Fic: Stranded? Again?!
Title: Stranded? Again?!
Author: timeywimeyball
Fandom: Firefly
Characters/Pairing: River, Jayne
Rating: PG-13, shall we say?
Spoilers: Have you watched the Big Damn Movie? If yes, then you'll be fine. If not, then why are you reading this of all things? The BDM awaits!
Summary: Halfway through a job, the crew of the sort-of-good ship Serenity get scattered across a moon. Good thing the Captain knows how to fly as well, seeing as River is stranded on the surface. With Jayne. Oh, merciful Buddha, one of them is going to kill and eat the other one, aren't they?
Disclaimer: I once challenged Joss to a poker match for ownership of these characters, but I lost badly.
A/N: This is what happens when I read a metric tonne of Firefly fanfic in one sitting. Terrifying, isn't it just?
Additional- I have shamelessly stolen the style of River-thinking from the quite wonderful Peptuck, so credit where credit's due.
“Last time I listen to th' ruttin' Doc's gorram pissant plans.”
The insult lacked the heat it should pack, but Jayne didn't have the time to give insulting Simon Tam it's due worth. He had things to take care of, not least was figuring if he had broken his spine in the crash.
Well, that and crawling out of the wreckage of the shuttle before the Feds came running. He never did like seeing the inside of a cell. And Feds never did like seeing him. They'd like as to hold him accountable for a few missing items here on Beaumonde, for one. Best for them both if he got himself out of the area.
Freeing himself from the crash harness, Jayne got his balance on the uneven deck and cast his eyes about for his kit, hoping he hadn't lost anything in the crash, before hammering his fist on the back of the pilot's chair.
“Up y'get, moonbrain.” He said as he spotted his pack, slammed in a corner of the cockpit and winced.
“More concern for his girls. None for the pilot?” Came the querulous response.
“Hell, we landed, ain't we?” Jayne said as he picked up the pack, and heard the contents crash against one another. “Done the thievin', now to the gettin' away.”
“Cannot do it with guts of purple entangling. Must take flight, but we passed too close...”
“Why we gotta run. Lest you know the Cap's coming for us?” Jayne asked, turning as River freed herself from the pilot's seat, keeping her footing far easier than Jayne did.
“He looks to the Dunsumir newly made...but the guts entangle the hammer...”
“Go se, can't nothing go right?” Jayne griped as he picked up his compact rifle- not Vera, but she'd done well enough today- from where it had clattered to during their high speed escape. By the time he had straightened back up, River had fixed him her best 'you idiot' expression.
“We landed and are intact.”
“Yeah, sides that. Now grab your stuff and let's git.” Jayne said, dismissing the matter. Had things to do. Next one, to head for the airlock. Get out of the shuttle before it exploded or the Feds charged in or sand vipers ate the thing.
The airlock took some work to open, and Jayne spent a good minute cursing the designers before he got it open, and all but fell out onto the open and sprawling countryside of Beaumonde with an ungainly thump before realising that there was a substantial drop.
Picking himself up from the ground with a groan, Jayne looked back at the bulk of their stolen shuttle, which had buried itself in the ground, but had managed to keep the cockpit elevated too damn high for safe exit. Which would explain why every injury he had was screaming out in pain again.
Jayne looked back up at the forward airlock in time to see River skip down the gap as easy as she pleased, as if she hadn't just crashed the shuttle on this rock, and Jayne bit back a crack about her piloting. Wasn't the time. Still. She better be sane enough when they got back to Serenity, so as he could give her the facts about that.
“...sand vipers are illogical.”
“What?”
“Wrong climate. Temperate. Sand detonates desert terrain, despite the misnomer. The-”
“Jus'- jus' get walking, girl! Don't have time for you to be a gorram moonbrain, dong ma?”
--
'Captain Malcom Reynolds is the respectable owner and captain of the sort-of-good ship Serenity.'
That is what he wanted the dock official to think. But the officious looking man probably was thinking a sentence which includes the words 'scruffy looking', 'possibly dangerous' and 'nerf herder', he thought with a kind of sinking despair that he was becoming far too accustomed to.
“Captain, you know I can't just 'let you go' You have a flight plan scheduled, and you are not meant to depart until tomorrow.”
“Ah, but me leaving gets me out of your hair. Fella might like that, especially with all those ships just waiting for a prime berth.” Mal said in his best and most reasonable tone of voice, that worked on everyone but Zoe. And Inara. And...well, the rest of the crew except Jayne, who he had never used this voice on.
“And if I make an exception for you, who else will I have to make an exception for? What then is the purpose of the rules if no one obeys them?”
Oh motherless goats of motherless goats...the man was stuck on a rules kick. He'd been hoping, just this once, that he could legally fly his ship out ahead of an alliance schedule when he really needed to instead of just wanting to, but no such luck was to be his.
