Mal's eyes snapped open.

For a beat, the room held its breath.

Then River, perched cross-legged beside him like a sentinel child, gasped and clapped her hands in delight. "Ding!" she said, bright as a bell. "New hats!"

Across the room, Simon jerked upright from his chair, nearly toppling the tray he'd prepared. Zoe turned from where she had stood motionless, eyes narrowing in careful observation, while Kaylee, watching through the medbay's open doorway, raised her hand to her mouth in stunned relief.

Mal blinked, then groaned. Tried to sit up, but the effort sent a jolt of pain down his spine and he sagged back with a curse.

River's demeanor shifted in an instant. The whimsy vanished, replaced by something calm and clinical. A strange serenity settled over her face—one that Simon hadn't seen in years.

"Wiggle your fingers," she instructed, voice crisp and clear. "Index. Middle. Ring. Pinky. Left hand, right hand. Now your toes. Both feet. One at a time."

Simon stepped forward instinctively, then paused. She was thorough. Precise. He watched her check Mal's pupils, measure pulse with delicate fingers to the neck, press and assess the coloration of his skin.

"She used to correct my textbooks," Simon said under his breath to Zoe, wonder creeping into his tone. "Back when I was at MedAcad. Before everything."

Zoe gave a faint nod, eyes still on River. "She remembers how to be brilliant. Just forgets to act like it."

River completed her examination and sat back, arms folding primly in her lap. "Cognitive motor function stable. Skin tone within healing margins. Eye tracking normalized. Reflexes present. He's done cooking."

Mal groaned again, confused. "Zoe? Simon? Why's my head feel like someone's been hammerin' at it with both ends of a wrench?"

"You were unconscious, sir," Zoe said, stepping forward. "Coma. Took a bad hit."

Simon glanced over the scanner readouts. "A coma caused by extensive trauma. And we fixed it with—well, it's advanced. The point is, your brain has healed. Completely. You're back, Captain."

Zoe let out a slow breath. "More than back. Doctor says your brain's as fresh as a newborn's. No scars. No degradation. Could give you a lot more years than we figured."

Mal blinked slowly. "You're sayin' someone went and rewound my head?"

Simon pulled a light across to check Mal's eyes again. "Let's talk about what you remember. After the Doctor arrived—what comes next?"

Mal furrowed his brow. "Doctor? Oh. That fella in the velvet coat? Turned up while Kaylee was fixin' the coolant relay?"

"That's the last thing you remember?" Simon asked, his tone careful.

Mal nodded. "Yeah. Should there be more?"

Simon turned to Zoe. They didn't need to say it aloud.

Zoe gave Mal a soft smile. "We'll get you caught up, sir. Don't you worry."

—

Down in the engine room, Wash leaned over the exposed coil housing, elbow-deep in cabling. Kaylee was handing him tools as needed, her usual chatter subdued by worry.

Zoe stepped in like a stormfront.

"He's awake," she said.

Wash nearly dropped his wrench. "He is? That's—good, right?"

"Memory's gone," Zoe said. "Back to when the Doctor first showed up."

Kaylee's brow creased. "He don't remember anything?"

"Not the Master. Not the TARDIS. Not any of it."

Wash leaned back against the bulkhead, wiping sweat from his brow. "Well... gorram."

"We need a story," Zoe said simply. "One that doesn't break him in two now that we've just stitched him back together."

Kaylee nodded. "Something real gentle."

Wash nodded too, though his jaw tightened. "Guess we're storytellers now."

Zoe crossed her arms.

"We owe him that much."