"Tell me something, would you, Captain? Do you actually run at bullets? Do you go on these jobs wearing some sort of magnetic undershirt that none of us know about? Because your talent for getting shot at, I have to say, is nothing short of amazing."

If looks could kill, Simon Tam would be six feet under the la ji pao qi of a moon they had only just managed to flee. But fortunately for the young doctor the patient to whom this innocent barb was aimed was so heavily sedated, that the chances of getting a reply--even a drug addled, semi-coherent one--were mercifully small.

Simon smiled, eyeing Mal as he hooked up the drip. The captain blinked, glared around the pain, and worked his jaw irritably. "I know," said Simon quietly. "It impresses me, too."

"Hero worship. Admiration of those whose deeds you can never hope to match." River had been standing at the doorway for some time, just watching, but now she spoke. "Man is fatally flawed, he knows no boundaries to overhaul jealousy, or want, or greed. Piety is small. Mortality is a gift." She stared at Simon, tilted her head in frank consideration. "There's no need to be a tease."

He peered at her warily as she walked to the bedside. "Just doing my job, mei-mei. Wouldn't be much of a doctor if I didn't try lifting my patient's spirits now and then." She returned his look, did well to hide her amusement. "He'll be okay."

"I know."

"But he's not immortal, River. You do realise that?"

"I know," she said, again. "He's flesh and blood, can break just as you or I can." Her eyes drifted to Mal, who had during this exchange drifted lightly back to sleep. She drew her fingers towards his arm, close to where the intravenous needle pierced the skin. But she didn't touch him. "That's his gift."

Simon sighed, began tiding up the things he had gotten out. "Well, maybe, but he needs rest, too."

"Won't wake him."

He smiled. He couldn't help it. "Okay."