“Well then, I'll just go and tell my crew to sit tight.” Mal said instead, with a friendly smile, that he didn't drop until the port keeper's back was properly turned, and he was already halfway back to his ship.
Stomping up the entrance ramp, he drew enough looks from the assembled and on edge crew that his mood was.
“So much for the vaguely law abiding route, then?”
“Got the gist of it, Doc.” Mal said as he stomped up the metal stairwell.
“Orders, sir?”
“Break the law, find my gorram crew, then come back home for tea and medals.”
“The usual then, sir.”
--
Walking through the countryside was not her favourite activity.
It would rank somewhere in the upper percentile of unfavourable experiences. There was a distinct possibility that her footwear was inadequate. She would have to take those factors into account in the future. Knowledge came through comparing experience, not through a singular experience defining all.
But that was a lie, filthy and worming and wrong.
And this new experience spoke through her toes and her heels, cramping and pinching and tugging incorrectly, in the wrong way.
Ahead, the tortoise walked on, not troubled by the rocks and stinging branches and the gravity. She would learn from his, let waters part around the stone that had seen all in it's time.
“Protest arises from pressure most wrong. The tortoise to teach?”
“Gorram...” The tortoise growled, thinking to make itself a bear. “What now, moonbrain?”
“The sensation is wrong. Education is forthcoming?”
“...what sensation?” He asked, radiating green, the red dying down.
“Toes and heels and soles and ankles and-”
“Whoa, whoa. I gotcha moonbrain. Ain't got the proper footwear on, eh?” He said, flashes of calm brown seeping into his voice.
“Dancing was expected. This is a longer dance by far.”
“...huh. You almost make sense sometimes.”
“Even the mightiest tortoise fears being carried off by a powerful rivers.”
“...gorram it girl, stop making me look a fool. I'm giving that brother of yours an earfull when we get back. Ruttin' huan dan meant t' fix you, not leave pile of crazy for Jayne.”
The journey resumed in thoughtful silence, heavy with expectation and the curiosity that was this latest development in thought and in existence.
“...I am not a pile.”
--
He'd stopped their trek across the landscape some time before the sun had set, long enough for them to set up a camp of sorts. It was little more than sheltering under a tree and making a fire, but Jayne knew this sort of summer weather to know it was enough.
Besides, River seemed to enjoy collecting firewood. Always a good idea, 'less she go psycho and carve her name into his chest.
“Would take too long. Too many letters.”
“Which is why you don't go doing it, understand?”
“Wu dong.”
Jayne nodded to himself. Well, that was that then. They had a fire, they had rations from his pack- and the captain thought he was crazy to pack them-, they were alive, moonbrain wasn't going to slice him open, and he could clean his rifle.
She was a simple enough rifle. Lacked the punch of Vera, but few weapons could put out that sort of damage without being mounted. She was compact, and that had seemed like such a fine idea when the plan hadn't gone tits up, and it turned out that compact fire power would barely slow the private security- closer to an army- down a jot.
So he cleaned the parts, and made sure she'd be ready if they needed her again. Although if they were out of range of Mal's bad luck, maybe they'd only have a ncie trek through the wilderness, livened up by the occasional attempt to have his innards rearranged.
“The shield- the legend it bears?”
He looked up to see River pointing with an outstretched arm to his disassembled rifle, and even he could figure out what her question was.
“She's Bella.”
“...it is a suitable name.”
“Well, ain't asking for your approval.”
“Others think her small, but she is deadly when used right. And loyal...she has shielded you, borne you aloft on wings of lead and jackets of steel...”
“Yeah. Somethin' like that.”
River lapsed into some train of thought, but it coulda been a poetry recital for all Jayne cared. So he reassembled Bella, and then worked through all the other weapons he had on him. The other, smaller instruments of death and war he had on him, the pistols and the knives he habitually carried on his person.
Night had fallen by the time he was done, and River was humming some song under her breath that was starting to lodge itself in the back of his mind. But that meant she was awake enough to keep watch. So he pulled his hat out of a pocket, stuffed it on his head, and then spoke to River.
“You take first watch. I'm sleeping.”
He expected her to kick up a fuss, and was oddly put out when she didn't utter a peep for a while. He opened an eye to look at her, to find her looking at him quizzically.
“...what?”
“Only if I can wear the hat.”
“No ruttin' way.”
“If you do not, I too shall slumber.”
“You're not that-”
River seemed determined to prove him wrong, and had promptly thrown herself down in a pose obviously meant to convey sleep. He had to resist the urge to laugh, and make his disgruntled tone seem false.
“Hey, now! You do that, we're all up the gorram creek without an engine!”
