Are You Judged by the Mistakes for Which You Atone? - Part 1

*“Before we say anythin’ else,” Dorian began, “Ah wanted tah apologize fah this mornin’. Ah was harsh with you, fah no good reason other than some jangled nerves. Yah didn’t deserve it,” he said, "and Ah do regret mah behavior."*

Jacy rubbed her forearms where Dorian had laid his hands on her earlier. She bruised easily so the marks looked worse than they were. “I believe your exact words were *Don’t play with me*! I may have deserved some rough guidance. It’s forgiven, Dorian. I have a bad habit of mixing my stories into pieces and presenting them in an order of my own choosing. You’re a man of medical science so naturally you latched onto the most threatening facet of young Dillon’s condition. Is it really as dangerous as all that?”

“Organ transplants are, to some extent, a roll of tha dice,” Dorian replied. “Given tha severity of his condition and what was done? In strictest confidence,” he continued, “headin’ out into tha black is tha last thing he should do. If he rejects an organ, all Ah can do is make him comfortable until death.” He folded his arms. “Ah made this perfectly clear when we discussed his options. Dillon still chose tah remain with us.”

“I think between his medication and your careful monitoring, his body will be okay, in so far as he’s been given. Even I know transplanted organs require more care than can be found in a bottle of pills. It’s what he does with the time left to him that has me concerned. I would not personally want to spend it as a deckhand onboard a freight hauler, but that was the decision Dillon made. He’s searching for something that cannot be purchased. Care to make a guess to what that is?”

Dorian leaned toward her. “Ah’m not certain that he knows...beyond just being free tah make his own calls without ovahprotective parents and doctahs squelching his ambitions.” He took a breath. “Had a detailed consult with his doctah. He advised us tah keep Dillon away from taxing physical activity...yah know...like deckhand work,” he chuckled. “Ahm ‘bout tah make the case with Riley tah rotate him through a numbah of jobs...helpin’ me, primary galley chef. He’s a bright boy; if it doesn’t earn me a choke hold Ah might suggest teachin’ him tah pilot.” His gaze returned to her. “Not much more that Ah can suggest fah “quality of life” improvements aboard a Firefly.”

Jacy had been examining the back of her mouth through a handheld mirror, though she refrained from poking at anything. She set it aside on the tray and looked up at Dorian. “You see? It’s not so difficult understanding the needs of a young man. Let’s not forget you have a distinct advantage there, having been one yourself so recently. Finding suitable work for Dillon on the ship won’t be difficult, but talking Lt. Riley into assigning him those jobs will be more so. We already have young Gill & Haddie who the Captain has taken under his wing, kindly so I might add. I’d wager he’s a remarkable man when he’s sober. I’d offer to speak with Riley myself, but she and I have an understanding of sorts. She understands me to be a complete idiot who somehow manages not to choke on her own bottom lip. And in turn I understand Riley would rather there were no other living souls on this ship.”

He offered a sardonic smile. “One of the many personas of Jacy Lloyd, woman of mystery.” Dorian rested hands upon his knees as he continued, “playing ‘cruise director’ was somethin’ neither one of us had in mind when we came aboard. Dr. Merchante opined, and I agree, by the way, that Dillon’s time can best be measured in months.” He paused for a moment, choosing his words. “Your training offers a unique benefit to those who you’ve chosen. Ah’m not asking yah tah out yahself or put yahself in a contrary position with Vas. Ah wonder,” he said, “if there’s an approach that’ll offer Dillon the more meaningful aspects of life.”

“I help young men Dillon’s age quite frequently, but the advice I give them is geared for the long term happiness of a prosperous life shared with someone suitable to their unique characteristics. Poor Dillon doesn’t have the luxury of planning for that long life, not if the doctors’ opinions win out. I’m not accustomed to offering the band aid approach. I’ll do it, but that’s not real happiness. We’re just making him comfortable; that’s what you say towards the end of life?”

Adler nodded. “The bond of friendship will go a ways toward that. Ah think he already gravitates toward Vas and yahself.” He smirked. “Of course, Ah can show him the seedier side of life in tha ‘verse without gettin’ him hurt...but that’s a mild gratification at best.”

“I’m still trying to understand Vas. Sugarbear is quiet which suggests he’s full of his own thoughts and introspection, but that doesn’t mean he values the same in another young man. You can’t force friendship. Well I can, but only so far. If Dillon only months left to him, the seedier side of the verse may be just the ticket. I know I’ve whiled away some memorable months between the arms and legs of strangers and I don’t regret it for a moment. But are we really just advocating one final extended bachelor party for Dillon? I don’t do bachelor parties, just so you know. That question comes up more often than it should so I wanted to get ahead of it.”

