Disclaimer: See chapter one.

A/N: Had more ISP issues yesterday, then I got side-tracked with having to go out and do RL stuff – groceries don't magically appear in the fridge, no matter how much I wish they would...

Brompton Cocktail

Chapter Twenty-Three

Gorram dust, Jayne thought, coughing hard enough that black glitter danced across his vision. If I knowed grain was all that dusty, I woulda worn a kerchief or somethin'. It had been six hours since he'd finished organizing the cargo bay, and he hadn't been able to stop coughing since. It wasn't constant coughing, merely a hard string every fifteen or twenty minutes or so, and all the while in between, it felt as though something wearing microscopic climber's spikes was marching up and down the back of his throat. The only thing that seemed to help was copious amounts of water. So, Jayne had set himself in the galley, leaning against the counter, next to the sink, tin cup held loosely in both hands.

All the coughing he was doing, trying to rid himself of the dust breathed in from the sacks of grain, had all but erased the effects of the Opianax he'd taken that morning. Every cough jarred through him, setting off spikes of pain from hands that looked as dirty as Kaylee's normally were, but were bruised and not simply greasy. It twisted over-strained muscles in his shoulders and back into screaming at him and made his kidneys feel like they'd been kicked. His head wasn't too happy with him either, though the headache he could now feel was of a different variety than the one he'd woken with.

He drained the last of the water from his cup and refilled it from the tap, bottling the wince that wanted to escape any time he flexed his fingers. Another surge of that cussed little tickle at the back of his throat climbed out and exploded into the worst string of coughs yet, making every overworked muscle shriek, making his head throb with each concussive burst of air. As he leaned against the sink, his eyes screwed shut and watering, he was incapable of noticing when someone joined him in the kitchen.

It hadn't escaped Simon's attention that Jayne was having a slight problem with the dust from their latest cargo. He hadn't been the only one. Oriole had come to him not long after setting the auto-pilot to head for Three Hills with red, itchy eyes and some sniffling and sneezing. The burlap the grain was packed in had a minor problem with some mildew caught in the coarse weave of the fabric. Nothing serious, and nothing that would affect its edibility or sale value, but enough to cause problems to anyone even slightly sensitive to mold when trapped within the confines of a very small ship with it. He had assumed Jayne's problem was similar.

This doesn't look like a mild allergy, though, he thought, watching the mercenary from only a few feet away. He'd arrived with his kit in one hand and a vague idea about teasing the big guy for actually having some sort of physical weakness. This… His awareness immediately switched on his doctor-eyes. He's lost weight, they told him. His eyes flickers over to the only visible patch of skin on Jayne, aside from the back of his neck. His hands… They were clutching the edge of the counter. They almost look as badly bruised as they would be if someone had systematically crushed each bone.

The mercenary's coughs subsided, and Jayne made a rather disgusting throat-clearing noise and spat into the sink. "Jayne?" Simon said, his voice carrying an unaccustomed note of uncertainty.

Jayne's shoulders slumped and he rested his head along the cool metal of the rim of the sink. Damn it. "Yeah?" he replied, not yet bothering to straighten up.

"You okay?" Simon flinched at how inane that sounded. He could clearly see the man was far from 'okay'.

"Not pa'ticularly," Jayne admitted. Swallowing hard, he levered himself back into an upright position and slowly turned to face the doctor.

His eyes are bloodshot, and he had definitely lost more weight than is healthy – his face is damn near skeletal. "Why don't you meet me down in the infirmary? I'll see what I can do." He made the offer, fully expecting Jayne to make some excuse not to take him up on it. Simon watched Jayne close his eyes, brow furrowing as though debating with himself.

Which, in a way, was what was going on. Honey, ya knew ya couldn't keep this from him forever, Kaida chastised him.

I know that. Was just hopin' for three more days. But I guess that was too much ta ask for, huh?

Nah, she replied. Ya know it ain't never hurt nothin' ta ask. But we don't always get what we want.

Preachin' ta the choir there, baby. Knowed that one ever since ya left.

After nearly a full minute, Jayne simply looked at him and nodded. "Be there in a few minutes."

Simon headed down to the infirmary, a very bad feeling seeping into his bones. I've never seen him look so… defeated. Something is seriously wrong here, and from how thin he's gotten, it's been going wrong for quite a while. How blind have I been to have missed it? While waiting for Jayne, Simon fiddled about with assorted stuff and tried to think back over the past few weeks. He seemed fine about six weeks ago. Then he got that nosebleed, but everyone winds up with one every now and then. Wasn't serious. Well, for a nosebleed, it was pretty bad, but it was still just a nosebleed.

Sometimes, Simon really wished he had his sister's eidetic memory. He's been quieter than normal lately. When did that start? Wasn't it about the same time that River roped him into doing that puzzle? Seems to fit.

Further contemplation was halted by Jayne's silent arrival. The man leaned in the doorway, one hand braced on the frame, and the other holding on to a small, black bag. Simon realized that wasn't the first time he'd seen him pause and grab hold of something. Dizzy spells, too. The doctor gestured to the table. "How long have you been getting dizzy, Jayne?"

