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“Dear Diary, “Two weeks ago, I sent Jayne away somewhere ‘special’ for sexin’ lil’ ol’ underaged me. Needless to say, he’s not comin’ home from that place anytime soon. It was the best day ever!” The girl glanced up at him, gave him a downright disparagin’ look, an’ returned her gaze to her scribblin’. Jayne scowled right back. Time to bite the bullet. Gorramit, but this was not how he ever envisioned this happenin’… Marry me. No reaction. ‘Cuse me, but I just proposed to ya, girl! Least ya could do is acknowledge the fact! River looked up from her journal to where Jayne was crouched in front of her, cocked her head to the side, regarded him for a moment, then returned her attention to her writing. Hey, I’m thinkin’ at ya! “Heard you,” she said, turning the page and continuing to write. “The answer is ‘no’.” Jayne almost fell backwards on his heels. “No?” “No,” she repeated again, her voice steady and cool. He looked looked right towards the cargo bay, left towards the passenger dorms, and then leaned in. “Why not?” “Unnecessary,” she replied, jotting down a notation in her journal. “The hell it ain’t!” he whispered in a low, urgent tone, grippin’ the couch on either side o’ her knees. I, me, this personage in front o’ ya, am going to hell – Special Hell – because I listened to John Thomas instead o’ common sense when ya got up in my face in all yer ruttin’ sexified splendor! Now I’m tryin’ to do the right thing an’ yer tellin’ me ‘no’? “Correct.” She closed the journal and frowned at him as she handed him a folded-up piece of paper. “Do the math, Cobb.” She nimbly vaulted over him and sauntered over to stairs. “Do the math?” What the ruttin’ hell’s that supposed to mean? Jayne watched her as she climbed to the second level, her pretty little backside the focal point o’ his ‘verse for a good long while before he glanced down at the paper she’d given him. He unfolded it and recoiled. It was her wanted poster, featurin’ her vitals, date an’ place o’ birth an’ a picture bad enough to be used on her ident card…which he had, by the way. Bounty’s gone up, he noticed. Then he saw the caption that read “wanted dead or alive”. Could easily retire for the price o’ turnin’ over her carcass. Maybe her way o’ tellin’ me she wants me to “say good-bye, cruel ‘verse”…?
“Incorrect,” she said to him when he tried to sneak up on her in the galley while she was baking. Jayne pulled up short and looked ‘round, wonderin’ if anyone had seen him fixin’ to end her with Gladys. “But I thought…” “Wrong formula,” she instructed, blindly handing him a spatula and a spoon, both liberally coated with leftover cake batter. Jayne hesitated for a moment, wonderin’ if she was tryin’ to poison him. She looked at him over her shoulder, rolled her eyes and took a quick lick from the spoon. “Nontoxic, Cobb.” He tucked Gladys into the back of his waistband and took the utensils from her, then circled around to the table an’ hunkered down, intent on gettin’ as much o’ the uncooked good stuff off as possible. “This ain’t half-bad,” he grunted, devourin’ the thick, sweet substance clingin’ to the spatula an’ spoon an’ tryin’ not to think about the time not long ago when he had her face-down on the table, one leg on the floor, the other tucked up to her side, clingin’ to the opposite edge as she gouged new marks in the wood an’ his palm. “Pleasing,” she said in a funny little voice as she placed the pan into the oven. “Surer than shuì,” Jayne agreed. He looked up in time to view her slowly turnin’ ‘round. For a moment, he thought she might’ve had The Look in her eyes, but then she dropped her gaze to the floor. When she looked up at him again, her eyes were just a little overcast. He watched her as she crossed to the table an’ placed the used mixin’ bowl in front of him. “Do the math.” “Ain’t no good at math,” he said, tryin’ to glower at her from under his eyebrows while devourin’ the batter. “Are, too,” she objected sweetly, smiling at him as she stood there, hands behind her back. “How much from the next caper?” “‘Bout three thousand or so, give or take a few hundred,” Jayne replied quickly as he reached down an’ slowly unstrapped Binky. “Dependin’ on the final price, o’ course.” It happened so fast it took Jayne’s breath away. One moment she was standin’ there, the next she was slammin’ a piece of paper on the table at the same moment he skewered it with his blade. Jayne leaned back as she leaned over, gigglin’ as she gave him a damn fine view down her clingy pink dress. “Not your turn, Cobb, and believe me, the pen is much, much mightier than the sword.” She rested her elbows on the table and tapped the document with one o’ her long elegant fingers. “Just do the math.” The girl left him sittin’ there, cleanin’ out o’ the bowl an’ peerin’ a series o’ numbers written in blue ink.