Her lips quirked into a smile closer to a smirk, but her eyes remained closed. And to complete the picture, she then shot her hand out in his direction.
“Headwear, please.”
--
Midway through the second day of their journey across the countryside of Beaumonde, and River still hadn't returned his cunning hat. She seemed mighty pleased about it, too, which only annoyed Jayne. Coudn't she get her own hat?
“Girl, if you don't stop being so gorram cheerful I'm gonna have t' school you some.”
“What can man-ape teach the girl shaped body of water?”
“Respect for yer elders!”
“Already have that. Captain daddy has respect.” She said, before scowling and adding. “Even if he is a boob.”
Jayne let out a bark of laughter. He couldn't help himself, not when River was insulting Mal. Subject was just too gorram funny. Even River seemed to find it funny, smiling and continuing to skip along the rough path they were travelling along.
“What else?”
“What else what?”
“What can you teach the girl-river?”
“Guns. Knives. How not to cheek me any.”
“Know the first and second, have no interest in the third.”
“Yeah, but you got to go psycho girl to use 'em proper.”
“Man-ape shows concern?”
“Hell no! I just don't want to be savin' yer scrawny ass ev'ry time some sucker pulls on you.”
“Was doing perfectly well.” River groused.
“Third guy had the drop on ya, before I ventilated him.”
“Did not know man-ape knew ventilate. Vocabulary is suspicious for Jayne.”
“Just 'cause I don't need to show off don't mean I don't know your fancifying words.”
“Man-ape with a girls name has too few neurons to use complex terminology. All guns and knives and scarlet women.”
“Well, don't like what y'see, then stay out of-”
“Aww, what a sweet scene.” This latest sentence was delivered from the bushes, accompanied by a chorus of priming weapons and a few chuckles.
Jayne cursed as the ambushers came out of hiding. Why hadn't he been paying attention? And why'd he have Bella slung across his shoulder? And he couldn't risk drawing a pistol yet. Not with the moonbrain with him. Or without knowing how many ambushers there were.
“Burly one, ain't you? Going for a woodland romp?”
Jayne really didn't like the bandit chief with the stupid hat. The brim was stupid and floppy. Not sensible for a bandit at all. Jayne should know. He had been- was?- a bandit.
There were four of them. Probably thought they were enough to take on one merc and a waif of a girl. The thought made him smirk. Numbers were in his odds for once.
“Stop with the smirking, lug head!”
Jayne glanced at River, saw her eyes wide and darting and calculating. She looked his way and nodded fractionally.
“Got to ask.” Jayne said in his best big-stupid-merc voice. “How much you like that hat?”
“What?” The bandit chief asked as Jayne drew his pistol and shot him in the throat.
By the time he turned, dropping to one knee to face the other bandits, one was already down, gasping and grasping his crushed throat. Another was aiming at the River shaped blur that was headed his way, so Jayne turned his aim to the only one still standing, who was trying to aim at River.
Couldn't have that, so Jayne shot him three times, and he went down in a heap.
River had taken the other bandit's gun and shot him with it at close range, all but sawing him in two. Jayne stood and shot the man she'd first attacked to stop him thrashing around, and she turned at the sound, rifle aimed a Jayne, but lowering it before she squeezed the trigger.
Then the bandit chief at his feet twitched, and Jayne shot him twice in the face.
“'cause yer gonna die in it.” Jayne said, deciding that a good one liner was a good one liner, before getting to work stripping the corpses of all useful equipment.
--
They made camp again some miles on, under a rocky overhang this time.
They had camping equipment this time, and Jayne was busy checking the weaponry formerly owned by the bandits that he had deemed useful. Most of it had been junk worth only plundering for the spare parts and additional ammo. But there were one or two things that caught his eye.
There was a revolver; small calibre, but the sort of tech that was simple and reliable, and useful out on the Rim. A compact sub-machinegun that would be good for scaring idiots with the rate of fire. A bayonet like the Browncoats used in the war. A hunting knife that had seen better days.
So he examined and cleaned them as best he could, as he absently poked the contents of the tin he had over the fire. And then he placed the revolver and the bayonet in front of River.
She looked up, blinking at him for a few moments before she frowned.
“The tortoise is purple and not spiky.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Jayne said automatically as he dished out the stew he had made and handed her a bowl.
“Dialogue must be forthcoming, or there will be no syrup forever!”
“Say what?”
“The patterns do not fit!” River exclaimed, pointing at the weapons set before her. “Crazy girl w'the knife! Not to be trusted. Blood and memory on them, like trifle after dinner!”
Jayne frowned at that, as he started spooning food into his mouth. Probably best if he work out she meant. Didn't want her going crazy on him, after all.
“...you wondrin why I give you the' gun?”
River nodded tersely.
“Well, it's yours. He tried to kill you, you killed him. I jus' made sure it worked right, as you don't know the how.”
