Simon was shaving the next ship 'morning', still a bit bleary from a long night of attending to the crew's injuries, when he noticed it.

"What is that...?'" he said in a soft voice, turning his head and bringing his neck closer to the mirror. His eyes flicked over his jawline up near his ear, and widened.

"Are those... needle tracks?!"

He hurriedly toweled his face off, put away his shaving kit, then walked to the main dining room.

River sat alone at the main table, moving the shakers around in an aimless pattern. She looked up at Simon as he entered, a guilty look on her face.

He sat down across from her. He pointed to his jaw, then clasped his hands in front of him.

"How long have you been doing this, River?"

"Just wanted to help," she said. "You've helped her so much, you've been under so much pressure."

"River..." Simon spread his hands. "I need you to tell me what you've been giving me."

"The books said it would help, that that was would make things better..." she trailed off. She pulled a small bottle from her pocket and handed it over.

The bottle was nearly empty.

"Thalzelomine," read Simon. He thought back over his behavior in recent weeks, and shook his head. "That does explain a lot."

River started to cry. "Sorry, so sorry, it's all my fault and then she wants to make it better but I make it worse everything goes bad - "

Simon went over to her side of the table and put his arms around her. "Sh, sh, it's going to be okay."

"It's not okay!" said River. "You've been doing so much for me. I nearly broke you!"

"You didn't," he said. "I'm still here." They sat in silence for a while.

"I don't want you worrying about my mental state," said Simon. "I'll be fine. Just let me be the one to work out the treatments, all right? Don't waste the drugs on me - I may need them to help you." He brushed a lock of hair out of her face. "Let's just get you well."

"Mmf," she said, now half-asleep. "Y'r still a boob."

Simon gave a tight smile. "Right. Up we go," he said, helping her to her feet. "Let's get you to bed."

Jayne walked in just as they were leaving. As River passed him, she muttered something about, "...very angry man, shooting at caterpillars... has one on his face..."

He shook his head, and headed for the coffee pot.

"Morning," said Wash, walking over to the cupboard. He poked around until he found a relatively undamaged tea packet, then set about finding a pot.

Jayne just grunted, then raised his cup to his lips, took a sip, and sent an impressive arc of coffee, followed closely by burning Chinese invective, across the room.

Wash jumped. "What? What happened?" He looked around frantically to find Jayne, still swearing, dumping the remaining contents of his cup into the sink.

"疯狂的傻瓜 gorram moon-brain put pepper in the coffee!"

Wash knew what would happen when he said what he was thinking. He carefully put the lid on the pot of hot water he was carrying, and scooped up the tea packet and cups. He beamed.

"Maybe she thought it wasn't hot enough?"

He beat feet out of the dining area, followed by Jayne's irate bellow.

Mal walked into the sick bay, rolling up his sleeves, as Simon was just finishing putting some instruments in the autoclave. "All right, let's make this quick."

"Oh good," said Simon. "If you'll just sit down here..."

Mal sat down on one of the exam tables, while Simon pulled on a pair of latex gloves. He took a light out of his breast pocket and shined it in his eyes, then checked their motion. He then put the light away, and turned his head, checking the spot where his jaw had been broken.

"Does this hurt?"

"Ow! Yeah! What're you stabbin' me with?"

"That was my finger, Captain." He stepped back, dusting off his hands. "Still tender, it may be for a while, but I don't detect any fractures," he said. "It may be a good idea to check in with a mandibular specialist when we next get a chance."

"Prob'ly not a whole lot o' those around, this far from the Core," said Mal, starting to stand.

"Probably not," said Simon. "It should be fine. There's a... more immediate concern, though."

"What's that?"

"Have you been having more headaches lately? Dizziness, perhaps?"

Mal frowned. "Now that you mention it, I have," he said. "Matter o' fact, it's been pretty regular since that whole mess..." He sat back down, then looked back up at Simon. "Concussion?"

"All the symptoms are there," said Simon. "In my professional medical opinion, you should be confined to bed rest for the next two weeks or so- "

"Whoa, Doc, I can't just-"

"-but as I know you're probably going to say, it's your 'boat' and your rules, and you'll do what you see fit. I thought you might," said Simon. Sighing, he pulled out a syringe and tested it.

Mal glowered, backing off. "You ain't knockin' me out."

"Of course not," said Simon. "Do you really think I would risk having Jayne take charge?"

Mal didn't reply, but sat back down and let Simon begin the injection.

"What's this stuff?" said Mal.

"It's one of the drugs we got on Ariel," said Simon. "Basically, it's designed to treat concussion - relieves the pressure while encouraging faster healing in the area."

He finished, then set aside the syringe. "As with all drugs, there can be some side effects."

