Ulysses (7/?) [Ten/Jack/Rose - Firefly crossover - PG-13]
Title: Ulysses (7/?)
Author: aibhinn
Rating: PG-13
Characters: Rose, Jack, Ten (will end up OT3); the Firefly crew.
Spoilers: DW through Journey's End, TW through Children of Earth, and all aired Firefly canon, including episodes and the movie Serenity.
Betas: larielromeniel, dameruth, and canaana, though I did some editing after I got it back from them, so if I messed it up, it's not their fault!
Summary: After the death of the blue-suited Doctor, an immortal Rose uses the dimension cannon to teleport herself back into her home universe. Or should that be 'Verse? Crossover with Joss Whedon's Firefly.
Disclaimer: Nothing is mine. I promise to put everything back where I found it.
Author's Note: The title refers to the poem of the same name by Tennyson, an online version of which can be found here. Chapters post on Wednesdays, except this week. Sorry, guys.
Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10
Chapter 7
Jones yawned, covering his mouth with his hand as the cart jolted over the uneven dirt roads. They'd left well before sun-up this morning. Lizzie had outdone herself with breakfast, his last with the family, and Jacob had insisted on getting out of bed to say goodbye to him. It had been a bittersweet farewell, but Jones felt better for having done it, instead of just disappearing, the way he'd originally planned.
The covered bed of the cart was filled with bags of wheat, each bearing the logo "Doran Farm." Funny, Jones had thought as he'd loaded them in the pre-dawn dark, he'd never even known their family name. There'd been no need for it, and the bags Jacob used for the wheat and flour reserved for the family had been made of plain fabric. Of course, there was no reason to advertise for the family, and Jones had no doubt these sacks had cost a pretty penny by Jacob's standards. For a man who measured his wealth in the food he produced for his family, spending money wasn't likely a habit unless there was a pressing reason why it made sense. Sending wheat off-world definitely qualified.
They topped a rise, and Jones saw the huddle of buildings that delineated the outskirts of Pallas. He thought back to his trip out to the farm from the docks-was it only a few weeks ago?-and said, "The spaceport's off to the north, right?" He pointed to the right, where a dusty haze coloured the sky.
"That's right," Andrea said, pleased. "We should be there in an hour or so." Jones raised his eyebrows-that long?-and Andrea said, "We're going around the fringes. It'll be faster if we try to go through the city, but it's too easy to get robbed in the crush of people. Out here, people notice more than they do in the city proper, and if you're openly armed, you're less likely to be bothered." She nodded towards the shotgun that lay across Jones's lap. "In fact-" She leant down and opened a small compartment beneath the seat, bringing out a good-sized pistol. "I think we'd both best be armed. I don't come to the city but once a year any more, if that, and I don't want to take chances."
He couldn't fault her caution. "All right," he said, shifting on his seat and taking hold of the shotgun, one hand on the pump mechanism and the other on the stock, near the trigger. "I'm good with avoiding trouble before it starts. But do you think we could cut down the time just a bit? I'm hungry."
Andrea glanced at him and smirked. "All right," she said, "if we must." She clicked her tongue at Roan and flicked the reins. The gelding started off at his usual ambling walk, but Andrea urged him to a faster gait. "I'm hungry, too," she said to Jones with a grin. "Call it forty-five minutes."
***
The cargo bay ramp lowered slowly to the ground and settled with a slight thump, and Rose stepped down it, eyeing the crowds carefully. Zoë walked beside her, somehow managing to give the impression she was armed and dangerous, even though she was empty-handed. Then again, Zoë always did. "Here you are," the dark woman said. "Athens. Ain't much here, but it's a nice enough place. Wash and me used to talk about retiring here some day, maybe opening up a restaurant or a shop or something."
Rose didn't think that sounded much like Zoë's style at all, but she nodded diplomatically. "Looks like a good place for it," she said. The two of them had bonded over the course of her journey, not only as sparring partners but as widows, and had spent a good amount of time talking. Rose had found herself confiding her actual mission to her new friend, but she didn't feel too badly about it; after all, the captain already knew.
"You reckon your doctor friend's here?" Zoë asked.
Rose sighed and rubbed her face. "There's no way to tell," she said. "I thought maybe... but it's been so long. I can't just sense him or anything like that."
"You're not like River," Zoë agreed.
Rose thought about telling her there was more to it than psychic abilities-or, in her case, a lack thereof-but decided against it. There was just too much to explain, and she'd not gone into that much detail before, when she'd had the chance. "Guess all I can do is look," she said. "Look and ask around and hope."
Mal spoke from behind her. "That's all any of us can do, I guess." She whirled, startled, and he grimaced. "Sorry. Didn't mean to startle ya. We'll be here for a few days, you know. Bit of shore leave for the crew, take on cargo and passengers, do some repairs and provisioning. You find your friend's somewhere else and we ain't gone yet, bring yourself on back. We'll take you anywhere."