River frowned, warring emotions still obvious on her face. Jayne hated warring emotions in people. Made them act crazy. Like Mal did all the ruttin' time. It'd have to be worse with a crazy psycho girl assassin. Who was a reader.
“And deadly wielder of syrup.”
“Stay outa my head, girl.” Jayne said on reflex, too tired to put much heat into it.
After a minute or so- too damned soon, if you asked Jayne, not that anyone would- River spoke up again. “Isn't right though.”
“What, killin' those folk?”
“Yes.”
“Well, ask me, the way I see it is they did two things wrong. They wanted to kill Jayne. Jayne don't like to get killed. They wanted to kill River, and River don't let no one kill her. And he had a fuck ugly hat.”
“That's three things.”
“Well, I lied when I said three things.”
“Wanted to make River smile. Wanted to make her laugh at dumb man ape Jayne.”
“Uh...no?” Jayne said, lying badly.
River half smiled, shaking her head slightly. “I shall watch for the wolves and the bears and the tigers, man-ape called Jayne.”
“No, you took first last night. I'll take first this night.”
“Sleep will slip between my fingers.”
“...I'll let you wear my hat?”
--
The hat was silly. It was all wrong colours and ladies would faint at it in fear of the orange of it and the sillyness of the bobble.
But she liked it. It was nice and snug and kept her hair out of her eyes and flickering thoughts away from her higher brain functions. She could feel a mother's love seeping down through layers of skin and bone to reside in her cortex, soft and purple.
But there were bad thoughts to try and drive them away. Fear and pain and hurt and death. New thoughts, dying thoughts. Not as terrible, as vibrant, as horrible of the shrieking torment of those who would rip and burn and tear and rape and kill and again and again and again and again
“Moonbrain, don't got no call to whimper. You meant to sleep, dong ma?”
“Wu dong.” River replied, plaintive and apologetic (even as the thoughts raced and quaked her mind still) and upset for causing upset.
“Aw, hell girl. Forgot this is your, what? Third time killin'?”
“Fourth.”
“Well, counting the times you went crazy, okay.” Jayne said, his thoughts no longer purple but decorated with yellow and a faint trimming of red and of green, but slow and steady and not spiky at all.
“Spikey? ...oh. Crazy girl talk.” Jayne said, with an audible shrug. Had she said spikey out loud? Was she still she when she spoke with a mind that was not her own?
“Well, can't say for me, but you only kill bad 'uns. And you don't giggle when you kill folks.”
“Jayne hates people who giggle when they kill...gorram creepifiying...” River said, mumbling the thoughts as she heard them in his mind.
“Yeah. So, don't you worry none. You're crazy and a killer. But you aint creepy.”
“Didn't always think that. Thought crazy girl was creepy and weird.”
“Well, yeah. But things change. Hell, y'know that better than I do.”
“Mhrm.”
“Hey, just cause we're talking friendly like don't mean you can get all-”
“Jayne doesn't get choice. Jayne doesn't have to worry about others seeing him being soft.”
“Jayne aint soft!”
“Which is why he makes good bear.”
“...gorramit, girl.”
--
They were on the third day of their hike across the planet when Jayne's radio squawked into life.
With a cry of relief, Jayne hurried to answer it, even as the voice issuing from it grew steadily more irritated.
“Mal! What the ruttin' hell took you so long?”
“Why, so pleased to hear from you too Jayne. Wonderful to hear you interested in my daring escape from New Dunsumir and my run in with those friendly Alliance folk who were looking for those ragamuffins who pulled off a little heist on this rock. And I ain't wasting all that effort on you, so- where the ruttin' hell is my gorram pilot?”
“Ah, don't yer knickers in a twist. Inara would hang ya if you did, y'know she's running low with you diggin' through her drawers.” Jayne said, smirking at the spluttered outrage and denial that issued from the radio. “And yeah, I got the moon brain here. Now hurry up and get here so I can don't have to listen to her all day again.”
Beside him, River was spluttering with laughter, uttering the word 'drawers' over and over. Jayne smiled at that. Figured she'd find the double meaning a'drawers funny.
“Well...don't kill each other until we get there!” Mal said, and Jayne thought he could hear laughter in the background. “You managed three days, you can manage half an hour. You got that?”
“Yeah, yeah.” Jayne said, clicking off the radio, and setting himself down on the nearest unpointy part of the landscape he could find. Half an hour didn't seem long now. Not after three days. Would need to kill some time 'til Mal arrived.
“...I need to teach you some card games.”
“I know fifty seven varieties of poker.”
Jayne thought on this a while, and then grinned.
He was alive, he had guns, he was about to get back on board Serenity, and he could think of a dozen casinos he could finally get revenge on in a way that didn't kill everyone.