“Hey, aren’t you supposed to be making dinner?” Mal asked as he poked his head onto the bridge. “Lotta good smells comin’ from the vicinity of the oven, but for the life of me, I can’t seem to find the source because here you are here, not in kitchen.” “Sorry, Cap’n,” Jayne replied, turnin’ off the screen an’ vacatin’ the co-pilot seat. “Gittin’ right on it!” Mal stopped him with a hand on his arm. “Jayne, what were you doin’ on the cortex?” Jayne pulled himself up to his full height. “Uh…math?” “Oh, good!” Mal said, wiping his brow with mock concern. “Thought you were fixin’ to mutiny or something.” “Not today, Cap’n” Jayne said, smirkin’ a bit as he made to move past Mal. “There’s other things what caught my ‘ttention ‘sides takin’ over.” “That’s the first time I’ve seen you smile since we last hid out with the Shepherd at Haven,” Mal said, clapping Jayne on the shoulder. “Kinda scary. Hope you’re not plannin’ on making a habit of it.” “Yeah, well we all know how my plans go,” Jayne said, tryin’ to get away. Mal smiled and folded his arms. “Crash and burn, right?” Jayne smiled as he shrugged. “‘Bout the same as Serenity one o’ these days, I expect.” Mal’s face fell. “That’s not nice, Jayne.” “I didn’t mean nothin’ – ” Mal’s expression was utterly humorless as he warned, “You don’t mess with my girl, and I won’t mess with yours.” It was Jayne’s turn to go pale as he had the random thought that Mal might know what had been goin’ on between himself an’ the pygmy nutcase. Wait a gorram minute – she’s ‘my’ girl now? As in – “I have absolutely no qualms,” Mal warned, breaking into Jayne’s thought process and using that same dire tone, “about taking nekkid pictures of Vera and splashing them all…over…the cortex.” Jayne felt his gut unclench slightly an’ felt safe enough to attempt some high-larity. “Hell, that ain’t no threat! She’d probably strip down on her own for the chance to be in Racks, Rifles and Revolvers.” “Get outta here, big guy,” Mal said, some of his cheer restored. “Make something flavorsome and untidy, dong ma?” “Will do, Cap’n,” Jayne said, heading off to the kitchen.
Two hours later found Jayne shovelin’ saucy noodles into his mouth an’ mostly ignorin’ the other people at the table as he rediscovered his unqualified love o’ food. The night before a heist, he was always ravenous an’ more than a little “edgy” – not in a nervy sorta way, but a “gorram-I-wanna-shoot-somethin’-bad” way that had him disregardin’ most anythin’ ‘round him. Except, o’ course, the girl. Jayne watched her as she placed her chopsticks at the top o’ her plate an’ let her right hand drop beneath the sight line of the table. He almost jumped when he felt her right hand draw a question mark on his thigh while she shyly sipped water from her glass. He closed his left hand over hers an’ squeezed gently. She smiled down into her dinner, withdrew her hand from his, and went back to eating. Jayne let his mind drift for a moment, conjurin’ a vision o’ the two o’ them, locked in a room somewhere they could finally make some gorram noise an’ do unto each other until they were raw, blind, an’ totally bereft o’ any an’ all bodily fluids. Ah – death by sexin’…whatta way to go! At some point, Jayne’s attention returned to the meal an’ he realized a round-robin conversation was goin’ on. “…from Muir,” Wash was saying before he guzzled half his water glass to help down a very large mouthful. “Pollution so thick you never knew if the sun was out. Thank God for space travel or I’d never had a chance to see the stars! And you, lamby toes?” “Vesselside,” Jayne heard Zoe say as she piled more saucy noodles onto her plate. “Parents were career military and almost never left the ship except to beat down insurgents. Mom was from Ita, Dad from Shadow.” “Shadow, too,” Mal said, wiping his cheek with his wrist. “Zoe’s my thirteenth cousin…six times removed, is it?” “Good memory, sir,” she applauded. “And how about our resident power-hungry maniac who’s finally gotten his appetite back?” Jayne twirled the saucy noodles on his fork and said, “Aetna.” “I’m guessing you were born on Osiris, right, Doc?” Wash asked, refilling his water glass. “Yes,” Simon said, using his fork to wind the noodles. “River was, too.” “Was not,” she said, a lock of her hair threatening to fall forward into her dinner as she managed the noodles with grace and precision. Doc’s eyebrows threatened to become one. “You were, too, born on Osiris, mei mei.” “Was not,” she insisted, twirling the noodles effortlessly onto her chopsticks. “Were, too,” Simon disputed, “I was there when they brought you home – ” “Family was on holy days, Simon,” River answered back, adding some grated cheese-flavored protein. “You were joyful because you got a copy of Grey’s Anatomy, a chemistry set, and a bratty sister to experiment on.” The intercom crackled and Kaylee’s voice could be heard, tinny and clear. “Simon, I think I may need a weave. Sliced myself a little gory doin’ the prep-check on the mule…” “Be right down!” Simon said, jumping out of his seat and heading for the engine room. Jayne’s lips twisted a little as Zoe and Wash shared a look. “So, River,” Zoe said, passing the garlic butter loaf around, “If you weren’t born on Osiris, then where – ” “Londinium,” Jayne replied quickly before shovelin’ more food into his mouth. It got awful quiet in the room. Jayne looked up to find all eyes on him. “What?” “Now how would you know that?” Wash asked, leaning back in his seat. “Latest warrant just come ‘cross the cortex – says so in the vitals section,” Jayne replied. Mal eyed him suspiciously. “Hey, just did the math ‘cause I wanted to make sure I don’t miss out on no sheng ri dan gao next time!” Jayne protested. “Doc’s got all splattered, Mal refused to have one on account o’ it bein’ a fire hazard, an’ I didn’t get none o’ Zoe’s nor Wash’s nor Kaylee’s. Weren’t fair at all!” “And you probably won’t get any this time either,” Zoe said before turning to the girl, “Because I estimate we missed your birthday by a good six months, right, River?” She smiled and nodded, about to say something before Mal interrupted her. “Well, hell!” Mal said, grinning. “Even so, I feel like it’s time for a little festivity and I bet Jayne knows where’s the source of that happy smell I caught earlier today?” “In the keeper,” River said, smoothing her hand across her napkin. Wash got up, slid open the door to the keeper and made a quizzical sound as he held aloft the item in question. “Jayne, you baked?” “You baked a real cake?” Zoe asked, her eyes glazing over as she gathered the plates. River beamed. “No, he taste-tested a real cake.” It was Mal’s turn to eye her suspiciously. “You mean our boy didn’t make it?” “No, the girl made it, but she needed honest assessment of flavor,” River explained, her face completely open. “Cobb doesn’t lie. Would be totally outspoken if confection were foul.” “Ain’t that the ruttin’ truth!” Jayne remarked, polishin’ his plate with a piece o’ garlic butter loaf before handin’ it to Zoe. “Do we have candles?” Zoe asked, stacking the plates on the counter by the sink as Wash bore the cake to the table and set it in front of River, all the while eyeing it lustfully. “Unnecessary,” River replied as she looked down at it. It was decorated with vanilla frosting and featured a figure eight in chocolate sauce. “Too small for incendiary equipment.” “Guess Jayne went a little crazy on the taste-testing,” Mal commented. Jayne shot him a hard look. “Knife?” Zoe suggested, placing fresh plates next to River. “I got it,” Jayne said, drawin’ Binky outta her sheath an’ brandishin’ her. “My turn?” “Your turn,” River concurred, offering the first cut to him. Jayne obliged her by slicin’ an’ dealin’ as she held the plates an’ passed the slices. “There somethin’ goin’ on here I should know about, you two?” Mal asked, his eyebrows congregating above his nose. “Why are y’all gettin’ along all of a suddenwise?” “Very simple,” River responded as she offered Mal a portion of cake. “Not allowed to handle knives; Cobb offers because he gets to lick the implement after cutting is done.” “Knew there was a reason I set my chrono by your appetites, Jayne,” Zoe remarked dryly as she accepted a slice. Jayne grinned and applied himself to the slicin’. “Well this is a shiny day,” Mal said, forking a piece into his mouth. “Not only do we have real cake, but Jayne and River are getting along, and they both get to go on the job tomorrow.” Jayne’s fork hovered in midair. “What!” “Oh, I didn’t tell you?” Mal said. “In honor of her un-birthday, River gets a round-trip to the First Lilac Bank. Gonna be our little hazard forecaster.” River smiled and tapped her nose. “Ancient Egyptians said the brains of operation came out of the nose of bloodhounds who sniff out bad guys. No room in canopic jars.” “Are you sure that’s wise, Captain?” Wash asked, trying to steal crumbs from Zoe’s plate. “Won’t Simon have something to say about that?” “Something about what?” Simon asked, escorting Kaylee into the galley and assisting her into her seat. Kaylee looked a touch pale and favored her left leg a bit, but otherwise she seemed fine. “Oh, nothing,” Mal said. “Doc saved you some food, little Kaylee, and we saved you a slice of heaven.” “Is that real cake?” Kaylee squealed, blindly pulling Simon down into the seat next to her. “Oh, say it’s real cake, Captain!” “Real and certified,” Mal said, popping another piece into his mouth. “Mighty edible, if I do say so myself.” Kaylee’s mouth and eyes went completely circular. “Ohhh…can I have dessert first, Captain, qi?” “River,” Simon cautioned, a note of disbelief in his voice. “The oven is dangerous.” “I read the rules, used the correct pan, followed the instructions…” she ventured in a quiet voice. Simon was in no mood to listen. “Mei mei, this is not a game! You could’ve gotten burned – ” Jayne banged his fist on the table. “Doc could ya just lay offa her for one ruttin’ minute? She’s in one piece, she ain’t got no scorch-marks on her an’ she made a gorram helluva dainty, so why don’t we play a little game called ‘Shaddap an’ Eat’!” It got awful quiet in the room again. Jayne dealt with it by puttin‘ his head down and consumin’ the rest o’ his cake. Simon dealt with it by grabbing his plate and heading for his room. Kaylee picked up her plate of cake and Simon’s and went after him. “Jayne’s right,” Mal said jauntily to the crew that remained. “You make a gorram helluva dainty, little albatross.”
