Disclaimer : It's fanfic, a labour of love, I don't earn or want anything from it. Everything is, as always, owned by Joss, Fox, Universal and lots of other people richer than me.

Rating: G, I guess.

Comments: 1) This is a series of vignettes, one from each of the crew, examing their lives now as compared to before. I started with Simon because... well... just 'cause. Deal with it.

2) The 'situation' Simon describes is based on little more than rumours and will be made clearer with the other characters as I write them (even if it's pretty clear already what I'm hinting at).

Feedback: I lied. I do want something from writing feedback. Comments from you. Yes that's right: comment me, comment me good. Or, even better, send me an email: wily_one24@yahoo.com.au

***

"That's the way it's always been.

It all comes down to creating time.

We don't always have to make it right.

We'll all drive by in our hybrid lives.

Chances are... chances are...

We'll make it back."

- Sheryl Crow.

***

He stared at the white, clinical walls with a mixture of longing, regret and something he could only define as overwhelming relief. With the situation as it stood now, Mal had made a decision that had surprised everyone. Everyone, perhaps, except Simon. If Mal hadn't come to the decision himself, Simon most likely would have insisted on it.

So Simon sat on the medical gurney and let the doctor prod and poke his healing abdomen, his long healed thigh wound, attach the necessary machines and listen to his heart and blood pressure, let her take blood from his arm.

They'd headed straight for Kerry, a little orange planet far away from anything resembling a core world or Alliance territory. Rumor had it they were running a med clinic. All of them could get checked out and properly screened for free and without any identification or paperwork changing hands. Mal had sneeringly called it charity work, in a tone that suggested what the rich, core doctors could do with their c