Life was good.
Author: timeywimeyball
Fandom: Firefly
Characters/Pairing: River, Jayne
Rating: PG-13, shall we say?
Spoilers: Have you watched the Big Damn Movie? If yes, then you'll be fine. If not, then why are you reading this of all things? The BDM awaits!
Summary: Halfway through a job, the crew of the sort-of-good ship Serenity get scattered across a moon. Good thing the Captain knows how to fly as well, seeing as River is stranded on the surface. With Jayne. Oh, merciful Buddha, one of them is going to kill and eat the other one, aren't they?
Disclaimer: I once challenged Joss to a poker match for ownership of these characters, but I lost badly.
A/N: This is what happens when I read a metric tonne of Firefly fanfic in one sitting. Terrifying, isn't it just?
Additional- I have shamelessly stolen the style of River-thinking from the quite wonderful Peptuck, so credit where credit's due.
“Last time I listen to th' ruttin' Doc's gorram pissant plans.”
The insult lacked the heat it should pack, but Jayne didn't have the time to give insulting Simon Tam it's due worth. He had things to take care of, not least was figuring if he had broken his spine in the crash.
Well, that and crawling out of the wreckage of the shuttle before the Feds came running. He never did like seeing the inside of a cell. And Feds never did like seeing him. They'd like as to hold him accountable for a few missing items here on Beaumonde, for one. Best for them both if he got himself out of the area.
Freeing himself from the crash harness, Jayne got his balance on the uneven deck and cast his eyes about for his kit, hoping he hadn't lost anything in the crash, before hammering his fist on the back of the pilot's chair.
“Up y'get, moonbrain.” He said as he spotted his pack, slammed in a corner of the cockpit and winced.
“More concern for his girls. None for the pilot?” Came the querulous response.
“Hell, we landed, ain't we?” Jayne said as he picked up the pack, and heard the contents crash against one another. “Done the thievin', now to the gettin' away.”
“Cannot do it with guts of purple entangling. Must take flight, but we passed too close...”
“Why we gotta run. Lest you know the Cap's coming for us?” Jayne asked, turning as River freed herself from the pilot's seat, keeping her footing far easier than Jayne did.
“He looks to the Dunsumir newly made...but the guts entangle the hammer...”
“Go se, can't nothing go right?” Jayne griped as he picked up his compact rifle- not Vera, but she'd done well enough today- from where it had clattered to during their high speed escape. By the time he had straightened back up, River had fixed him her best 'you idiot' expression.
“We landed and are intact.”
“Yeah, sides that. Now grab your stuff and let's git.” Jayne said, dismissing the matter. Had things to do. Next one, to head for the airlock. Get out of the shuttle before it exploded or the Feds charged in or sand vipers ate the thing.
The airlock took some work to open, and Jayne spent a good minute cursing the designers before he got it open, and all but fell out onto the open and sprawling countryside of Beaumonde with an ungainly thump before realising that there was a substantial drop.
Picking himself up from the ground with a groan, Jayne looked back at the bulk of their stolen shuttle, which had buried itself in the ground, but had managed to keep the cockpit elevated too damn high for safe exit. Which would explain why every injury he had was screaming out in pain again.
Jayne looked back up at the forward airlock in time to see River skip down the gap as easy as she pleased, as if she hadn't just crashed the shuttle on this rock, and Jayne bit back a crack about her piloting. Wasn't the time. Still. She better be sane enough when they got back to Serenity, so as he could give her the facts about that.
“...sand vipers are illogical.”
“What?”
“Wrong climate. Temperate. Sand detonates desert terrain, despite the misnomer. The-”
“Jus'- jus' get walking, girl! Don't have time for you to be a gorram moonbrain, dong ma?”
--
'Captain Malcom Reynolds is the respectable owner and captain of the sort-of-good ship Serenity.'
That is what he wanted the dock official to think. But the officious looking man probably was thinking a sentence which includes the words 'scruffy looking', 'possibly dangerous' and 'nerf herder', he thought with a kind of sinking despair that he was becoming far too accustomed to.
“Captain, you know I can't just 'let you go' You have a flight plan scheduled, and you are not meant to depart until tomorrow.”
“Ah, but me leaving gets me out of your hair. Fella might like that, especially with all those ships just waiting for a prime berth.” Mal said in his best and most reasonable tone of voice, that worked on everyone but Zoe. And Inara. And...well, the rest of the crew except Jayne, who he had never used this voice on.
“And if I make an exception for you, who else will I have to make an exception for? What then is the purpose of the rules if no one obeys them?”
Oh motherless goats of motherless goats...the man was stuck on a rules kick. He'd been hoping, just this once, that he could legally fly his ship out ahead of an alliance schedule when he really needed to instead of just wanting to, but no such luck was to be his.