Rose smiled, touched. "Thanks, Mal," she said. "But I can't take charity from you again. If I travel with you off Athens, I pay for it."
"Fair enough," he said. "Zoë, you taking the mule out?"
"Yes, sir," she said. "Simon and Kaylee are going out to spend some quality time together, and I volunteered to take Jayne along so they could be alone."
"Jayne have any say in that?" he asked, amused.
One dark eyebrow went up. "You think that would be a good idea, sir?" she asked.
"Prob'ly not," he allowed. "Just be careful he don't run off and leave you alone 'cause something or other's caught his eye. Something in a skirt, most like."
"You reckon he'll try that again, after last time?"
Mal looked at her for a moment. "No," he decided at last. "No, even Jayne ain't that stupid."
Oh, I want to know the story behind that, Rose thought as Jayne came clattering down the metal staircase from the crew quarters. "All right, I'm here," he growled. "Let's get this over with."
"You know, Jayne," Mal said in a conversational tone as Zoë sauntered back into the cargo bay towards the mule, which sat ready for flight, "there are dozens of men in the 'verse who'd give their eyeteeth for a day in the company of such a lovely lady."
Jayne snorted. "I ain't gainsayin' ya, Mal, and I ain't sayin' nothin' 'gainst you, Zoë-you're a fine-lookin' woman, and ain't a man alive who don't know it. But bein' with a woman as could kick my ass halfway 'cross the system ain't like bein' with a beautiful woman in the ordinary sense, if you take my meanin'."
"Thank you, Jayne," Zoë said with every evidence of sincerity. Rose turned away so Jayne wouldn't see her holding in a laugh.
Jayne blinked, clearly taken aback, but by that point, Zoë was in the driver's seat and buckled in, and it was only prudent for him to buckle in as well. The mule fired up, lifting up from the decking, and Rose watched, fascinated, as Zoë expertly piloted it down the ramp and out into the busy port.
"Rose!" a voice called from the cargo bay, and she turned back around to see Kaylee coming down the stairs with Simon right behind her. "You're still here!"
"Just about to go," Rose said as Kaylee came up and hugged her. "I was hoping to see you two to say goodbye, though. And River, too. Where is she?"
Simon shrugged. "I've no idea. I thought she'd come say goodbye to you, too, but she seems to have lost herself in the ship again. Don't worry; she won't forget. She doesn't forget friends." He smiled.
"D'you know Athens at all?" Kaylee asked.
I've been to the city on Earth a few times, Rose started to say, but stopped herself just in time. Earth was only a legend for these people. "No," she answered. "Just the name and the major industries, that's all."
"Well, we been here lots of times," Kaylee said, looking up at Simon for confirmation. "We can show you around, can't we, Simon? Give her the grand tour? This here's one of our favourite stops, Pallas. They've got great food in the little restaurants, and you can buy fresh fruits an' vegetables real easy here, 'specially this time of year. It's harvest."
Rose said, hastily, "Oh, no, this is your day out together. You two go enjoy yourselves."
"No, it's fine!" Simon said. "We've got a few days here, after all. We can show you around. We don't know anything about your business contacts, but we can at least give you an idea of what the city's like and where things are. Get you a room in a decent inn, that kind of thing." Rose hesitated, and he added, "Please, I insist. Let us show you around. Most of this city's pretty safe, but there are areas you don't want to go alone."
Rose considered. It was true that having a guide might be helpful, but part of her had sort of been hoping that if she wandered aimlessly, the TARDIS would somehow guide her to it subconsciously. "Okay," she said. "Sure. Take me on the sightseeing tour."
Kaylee whooped with glee and looped one arm through Rose's, the other through Simon's. "I know our first stop," she said as they walked down the ramp and into the sun. "That little tea shop down by the market. You know the one, Simon? The one where they have that pu'erh tea you liked so much? We can get something to drink there, and some food at the market, and then I gotta show you the shop where Inara buys the fabric for her saris when she's here. You ain't never seen silk like it-"
Rose stopped, turning around to see Mal still standing there, watching them. She smiled at him. "Thanks, Captain," she said. "I hope to see you again sometime."
"Me too," Mal said with an echoing smile. She really wanted to run and hug him, but she wasn't exactly sure he was the hugging type. Until he held out his hands to her, and she grinned, jogging back up the ramp to wrap her arms around him.
"You remember what I told you," he said quietly into her ear. "You need us, you find us. We ain't leavin' for three, four days at least. You're always welcome on my boat."
She pulled back, looking up at him. "I know," she said. "Thank you." She stood on tiptoe to kiss his cheek, then headed back down the ramp to Kaylee and Simon. "Come on," she said. "How about food first, though? I'm starving."
***
The cart rolled down the wide avenue in front of the ships in dock, and Jones found himself hard-pressed to keep an eye on the potential trouble around them-or, at least, as much of an eye as a proper bodyguard should. He'd spent so many years on Earth that he'd nearly forgotten how beautiful spacecraft were, even in this century. Some of his favourite antique ships came from this era.
