Disclaimer: Not mine. Nuff' said.

A/N: Feedback very much appreciated. Scribbled the whole thing on paper towels while locked out of my room, after I woke up with River in *my* head, and had to tell her story. ---

*And The Living*, Part One When Things Fall

Simon had been dreaming. He knew that, even though he couldn’t remember what about. As soon as he woke up, any fantasy was lost. All he knew was that he woke up with River in his head. Screaming.

It had to be about three in the morning, but that didn’t matter. It also didn’t register that the whole ship was as silent as… well, as a big hunk of flying metal could be. In his head, his sister was crying out to him, clear as day.

He practically flew to her bed, failing to notice or care that he was shirtless, and barefoot. When he got to River’s side, she was still sleeping, but clearly not peacefully. He sat on the edge of her mattress, hand covering hers protectively, and waited.

She was so pale, so fragile. So young. Her hair fanned out, tangled, across her pillow, framing her face as her lips moved in silent- Pleas? Prayers? Configurations? Concentration shifted to panic, emotions slipping fluidly across River’s face like the tide, until she sat up with a scream. Simon was ready.

“Shh, meimei, it’s okay. It’s okay, you’re safe now.” She was shaking, breathless, trying to form words without sound to back them up. He smoothed her hair away from her face, murmuring soothing nonsense, comforting lies. “It’ll be alright.” “It’s over.” There wasn’t much truth to be had anymore, out here in the black.

“This’ll help you sleep,” he promised, pricking her delicate skin with a light smoother. As she lay back against her pillow, she reached out a hand and he looked down at where it rested on his chest. “So fragile,” she said quietly. “So easy to break, such a thin layer holding it all together.”

She looked up at him, her eyes pleading for him to listen, to understand. “It’s not safe, Simon. We’re not safe. We will NEVER be safe.” Her voice gave him chills, but he held her hand tight until she drifted off, muttering about horses and kings, and a queen whose throne had been stolen.

His baby sister. **“You gave up everything you had. And you found me broken.”** That fourteen-year-old with the bratty grin, who could do everything, including push his buttons like no one else. That child was gone, had become a young woman while his back was turned.

But even now, even with the nightmares, and the medications, and the eyes that seemed to be able to read a person’s heart from across the room, she was still herself. She was still River.

And so, he tucked her in, and returned to his room, falling into a restless sleep for a few hours, and worrying even then. Just like he had done the night before. Just like he would do again tomorrow.

Because she was still his sister. That was all that mattered.