Simon sometimes wonders where he’d be if he hadn’t stumbled across Serenity that first day on Persephone. Dead, his sister tells him, her blunt honesty the same as before the Academy, but different too.

He isn’t so sure he’d be dead, but he figures he wouldn’t be this happy either.

He has River safe and Kaylee to warm his blood and his bed. His career may be gone, but he’s useful still. On Osiris, he saved lives, hundreds of them. Though it’s not the reason he became a doctor, he reveled in the power. Bodies came to him on the threshold of Death’s door, and he brought them back.

But they were bodies and not people.

On Serenity he saves people. People he eats with and laughs with and fights with. People he knows. People he cares for.

It is thrilling in a way the ER never could be. There, he may have been the most brilliant trauma surgeon in residence, but there were a dozen others just a step behind him. Any one of them could fill his shoes. On Serenity, it is just him.

Mal might deny it, and Jayne outright refute it, but that makes him the most valuable member of the crew. Zoe and Mal would be dead a dozen times over, if not for him.

Somehow, Jayne always got by with just minor injuries.

Not that Simon likes to see them hurt. It’s just that the black can be a tedious place and he feels out of sorts surrounded by renegades and thieves. The only place he is really, truly himself is elbow deep in blood. He craves the challenge and the purpose, that feeling of fulfillment.

Kneeling in the cargo bay, he can feel Mal’s blood, slick between the fingers of his gloves as he’s probing the wound on his thigh. The Captain winces, the ship shaking as it’s breaking atmo as fast as River can fly, causing Simon’s fingers to dig deeper than he intended.

There. He can feel it. The bullet lodged tight up against the femur.

“You’ll be fine, Captain.” He assures his patient, ignoring the way Mal rolls his eyes.

“Always am. Zoe?” Mal looks to his first mate standing nearby, waiting for orders. Blood is splattered across her vest and her face shines with sweat from the exertion of getting Mal back to the ship with a bum leg. “Head for Callas Quadrant. I’m gonna want a word with Rialas ‘bout choosin’ his contacts better.”

“Yes, sir.” She says, her voice both calm and breathless at the same time. “After we get you into the infirmary.”

Simon peels off the gloves, tossing them aside and loops one of Mal’s arms around his neck while Zoe moves to his other side. Together, they carry him into the infirmary.

She leaves almost immediately, to relay the Captain’s orders, and Simon sets to work. His blood thrumming and his hands moving with a grace to rival River’s. He smiles when he clamps the bullet with his hemostat, slowly pulling it from the torn flesh.

Mal makes a smartass comment, but Simon doesn’t hear.

He’s sewing Mal up, giving the Captain detailed instructions he knows the other man will ignore, when he first hears Kaylee yelling his name. Doesn’t give it much thought, his focus solidly on Mal, until he hears the edge of panic, her voice breaking on his name.

The Captain shoos him and Simon goes rushing back to the cargo bay, to find Kaylee kneeling beside Jayne. The bigger man is on leaning against the airlock, where Simon vaguely remembers seeing him when he got to the Captain.

She’s urgently trying to keep him focused on her, her fingers fluttering uselessly over his body. “Jayne. Jayne!” He can see Jayne pry his lids half open, trying to focus on her. “Was a stupid thing you did. Ya hear me?!” He wonders what Jayne could have done to earn Kaylee’s disapproval.

Then he’s there and he doesn’t have to wonder.

The mercenary is holding one hand over his abdomen, blood oozing dark and thick around the hilt of a knife. His eyes flash from the wound to the man’s face. “You liu kuoshui de biaozi he houzi de ben erzi!” He kneels and pries Jayne’s stiff hand from around the weapon. “Why didn’t you say something?!”

“Thought the Cap’n needed ya.” His glassy eyes drift from Kaylee to Simon. “Ain’t that bad.”

“Oh, yes it is.” He murmurs, “This is very, very bad.”

The bleeding hasn’t stopped.

He doesn’t think there’s any way it missed the liver.

Jayne doesn’t get hurt.

Scratches. Just scratches.

The knife, he doesn’t like the look of the knife.

He can see the barbs at the hilt, meant to cause more damage when it’s withdrawn.

“Simon?” Kaylee’s voice sounds far away. “Simon! Simon, you have to help him!”

The blood is dark.

It can’t have missed his liver.

He releases Jayne’s blood-soaked hand, and it automatically goes back to cover the wound.

Like he’s trying to hold the blood in.

Simon’s never felt so worthless.