“So ya really are eighteen, no lie?” Jayne asked, hunkerin’ down next to River on the catwalk. She nodded as she swung her bare feet back and forth. “18.78 years today.” Jayne rested his arms on the railing an’ rested his chin on his wrists. “But then why did yer brother say you were only seventeen?” River shrugged. “Miscalculation left uncorrected to protect parent’s pride. Made me youngest ever admitted to Academy and would have had to surrender title to another if adjusted for accuracy. Brother is used to celebrating birthday according to Osiris tradition.” “Accordin’ to my math…the age of consent on Londinium is seventeen,” Jayne commented, examinin’ his fingernails. “Accurate,” she replied, pointing and flexing her feet. “Had I come to you when you had your first thoughts of me, it would have been completely permissible. Appropriate for ages thirteen and up, Special Hell and batteries not included.” “I been meanin’ to ask ya about them batteries – hey! What do you mean, when I had my ‘first thoughts’ o’ ya?” Jayne asked, perplexed as all get out. “‘It’s a girl. Cute, too, but I don’t think she’s all there. ‘Course, not all o’ her has to be’,” River replied, mimicking Jayne’s accent as perfectly as she had Badger’s all those months ago on Persephone. “You heard that?” he asked, feelin’ a combination o’ filthy-guilty an’ mightily ashamed. “When I woke, it was dissonance, cacophony, broken pianos, unstrung guitars, woodwinds without reeds,” she explained, her voice steady and low. “But some tones were more strident than others. Yours, easily loudest of them all.” “’Pologize if I upset ya,” Jayne said. To his surprise, he found he meant it. “There were no bolts out of that patch of blue, Cobb,” she said, looking at him. “Each voice had its own proto-resonance. Warrior Woman was the warpipes, skirling in the grey mists of dawn. Husband was fiddle, merry and melancholy by turn. Play music well together, but Husband often overpowered by Warrior Woman.” Jayne grinned, impressed by his ability to follow her reasonin’. “The Cap’n?” River smiled whimsically. “Piano…versatile, many keys, sometimes humorous, shifted easily to doom and gloom. The Companion was harp – soft sounds, elegant lines, counterpointed well with piano, but harsh if not played properly. Shepherd was pipe organ – imposing and thunderous, once created Dionysian frenzy behind doors.” “An’ the Doc?” “Brother has always been trumpet. Polished, elegant, tidy, plays good strong melodies – but needs much maintenance and does not know how to mambo. Mechanic was alto saxophone – sultry and languid, sometimes mournful, but masquerades – saxophone is truly woodwind.” “Whattabout me?” “French horn,” she said, smiling to herself. “Well-built, pleasing, twisted, signals the hunt…simple to play wrong notes if care is not taken.” Jayne considered her words for a moment. “That why ya use all them Frenchish words ‘round me?” “That answer exists within in the set,” she replied, her attention on the empty space of the cargo bay. “An’ how ‘bout yerself?” “Most often guitar,” she replied. “Strings too tight or too loose and key is off. Strummed just right and sound is splendid, whether acoustic or plugged. Hard to find the right player, though. Brother likes to treat sister as brass, even though she is stringed.” “Coulda seen that comin’,” he said. “Didn’t even remember where ya were born.” “Vision is excellent,” she agreed, “Need work on faith.” Jayne scratched the back o’ his neck. “Really made a mess o’ things, didn’t I?” “Yes,” she said, not looking at him. “Worse than saucy noodles on garment.” Jayne glanced down. Quite a bit o’ sauce had made its way onto the front o’ his “weapons o’ choice” t-shirt. “Told ya before, I ain’t no shiny Core man,” he said, usin’ some o’ his spit to try an’ get the stain out. “Not required for union,” she replied, gazing at the mule. They sat together in silence for awhile longer before he looked over at her. “Why’d you ask to come along on this job, River-girl?” She turned her head to look at him, clearly surprised. “How did you know I requested?” “Math don’t add up otherwise,” he said, workin’ on the stain. “Don’t think Mal’d be the kind to get it in his brainpan to think it up. Zoe ain’t particularly the type to conjure it neither, so I’m reasonin’ that it was yer idea.” “Correct summation,” she acknowledged. “Doc okay with that?” Jayne asked, lookin’ at her. “Doesn’t know,” she answered, rolling her shoulders back. Jayne leaned away from her, stain forgotten. “Ya think he ain’t gonna notice when we ride on outta here tomorrow mornin’ an’ yer wavin’ to him from the backseat?” “I need to earn my own keep,” she said. “Resistance against logical analysis is futile.” “Yeah, but how is comin’ along on the heist in anyway logical?” Jayne inquired. She looked at him serenely. “I have needs.” Jayne held her eyes for a moment before lookin’ down at his lap. He felt the blush comin’ up an’ looked away from her until he felt it pass. “So are ya…ya know, comin’ to me tonight?” he asked her softly. “Can’t,” she replied, not meeting his eyes. “Cashflow issues.” Jayne looked down at his knees, out at the mule, up at the ceilin’. “I could, um, extend ya a line o’ credit or mebbe give ya a free – ” Her eyes were clear and severe as she met his. “That would not be fiscally responsible of you, Cobb.” She got up and left him there on the catwalk, smartin’ somethin’ fierce from her second refusal. Ain’t gonna be no third time, he promised himself, grittin’ his teeth before headin’ to his bunk.