"There she is," Andrea announced, nodding towards a little Firefly sitting by itself down at the end of the line of ships. "Her name's Serenity. Captain's a friend of Da's, from way back in the war. We been selling our wheat to Mal for years, since I was in school at least. He's a good man-a little shady, maybe, but a good man all the same."
Jones chuckled. "There are a few of us out there," he said. Despite himself, he tipped his head back to take in the lines of the ship. "I love Fireflies," he said longingly as Andrea pulled up in front of the loading dock. The ship was suddenly silhouetted as they moved into shadow. "Such pretty ships."
"Man talks like that, I'm always happy to do business with him," said the man who walked down the ramp. He wore clothing similar to Jones's own: long trousers, Oxford shirt, braces, boots. Even his choice of weapon was one Jones approved of, though he suddenly missed his old Webley desperately. The man grinned up at Andrea, reaching out to swing her down from the seat and into a hug. "How you doing, beautiful? I missed you last year."
"Cracked ribs," she said by way of explanation. "Mal, this here's my friend Jones. He's been helping out on the farm the last few weeks, and came into town with me so I didn't have to come alone."
Mal turned worried eyes on her. "Where's Jacob?"
"He caught pneumonia last winter, and it ain't never really left. He had an attack yesterday, and Doc Akin's put him on bed rest. He'll be fine in a few days."
Mal smiled, though the tension didn't quite leave his shoulders, nor his brow unfurrow. "That's the pure truth. Jacob's gonna outlive all of us out of pure orneryness." He hesitated. "Maybe I should go on out to see him, give y'all a hand for a day or so. Ship can do without me that long."
"You're sweet, Mal, but we'll get by. We got neighbours comin' in to check on things, help out Da and Lizzie while I'm gone, and I'm goin' home tomorrow. Not that we wouldn't love to see ya, but don't think you gotta."
Something was niggling at the edge of Jones's awareness. He turned, as though glancing idly about, and noticed a huddle of three men standing half-behind a pallet of goods a couple dozen meters away. They were dressed like unemployed men idling about the dock in the hope of finding work-the way Jones himself had a few weeks back, when Jacob had hired him-but the hiring wasn't done clear out here, at the end of the row of ships. It was done in the central part of the docks, where everyone came through on their way into the city proper. It made his spine prickle-what Ianto had called his 'spidey senses.' Moving casually, he climbed down from the cart. "There's a group of men standing over there behind that pallet of lumber," he said quietly. "They're awfully interested in us for some reason."
Mal looked up, and his eyes were suddenly hard as ice. Seeing them, Jones knew without a shadow of a doubt that Andrea had been right: this was a former soldier, and maybe not so long ago. "I see 'em," he said, also quietly. "They after you?"
Jones shrugged. "Never seen 'em before, but that doesn't mean anything."
"True. We'd best get the goods on board, I think. If that's what they're after, we can close the interior cargo doors and lock 'em out, and if it's not, well, I got enough in my arsenal that they'll think twice about tryin' anything, even if we are only three."
"Four," a new voice said from beside them. A young girl stood there, beautiful and delicate, wearing leggings and a thigh-length tunic but no shoes. "You're the one she doesn't know she's looking for," the girl said to Jones.
He blinked. "Who?"
"Rose, of course," she said, as though she were reminding him of something he should've known all along. It felt like a blow to the solar plexus. Rose? Rose was here? "She's looking for Smith," the girl went on, "but she doesn't know who Jones is. You'll have to tell her." She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply. "You smell like her," she said, opening her eyes again. "You smell like pack. The Bad Wolf made you out of love."
A cold feeling was forming in his gut. How did this girl know about what had happened on Satellite Five? "Who's Rose?" he asked disingenuously. "And for that matter, what's your name?" It couldn't be the same Rose, he told himself. Couldn't be. Rose was in the other universe, with the Doctor's twin.
Mal wrapped a protective arm around the girl. "This here's River," he said. "She's part of my crew. As for Rose-who's asking?"
Jones blinked again. He hadn't expected Mal to actually know a Rose. "Friend of mine from a long ways back," he said. "Years ago. Rose Tyler. She's long gone, though."
"Not too long," River said. "They just left about half an hour ago."
"They-she's here?" Jones blurted. "Here and now? On this planet?"
Mal cocked his head to the side, considering him. "You the friend she's looking for?" he asked. "She said he sounded like her, that Dyton accent, and he was some sort of doctor. You don't look much like a doctor, you don't mind me saying so." His tone of voice had hardened considerably. Clearly he wasn't about to give Rose up easily. If this was his Rose-which Jones wasn't sure he quite believed, since it ought to have been impossible-Jones couldn't fault Mal's care.
"We have a mutual friend," he told Mal. "He's the Doctor. I travelled with him and Rose for a while." He hesitated, then said, "She say anything about . . . someone else? A partner, a lover?"
Mal's eyebrows went up. "Said her husband died," he said. "That what you mean?"