“Worked fah Hemingway,” Dorian chuckled. “But no, A couple nights out would be sufficient. Dillon’s a deeper pond than that, however. Substance is what he craves….the depth of meaningful friendships and all they entail. Tha adventures are tertiary tah that.”

“Did you see his wrists, Dorian? I know you can’t discuss his file, but you can nod your head yes and I’ll know we’re thinking the same thing.”

“He does a fair job hiding them,” the medic observed. “But given our conversation today Ah feel we’ve already delivered tha escape he sought in such a manner.” He touched her hand. “Regardless, Ah appreciate whatever yah think might be possible. Ah must admit that the kid grew on me. So did young Vas, fah that matter.”

“Vas grows on us all, but we haven’t seen Vas release himself to be himself. That’s boy’s wound tight; I’d know, I’ve plucked his strings a time or too. I feel as if I’m working with my hands tied on this ship. I wonder if it wouldn’t be better for us all if I spoke with the Captain and told him who I am. Would Dillon do better to hear kind words from the lazy waif of a deckhand or a trained Companion? From which would he value the same words?”

He jammed his hands into his pockets. “Difficult tah say. Ah know that he likes tha deckhand, and is more like tah open up tah her. As for Vas?” Dorian grinned. “There’s an old song from Earth-That-Was…”Ah Only Have eyes Fah you.” He may be a bit awkward about it, but yah’ve got that boy totally smitten.” He thought on that a moment. “From what yah’ve told me about yah plans, Ah don’t think Ah’d recommend outing yahself...tah either one of them.”

“The decision may make itself before long. As I told you in the showers, I can’t maintain this vacation facade indefinitely.”

“With that in mind,” he offered, “have yah made up yah mind? Will this boat an’ crew meet yah needs?”

“I’ve disappointed myself, Dorian. I’ve done what I always do which is what I promised I wouldn’t. I’ve gotten myself involved in their lives. And worse, I still haven’t seen a single bit of misbehaving from one of them so how am I to know if they can pull off a job like that? I’ve seen the Captain four times, twice he wanted to kick me off the ship, twice he thought I was someone else and wanted to bed me. What does your gut tell you? Are these people capable of a real job of that magnitude?”

“Well,” Dorian leaned casually backwards to cross his legs. “As Ah don’t know tha plan Ah can’t speak with complete assurance. Ah will say that there’s definitely a couple folk on this boat worth their weight. Pilot’s tough as nails, and tha mechanic only talks tah his engines...so that gets yah reliable transpo. Beyond that?” he shrugged, “we got a couple who might be trained...depending on just how yah want it tah go down.”

“Is that your way of asking for my plan? Again? I seem to recall a promise you made to me. A promise to come clean on your past? I won’t hold you to it if you wish to back out now, but I am most curious.”

“Touché.” Dorian offered a mischievous grin. “Mah life is yah book. What do yah want tah know?”

Jacy leaned against the operating chair with it between her and Dorian. “Were you a soldier for the Independents?”

“No, ma’am,” he shook his head. “Ah was in medical school. Had tah quit just before tha war ended.”

“Did you provide ancillary services for the Independents?”

“You could say that,” he nodded. “Our family home became a field hospital in the days after the surrender. Ah nevah got back tah medical school, but mah father an’ Ah performed more surgeries on our kitchen table than Ah care tah remember.”

“Did you help disperse information to the Independents?”

Dorian shrugged. “Ah wouldn’t have had anythin’ tah disperse...unless they were interested in how many arms an’ legs we had tah take.” He folded his arms. “What Ah remember of that time...before Ah discovered liquor...was that everyone...everyone...was considered a spy. Alliance had lifelong neighbors turnin’ on each other for a ration bar.” He scowled. “Never could figure out what they wanted...they’d already beaten’ ‘em to a pulp.”

Jacy moved over to the counter and fiddled with the ceramic oven that still needed to be bolted down. “Was that your sweetheart you were kissing before takeoff?”

“That,” he answered, “could be a subject of much conversation between us.” He offered a brief retelling of his conversations with Marisol, and the pressures which forced the Chavez family to seek him out. “There’s that possibility,” he said openly. “My life that may yet be...But Ah haven’t reconciled that with what Ah know myself tah be now.”