"Since leavin' Persephone," Jayne replied. Once the rocking motion stilled, Jayne crossed over to the table and pulled himself onto it. He couldn't hide the tightening of his expression at how his back and hands sang at the exertion.

Something in the mercenary's voice told Simon that he knew exactly what was wrong with him. "Why didn't you come to me?" he quietly asked. "I thought we were past all the trust-issues."

Jayne sighed, and scrubbed his face with the back of his sleeve. Simon noted that he appeared to be cold – he was layered in two t-shirts and his camo-print hoodie – but still small droplets of sweat beaded up as quickly as they were wiped away. "'Tain't 'at I don't trust ya, doc. 'S just I know there ain't nothin' ya can do."

Simon reached for a thermometer, knowing from the man's body language that he believed every word of it, but not yet ready to admit it personally. "Why don't you let me be the judge of that?" Jayne's temperature was higher than normal, but well under dangerous levels.

A strange smile, one Simon simply couldn't classify, surfaced on Jayne's face. "Can tell ya what you're gonna find afore ya run your tests."

"That so?" One of Simon's eyebrows twitched a little higher than the other.

"First off, I'm runnin' hot. Can feel it. 'S what, 'bout a hunnert degrees, ain't it?"

"One-hundred-point-two," Simon confirmed. He might have been impressed by the estimation if he hadn't seen Jayne be just as accurate as the ship's sensors at reading surface temperature, wind speed, and air pressure on just about every clod of dirt they'd ever landed on. He started to reach for his stethoscope, but stopped and sighed. "Fine. I'll bite. You obviously know what's going on. Are you going to share or will you make me figure it out for myself?"

"I know ya won't believe me 'less ya see it for yourself," Jayne replied with a half-shrug. "So ya might as well go on ahead."

Simon crossed his arms over his chest and sighed. "Just tell me already."

Jayne opened his mouth to reply, but started coughing again instead. Simon steadied him with a hand on his shoulder. Though it didn't last as long as the bout he'd witnessed in the galley, it still had Jayne's eyes watering. Simon's breath hitched at seeing that the tears were stained pink. Definitely serious. He handed him the box of tissues from the counter, then rummaged around in the cabinets. He seized a small aerosol and returned to Jayne's side. "You should have told me," Simon said, realizing what the bruised hands, the bloodstained tears, and the nosebleed all added up to. He held up the aerosol. "This should put a halt to that cough. For now."

The spray was bitter, but it numbed and coated Jayne's throat enough that the whatever-it-was that had been crawling about wearing spikes on its feet thankfully went back to wherever it came from. Jayne took a deep breath, happy he could actually manage to get air in, but the motion brought complaints from his back once again. Simon noticed the wince though Jayne was unaware it had shown. "Come on, let's see what the damage is."

Over the course of the next hour, Jayne said very little. He hadn't wanted this, had tried actively to avoid this, but despite his best efforts, Simon knew. Eventually the poking and prodding finally ceased. "What have you been taking for this?" Simon asked. At the surprised look from Jayne, Simon had to laugh a little. "I'm not stupid, Jayne. You had to have been taking something, else we would have buried you two weeks ago."

"Hadn't realized it was that close," he muttered, indicating the little black satchel he'd grabbed from his bunk. "Doc Baker gimme that." Simon opened the bag and inspected the contents, nodding to himself. He could tell from the quantities left in each vial that Jayne had indeed been following the advice of this 'Doc Baker'. "Said it would stretch what time I got left out ta mebbe three months."

Simon shook his head and looked up at Jayne. "Not exactly," he said.

A bolt of panic flooded Jayne's senses. "Whadaya mean by that?"

"Though these are the proper medications," Simon explained, "the only way it would 'stretch' the time that far, so-to-speak, would have been if we were on a core world, with access to the other supporting treatments for Kurohaima; blood filters and the like. Honestly, I'm surprised you're still here. Normally, the medications by themselves only add a matter of a week or two."

Jayne felt all the air in his lungs rush out like he'd just taken a sucker-punch. "I gonna make it home?" he asked, eyes closed again.

"Possibly," Simon hedged. "It depends."

"On what?"

"When you decide to head that way."

"After we get done on Three Hills. Got one last piece of business needs doin' there."

"And we're two days out from Three Hills. How long from there to Silverhold?"

"'Bout a week."

Simon thought, hard, for several minutes. "The amount of damage already done to your organs is serious, and I'm sure you've noticed," he indicated the man's hands, "that this damage has stopped healing. The synthetics you've been taking to help mitigate the damage to your blood vessels aren't keeping up as more and more of your red blood cells succumb to the virus."

"What's all that mean?"

"It's a maybe, Jayne," Simon replied. "If you do exactly what I tell you, you might live long enough to make it home."

Jayne met the doctor's eyes. "Just get me there," he said.

Simon checked the readouts from the blood test he'd already ran. He used Jayne's stores to give him another hit of the Opianax, then ordered him to bed.

A/N2: This chapter didn't play out like I thought it was going to. But I like it anyway. Hope you do, too.

Review if ya feel like tellin' me sommat. Gracias.