Quarantine

Summary: After catching a rare virus, Mal and Simon are confined to one of Serenity's shuttles. But the Alliance is about to pay them a visit… Plenty of h/c and some Mal/Inara romance in the end. Two-shot.

Disclaimer: I don't own anything related to Firefly or Serenity… Darn.

Warning: Simon has panic attacks in this one. Take care of yourselves, kiddies!

Chapter 1: The Corner of No and Where

It's basically ma fuhn.

Simon Tam wipes the captain's forehead with a damp cloth. In the dull light of the shuttlecraft, Reynolds' face is pale and waxy with sweat. The doctor persists with his ministrations, checking the captain's vitals—pulse and respiration—as he had been checking them every half hour or so since they were confined to the shuttle under Tam's own orders.

Quarantine.

What an ugly word.

"Dohn-luh-mah? I said I wanted the jelly-filled donut. Ta mah duh!"

Simon nearly spits out the sip of water in his mouth and rushes to the older man's bedside.

"Captain?" he asks, taking the other man's hand and squeezing for effect. It's the first time Reynolds has spoken after succumbing to the particularly nasty strain of the Patagonian flu and languishing in an almost comatose state since then.

The captain doesn't respond or open his eyes, but his head rolls back and forth, mumbling incoherently.

"Mal?" the doctor tries again, his voice stronger this time. The nickname sounds strange coming from his own lips—Simon supposes it's one of the few times he has ever said it.

"Can't argue… with pineapples…" Mal continues, one string of nonsensical phrases after the other. Simon lays the back of his hand on Reynolds' forehead and feels the heat radiating off the other man's skin.

His fever is spiking, Simon thinks. A smattering of curses in Mandarin confirms this theory. Tam temporarily leaves Mal's side, bringing back cold compresses and water. Minutes tick by maddeningly, but eventually the captain settles. Then his eyes fluttering open so unexpectedly that Simon gasps.

"Hey, doc," says Mal with a dopey grin. His eyes are glazed, cheeks flushed, but he's conscious. Which is huge. Because it means his fever is broken. Which means he's going to make it.

"You had me worried, captain," the doctor says truthfully.

"Don' worry," Mal slurs. "'m not goin' anywhere." Slowly, his eyes close.

"No," says Simon with a contented sigh. "I don't believe you will."

The doctor watches Captain Reynolds sleep peacefully from the table where he munches on dried apricots. In his lap is a paper journal that he's been extensively writing in over the past three days. He writes about their current situation—how a distress signal on Oleander sent both Serenity's captain and doctor planet side only to find everyone in the small colony deceased. There wasn't much left of their corpses—having been almost completely consumed by the virulent influenza Of course, they didn't have the proper facilities or medicine to treat the extremely contagious disease. But Simon immediately knew what had killed them.

Tam didn't want to take any chances of possibly infecting the crew or spreading the disease to another planet by keeping their shuttle attached to the Firefly, so the crew of Serenity dropped off supplies for them as they settled on a nearby moon to await their fate. Zoe assured the pair that the captain's beloved boat would be back in a week to check on them. By then, it would be enough time for the flu's symptoms to manifest themselves.

Reynolds had started feeling unwell right after they landed on the moon, and his condition began to deteriorate rapidly. However, Tam had saline solution to make sure the older man stayed hydrated and adequate medicine to keep his fever at bay.

The shuttle begins to rumble, causing Simon to set his pen down and walk to the controls. Pressing a few buttons, he reads the sensors—a small moonquake, nothing more.

Tam lets out a sigh of relief, pacing the small shuttle from one end to the other to get some pent-up energy out. He has done remarkably well so far dealing with his claustrophobia. At first realization that the shuttle would be his home for the next week, a pang of terror had shot through him, but the man from Osiris had forced himself to focus on healing the captain, performing diagnostics, and writing in his journal. So far, keeping busy had worked.

Perhaps I've cured myself at last!

