	NADINE CROSS bridaled	GU JUN-PYO toddler
available on special request: veronica sawyer, benjamin linus, imani, maria deluca, mushu, poseidon, niccolò machiavelli, malik al-sayf, chloe

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BET YOU THOUGHT YOU'D SEEN THE LAST OF ME

SURPRISE, BITCH

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