Fourteen Valentines: Domestic Violence
As usual, my plans were larger than my window of time, and I didn't get anything special done for the occasion. However, I do have a multitude of things on my hard drive, this little 1,000+ word foray into the 'what if' world of Firefly being one:
Fandom: Firefly
Rating: Bad Words, Off Screen Violence
“I just don’t think it’s a very good idea to trust him again, sir,” Zoe said.
“Who said anything about trusting the man?” Mal asked. “He’s got work, we’ll do it. But I got him to pay me up front.” He grinned and held up a jingling purse.
“All the more reason not to trust him, sir,” Zoe said implacably.
“Ain’t no reason for a man to give up money like that,” Jayne added. “My guess is, he’ll try to take it back.”
“Badger’s a right ornery cuss, that’s true,” Mal said. “But I’m not plannin’ on coming back to Persephone for a good long time.”
A familiar face at the edge of his vision made Jayne turn his head, and he stopped in his tracks as he realized who it was. He watched the man smile and nod, and disappear into a tall, rich looking building. A cold chill worked its way down his spine, and he hurried to catch up to Mal and Zoe.
“Wash? How soon can we be ready for lift off?” Mal was asking into the comm unit.
“Ready to roll any time, Captain,” Wash answered.
Mal nodded. “Warm her up,” he said. “We’re leaving as soon as we step inside.”
Jayne touched Mal’s shoulder and gave him a look that he hoped the other man would understand. He breathed a sigh of relief as Mal raised an eyebrow and slowed to a stop.
“Zoe,” he said, “why don’t you go ahead and make sure everyone’s back safe and sound so we can get off this rock?”
Zoe gave them a suspicious look, but all she said was, “Yes, sir.”
Jayne waited until she was out of earshot before saying, “You don’t need me on this job.”
“What?” Mal crossed his arms. “What are you saying to me, Jayne?”
“I’m sayin’ I got me some personal business I gotta take care of,” Jayne said, fingering his gun. “This job is simple, ain’t nothin’ gonna go wrong. You don’t need me.”
“We ain’t going to come back to Persephone any time soon,” Mal said.
“I know. I’ll take a transport to Holden and meet you there.”
Jayne could see Mal struggling in his heart whether or not to trust him. “I swear, Mal,” he said. “I swear this is personal, and it don’t got nothin’ to do with that pansy ass doctor. I swear.”
Mal compressed his lips into a tight, thin, line, but he nodded. “You ain’t there in a week and a half,” he said, “we’re leavin’ without you.”
“Fair ‘nough,” Jayne said. “Gotta get some gear from Serenity and then you can lift off.”
“Right,” Mal said, and started walking.
Jayne touched the knife hidden under his jacket and smiled. Little man was gonna find out that he had messed with the wrong crew. He was lookin’ forward to it.
-----
“Here, Cap, brought you back a present,” Jayne said, and slapped a small white box down on the table in front of Mal.
Mal looked at him suspiciously. “A present,” he said. “What’s the occassion?”
Jayne shook his head. “Just open it, Mal,” he said.
Still eyeing him like he didn’t trust him, Mal slid the box closer and lifted off the lid. He blanched. “What the ruttin’ hell is this?” he asked.
“It’s an ear, Mal,” Jayne said. “Figured you could use a spare.”
“Whose ear is it, Jayne?” Mal’s voice was low and deadly, and Jayne dropped his hands to the table, leaning down so he was looking straight into Mal’s eyes.
“It’s Niska’s,” he said.
All the color drained from Mal’s face. He tried to put the lid back on the box, but his hand was shaking too badly. “Man better not come knocking on my door wanting this here grisly piece of work back,” he said with visible effort.
“Not unless the dead are walkin’, Mal, and I just ain’t noticed yet.”
“How dead is he, Jayne?”
“Dead as I could make him, an’ that’s pretty dead,” Jayne said. “I’ll be in my bunk.” He picked up his duffel off the floor and headed toward the crew quarters.
“Jayne.” Mal stopped him.
Jayne paused with one hand on the door, looking back over his shoulder at Mal. “Yeah?” he asked.
Mal carefully put the lid back on the box, and then sat for a moment, staring at his hands. “I never asked you to kill Niska.,” he said quietly.
“I just took the opportunity what presented itself to me.”
“I ain’t gonna say thank you for this.”
“I ain’t expecting you to. Just doing my job, is all.”
Mal shot him a look, but Jayne just nodded once at him, and continued down the corridor. “Just doin’ my job,” he repeated softly to himself. “That’s all.”
-----
“Jayne? Can I come in?” Kaylee called from the hatch to his quarters.
“It ain’t locked,” Jayne said, not looking up from the gun he was cleaning.
There was a thunk as Kaylee dropped from the ladder instead of climbing all the way down. Jayne turned to see her smiling fit to split her face in two.
“Seems the word on the Cortex is that Niska’s dead,” she said.
Jayne turned back to his gun as he felt his face heat up. “Where’d you hear that?” he asked gruffly.
“‘Nara told me,” she said innocently.
“That so,” Jayne said. He could feel her moving closer to him, and he pretended to fiddle with all the pieces spread across the bed.
“Yup!” Kaylee replied. “Seems he was on Persephone and someone took advantage of the light security.” She sat down gingerly on the edge of the bed, trying not to disturb all the pieces of his gun.
“Huh.” Jayne put the piece he was pretending to polish down and picked another at random.
“Also,” she leaned forward conspiritorily, “word is he was missin’ an ear.”
“That so,” Jayne said again. He was sweating now, from this artless interogation by a pretty girl, when he could stare down the Alliance and not twitch a muscle.
Kaylee was quiet for a spell and he dared not look up. A trickle of sweat crawled down his spine and soaked into the waistband of his pants. He snuck a glance at her and she was staring intently at him, frowning a little.
“Did you torture him?” she asked.
“What?” Jayne jumped up from the bed, started pacing. “What the hell has got into your head, little Kaylee?”
“I know you did it, Jayne. Did you torture him?”
“Might of cut off his ear ‘fore I shot him,” Jayne admitted, grinning a little. “He died clean, though. Torture ain’t really my thing.”
Kaylee was looking up at him, all smiles. “That’s a real nice thing you did for the Captain,” she said.
“Wasn’t aware that killin’ a man the way I did Niska was a nice thing,” he said. “Or killin’ a man at all.”
“It’s not the how,” Kaylee said, and suddenly she was standing right in front of him, and he couldn’t help but meet her eyes. She was still smiling. “It’s the why.” She touched his downturned face. “You’re a good man, Jayne,” she said.
He put one tentative hand on her waist. “I’m still likely to die anytime,” he said.
It shouldn’t have been possible, but her smile got even wider. “Best get on with livin’, then,” she said.
---
Statistics vary, but according to the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention in 2003, an estimated 1.3 million women are victims of physical assault by an intimate partner each year. This is a serious problem in the United States and around the world. We all have to pick our personal battles, and this one happens to be mine.
If you need help or have questions, call the National Domestic Violence Hotline at 1-800-799-SAFE (7233) to find a program in your area.