The duplicate Doctor was dead? Jones's head spun.
"Not to interrupt," Andrea said, her eyes focused past Jones's shoulder, at the men he'd noticed earlier, "but I think we'd best get the cart up into the ship now if we're gonna. I don't trust them."
Jones forced himself to concentrate on the here and now again. If Rose really was in the city, he could find her easily enough; it was a small city, after all. Or, at least, he hoped he could. Right now, he needed to take care of Andrea and their cargo. "Right," he said. "Let's go."
He and Mal got behind the cart, and with Andrea leading Roan, and the two of them pushing, they got it up the ramp and into the cargo bay. Roan nickered uncomfortably, and Andrea soothed him, patting his neck. "You sure 'bout this, Mal?" she asked. "He ain't goin' to be able to keep from soilin' your floor."
Mal shrugged. "I'll get Jayne to clean it up," he said. Andrea snorted in amusement. "Bit more important than that is your friend here. Jones. You got a first name?"
Jones folded his arms. "Why do you want to know?" he asked bluntly.
"'Cause you say you know Rose Tyler," Mal said just as bluntly. "And she's out there in a city she don't know, on a planet where me and mine are her only friends. So if you reckon on goin' out to find her, well, I think I got a right to know a bit about who you are 'fore I let you outta my sight and after her."
Jones narrowed his eyes. "The Rose I knew could take care of herself," he said.
"And she still can," Mal agreed. "That don't mean she don't need friends."
Well, that was true. "Stephen," Jones said. "I go by Stephen Jones."
"You go by?" Mal repeated. He shifted his weight, let his hand drop to rest near his holster. "That ain't your real name?"
Andrea's eyes were wide, but not with real surprise; he suspected she'd guessed a long time ago that Jones was a pseudonym. "My real name's Jack," he told Mal, not exactly truthfully, but it was close enough; after all, he'd used that name for more than two human lifetimes. "Jack Harkness."
It was odd, saying that name again after so long. It had been more than a year in his personal timeline since the last time anyone had called him 'Jack.' But even as he said it, he knew it was true: no matter what he'd done, that was the name that fit him. It settled around him comfortably, like the wool greatcoat he'd worn for so long. It felt right, and he knew somehow that he'd never be able to think of himself as 'Jones' again.
Pounding feet caught their attention, and they spun defensively. A tall, broad man, taller even than Jack, came running into the cargo bay. "We was ambushed!" he shouted. "They got the mule, and they got Zoë. I only got away 'cause I bashed one of 'em in the head and then overturned a whole food booth on 'em."
"Where?" Mal demanded.
"Come with me, I'll show ya."
Without hesitation, Mal turned to the wall and pressed a specific spot. A cabinet popped open, and he pulled out three impressively businesslike guns: short-barrelled, wide-gauge, and wicked-looking. He tossed one to the tall man, to complement the weapon he already wore, and slung the straps of the other two over his shoulders. "River, stay here in case the others get back. Close the interior cargo bay doors, and don't open to anyone you don't know." He turned to Jack and Andrea. "Andrea, you know you're always welcome on my boat, and anyone else you vouch for."
"You think they knew she's one of yours?" Jack asked.
"Nobody takes Zoë down without a damn good plan and a hell of a lot of backup," Mal said flatly. "If the attack succeeded, whoever pulled it off knew enough to know how to overwhelm her-and trust me, it's easier to overwhelm a platoon of Alliance troops than Zoë. A loteasier. I dunno if they were after her or after me through her, but one thing she ain't is a big, juicy target. Some thought went into this."
"Sounds like you could use a hand," Jack said.
Mal's eyebrows went up. "You offerin'?"
Jack shrugged. "If you can use me. If you trust me."
"You know this nan-sheng?" the tall man asked Mal. Jack managed not to bristle at the perjorative.
Mal ignored him, just looked at Jack for another moment, then turned to Andrea. "Andie?"
"He's a good man," Andrea said. "You can trust him. And don't call me Andie."
"Sorry. Old habits." Mal contemplated him for a moment more, then reached into the cabinet again and pulled out another weapon-another pump-action rifle, but Jack had seen this type before in museums: it had a cleverly-disguised hollow stock where extra cartridges could be loaded. He tossed it to Jack, who caught it one-handed. Yep, heavy enough to be fully loaded. Jack racked the slide to chamber a round and held it diagonally across his body, waiting.
"Good enough," Mal said. "She vouches for you, it's enough for me. But you turn on me, and you won't live to regret it, dong ma?"
"Understood," Jack answered. He turned to Andrea. "You should stay," he said. "It might not be the safest place on the planet, but with those blast doors closed, it's the safest place in the city." She opened her mouth as if to argue, and he added, "If for no other reason than that you won't be out there where someone could snatch you."
Andrea nodded, more than a bit subdued, but clearly willing to stay out of danger. Rose would have grabbed a gun and joined us, some little part of Jack's brain thought, but he pushed it away as unworthy-and beside the point.
