2011

the flames of the fireplace on your face, when I closed my eyes but through the play of shadows and lights that shone through on your eyelids kept seeing the subtle dance of fire, were trying to imitate dance your dance classes to the dismay of your teachers. had your own room, decorated with maps of distant constellations, holograms of dinosaurs and whatever your new obsession at the time, whether dancing, math or engineering spacecraft. Your mother will give you dolls insisted never moved from their shelves, but you preferred playing with dinosaurs in your hute, as your parents do not discover. There are strange noises

not let me sleep / The new pillow is super uncomfortable / The thermostat in my room must have broken it is cold / I dreamed that the Independents had won the war and stuck our heads on pikes. After a while, he stopped asking and you left to invent excuses to accommodate you under the covers beside him, resting her head on his chest, letting her heartbeat lulls you as a lullaby.

You were teachers, many of them. First you go to school (the best, the most expensive of the Core), whererettes, the raucous laughter of your father echoing against the walls. But it is the moments with Simon who treasure as precious are those memories to those who try to hold on tooth and nail when they start screaming in your head, when darkness threatens to swallow you whole.

had a bright future ahead. So they told the representatives of the Academy who were to visit your home and you believed them, of course. You were a genius, your future had to be exceptional and now that your older brother had left home to pursue their own bright future, you wanted to reach yours. & iquest; you sure, mei-mei, who want to leave so far?

A few years ago the idea would have been immediately rejected, but a few years ago did not have to curl up in a cold lonely bed, burying his face in a pillow that made for months I had lost the scent of Simon. Wanted to leave, because there was nothing to tie you back, because a new road lay before your feet and you could not wait to explore it.

had, had ... You had many, many things that I have ever slip through your fingers, handfuls of sand slidingthe curve of glass clock, inexorable, unstoppable. Joy, dreams, dance steps, memories, peace, clarity of thought is now completely escapes you. Once your mind was an organized, bright, brilliant, once your mind was entirely yours and you could always rely on her, your intellect, your reason ... It is now a broken kaleidoscope, a constant cacophony, memories not yours keeping you awake at night, cries of horror and terror that only you can hear. Now your brilliant mind is your worst nightmare, the prison from which you can not escape, as you are bound by the chains of fear and uncertainty. Can nots trust in what they teach you your eyes, because they often see what is there (do you see beyond them?, you wonder. Or see what there is and maybe algú n day there, or maybe just see what you hallucinate?), you hear screams of pain too close distant voices, voices that are inside the heads of those around you, with words that never come ; na lips.

When your eyes do not seem your eyes when your ears are determined to cheat, when you can not even trust your legs and arms, ASIRT try something, anything. The mathematical formulas work well, if not earid deafening, you can not hear the voice of Simon, so you can not know how long it takes him whispering in your ear, acunándote in his arms, his fingers closed tightly around your world dolls, has learned the lesson from the last time you pluck spiders to blood. Gradually, the din in your head falls until the world around you becomes to take shape, stain light again, to soak up smells, really. But you can not bear to leave him, because in your most vulnerable times of your senses are just as dangerous as hell inside you, so close your pArpad hard and hiding his face in his chest Simon. Inhale deeply, trying to absorb the smell (robe of silk, linen cleaner, low-quality artificial soap, sweat, Simon

), encompassing your breath yours, taking care not to start hyperventilating. If only you could concentrate on slowing your heart rate ... He keeps muttering soothing nothings in your ear to those not paying any attention, concentrating instead on his voice soft, his breath caressing your ear every time the words leave his mouth. You cling tightly to their viscose fabric blue robe, trying to approach as much as possible the heat of his skin, LatinosTwo of his heart that still manage to lull.

-Doc.

not have to open our eyes to know that the threshold is Captain Mal Reynolds ("Mal" means "bad" in Latin, but you know that there is nothing wrong with Mal Reynolds, just a bunch of broken pieces inside you that sometimes can be cut, but not as deep as yours). Simon Stiffens and you cling to it even stronger. "I thought this was already controlled. The girl was improving.

Simon sighs, her breath a caress on your skin.

-La medLXC-Doc, we better do something about it - The captain's voice sounds severe cold, as long as he is forced to say something that does not like - The condition for you two stay here remains the same as ever. Keep it under control, I can not have suffered an attack while we had a toll of the Alliance. Also, I would like

to sleep sometime, if not too much to ask. Dong-ma? 6

Simon answered something in assent, no matter what, and you hear the sliding door and sliding captain's boots off. Only then the position of Simon returns to relax, just,while fingers through your hair, getting involved with the knots but he will have hair that morning, so far away now. -

Ignore Jayne - At the very least, perhaps you do not listen, perhaps because it has never been able to curse out loud, Simon mutters something that sounds suspiciously similar to

guh duh June hwoon Dahn, 7 but could be wrong. Despite his reassuring tone can feel the tension under the tips of your fingers, because Jayne insensitive words cut too close to the deepest fears of Simon: you are absolutely fong luh8 and has not he; Aacute; s can contain them. But it's hard to believe that darkness can eat you from inside when you can snuggle up against the heat of Simon and you almost remember how it felt when your arms and legs were stubby and short when he created nightmares to get you in bed with your brother and let your heart lulls you into the arms of Morpheus. When you were a house, a family, a bright future ahead, when you had all those things you know you never recover. But you Simon. Simon, who dry your tears with the last lint-free cloth that is left, who whispered falsehoods tranquilizadoras in your ear, which accommodates your hair to no longer look like a gently marañay you lie on your bed. Simon, who always preferred facts, tangible, and now can barely survive with the thread of faith that allows you to believe that someday volverása be what you were, ignoring all evidence that points otherwise. Simon, who left everything he had to go to find you and when you met, you were broken and has been trying to fix you since then. Simon is home now, where you feel safe even for short, very short time (nanoseconds integer, hopefully), Simon is your fam, All I could ask or even what ever you would claim, because he has become all that matters to you.

But shut up. Callas because you know, even when your whole world has gone out of its axis, there are certain phrases that are exchanged between brothers. Callas, because you know that many of the things you want to give are those that no longer possess, shut up, because you suspect that some of the things you'd be willing to do for him are the latest é l would like. You see it in the way you called mei-mei as when you were little, on how to protect yourself looking like you're made of fine crystal,see in the smiles that you dedicate to Kaylee, who is not smiles you give away to you and never will be. -Mei-mei, are you better now? - Seats, more to reassure him that it is really true - you like to give you something to sleep or ...
shakes his head, because a night like this could not bear to see a needle even if he holds it is Simon.
"Okay, no more sedatives - whispers next to your ear, his words dissolving with a tired sigh. Even petting your hair matted, gradually goingabout girls, to let you get into your bed, no matter how weak they were your excuses. You lie on the blankets but her arms around you and then you lay your head on his chest, and there it is: the rhythm of your heartbeat, again arrullándote once more frightening monsters that fill your dreams and waking hours.
You had a house that looked like the castle of a princess in a fairy tale. You had your own room to sleep, you had plenty of tutors to ensure your learning, you had a family who never thought that could leave you. I had ante bright future auspicious ... Now you have monsters and nightmares, terrors, and hallucinations, frightening prophecies waiting to be fulfilled. Now your house is an old cargo ship that miraculously stays in the air, now your mind and your future have become so very uncertain ... He falls asleep before you (but you never sleep, no if you can help) and contemplate. Thus, his brow relaxed, and, it reminds the child that ever was, well, never believe you have a care in the world. Kiss her forehead, just to support your lips on his warm skin, and come back to lie on their p