Simon drinks jasmine tea and turns page after page of a classic Earth-That-Was novel, Jane Eyre. He has just made a mental note to mention to River about a heroine with Jayne's name (in order to feed her favorite pastime of teasing the mercenary about it) when his cup begins to rattle on the table. He grips the armrests of his chair as the shuttle rumbles around him.

"Shuh muh…?" A few feet away, the captain wakes groggily. "What… is that?"

Simon positions himself beside the captain. Instinctively, he reaches out for Mal's wrist, his forehead.

"Moonquake," Tam says quietly, concentrating on the other man's vitals. No trace of fever. He lets out a breath he had been unconsciously holding.

"Hmm…" Mal's eyes swivel left, right, taking in the sights of the shuttle curiously, as if he forgot where he was. "How long have I been out?"

"Almost four days," says the doctor, and Mal groans in response. "How do you feel?"

Mal beams. "You know when you wake up sometimes and feel like you could conquer the whole gorram 'Verse?"

"Yeah?" says Simon.

The captain's smile turns upside down. "The opposite of that."

The doctor brings a cup of water for the other man to take in slow sips and speaks again. How strange to hear his own voice after so many hours without using it!

"At least you're not mumbling nonsense," he says.

Mal swallows water and quirks up an eyebrow. "Really? What kind of nonsensery?" His face grows a tinge redder. "Hopefully nothin'… you know… mo min chi meow… or embarrassin'."

"Oh… no!" Simon reassures, running a hand through his hair and feeling overly warm himself. "Just—something about pineapples."

The captain's bemused expression changes to a crinkled smile, and he laughs, and Simon joins in until the captain's chuckles give way to a coughing fit.

Simon pushes him back down gently after helping Reynolds to more water. "You should rest now. You're not fully recovered."

"All right, doc," says Mal wearily. "Won't argue with you there."

Simon watches the captain until the older man falls asleep. Then he walks back to the table to resume reading his gothic novel, contemplating when the last time he slept was and whether or not he should take anything for the small headache growing in the back of his skull.

"You feel okay, doc?" Mal asks through a spoonful of chili and quinoa mix. It seems like he's barely chewed before scooping up another bite.

"Slowly," directs Simon from the shuttle's controls. "And—yes—I'm fine."

Although he continues scans, Simon watches Mal out of the corner of his eye to make sure the other man is eating at a slower pace. He can't really blame Reynolds though. If the doctor had gone three days without food, he'd probably be just as ravenous.

Tam sends the message to Serenity to rendezvous in a day or two, that the captain is on the mend and they can reunite with the larger vessel soon. Simon feels a chill run through him, and whether it's stress or the anticipation of leaving this cramped space, he's uncertain. Right now, Tam longs to be anywhere where he can stretch his legs.

The shuttle's alert rings like an alarm through Simon Tam's sensitive skull. Having already swallowed some basic medicine for the pain, he's disappointed that it has had little effect on knocking out his persistent migraine. And then there's his fluctuating temperature; one moment he feels hot, the next, cold.

The professional inside him tells him to analyze his symptoms and properly diagnose, but the scrappier thief-in-training part of him (so new, so untapped) has to be strong for the captain, an entire crew in one person.

So Simon disregards his own internal warning system to answer the external one screaming at him. Yellow lights flash, their afterimages burning into his eyes.

"Just when I was havin' a really shiny dream!" complains Mal sleepily, propping himself up.

Simon asks without a beat: "Was it pineapple related?"

"Ha. Ha." Mal stands smoothly, grabbing his russet-colored jacket from the end of the bed. "What do we got?"

Tam checks and re-checks the shuttle's signal.

No. Can't be…

He feels a cold sensation of sweat slide down the back of his neck.

"It's an Alliance vessel. They've picked up the shuttle. Looks like we're about to be graced with a visit."

The captain blanches.

"And me all fresh outta cookies."

Simon thinks: This is it. I am going to be captured. And tortured. And I will never see River again. And Mal will die. And—

"Doc!" Mal's firm grip on his arm pulls Simon away from the dark thoughts. "Before you assume the worst… I've gotta plan. And it's brilliant, totally gao guhn."