“Well then, I'll just go and tell my crew to sit tight.” Mal said instead, with a friendly smile, that he didn't drop until the port keeper's back was properly turned, and he was already halfway back to his ship.
Stomping up the entrance ramp, he drew enough looks from the assembled and on edge crew that his mood was.
“So much for the vaguely law abiding route, then?”
“Got the gist of it, Doc.” Mal said as he stomped up the metal stairwell.
“Orders, sir?”
“Break the law, find my gorram crew, then come back home for tea and medals.”
“The usual then, sir.”
--
Walking through the countryside was not her favourite activity.
It would rank somewhere in the upper percentile of unfavourable experiences. There was a distinct possibility that her footwear was inadequate. She would have to take those factors into account in the future. Knowledge came through comparing experience, not through a singular experience defining all.
But that was a lie, filthy and worming and wrong.
And this new experience spoke through her toes and her heels, cramping and pinching and tugging incorrectly, in the wrong way.
Ahead, the tortoise walked on, not troubled by the rocks and stinging branches and the gravity. She would learn from his, let waters part around the stone that had seen all in it's time.
“Protest arises from pressure most wrong. The tortoise to teach?”
“Gorram...” The tortoise growled, thinking to make itself a bear. “What now, moonbrain?”
“The sensation is wrong. Education is forthcoming?”
“...what sensation?” He asked, radiating green, the red dying down.
“Toes and heels and soles and ankles and-”
“Whoa, whoa. I gotcha moonbrain. Ain't got the proper footwear on, eh?” He said, flashes of calm brown seeping into his voice.
“Dancing was expected. This is a longer dance by far.”
“...huh. You almost make sense sometimes.”
“Even the mightiest tortoise fears being carried off by a powerful rivers.”
“...gorram it girl, stop making me look a fool. I'm giving that brother of yours an earfull when we get back. Ruttin' huan dan meant t' fix you, not leave pile of crazy for Jayne.”
The journey resumed in thoughtful silence, heavy with expectation and the curiosity that was this latest development in thought and in existence.
“...I am not a pile.”
--
He'd stopped their trek across the landscape some time before the sun had set, long enough for them to set up a camp of sorts. It was little more than sheltering under a tree and making a fire, but Jayne knew this sort of summer weather to know it was enough.
Besides, River seemed to enjoy collecting firewood. Always a good idea, 'less she go psycho and carve her name into his chest.
“Would take too long. Too many letters.”
“Which is why you don't go doing it, understand?”
“Wu dong.”
Jayne nodded to himself. Well, that was that then. They had a fire, they had rations from his pack- and the captain thought he was crazy to pack them-, they were alive, moonbrain wasn't going to slice him open, and he could clean his rifle.
She was a simple enough rifle. Lacked the punch of Vera, but few weapons could put out that sort of damage without being mounted. She was compact, and that had seemed like such a fine idea when the plan hadn't gone tits up, and it turned out that compact fire power would barely slow the private security- closer to an army- down a jot.
So he cleaned the parts, and made sure she'd be ready if they needed her again. Although if they were out of range of Mal's bad luck, maybe they'd only have a ncie trek through the wilderness, livened up by the occasional attempt to have his innards rearranged.
“The shield- the legend it bears?”
He looked up to see River pointing with an outstretched arm to his disassembled rifle, and even he could figure out what her question was.
“She's Bella.”
“...it is a suitable name.”
“Well, ain't asking for your approval.”
“Others think her small, but she is deadly when used right. And loyal...she has shielded you, borne you aloft on wings of lead and jackets of steel...”
“Yeah. Somethin' like that.”
River lapsed into some train of thought, but it coulda been a poetry recital for all Jayne cared. So he reassembled Bella, and then worked through all the other weapons he had on him. The other, smaller instruments of death and war he had on him, the pistols and the knives he habitually carried on his person.
Night had fallen by the time he was done, and River was humming some song under her breath that was starting to lodge itself in the back of his mind. But that meant she was awake enough to keep watch. So he pulled his hat out of a pocket, stuffed it on his head, and then spoke to River.
“You take first watch. I'm sleeping.”
He expected her to kick up a fuss, and was oddly put out when she didn't utter a peep for a while. He opened an eye to look at her, to find her looking at him quizzically.
“...what?”
“Only if I can wear the hat.”
“No ruttin' way.”
“If you do not, I too shall slumber.”
“You're not that-”
River seemed determined to prove him wrong, and had promptly thrown herself down in a pose obviously meant to convey sleep. He had to resist the urge to laugh, and make his disgruntled tone seem false.
“Hey, now! You do that, we're all up the gorram creek without an engine!”
Her lips quirked into a smile closer to a smirk, but her eyes remained closed. And to complete the picture, she then shot her hand out in his direction.