"Look after things, mei-mei," Mal said to River, and the three of them headed down the ramp.
Author: aibhinn
Rating: PG-13
Characters: Rose, Jack, Ten (will end up OT3); the Firefly crew.
Spoilers: DW through Journey's End, TW through Children of Earth, and all aired Firefly canon, including episodes and the movie Serenity.
Betas: larielromeniel, dameruth, and canaana, though I did some editing after I got it back from them, so if I messed it up, it's not their fault!
Summary: After the death of the blue-suited Doctor, an immortal Rose uses the dimension cannon to teleport herself back into her home universe. Or should that be 'Verse? Crossover with Joss Whedon's Firefly.
Disclaimer: Nothing is mine. I promise to put everything back where I found it.
Author's Note: The title refers to the poem of the same name by Tennyson, an online version of which can be found here. Chapters post on Wednesdays, except this week. Sorry, guys.
Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10
Chapter 7
Jones yawned, covering his mouth with his hand as the cart jolted over the uneven dirt roads. They'd left well before sun-up this morning. Lizzie had outdone herself with breakfast, his last with the family, and Jacob had insisted on getting out of bed to say goodbye to him. It had been a bittersweet farewell, but Jones felt better for having done it, instead of just disappearing, the way he'd originally planned.
The covered bed of the cart was filled with bags of wheat, each bearing the logo "Doran Farm." Funny, Jones had thought as he'd loaded them in the pre-dawn dark, he'd never even known their family name. There'd been no need for it, and the bags Jacob used for the wheat and flour reserved for the family had been made of plain fabric. Of course, there was no reason to advertise for the family, and Jones had no doubt these sacks had cost a pretty penny by Jacob's standards. For a man who measured his wealth in the food he produced for his family, spending money wasn't likely a habit unless there was a pressing reason why it made sense. Sending wheat off-world definitely qualified.
They topped a rise, and Jones saw the huddle of buildings that delineated the outskirts of Pallas. He thought back to his trip out to the farm from the docks-was it only a few weeks ago?-and said, "The spaceport's off to the north, right?" He pointed to the right, where a dusty haze coloured the sky.
"That's right," Andrea said, pleased. "We should be there in an hour or so." Jones raised his eyebrows-that long?-and Andrea said, "We're going around the fringes. It'll be faster if we try to go through the city, but it's too easy to get robbed in the crush of people. Out here, people notice more than they do in the city proper, and if you're openly armed, you're less likely to be bothered." She nodded towards the shotgun that lay across Jones's lap. "In fact-" She leant down and opened a small compartment beneath the seat, bringing out a good-sized pistol. "I think we'd both best be armed. I don't come to the city but once a year any more, if that, and I don't want to take chances."
He couldn't fault her caution. "All right," he said, shifting on his seat and taking hold of the shotgun, one hand on the pump mechanism and the other on the stock, near the trigger. "I'm good with avoiding trouble before it starts. But do you think we could cut down the time just a bit? I'm hungry."
Andrea glanced at him and smirked. "All right," she said, "if we must." She clicked her tongue at Roan and flicked the reins. The gelding started off at his usual ambling walk, but Andrea urged him to a faster gait. "I'm hungry, too," she said to Jones with a grin. "Call it forty-five minutes."
***
The cargo bay ramp lowered slowly to the ground and settled with a slight thump, and Rose stepped down it, eyeing the crowds carefully. Zoë walked beside her, somehow managing to give the impression she was armed and dangerous, even though she was empty-handed. Then again, Zoë always did. "Here you are," the dark woman said. "Athens. Ain't much here, but it's a nice enough place. Wash and me used to talk about retiring here some day, maybe opening up a restaurant or a shop or something."
Rose didn't think that sounded much like Zoë's style at all, but she nodded diplomatically. "Looks like a good place for it," she said. The two of them had bonded over the course of her journey, not only as sparring partners but as widows, and had spent a good amount of time talking. Rose had found herself confiding her actual mission to her new friend, but she didn't feel too badly about it; after all, the captain already knew.
"You reckon your doctor friend's here?" Zoë asked.
Rose sighed and rubbed her face. "There's no way to tell," she said. "I thought maybe... but it's been so long. I can't just sense him or anything like that."
"You're not like River," Zoë agreed.
Rose thought about telling her there was more to it than psychic abilities-or, in her case, a lack thereof-but decided against it. There was just too much to explain, and she'd not gone into that much detail before, when she'd had the chance. "Guess all I can do is look," she said. "Look and ask around and hope."
Mal spoke from behind her. "That's all any of us can do, I guess." She whirled, startled, and he grimaced. "Sorry. Didn't mean to startle ya. We'll be here for a few days, you know. Bit of shore leave for the crew, take on cargo and passengers, do some repairs and provisioning. You find your friend's somewhere else and we ain't gone yet, bring yourself on back. We'll take you anywhere."
Rose smiled, touched. "Thanks, Mal," she said. "But I can't take charity from you again. If I travel with you off Athens, I pay for it."
