Simon stood at the sink in the infirmary and checked his preparations. A careful man, he liked things just so, perhaps due to his medical training, but just as likely a personality trait. Not that he was always able to do things the way he wanted, not out here, not with the way they had to live sometimes. But when he could, when he was the one in control, having his tools to hand in the correct order, waiting for him, soothed his soul.

His soul. As he rinsed his hands in the warm water and picked up the pumice stone, he pondered the nature of that soul. What he was doing here, rubbing away the calluses he developed from practicing with and using a gun, that was easy. It had become a ritual, every month, cleaning away the evidence that he had become just that little bit tarnished.

Jayne had offered, soon after Miranda, when everyone was slowly getting back on their feet. For once the mercenary hadn’t been making a joke at his expense, but had honestly suggested perhaps the young doctor might like to learn how to use a gun properly, since it looked like they were all staying on board. And since it was highly unlikely they’d ever be able to live a life without regularly resorting to violence.

Simon had baulked at the idea initially. He was a doctor. He saved lives, he didn’t take them. He’d lost track of the number of times he’d had to operate on one member of the crew or other … actually, that wasn't true. He knew exactly, from the smallest paper cut to reattaching the Captain’s ear, to … well, it was all in his notes, meticulously kept and highly detailed. But it didn’t make it any easier to deal with.

But he’d said yes. He’d found Jayne in the cargo bay, working out as was his habit when he had nothing else to do, and said he wanted to take him up on the offer. Jayne had seemed surprised, almost as if he’d forgotten, but he’d nodded, grunted, said soon as they were planetside they’d go to a gunsmith, find something suitable.

The first time he’d had the belt around his waist, Simon th