"Honestly, There Might Be Tears!" "Do You Know That Girl?" "They're Afraid of Me."
“Don’t make no sense, Preacher,” Jayne said, loungin’ back against the logs, smokin’ on one o’ the Koobanes with Book. “It just don’t make no ruttin’ sense.” Book puffed on the cigar. “What’s that, son?” “That gorram girl. Turns out she’s some kinda deadly weapon or somethin’.” Jayne took a deep draught from the bottle o’ whiskey he’d brought planetside an’ offered it to the Shepherd. “Never woulda thought it to look at her, but she’s got melee aptitude I ain’t seen since my brothers Marion an’ Vivian took out an entire platoon o’ purple bellies few years back.” “I thought you didn’t fight in the war,” Book said, declining the whiskey. “Where would you have run into Alliance troops?” “Didn’t,” Jayne grunted. “Went back to Aetna as part o’ the militia, but skipped outta there as soon as they overran the planet.” “And I suppose you’ve been a mercenary ever since.” “Bullseye, Preacher,” Jayne said, acknowledgin’ the man with his cigar. There was a soft silence between them as the gloom gathered. “Have a drink, Shepherd,” Jayne urged after a time, offerin’ the whiskey bottle. “I feel like celebratin’.” Book declined again. “No, thank you, but I am curious what you could possibly have to be glad about in this untidiness?” “She’s of age,” Jayne said softly before takin’ ‘nother sip o’ whiskey. “What?” Book asked, turning to him sharply. “The girl. She’s of age. Born on Londinium more than eighteen years ago.” Jayne closed his eyes, leaned his head back. “Turns out Special Hell ain’t the final destination for this ol’ boy after all.” “Jayne,” Book said in a low, cautious tone, “you haven’t…done anything to her, have you?” “Me?” Jayne asked, scoffin’ at the very idea. “Hell, no. I ain’t done nothin’ to her.” “But you’ve had impure thoughts about her, am I correct?” “Yeah,” Jayne acknowledged, noddin’ his head in a matter-o’-fact manner. “Hell, yeah. Had me a lotta impure thoughts ‘bout her.” “Even if she is technically old enough, that still doesn’t mean she’s all there in the brainpain,” Book warned him. “Ya don’t think I don’t know that after yesterday’s little display?” Jayne scoffed. “Almost got my man parts yanked off when I tried to grab her from behind!” Book patted him on the shoulder, laughing silently. “Well, son, perhaps she’s might be right for you after all, even if she is a little touched. Obviously can handle herself in a physical altercation and it’s not like you’re one to shy away from those.” “Ain’t funny, preacher,” Jayne complained. “Took a few hours for my nuggets to stop hurtin’ an’ I still ain’t sure things’re gonna function prop’rly ever again!” “Any reason she would go for your…man parts?” Book asked, trying to keep a straight face. “Besides her being a little mentally imbalanced?” Jayne shifted from one leg to the other. “Well, we all know she’s a Reader, right?” “Right.” “I was, um, considerin’ havin’ a go at Kaylee,” Jayne admitted. “She bein’ all broken up over the doctor leavin’ an’ such – I thought…‘hey, mebbe she’d be willin’ for some pity sexin’?’” Book just stared at him. “What?!” Jayne demanded. “At least those intentions were reasonably decent!” "Well, if you can't do something smart, do something right." Book’s solemn expression broke into a grin. “Like I said, you’re not bad – ” “Just a lil’ misguided,” Jayne finished for him. “I know. Ain’t soon to forget that – got me a nice stingin’ reminder.” “In the end, all I ask is that you bear in mind there must be some honor among thieves,” Book cautioned. “Hey, to my credit, the latemost thoughts ‘bout that girl’ve been by an’ large homicidal-like,” Jayne replied before knockin’ back ‘nother swallow. “Not that I’d act on ‘em or nothin’. Maybe fright her a lil’, just so she knows who’s boss cocky ‘round here. Says she’s got superior ovaries or somethin’ – like tha’s s’posed to mean anythin’.” “Do my best to keep that in mind next time I pray,” Book said dryly as he reached into his pocket. He brought forth something shiny and handed it to Jayne. “I have a gift for you. Started wearing it when I first came on board Serenity. Don’t need it anymore, being as I’ve settled, so I reckon I should give it to someone who does.” “Wha’s this?” Jayne asked, puttin’ the bottle of whiskey down an’ openin’ his hand for the present. “St. Christopher medal,” Book said. “Patron saint of travelers. He’s supposed to guide you home safely.” “My ma’d be glad o’ this – she’s always tellin’ me how she don’t much like it when she hears her eldest boy’s not comin’ home for Christmas,” Jayne said, slippin’ the medal into his pocket. “Thank ya kindly, preacher.” “You’re very welcome, son.” Book looked at sunset. “And now I need some time to process all of this data. I’ll be up on that rise, should anyone need me.” “Mal was makin’ noises ‘bout wantin’ a word, so I’ll send him along in a piece," Jayne said, puttin’ out the stub o’ his cigar. “What say I finish this next time I see ya?” “It’s a deal,” Book said, smiling at him. “I’m going to enjoy mine a bit longer so they’re the same length when next we meet.” “Maybe ya can tell me more ‘bout yer time in the monastery?” Jayne asked, takin’ up his guitar. “I think I can do that,” Book replied, walking off into the sunset.
