The world seems hazy, sliding in and out of focus. Someone's talking, but they seem ways away. The words are reaching him down a long tunnel and echoes obliterate any sense. He tries to shake his muzzy head but then the fire in his chest blazes and all he can do is half-swallow a moan of pain.

He's not sure how much time has passed since he opened his eyes, but suddenly the volume seems to have been turned up. Kaylee is in his field of vision, along with some other out-of-focus people that might be Wash, Zoe, Jayne and the Shepard. The mechanic is smiling at him as genuinely as she always does, but he can see the worry round her eyes. “Mornin' Cap'n,” she chirps, “Glad you decided to join us.”

“Someone... shot me, I'm thinkin,'” Mal responds, still not quite sure. He can't remember any bullets hitting him but he knows the burning pain too well.

“Several someones,” an invisible Simon responds from somewhere behind, “You're lucky to be alive.”

Mal coughs, the agony sending him momentarily blind. “Don't feel lucky,” he rasps after a moment, “What happened to the cargo?”

“We couldn't take it, sir,” says the Zoe-shaped blob.

“Too many of 'em,” Jayne rumbles.

Mal digests this; there's little he can say. He'd known it really, back on the surface, but it's still a little shocking to hear the words spoken aloud.

“We're almost ready to dock at Beaumonde,” says Wash's voice after a while.

Mal thinks the pilot's hand is laid reassuringly on Zoe's arm but he can't be sure. He can imagine Zoe's expression as she admitted failure and envies for a moment the tenderness his first mate can expect in her life. Inara's absence on Serenity is never more obvious to him than at moments like this. Not that he ever looked to her for tenderness, exactly, but –

Wash's voice cuts through his thoughts again. “No jobs on the cortex yet, but I'll keep looking.”

Mal makes an indistinct noise, clear thinking difficult with a head that feels wadded with cotton wool. “You... do that,” he manages.

“I'm going to give yo