In the kitchen Mal was sitting at one end of the eating table together with Zoë and Wash, while Book was at the other reading… well, a book. Zoë was halfway through her report on last month's fuel expenses when they heard hurried steps on the stairs and Simon entered the room.

"Captain, we have a problem," he said.

Wash, who was balancing his chair on its hind legs, threw his arms up in the air. "The soundtrack of our lives!" he exclaimed.

The doctor ignored him. "Jayne's running a fever."

Even though Mal knew perfectly well what that meant, he – when the doctor failed to continue – still cocked an eyebrow and said, "Yes?"

"Which means there's an infection," Simon continued. Everybody's eyes were on him now; Book had put down his reading material and was paying closely attention to what was being said with a worried frown on his face. "Now, I cleaned the wound as best as I could, but it must have already entered his bloodstream. I…"

"Don't beat around the bush, Doctor," Mal said, a little impatiently but not unkindly. "You got something to say, you go ahead and say it."

"He needs antibiotics. Which we don't have."

Zoë cursed under her breath. Wash, definitively not smiling anymore, tipped his chair back on all fours.

Mal only stared at Simon. "I thought your infirmary was stocked!"

"It is… with basically anything else." There was a desperate look in the young man's eyes. "Look, I'm pumping him full of any antipyretics and immune boosters I've got my hands on, but…" He shook his head.

Silence fell upon them. Mal looked at his own hand resting on the table and slowly tapped his fingers against the wood. "So, without this medicine he'll die?" he eventually asked.

"He might die anyway," Simon replied truthfully. "We're talking sepsis here. As in…"

"Blood poisoning,&quo