"You Cannot Handle This Man." "I Wish Like Hell You Was Elsewhere."
Jayne came to slowly, an evil throbbin’ on the back o’ his noggin. Am I dead? “No, you are alive,” a voice said from above. Thought so. Head hurts too ruttin’ much to be ‘mong the departed. He rolled to his side all careful-like and took a look-see ‘round. He was on his back in the kitchen, a massive can o’ peaches lyin’ next to him, and beyond that, the black boots of a certain feng le girl he’d been hardcore sexin’ for the past six months. What the hell’d ya hafta to go an’ brain me for? he thought at her as she crouched down next to him. “Poetic justice, Cobb,” she replied as she gently applied a package of’ frozen grapes wrapped in his handkerchief to the back of his head. Whaddya mean, “poetic justice”? “Luan jing chao may not be made of solid rock, but ovaries have indeed proved superior.” She indicated the can of peaches. “The edible portion of a tao zi consists of what is termed a ‘drupe’. It is the mesocarp of the fruit, also known as the outer fleshy part, which surrounds the pit or stone and develops from flowers with superior ovaries.” Jayne groaned as he closed his eyes. Enough with the ruttin’ science lesson – ya proved yer point! Where’s my gorram gun? She smiled at him fondly. “Phoebe is with Captain-Daddy. Many thanks, Cobb. She was just the right size for my needs.” He allowed her to help him to his feet. “Where’re we goin’?” “The bridge,” she said, her face falling as she placed his arm around her neck. “There is a brave new world I have to reveal to you.”
"You Must Believe!"
The girl was sittin’ by the preacher when he found her, one hand on his forehead, the other on this throat. “How come ya didn’t warn us?” Jayne demanded, graspin’ her by her arm and haulin’ her up to shake her. “How come ya didn’t see 'em comin’? What good is yer damn mind-readin’ if it couldn’t save him?” Her eyes were clouded and wet – she was trying to hold back her tears as she shook her head at him. “Jayne, let her go!” Mal ordered. She stumbled back a few paces, covered her ears with her hands. “Too many…too many within the Pax Romana. Too much screaming, too many voices unheard, all of them trying to claw their way past each other and I have but one throat, but millions – oh, I have suffered with those I saw suffer! More to know did never meddle with my thoughts – but to know that they are not coming home, they are never coming home… because there is no home to come to…Of ruin great cause thou art though famous, and fair, and pale – ere that Félim's hid daughter from life shall part, all Ulster her deeds shall wail!” And again she sank to her knees, wordlessly sobbing as she laid her hands upon the Shepherd’s body.
"I Won't Live to Report This."