Simon crosses his arms.

"I can see that you're not convinced of my brilliance, or of my brilliant plan—"

"—or both," Simon interrupts.

Mal winces. "Or both. But you forget that Serenity will be here within a day, maybe less. If'n we leave the Alliance an empty tin, they won't stick around."

Tam sighs. "Captain, you forget that there's nowhere to hide on this shuttle. And this moon has no atmosphere. Where are we to go?"

Reynolds saunters over to a storage compartment, sliding it open to reveal two glinting, grey spacesuits.

Despite admirable efforts to press his lips together, a strangled cry escapes the doctor's throat.

Mal is feeling peachy. Really keen. Best he's felt in a long while. And who knew that canned chili, of all kuh wu things, could taste so amazing? Even with the Alliance breathing down his ever-loving neck, it all seems too effortless.

"We get in the space suits quick-like," Mal explains to the doctor, as if he's a toddler. "And we head for the abandoned mines—they're only a kilometer away or so. We hide in the mines 'til the ching jien soh leave and sneak back. Easy peasy."

Simon Tam is deathly still, eyes downcast, face a smidgen paler than usual. And that's impressive for a Tam, Mal reckons.

"You're not well enough."

"I feel great!" Mal refutes, removing one of the suits from the storage compartment. And he isn't lying. Aside from some minor weakness in his limbs, he's bright-eyed and bushy-tailed again.

"Then just leave me here," says the doctor.

Mal stops, puzzled. "Doc, I'm not sure you remember… but the Alliance kinda wants to kill you. And your sister."

"But they wouldn't kill me," says Simon, licking his lips. "Not without River. They might only torture me—"

"Only torture you?" Mal pipes up. He would laugh if the remark wasn't so moon-brained. "Yeah, that'd be a stroll through Persephone Park."

"I can handle torture," snaps Tam.

"Then they'd figure out where she is, which means Serenity, which means we'd all die."

"I'd never betray you!" Simon yells, eyes wide.

Guess the doc isn't so calm and collected all the time.

Never one for losing a shouting match, the captain is about to vocalize his opinions further when he examines Tam's face. Within the shuttle, the two men freeze. And Mal suddenly takes in the other man's wide eyes, pallid skin, the slick of sweat upon his brow.

"You've got it, haven't you?" Mal asks softly, his heartbeat picking up. "You're sick."

"I'm fine," Simon says, eyes downcast again.

Mal claps slowly, noting the way the doctor winces at the noise. "Congratulations. That was the worst job at lying I've ever witnessed. And I've witnessed some pretty terrible mi tian gohn."

"I have a phobia," the doctor says, stronger, and he manages to look up at Reynolds.

This time, there is no fabrication in his tone. The doc is telling the truth. And Mal suddenly remembers when the Alliance boarded them after they found the Reaver-attacked craft, how Tam hesitated putting on a space suit even though he knew it was the only way to save his and River's lives. It was the only time Mal had seen him hesitate to do what was right since bargaining for safe passage after Kaylee was shot by the Fed. What Mal had mistaken for sickness was pure fear. And it is perhaps more tricky to deal with in their current sticky situation.

The captain's voice smoothes over, honeyish. "Listen, doc. It'll only be for an hour or so, and I'll be right with you the whole time. It'll be mei wen ti."

The doctor takes another look at the suit, and his entire body stiffens.

"I…can't," he whispers, eyes glassy.

Mal steps closer to the younger man, putting a steady hand on his shoulder.

"Do it for River."

At last, Simon nods, defeated, and Mal helps him put on the clunky suit.

The captain's mind races as his hands brush Simon's back. The doctor's body is radiating heat in waves.

"Only be gone for an hour or so," Mal says out loud, but this time he says it to comfort himself more than Simon.

The doctor's voice trembles.