“Headwear, please.”
--
Midway through the second day of their journey across the countryside of Beaumonde, and River still hadn't returned his cunning hat. She seemed mighty pleased about it, too, which only annoyed Jayne. Coudn't she get her own hat?
“Girl, if you don't stop being so gorram cheerful I'm gonna have t' school you some.”
“What can man-ape teach the girl shaped body of water?”
“Respect for yer elders!”
“Already have that. Captain daddy has respect.” She said, before scowling and adding. “Even if he is a boob.”
Jayne let out a bark of laughter. He couldn't help himself, not when River was insulting Mal. Subject was just too gorram funny. Even River seemed to find it funny, smiling and continuing to skip along the rough path they were travelling along.
“What else?”
“What else what?”
“What can you teach the girl-river?”
“Guns. Knives. How not to cheek me any.”
“Know the first and second, have no interest in the third.”
“Yeah, but you got to go psycho girl to use 'em proper.”
“Man-ape shows concern?”
“Hell no! I just don't want to be savin' yer scrawny ass ev'ry time some sucker pulls on you.”
“Was doing perfectly well.” River groused.
“Third guy had the drop on ya, before I ventilated him.”
“Did not know man-ape knew ventilate. Vocabulary is suspicious for Jayne.”
“Just 'cause I don't need to show off don't mean I don't know your fancifying words.”
“Man-ape with a girls name has too few neurons to use complex terminology. All guns and knives and scarlet women.”
“Well, don't like what y'see, then stay out of-”
“Aww, what a sweet scene.” This latest sentence was delivered from the bushes, accompanied by a chorus of priming weapons and a few chuckles.
Jayne cursed as the ambushers came out of hiding. Why hadn't he been paying attention? And why'd he have Bella slung across his shoulder? And he couldn't risk drawing a pistol yet. Not with the moonbrain with him. Or without knowing how many ambushers there were.
“Burly one, ain't you? Going for a woodland romp?”
Jayne really didn't like the bandit chief with the stupid hat. The brim was stupid and floppy. Not sensible for a bandit at all. Jayne should know. He had been- was?- a bandit.
There were four of them. Probably thought they were enough to take on one merc and a waif of a girl. The thought made him smirk. Numbers were in his odds for once.
“Stop with the smirking, lug head!”
Jayne glanced at River, saw her eyes wide and darting and calculating. She looked his way and nodded fractionally.
“Got to ask.” Jayne said in his best big-stupid-merc voice. “How much you like that hat?”
“What?” The bandit chief asked as Jayne drew his pistol and shot him in the throat.
By the time he turned, dropping to one knee to face the other bandits, one was already down, gasping and grasping his crushed throat. Another was aiming at the River shaped blur that was headed his way, so Jayne turned his aim to the only one still standing, who was trying to aim at River.
Couldn't have that, so Jayne shot him three times, and he went down in a heap.
River had taken the other bandit's gun and shot him with it at close range, all but sawing him in two. Jayne stood and shot the man she'd first attacked to stop him thrashing around, and she turned at the sound, rifle aimed a Jayne, but lowering it before she squeezed the trigger.
Then the bandit chief at his feet twitched, and Jayne shot him twice in the face.
“'cause yer gonna die in it.” Jayne said, deciding that a good one liner was a good one liner, before getting to work stripping the corpses of all useful equipment.
--
They made camp again some miles on, under a rocky overhang this time.
They had camping equipment this time, and Jayne was busy checking the weaponry formerly owned by the bandits that he had deemed useful. Most of it had been junk worth only plundering for the spare parts and additional ammo. But there were one or two things that caught his eye.
There was a revolver; small calibre, but the sort of tech that was simple and reliable, and useful out on the Rim. A compact sub-machinegun that would be good for scaring idiots with the rate of fire. A bayonet like the Browncoats used in the war. A hunting knife that had seen better days.
So he examined and cleaned them as best he could, as he absently poked the contents of the tin he had over the fire. And then he placed the revolver and the bayonet in front of River.
She looked up, blinking at him for a few moments before she frowned.
“The tortoise is purple and not spiky.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Jayne said automatically as he dished out the stew he had made and handed her a bowl.
“Dialogue must be forthcoming, or there will be no syrup forever!”
“Say what?”
“The patterns do not fit!” River exclaimed, pointing at the weapons set before her. “Crazy girl w'the knife! Not to be trusted. Blood and memory on them, like trifle after dinner!”
Jayne frowned at that, as he started spooning food into his mouth. Probably best if he work out she meant. Didn't want her going crazy on him, after all.
“...you wondrin why I give you the' gun?”
River nodded tersely.
“Well, it's yours. He tried to kill you, you killed him. I jus' made sure it worked right, as you don't know the how.”
