A/N: Okay, as I have stated at the beginning of my first chapter, this story features Mal/Simon slash. Especially this chapter. No one's forcing you to read it. I ignore flames on the subject, so they would simply be a waste of energy. To everyone else: thanks for staying with me this far, this is the longest chapter thusfar and I really hope y'all like it :D!

--------

After spending several hours chewing over possible options and getting absolutely nowhere, the crew slowly started to disperse, retiring for the night or returning to their jobs. Mal was already out of his chair and halfway to his bunk when he noticed Simon. The young doctor was still sitting at the table, staring at his hands.

A frown formed on Mal’s face. Simon had been quiet-like throughout the entire evening. “You okay?” he asked. Simon looked up and glanced at him with a dazed expression, and Mal felt certain that the Doc hadn’t even been aware that he was still in the room. “You ain’t spoke a word the whole time.”

“I’m just...” Simon began slowly, clearly searching for the right words. Dejection was written across his face, so clearly that it made Mal more than a mite uncomfortable. Then Simon suddenly interrupted himself. “What’s the point, Mal?” he asked, sounding agitated. “I mean, you have no idea how long it took me to gain access to River last time. I devoted two years of my life to it, and I barely pulled it off.”

Mal sighed and sat down next to Simon, putting a hand on his shoulder. He could feel the feverish warmth of his skin radiate through the fabric of the shirt. A brief image of what they could be doing flashed through his mind, but he quickly brushed it away. There were more pressing matters at hand. “That’s just your fever talkin’, Doc. I bet you’ll feel differently in the mornin’.”

Simon looked up. “Gee, thanks, doctor,” he said with a laconic little smile. He moved a hand to his shoulder and put it on top of Mal’s.

Mal felt a jolt of electricity flare in his abdomen and quickly closed his eyes before Simon