Disclaimer: See chapter one.

A/N: We're rapidly approaching the end of this. I'm thinking there's somewhere in the neighborhood of six chapters or so (but I've been wrong about that before, so take it with a grain of salt, please).

Brompton Cocktail

Chapter Twenty-Four

Jayne honestly tried to follow Simon's instructions, but with the fantastic haze of not-caring blunting the pain he was feeling, he honestly wasn't sleepy. He stood at the foot of his ladder and looked around the cramped, little room he'd called home for the past year and a half. Longest time I ever stuck with a crew. The thought flickered across his mind, surprising him. Has it really been 'at long already? Sure don't seem like it. He sat at his desk and started to return his satchel to the drawer, but halted. He pulled out the small collection of papers that lived in the drawer.

The captures of his family were on top. The rest consisted of a drawing his son had done – 'Lookit, Daddy! I drewed a deers for ya!' – a note from Kaida – Ran into town. Back soon. Don't touch the cake in the fridge, or you're gonna be sleepin on the sofa! – and another drawing, this one done with Kaida's help, marker outlines of his hand, with hers inside it, then Morley's, and the teeny outline of Addie's in the middle – Hold still, squirmy, Momma won't take long, I promise. He traced the outlines of Addie's fingers.

"Hope your bein' good for Momma, sweetheart," he murmured, then put the small stack back in the drawer, weighted under the satchel.

He took a breath, and let it out slowly. "Ain't got as much time as I figured." He stood, waited for the inevitable dizziness to pass, then ignored the illusory movement of the walls and knelt on his bunk. He removed the blanket that covered his arsenal and just stared at them for several long minutes. They ain't goin' back with me. No place for 'em, an' no need for 'em. He mentally cataloged each, then took three down – two nickel-plated matched pieces and one sleek little .38 – before hanging the blanket back up.

The three guns he took to his desk and disassembled them, cleaning each and every piece, then reassembled them. Don't got a holster for the Xiao Emo. Wonder if the one I use for the Remmy would fit? He checked the cabinet where he kept holsters, sheaths, and ammo-belts. The one he had in mind was a touch too narrow, but he found one that would work. The matched pair had their own belt, and he grabbed it, too. He sat back down and slid each gun into its place, then sat them aside.

Should prolly see 'bout makin' sure he's gonna know how ta take care of it. He dug in another desk drawer and came up with a small bound book, roughly five inches high, four or so wide, and not very thick. The cover was cheap press-board, covered in a dark blue fabric. The pages were blank. He took a pencil and started sketching, the motions quick and sure, even though it had been years since he'd last drawn anything.

Zoë used the excuse of her turn at night watch to make use of the cortex. She managed to confirm that Derrik Lionel was living in Harbor, on Three Hills, and suspected of all sorts of right nasty crimes, though nothing could ever be proven. She was actually looking forward to seeing the man dead.

Simon drifted onto the bridge, interrupting her research. "Mind if I use the cortex?" he asked.

Zoë shrugged. "Go ahead," she deleted her own search. "Lookin' for anything in particular?"

"Just wanted to check a few things in the med journals is all," Simon said, settling on the copilot's chair.

With River about as stable as she was ever going to be, there was really only one reason Simon would have for doing a search like that. "He told you?" Zoë asked, surprised. Thought he was going to wait until we were done with Lionel.

Simon frowned and fiddled with the cortex controls, switching the display back to English. Who keeps doing that? He glanced over at Zoë. "Whatever I may or may not have been told by any member of the crew in my capacity as ship's doctor is confidential, Zoë."

"That's as good a confirmation as any, I suppose," she retorted. "Anything you can do?"

Simon sighed. "Probably not," he admitted. "But I'm still going to check if any new information is available." He entered the search parameters he needed. While waiting for responses, he ran a hand though his hair. "Was I the last one to find out?"

Zoë shook her head. "No. He's not told Kaylee or Oriole yet. Kaylee's suspicious, though. He said he was going to tell everyone after we left Three Hills."

The search results pinged and Simon glanced through them. "I should have been told immediately."

"Wasn't your call, doc," Zoë said. "Jayne had his reasons."

"Would you share them with me? He wasn't very forthcoming." Simon scowled at the screen. The newest article on ruby fever was over five years old. He switched the cortex off.

A small quirk twitched the corners of her mouth up. "Said he knew you wouldn't stop trying to save him because you hadn't learned you can't save everyone. Said he didn't want to be the one to teach you that."

Simon blinked. "A noble, but unnecessary sentiment," he said, idly wondering just why it didn't sound more wrong to have words like 'noble' and 'sentiment' apply to the man he'd once called a 'trained ape, without the training'.

"How's that?"

The doctor let out a humorless huff of laughter. "I don't know a single doctor that doesn't learn that particular lesson by the time they're done with their internship."

Zoë could see Simon's eyes had switched from looking at her to seeing a memory. "What happened?"

"It was, oh, about six months into my own internship. There'd been an accident involving a ground-car. I never found out why, but its fuel cell exploded. Killed the driver instantly, but his eight year-old niece survived. Had some moderate burns, but nothing too severe. The concussion wave of the explosion did a number on her insides, though. I did all I knew how to do, but she never woke up. Lingered about three weeks before slipping away, and I still don't know why. She should've recovered…" Simon shook his head and wrenched himself back into the here-and-now. "There haven't been any new breakthroughs, so there really isn't a whole lot I can do."

Zoë knew what Simon was feeling – she was feeling it too. Helpless. Neither one of them liked it, but it was out of their hands.

A/N2: Hope y'all're still with me. Updates might run a little slower starting tomorrow – I'm going to have houseguests for a spell, and I know that won't give me as much time as normal to write.

Please lemme know if you're enjoying this or not. Thanks.