"Fair enough," he said. "Zoë, you taking the mule out?"
"Yes, sir," she said. "Simon and Kaylee are going out to spend some quality time together, and I volunteered to take Jayne along so they could be alone."
"Jayne have any say in that?" he asked, amused.
One dark eyebrow went up. "You think that would be a good idea, sir?" she asked.
"Prob'ly not," he allowed. "Just be careful he don't run off and leave you alone 'cause something or other's caught his eye. Something in a skirt, most like."
"You reckon he'll try that again, after last time?"
Mal looked at her for a moment. "No," he decided at last. "No, even Jayne ain't that stupid."
Oh, I want to know the story behind that, Rose thought as Jayne came clattering down the metal staircase from the crew quarters. "All right, I'm here," he growled. "Let's get this over with."
"You know, Jayne," Mal said in a conversational tone as Zoë sauntered back into the cargo bay towards the mule, which sat ready for flight, "there are dozens of men in the 'verse who'd give their eyeteeth for a day in the company of such a lovely lady."
Jayne snorted. "I ain't gainsayin' ya, Mal, and I ain't sayin' nothin' 'gainst you, Zoë-you're a fine-lookin' woman, and ain't a man alive who don't know it. But bein' with a woman as could kick my ass halfway 'cross the system ain't like bein' with a beautiful woman in the ordinary sense, if you take my meanin'."
"Thank you, Jayne," Zoë said with every evidence of sincerity. Rose turned away so Jayne wouldn't see her holding in a laugh.
Jayne blinked, clearly taken aback, but by that point, Zoë was in the driver's seat and buckled in, and it was only prudent for him to buckle in as well. The mule fired up, lifting up from the decking, and Rose watched, fascinated, as Zoë expertly piloted it down the ramp and out into the busy port.
"Rose!" a voice called from the cargo bay, and she turned back around to see Kaylee coming down the stairs with Simon right behind her. "You're still here!"
"Just about to go," Rose said as Kaylee came up and hugged her. "I was hoping to see you two to say goodbye, though. And River, too. Where is she?"
Simon shrugged. "I've no idea. I thought she'd come say goodbye to you, too, but she seems to have lost herself in the ship again. Don't worry; she won't forget. She doesn't forget friends." He smiled.
"D'you know Athens at all?" Kaylee asked.
I've been to the city on Earth a few times, Rose started to say, but stopped herself just in time. Earth was only a legend for these people. "No," she answered. "Just the name and the major industries, that's all."
"Well, we been here lots of times," Kaylee said, looking up at Simon for confirmation. "We can show you around, can't we, Simon? Give her the grand tour? This here's one of our favourite stops, Pallas. They've got great food in the little restaurants, and you can buy fresh fruits an' vegetables real easy here, 'specially this time of year. It's harvest."
Rose said, hastily, "Oh, no, this is your day out together. You two go enjoy yourselves."
"No, it's fine!" Simon said. "We've got a few days here, after all. We can show you around. We don't know anything about your business contacts, but we can at least give you an idea of what the city's like and where things are. Get you a room in a decent inn, that kind of thing." Rose hesitated, and he added, "Please, I insist. Let us show you around. Most of this city's pretty safe, but there are areas you don't want to go alone."
Rose considered. It was true that having a guide might be helpful, but part of her had sort of been hoping that if she wandered aimlessly, the TARDIS would somehow guide her to it subconsciously. "Okay," she said. "Sure. Take me on the sightseeing tour."
Kaylee whooped with glee and looped one arm through Rose's, the other through Simon's. "I know our first stop," she said as they walked down the ramp and into the sun. "That little tea shop down by the market. You know the one, Simon? The one where they have that pu'erh tea you liked so much? We can get something to drink there, and some food at the market, and then I gotta show you the shop where Inara buys the fabric for her saris when she's here. You ain't never seen silk like it-"
Rose stopped, turning around to see Mal still standing there, watching them. She smiled at him. "Thanks, Captain," she said. "I hope to see you again sometime."
"Me too," Mal said with an echoing smile. She really wanted to run and hug him, but she wasn't exactly sure he was the hugging type. Until he held out his hands to her, and she grinned, jogging back up the ramp to wrap her arms around him.
"You remember what I told you," he said quietly into her ear. "You need us, you find us. We ain't leavin' for three, four days at least. You're always welcome on my boat."
She pulled back, looking up at him. "I know," she said. "Thank you." She stood on tiptoe to kiss his cheek, then headed back down the ramp to Kaylee and Simon. "Come on," she said. "How about food first, though? I'm starving."
***
The cart rolled down the wide avenue in front of the ships in dock, and Jones found himself hard-pressed to keep an eye on the potential trouble around them-or, at least, as much of an eye as a proper bodyguard should. He'd spent so many years on Earth that he'd nearly forgotten how beautiful spacecraft were, even in this century. Some of his favourite antique ships came from this era.