Jayne felt numb as he sat down on his bed. He’d seen corpses before, but never so many at once. They all sorta jumbled together into one, huge disjointed sequence o’ rotten flesh an’ bone, runnin’ over an’ over again in his mind as he tried to block it out. What he’d seen…how could anyone, any individual be permitted to treat people with such callous cruelty? He dropped his head into his hands, scrubbed his face with them. Can’t spend any time thinkin’ on this, not if’n I wanna get out alive. But try as he might will himself, all he could see were those dead people. An’ the more he tried to blank his mind, the more they begged to be remembered, to be honored instead of thrown into some gorram memory hole where everything they’d ever been, ever done, was dead an’ buried. Is this how it was for her all those months, days, minutes? God Almighty, how did she manage to survive that kinda nightmare? The hatch to his bunk opened an’ he didn’t even bother to look up. He knew it was her, could tell by the scent of apples an’ vanilla an’ tears as she closed the hatch, descended the ladder, crossed to him in her bare feet. He felt her hand, soft an’ delicate, as it caressed the top o’ his head, slid down to cup his skull. Jayne reached for her, wrapped his arms around her body, pulled her in close as she leaned over to press her lips to his hair. “You have no scorn of the abstract,” she said, cradling his head to her breast. “The death of one man is as much a tragedy as the deaths of thirty million men, women and children.” “What if they’d tried it on Aetna?” Jayne whispered, squeezin’ his eyes shut. “What if they’d tried it there? I kept seein’ Matty, or my ma, or my sisters. They never would’ve seen it comin’, never woulda known. An’ I couldn’t’ve done nothin’ to help them. Not a gorram thing. How could anybody do this? How?” “A wise philosopher once said, ‘in a world where people assume all swans are white, the discovery of a black swan can be devastating to one’s preconceptions about what it means to be a swan in the first place’,” she murmured, stroking his hair. “Your colors continue to change, Cobb.” “Ain’t no ruttin’ swan,” Jayne said, grippin’ her tight. “I’m just a man, flawed an’ fearful, wonderin’ if I get to see tomorrow, will I be able to live with what I’ve seen today?” “You had the power to destroy my demons,” she said quietly. “I know you have the might to slay your own.” Long, hushed moments passed as they held each other in the dark silence of his bunk, she resting her head on his, he hanging onto her as if she were the only thing anchoring him in the ‘verse. “River-girl, are ya willin’ to stay here with me for awhile?” he asked softly, looking up into her eyes. “Yes,” she replied, kissing his forehead and running her hand down his cheek. “Are you willing to drive back my darkness?” “Ya only have to ask,” Jayne answered, feelin’ that familiar pressure start again in his chest as she gazed down at him with her fearless bright eyes an’ her gutsy little smile. It started slowly, carefully as they helped each other out of their clothing. He felt as if he were discoverin’ her all over again. Every bend, every break in her body, from the slope o’ her shoulder to the crook o’ her elbow to the flow o’ her waist into her hip, all o’ it sacred an’ holy as he touched her, memorized her, learned her by heart. He had missed her so gorram much… She took the same pleasure in him as she ran her hands and mouth over his body, glorying in his warmth, his vitality, his strength. If he had missed her, she was starved for the taste of him, hungry for the searing rasp of his tongue against her skin, famished for the bristly scratch of his chin against her neck, ravenous for the harsh grip of his fingers on her thighs. She couldn’t get enough of him and didn’t even attempt to suppress herself as she keened her fervor and her fulfillment. He let her set the pace, holdin’ her upright as she moved on him, her legs wrapped ‘round his waist, her arms wrapped ‘round his neck, her lips inches from his. He was hard an’ demandin’, she was wet an’ acceptin’, an’ he was in awe of how perfect a fit they were for each other, always had been, always would be. Jayne’s heart almost gave out when she brought her hand to her mouth, kissed her fingers, and pressed her fingertips to his lips. When he would’ve spoken, would’ve told her how incredible she felt ‘round him, how much he wanted to stay this way forever, how much it hurt him that he couldn’t give her what she wanted, she just smiled and said, “Shhh, no suffering, my Cobb. It is enough for now.” All too soon, slow became fast and gentle became furious as they translated hurt into happiness, anguish into bliss, terror into ecstasy. She was alive and he was alive and it was just the two of them as he surged into her and she held him fast as they moved together, embracing each other securely as they pushed everything away but the here and now. Even though he swore, she knew they were words of reverence. Even though she wept, he knew they were tears of joy. In the backs of their minds, they had accepted the possibility that they might not weather the storm that was coming, but for the moment they had each other and it was more than enough.
“I Aim to Misbehave.”