River frowned, warring emotions still obvious on her face. Jayne hated warring emotions in people. Made them act crazy. Like Mal did all the ruttin' time. It'd have to be worse with a crazy psycho girl assassin. Who was a reader.
“And deadly wielder of syrup.”
“Stay outa my head, girl.” Jayne said on reflex, too tired to put much heat into it.
After a minute or so- too damned soon, if you asked Jayne, not that anyone would- River spoke up again. “Isn't right though.”
“What, killin' those folk?”
“Yes.”
“Well, ask me, the way I see it is they did two things wrong. They wanted to kill Jayne. Jayne don't like to get killed. They wanted to kill River, and River don't let no one kill her. And he had a fuck ugly hat.”
“That's three things.”
“Well, I lied when I said three things.”
“Wanted to make River smile. Wanted to make her laugh at dumb man ape Jayne.”
“Uh...no?” Jayne said, lying badly.
River half smiled, shaking her head slightly. “I shall watch for the wolves and the bears and the tigers, man-ape called Jayne.”
“No, you took first last night. I'll take first this night.”
“Sleep will slip between my fingers.”
“...I'll let you wear my hat?”
--
The hat was silly. It was all wrong colours and ladies would faint at it in fear of the orange of it and the sillyness of the bobble.
But she liked it. It was nice and snug and kept her hair out of her eyes and flickering thoughts away from her higher brain functions. She could feel a mother's love seeping down through layers of skin and bone to reside in her cortex, soft and purple.
But there were bad thoughts to try and drive them away. Fear and pain and hurt and death. New thoughts, dying thoughts. Not as terrible, as vibrant, as horrible of the shrieking torment of those who would rip and burn and tear and rape and kill and again and again and again and again
“Moonbrain, don't got no call to whimper. You meant to sleep, dong ma?”
“Wu dong.” River replied, plaintive and apologetic (even as the thoughts raced and quaked her mind still) and upset for causing upset.
“Aw, hell girl. Forgot this is your, what? Third time killin'?”
“Fourth.”
“Well, counting the times you went crazy, okay.” Jayne said, his thoughts no longer purple but decorated with yellow and a faint trimming of red and of green, but slow and steady and not spiky at all.
“Spikey? ...oh. Crazy girl talk.” Jayne said, with an audible shrug. Had she said spikey out loud? Was she still she when she spoke with a mind that was not her own?
“Well, can't say for me, but you only kill bad 'uns. And you don't giggle when you kill folks.”
“Jayne hates people who giggle when they kill...gorram creepifiying...” River said, mumbling the thoughts as she heard them in his mind.
“Yeah. So, don't you worry none. You're crazy and a killer. But you aint creepy.”
“Didn't always think that. Thought crazy girl was creepy and weird.”
“Well, yeah. But things change. Hell, y'know that better than I do.”
“Mhrm.”
“Hey, just cause we're talking friendly like don't mean you can get all-”
“Jayne doesn't get choice. Jayne doesn't have to worry about others seeing him being soft.”
“Jayne aint soft!”
“Which is why he makes good bear.”
“...gorramit, girl.”
--
They were on the third day of their hike across the planet when Jayne's radio squawked into life.
With a cry of relief, Jayne hurried to answer it, even as the voice issuing from it grew steadily more irritated.
“Mal! What the ruttin' hell took you so long?”
“Why, so pleased to hear from you too Jayne. Wonderful to hear you interested in my daring escape from New Dunsumir and my run in with those friendly Alliance folk who were looking for those ragamuffins who pulled off a little heist on this rock. And I ain't wasting all that effort on you, so- where the ruttin' hell is my gorram pilot?”
“Ah, don't yer knickers in a twist. Inara would hang ya if you did, y'know she's running low with you diggin' through her drawers.” Jayne said, smirking at the spluttered outrage and denial that issued from the radio. “And yeah, I got the moon brain here. Now hurry up and get here so I can don't have to listen to her all day again.”
Beside him, River was spluttering with laughter, uttering the word 'drawers' over and over. Jayne smiled at that. Figured she'd find the double meaning a'drawers funny.
“Well...don't kill each other until we get there!” Mal said, and Jayne thought he could hear laughter in the background. “You managed three days, you can manage half an hour. You got that?”
“Yeah, yeah.” Jayne said, clicking off the radio, and setting himself down on the nearest unpointy part of the landscape he could find. Half an hour didn't seem long now. Not after three days. Would need to kill some time 'til Mal arrived.
“...I need to teach you some card games.”
“I know fifty seven varieties of poker.”
Jayne thought on this a while, and then grinned.
He was alive, he had guns, he was about to get back on board Serenity, and he could think of a dozen casinos he could finally get revenge on in a way that didn't kill everyone.
Life was good.