Wrong Way Home

The young doctor sprawled in a chair at the head of the galley table, half-full cup in one hand, a dusty, half-empty, cord-wrapped bottle in the other. The mis-matched chairs around the table were precisely tipped forward to lean against the table's edge. Simon blearily stared at a point far beyond the middle of the table. He didn't react to the clump of boots on the catwalk, nor to the sudden appearance of Jayne. Jayne glanced at Simon as he headed for the coffee pot.

"Well, what'n the hell are YOU doin' up this early, Doc?" He smiled as he grabbed his large ceramic mug from the counter and tipped coffee into it. "Or you been up all night, carousin'-like?" When Simon didn't respond, Jayne reached over Simons' shoulder and snatched the bottle; he looked a little disappointed when Simon didn't react. He sniffed the bottle and grinned.

"Now, this here's the breakfast of champions," said Jayne, saluting Simon with a wave of the bottle, and poured a generous shot into his coffee. He plopped the bottle back in front of Simon, grabbed a chair and spun it around before straddling it. "What's the big occasion, Doc? Kaylee finally drop her drawers for ya?" Jayne chuckled, appreciating his own humor. He commenced spooning sugar into his cup.

"Jayne," said Simon without looking up, "every time you descend further into crudity, I think that's it, that nobody can possibly be more boorish. Somehow, you manage it." He raised his eyes and focused on Jayne's smirk. "No, if you must know; I'm saying goodbye." Simon's drunkenness didn't seem to effect his voice much.

"Bout time." Jayne sipped his coffee and grimaced. "You ain't takin' all your stuff, are ya?" He added more sugar and another shot from the bottle while Simon grimly shook his head. "Ya don't wanna be all loaded down while your runnin' from the feds, trust me." Jayne sipped again, then half emptied the mug with a long drink.

"Not taking anything I didn't come with," muttered Simon. He fumbled in his shirt pocket