For the past week, Simon had walked with him from the infirmary to the dining room. Mal didn't need to be led now, but Simon was convinced that he needed to be watched, and it was too small a thing to fight over. Besides, it meant there was someone around to order to bring him coffee.

Simon handed him a cup and went to walk away. Mal reached upwards suddenly and snagged Simon's wrist. Turning the hand over, he ran sure fingers over Simon's palm. 'You want to explain this, Doctor?'

'It's a hand?' Simon observed dryly.

'That it is. The hand of my ship's medic. Normally, as I believe I may have noted, lily-white and smooth all over. Now, however, much less with the smooth.' Mal rubbed his thumb on three small calluses. 'Do you want to know what it feels like?'

'What?' Simon asked.

'It feels like the hand of someone, not used to shooting things, trying to handle a gun with too much kick for him. I miss anything?'

'...No... that sounds accurate enough.'

'Whose gun did you steal?'

'I didn't steal it!'

'Sorry, doc, whose gun did you borrow?'

'I asked Jayne to show me.'

'You asked Jayne?'

'Who would you rather I asked?'

'You shouldn't be asking anyone! You're meant to be taking the bullets out, not putting them in!'

'Regrettably, Captain, in our line of work, I need to be able to do both.'

'Oh it's our line of work now, is it?'

'Since I don't seem to have much prospect of doing anything else, yes!'

Mal took a deep breath, and softened his voice. 'You do your part on this boat fine, doctor. I don't need your hands to be able to point guns, as long as they can hold a scalpel steady. You mess them up with Jayne's guns they won't be any use for the delicate stuff. And, as you may have noticed, delicacy is a skill most of my crew are lacking in.'

'Inara had it.'

Mal sighed. 'She did. Still does, I'll wager. But she ain't exactly crew now is she? Though she does prove the point. Her line of work, she needs her hands good, so she keeps them that way. She doesn't rough them up when she don't need to.'

'She can still handle a gun.'

'She can. Little ones. You got the cash to go buy yourself one of her pieces, you go ahead. No more of Jayne's, dong ma?'

'Kaylee...' Simon began.

'Kaylee understands, same as you should, that her job is to fix things, not poke holes in them.'

'Kaylee thinks she messed up on the space-station. She thinks it's a problem that she can't shoot. And every time we get into a fight, like last week, it brings it back.'

'I told her that it wasn't a problem. In fact, as I recall, I told her I'm happier with her not playing with guns.'

'But she isn't. Because things on this ship have a habit of degenerating into fire-fights. And those of us who have no particular skill in the ending of lives feel that we...' Simon trailed off.

'What? Aren't pulling your weight? Simon, the number of times you, or Kaylee, or Wash have got the rest of us out of trouble...'

'Still doesn't beat the number of times you or Zoë or Jayne have got River or I out of gun-related trouble.'

'Do what you like, doc.' Mal answered in resignation. 'But don't go doing it on my account. You pay for you and little sis's passage on my boat just fine.'

'Thank you,' Simon muttered. 'But I still... what are you doing now!' His voice jumped an octave or two as Mal's hand landed firmly on his hip.

Mal grinned at Simon's nerves as he patted down the hip to Simon's thigh. 'Just checking you haven't decided to swap your white coat for a holster.'

Before Mal could reach over to the other hip Simon jumped away. Mal heard him clattering things around at the sink. 'I keep it in the cabinet in the infirmary,' he responded, eventually, slightly embarrassed.

'One of Jayne's?'

'Zoë's. You know Jayne doesn't loan out his guns!'

'Good point. Still too much heft for you though. I told you, get something like Inara's if you have this desperate urge to defend the infirmary from all-comers.'

'As you may have noticed, Captain, I don't exactly have a lot of spare cash. And the kind of weapons Inara had don't come cheaply.'

'Tell Zoë to buy you something next time we land.'

The comment was made so casually that it took Simon a moment to respond. 'Captain! I can't ask Zoë to... that money's for the upkeep of the ship!'

'It also keeps us in ammunition, and supplies, and all manner of things that I don't ask crew to pay for out of their share. Jayne only buys the real fancy stuff from his own cash, not standard rounds. And, last I heard, you were using your share to buy us medicine.'

'That's because I use so much of our medical supplies on River, it's only fair that I...'

'No it ain't. Most days we don't have that much cash left to give out much of a cut, but what you get's for you. River buys candy, and pencils, and who knows what else, but the girl knows that money's for her own self. You, on the other hand... what was the last thing you bought that wasn't for River, or some kind of medical supply? That includes books about doctoring before you say anything else.'

'Ah... a book I suppose. A novel, not an encyclopedia.'

'And when would that be?'

'Hmm... whenever we carried those silks. When was that?'

'Wuh de ma, Simon, that was seven months ago!'

'Quite possibly.'

Mal shook his head in despair. 'I'm going to the cockpit, okay?'

'Do you want...?'

'It's been a week. If anyone's still leaving things around in the corridors, I'll yell, and we can go kill 'em together.'

'Okay then,' Simon laughed.

Mal made his way to the cockpit without incident and stood at the doorway.

'Sir?' Zoë inquired from the pilot's seat.

'You the only one here?'

'Just me. Keeping an eye on the autopilot for a bit.'

'Good. Understand that I ask this without judgement. Have you lost your mind! You let Jayne, Jayne of all people, show him how to shoot?'

'Well sir, they seemed to be beyond the point of wanting to shoot each other, and given that they were both grown men...'

'That's not the point!'

'Sorry sir, won't happen again. When the Reavers come and kill us all because we're short of cover fire, I'm sure it'll be a great comfort to know that your orders were carried out.'

'Zoë...' Mal growled, 'It isn't the learning that bothers me, well... it is, but I'm over that now. Jayne shouldn't be doing the teaching.'

'Jayne's the best shot, sir.'

'Jayne totes guns so large even I get banged around using them.'

'Sir...'

'Next planet. Buy him,' he jerked his head down the corridor, 'a pistol. Little recoil as you can manage. Something a little more... elegant... than Jayne's pieces.'

'I wouldn't advise telling Jayne that, sir. But I'm sure we can manage it.'

'And make sure that doc gets himself something next time we're on-world, okay?'

'Sir?'

'Boy's spending all his spare cash on drugs. It ain't right.'

'Yes, sir.'

'Don't smirk like that, it don't suit you.'

'You can't see me, sir,' she observed.

'Doesn't mean I can't tell when you're mocking me. I've had plenty of practice, remember? Just make sure it's done.'

'Yes, sir.' Mal swore he could feel her knowing smile as he left.