While Mal and Wash were preparin’ to make their move on the Reaver fleet, Jayne was in the galley. He had loaded himself down with all of his favorite girls, includin’ his new beauty, a hand-sized machine gun named Lux. All that remained was to hand out firearms to the civilians. Kaylee already had hers, a pretty little lady Jayne called Esmerelda. The mechanic was familiarizin’ herself with how to load the gun as Jayne moved on an’ handed over Hermione to the doctor. Jayne pulled the man aside as he dug in his pack for ammo. “Doc, can I bend yer ear for a tick?” “What’s that?” Simon asked, putting the gun strap over his shoulder. “I think ya should tell Kaylee how ya feel,” Jayne said, passin’ him a load o’ ammo. “What!” Simon almost dropped the bullets. “Tell her,” Jayne urged, givin’ the Doc ‘nother pack. Simon halted in the act of fastening the packs to the strap. “Never in a million years would I ever think you were the type.” “What type is that?” Jayne asked brusquely, sortin’ through his collection for a gun River might be able to handle. “To give romantic advice, especially at a time like this.” “Kaylee ain’t no gunslinger, Doc,” Jayne said, tryin’ his best patiently break it down for him. “Girl gets in a whinge at just the thought o’ shootin’. Needs somethin’ to take her mind offa how scared she is.” Simon’s eyes widened. “And you think that’s going to help?” Jayne grit his teeth. “Can’t afford her to be gettin’ all poultry-fied. It’s plain as rain that ya wanna be with her, so do yer damn duty and tell her ya wanna sex her so we got a better chance o’ makin’ it outta here, dong ma?” “Dong ma,” Simon repeated, still a little shellshocked. Jayne turned to River. “Ain’t gonna lie to ya, darlin’,” he muttered, handin’ her the gun he’d picked out. “Situation don’t look so good.” “I know,” she said softly, paying close attention as he gave her ammo. He had already instructed her in how to use Phoebe, so he felt confident that when the time came, she would be all right. “Might wanna think about wavin’ yer folks,” Jayne said in a tight voice, showin’ her how to lock ‘n load. “Tell them there’s high probability that yer not comin’ home for the holy days.” “Jayne.” He looked down into her eyes. “If no words are ever exchanged between us again, you must comprehend something,” she said, tenderly placing a hand over his scar. “This is my home.” “That’s the first time ya ever called me by my first name,” he whispered, puttin’ a hand over hers an’ feelin' somethin’ hot, wild an’ brutal twistin’ his heart into all sorts o’ bendy. “Hope this ain’t ‘cause ya got some vision o’ me that predicts I’m gonna be sayin’ ‘goodbye’ before this is over.” “No. I know you will live. No harm will come to you while I draw breath,” she declared, her tone sure and resolute. She looked to her brother, to Kaylee, and then lifted her chin as she met his eyes again. “But should the darkness descend, regardez St Christophe et va-t-en rassuré.” “It won’t,” he vowed, not carin’ if Kaylee or the Doc were lookin’ at them. “I won’t let it!” “I have a debt to repay,” she said, looking at her brother. “And I will, if the time comes.” He felt his mouth go dry as he saw fate bloom in her eyes. “River-girl, there’s things I never said…” “No regrets,” she ordered, her voice catching as her eyes pleaded with his. “No regrets,” he promised. “It’s just…if I don’t get a chance to later…two by two, darlin’, two by two.” He placed his other hand over her heart, achin’ for her as he felt it beatin’ fast under his palm. “And I, you,” she whispered, holding his hand to her. Then her eyes sparkled as she said, “Don’t forget the grenades.”
"They Won't See This Coming." "This Is the Place, We'll Buy You the Time."
There was no place left where they could retreat. Wash was gone. Zoe was tore up bad. Kaylee was goin’ unconscious. Doc just acquired a gut wound courtesy o’ the Reavers which ‘Nara was tryin’ to staunch. River was kneelin’ o’er her brother an’ shiverin’. He was almost outta ammo. It was the ruttin’ “Charge o’ the Light Brigade” all over again, but Jayne didn’t feel like it would be a sacrifice made for nothin’. He reckoned he could be easy with the likelihood o’ it all endin’ here in this dark little corridor on this dark little moon. He had his family ‘round him an’ he had Gladys tucked away inside his pants if it got to the point that he needed to put a bullet in each of ‘em to save ‘em from a fate worse than death. Jayne looked over at River, who was crouched o’er her brother, shakin’ like a leaf on the wind. She was lookin’ a little recovered from the batshit crazy she’d gone when the Reavers first started howlin’ their war cries. He felt a pang o’ remorse for talkin’ so trashy ‘bout her when she’d lost it, but that was who he was in battle-mode, not carin’ ‘bout nothin’ but gettin’ through intact. She met his eyes for a moment before she looked at the blast doors. What’s that yer always sayin’ to me, darlin’ – the pen is mightier than the sword or somethin’ the like? he thought at her, tryin’ to get her to smile, tryin’ to give her a little affection as he shot more o’ those gorram monsters that had gnawed at her dreams for all those years. It worked. But not in the way he expected. “No,” Jayne heard her day, her voice small and firm as she spoke to the Doc. “You take care of me, Simon. You’ve always taken care of me…my turn.” Jayne felt his heart break right then an’ there as he watched her flee, watched her dive through the aperture, graceful as a swan singin’ one last beautiful song. He despised himself as he hesitated for that brief moment, cursin’ his weakness as he failed to give her the mercy that Mal had given that poor bastard back on Lilac when she slammed on the manual override an’ tossed the doc’s bag through the doors before they closed on her. But he knew he had no bullets left in Lux an’ there was no way he could’ve gotten to Gladys in time. Take ‘em down, River-girl, he thought at her, trust and a deeper, more primal emotion pushin’ his message across the doors. Take ’em all down – just like ya did me an’ that whole damn bar. I know ya can do it – an’ if ya wonder why I know, it’s ‘cause ya owe me for the last time we were together…an’ ‘cause this is the one ruttin’ time ya never said goodbye! He took a deep breath and put a hand to his medal. I believe in ya, darlin’, I gotta believe…’cause I got a helluva lotta things to say to ya and I can’t say ‘em if yer not comin’ home!
"shui" - "taxes" “dong ma” – “understood” “sheng ri dan gao” – “birthday cake” “qi” – “please” “luan jing chao” – “gonads” “tao zi” – “peach” “Regardez St Christophe et va-t-en rassuré.” – “Look at St Christopher and go on reassured.” Quote is from Nassim Nicholas Taleb, author of The Black Swan: The Impact of the Highly Improbable. |
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Copyrighted (c) 2007 Silver Thistle Publishing.