"What kinda side effects?" said Mal, a touch wary.

"It depends on one's allergies." He read the back of the bottle. "If you find your fingernails getting loose, or start bleeding from the ears, let me know. I may be able to stave off anything worse if we act quickly."

" 麦子球!" said Mal. He rolled his sleeves back down. "Well. Better hope none of those happen," he said.

"In over ninety percent of cases, they don't," said Simon. "But I'll try to remember to tremble in fear when I pass you in the corridor."

"Like ya do with the Doctor?"

Simon didn't even blink. "Well, I'd be less likely to show fear around him - he has at least the courtesy not to threaten people who are trying to keep him alive," he said. "Besides, I wonder how he feels when he passes us by? We are a rather brutal species, on the whole..."

He looked thoughtful for a moment. "Perhaps that's the real reason he's locked himself in that box," he said. He shrugged. "We may never know."

Mal looked at him with narrowed eyes. "You sound a whole lot different on the subject than ya have been since he spilled the beans."

"A good night's sleep can work wonders for one's disposition," said Simon, peeling off the gloves and putting them in the disposal. "Speaking of which, you really should get more rest. I'd be telling you this even if you hadn't - "

Mal held up a hand. "Got it," he said. He got up and left in a hurry.

Simon's preachifyin' could get to be almost as bad as the Shepherd's, sometimes.

Mal walked into the hold and stopped in front of the Doctor's 'ship.'

"Guess it's time I got some answers m'self," he muttered.

He brought up his fist to hammer on the door, when to his surprise, it opened a crack.

"Ah, Captain," said the Doctor. "Just the person I wanted to see." He stepped out and shut the door before Mal could get a look inside.

"What did you want to see me about?"

"I was wondering if I could use your, ah, network of connections when we reach our destination?"

Mal blinked. "Ya seem to have had that kinda thing under control yourself," he said.

"Thank you for saying so, but even I have my limits."

Mal considered this for a moment. "Might be able to make some calls," he said. "Somethin' I need from you, though."

"What is it?"

"I need to see what's in that crate."

The Doctor looked pained. "Please, Captain..."

"Fine, whatever. Your ship. Still need to see what's in there."

"I told you, I will give you a tour, Captain, but I need to complete -"

He was cut off as Mal suddenly stepped past him and slammed a shoulder into the door! "No more waitin', no more.... whoa!"

He said this last as things went horribly skewed. He had expected to fetch up against the crate's opposing wall. Instead, he found himself stumbling forward on his hands and knees on a wide tiled floor.

He brought himself to one knee, still staring around in bemusement. The white room was easily half the size of the entire hold, with a few doorways suggesting even more space. Various couches and other furniture dotted the room, and two tables held various parts and equipment. A large circular console, covered with dials, buttons and whatnot, seemed to have a central position here.

"Wha... schwei..."

He felt a hand grab his collar and yank him to his feet, to come face-to-face with the Doctor.

To say the man looked outraged would be putting it mildly.

"The TARDIS may be a guest aboard your transport, mister Reynolds," barked the Doctor, "but she is under my command and mine alone. You have just invaded my ship!"

Mal blanched. He thought of his pistol, but remembered all too clearly what the man had done last time. He straightened up, and the Doctor released his collar, but didn't drop his furious glare. Well, nothing for it.

"Reckon I did." He straightened his shirt, then returned the Doctor's gaze. It was always better to dive in swingin' than tryin' to beg. "So what happens now?"

"Now I have to put the tea on," said the Doctor, who now seemed only a little irritated. "I hate having uninvited guests - keeping track of all the domestic details is such a chore. If only Jo were here- I... oh, drat," he said, rummaging through a pile on one of the tables, "I seem to have misplaced the sugar tongs. Do you think I could borrow yours?"

Mal stared in shock at the sudden turn of events, as well as taking in more of his surroundings. "Ah, yeah," he said, "I'll do that." He took a step toward the door, then turned back. "That's it?"

"Yes, yes, welcome aboard," said the Doctor. "Mind you, I'd hoped to be able to give you a demonstration of how she worked, but until I can repair the Thalus stabilizer and figure out what's jammed up the tempspacial locator, it would be safer not to."

Mal nodded as if he had any idea of what had just been said, and stepped out into the hold.

He walked over and punched the intercom. "Zoe, can you come down to the hold?"

"Trouble, sir?"

"Not as such. Oh, on the way down, could you see if Inara will loan us her sugar tongs? It's for the Doctor."

"Okay," said Zoe. She sounded dubious. He could relate.

"The Doctor is having us in for tea. In his ship."

"Is this some kind of a joke, sir?"

Mal looked back at the innocuous blue crate and shook his head. "Believe me, this is something you're gonna have to see for yourself."