"There she is," Andrea announced, nodding towards a little Firefly sitting by itself down at the end of the line of ships. "Her name's Serenity. Captain's a friend of Da's, from way back in the war. We been selling our wheat to Mal for years, since I was in school at least. He's a good man-a little shady, maybe, but a good man all the same."
Jones chuckled. "There are a few of us out there," he said. Despite himself, he tipped his head back to take in the lines of the ship. "I love Fireflies," he said longingly as Andrea pulled up in front of the loading dock. The ship was suddenly silhouetted as they moved into shadow. "Such pretty ships."
"Man talks like that, I'm always happy to do business with him," said the man who walked down the ramp. He wore clothing similar to Jones's own: long trousers, Oxford shirt, braces, boots. Even his choice of weapon was one Jones approved of, though he suddenly missed his old Webley desperately. The man grinned up at Andrea, reaching out to swing her down from the seat and into a hug. "How you doing, beautiful? I missed you last year."
"Cracked ribs," she said by way of explanation. "Mal, this here's my friend Jones. He's been helping out on the farm the last few weeks, and came into town with me so I didn't have to come alone."
Mal turned worried eyes on her. "Where's Jacob?"
"He caught pneumonia last winter, and it ain't never really left. He had an attack yesterday, and Doc Akin's put him on bed rest. He'll be fine in a few days."
Mal smiled, though the tension didn't quite leave his shoulders, nor his brow unfurrow. "That's the pure truth. Jacob's gonna outlive all of us out of pure orneryness." He hesitated. "Maybe I should go on out to see him, give y'all a hand for a day or so. Ship can do without me that long."
"You're sweet, Mal, but we'll get by. We got neighbours comin' in to check on things, help out Da and Lizzie while I'm gone, and I'm goin' home tomorrow. Not that we wouldn't love to see ya, but don't think you gotta."
Something was niggling at the edge of Jones's awareness. He turned, as though glancing idly about, and noticed a huddle of three men standing half-behind a pallet of goods a couple dozen meters away. They were dressed like unemployed men idling about the dock in the hope of finding work-the way Jones himself had a few weeks back, when Jacob had hired him-but the hiring wasn't done clear out here, at the end of the row of ships. It was done in the central part of the docks, where everyone came through on their way into the city proper. It made his spine prickle-what Ianto had called his 'spidey senses.' Moving casually, he climbed down from the cart. "There's a group of men standing over there behind that pallet of lumber," he said quietly. "They're awfully interested in us for some reason."
Mal looked up, and his eyes were suddenly hard as ice. Seeing them, Jones knew without a shadow of a doubt that Andrea had been right: this was a former soldier, and maybe not so long ago. "I see 'em," he said, also quietly. "They after you?"
Jones shrugged. "Never seen 'em before, but that doesn't mean anything."
"True. We'd best get the goods on board, I think. If that's what they're after, we can close the interior cargo doors and lock 'em out, and if it's not, well, I got enough in my arsenal that they'll think twice about tryin' anything, even if we are only three."
"Four," a new voice said from beside them. A young girl stood there, beautiful and delicate, wearing leggings and a thigh-length tunic but no shoes. "You're the one she doesn't know she's looking for," the girl said to Jones.
He blinked. "Who?"
"Rose, of course," she said, as though she were reminding him of something he should've known all along. It felt like a blow to the solar plexus. Rose? Rose was here? "She's looking for Smith," the girl went on, "but she doesn't know who Jones is. You'll have to tell her." She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply. "You smell like her," she said, opening her eyes again. "You smell like pack. The Bad Wolf made you out of love."
A cold feeling was forming in his gut. How did this girl know about what had happened on Satellite Five? "Who's Rose?" he asked disingenuously. "And for that matter, what's your name?" It couldn't be the same Rose, he told himself. Couldn't be. Rose was in the other universe, with the Doctor's twin.
Mal wrapped a protective arm around the girl. "This here's River," he said. "She's part of my crew. As for Rose-who's asking?"
Jones blinked again. He hadn't expected Mal to actually know a Rose. "Friend of mine from a long ways back," he said. "Years ago. Rose Tyler. She's long gone, though."
"Not too long," River said. "They just left about half an hour ago."
"They-she's here?" Jones blurted. "Here and now? On this planet?"
Mal cocked his head to the side, considering him. "You the friend she's looking for?" he asked. "She said he sounded like her, that Dyton accent, and he was some sort of doctor. You don't look much like a doctor, you don't mind me saying so." His tone of voice had hardened considerably. Clearly he wasn't about to give Rose up easily. If this was his Rose-which Jones wasn't sure he quite believed, since it ought to have been impossible-Jones couldn't fault Mal's care.
"We have a mutual friend," he told Mal. "He's the Doctor. I travelled with him and Rose for a while." He hesitated, then said, "She say anything about . . . someone else? A partner, a lover?"
Mal's eyebrows went up. "Said her husband died," he said. "That what you mean?"
The duplicate Doctor was dead? Jones's head spun.