"It's cold, it's dark, and it's silent… And I feel as if my body is being crushed very very slowly…"

The captain told Simon to describe how he was feeling as the two marched slowly away from the shuttle towards the abandoned mine in the near distance. Mal had said it might help the doctor rationalize his fears—a very practical approach. But Tam isn't sure it's helping.

"…and I think I'm going to be consumed by the darkness, all en-compassing… until I am left all alone—"

"Okay, that's enough," interrupts Mal, his voice coming through loudly in Simon's earpiece. Tam turns slowly to look over his shoulder at Mal, and the captain grins good-naturedly, giving a clunky thumbs-up. "Wouldn't want you to use up all your best creepifying descriptions while we're still out in the open. Haven't gotten to the mines yet…"

Simon looks away, partly in shame, partly in fear, until he feels a light tap on the back of his helmet.

"Hey—" Mal intones. "What did I say? We're gonna get through this together."

The doctor smiles weakly, mustering fake courage he has yet to find. Inwardly, he curses himself.

Just keep it together.

If he didn't have claustrophobia, Simon imagines he would enjoy the sight currently before the pair. The curve of the small moon is visible to them. Above is a canopy of jewel-bright stars, and a brilliant orb of the blue planet, Oleander. White wisps of clouds broil across its surface, blooming above them like an umbrella. A ring of sparkling rocks and ice particles circles the planet they just left, a pretty marker for its deceased. Tam suddenly feels the sky swoon and sway above him.

Simon stumbles over the chalky moon rocks at his feet, and he feels the captain's arm grasping his, steadying him.

"Th-thanks," the doctor stammers, feeling a chill sweep through him. He can't suppress the knowledge that he's sick any longer. Simon ticks the invisible boxes of the checklist of his symptoms: a fever, pounding head, chills, muscle aches…

And we're currently walking away from all the medical supplies I need to get better, he thinks grimly.

The increasing unsteadiness (and impending doom) become more apparent as they approach the ramshackle mine. Simon stops in his tracks, pivoting backwards.

"What if the Alliance takes the shuttle, and we're stuck here?" Tam's voice is hoarse, and he suppresses a cough.

"Not gonna happen, boy," says Mal, emphasizing the diminutive he knows Simon detests. The captain steers him back around by the shoulders.

Simon swallows, his throat dry, and they approach the mine.

The ancient building looms overhead as they step through its entrance. Suddenly, Simon is reminded of a fantasy novel he read when he was fourteen years old on Osiris. He struggles to remember the author. Tolkien.

Tolkien wrote about lots of marvelous places in his books, but one place stuck with Simon more than any other—The Mines of Moria.

Nothing good ever came from venturing into those mines for the Fellowship, especially not the little hobbits.

Simon shivers and stops so abruptly that Mal runs into him, causing the older man to curse in Mandarin.

"I don't like this," says Simon into the darkness that yawns before them. "I'm like Frodo… and you're like Sam… Or is it the other way around?" He trails off, remembering the story.

"What?" Mal spins in front of him, pulling him further along. "We gotta find a place to hide."

"It's a tomb," whispers Simon, examining the glistening black stalactites above him, light-headed.

"C'mon, Frodo," Mal says. "Nothing's gonna happen."

The rumble starts softly, jostling pebbles at their feet. Then it builds so much that Simon can feel it vibrating up through the soles of his suit, making his teeth chatter. The soft grumble becomes a roar in seconds.

Moonquake.

Tam barely sees the blind panic on Reynolds' face, illuminated by the twinkling stars outside, before the ceiling collapses above them, sweeping both men into an inky blackness.

TBC

A/N: I just watched this show after years and years (and years) of friends telling me I needed to watch it. And they were right. It's one of the best things I've seen, and rainbows and sparkles, and I can't even describe how in love with all the characters I am. So (of course) my fanfiction-obssessed self just had to write a ficlet involving two of my favorites. Sorry if the Mandarin usage is terrible—I just found some basic phrases on a "Firefly" pdf guide online. Hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think.