"Not to interrupt," Andrea said, her eyes focused past Jones's shoulder, at the men he'd noticed earlier, "but I think we'd best get the cart up into the ship now if we're gonna. I don't trust them."
Jones forced himself to concentrate on the here and now again. If Rose really was in the city, he could find her easily enough; it was a small city, after all. Or, at least, he hoped he could. Right now, he needed to take care of Andrea and their cargo. "Right," he said. "Let's go."
He and Mal got behind the cart, and with Andrea leading Roan, and the two of them pushing, they got it up the ramp and into the cargo bay. Roan nickered uncomfortably, and Andrea soothed him, patting his neck. "You sure 'bout this, Mal?" she asked. "He ain't goin' to be able to keep from soilin' your floor."
Mal shrugged. "I'll get Jayne to clean it up," he said. Andrea snorted in amusement. "Bit more important than that is your friend here. Jones. You got a first name?"
Jones folded his arms. "Why do you want to know?" he asked bluntly.
"'Cause you say you know Rose Tyler," Mal said just as bluntly. "And she's out there in a city she don't know, on a planet where me and mine are her only friends. So if you reckon on goin' out to find her, well, I think I got a right to know a bit about who you are 'fore I let you outta my sight and after her."
Jones narrowed his eyes. "The Rose I knew could take care of herself," he said.
"And she still can," Mal agreed. "That don't mean she don't need friends."
Well, that was true. "Stephen," Jones said. "I go by Stephen Jones."
"You go by?" Mal repeated. He shifted his weight, let his hand drop to rest near his holster. "That ain't your real name?"
Andrea's eyes were wide, but not with real surprise; he suspected she'd guessed a long time ago that Jones was a pseudonym. "My real name's Jack," he told Mal, not exactly truthfully, but it was close enough; after all, he'd used that name for more than two human lifetimes. "Jack Harkness."
It was odd, saying that name again after so long. It had been more than a year in his personal timeline since the last time anyone had called him 'Jack.' But even as he said it, he knew it was true: no matter what he'd done, that was the name that fit him. It settled around him comfortably, like the wool greatcoat he'd worn for so long. It felt right, and he knew somehow that he'd never be able to think of himself as 'Jones' again.
Pounding feet caught their attention, and they spun defensively. A tall, broad man, taller even than Jack, came running into the cargo bay. "We was ambushed!" he shouted. "They got the mule, and they got Zoë. I only got away 'cause I bashed one of 'em in the head and then overturned a whole food booth on 'em."
"Where?" Mal demanded.
"Come with me, I'll show ya."
Without hesitation, Mal turned to the wall and pressed a specific spot. A cabinet popped open, and he pulled out three impressively businesslike guns: short-barrelled, wide-gauge, and wicked-looking. He tossed one to the tall man, to complement the weapon he already wore, and slung the straps of the other two over his shoulders. "River, stay here in case the others get back. Close the interior cargo bay doors, and don't open to anyone you don't know." He turned to Jack and Andrea. "Andrea, you know you're always welcome on my boat, and anyone else you vouch for."
"You think they knew she's one of yours?" Jack asked.
"Nobody takes Zoë down without a damn good plan and a hell of a lot of backup," Mal said flatly. "If the attack succeeded, whoever pulled it off knew enough to know how to overwhelm her-and trust me, it's easier to overwhelm a platoon of Alliance troops than Zoë. A loteasier. I dunno if they were after her or after me through her, but one thing she ain't is a big, juicy target. Some thought went into this."
"Sounds like you could use a hand," Jack said.
Mal's eyebrows went up. "You offerin'?"
Jack shrugged. "If you can use me. If you trust me."
"You know this nan-sheng?" the tall man asked Mal. Jack managed not to bristle at the perjorative.
Mal ignored him, just looked at Jack for another moment, then turned to Andrea. "Andie?"
"He's a good man," Andrea said. "You can trust him. And don't call me Andie."
"Sorry. Old habits." Mal contemplated him for a moment more, then reached into the cabinet again and pulled out another weapon-another pump-action rifle, but Jack had seen this type before in museums: it had a cleverly-disguised hollow stock where extra cartridges could be loaded. He tossed it to Jack, who caught it one-handed. Yep, heavy enough to be fully loaded. Jack racked the slide to chamber a round and held it diagonally across his body, waiting.
"Good enough," Mal said. "She vouches for you, it's enough for me. But you turn on me, and you won't live to regret it, dong ma?"
"Understood," Jack answered. He turned to Andrea. "You should stay," he said. "It might not be the safest place on the planet, but with those blast doors closed, it's the safest place in the city." She opened her mouth as if to argue, and he added, "If for no other reason than that you won't be out there where someone could snatch you."
Andrea nodded, more than a bit subdued, but clearly willing to stay out of danger. Rose would have grabbed a gun and joined us, some little part of Jack's brain thought, but he pushed it away as unworthy-and beside the point.
"Look after things, mei-mei," Mal said to River, and the three of them headed down the ramp.