Apology
Title: Apology
Series Title: Partner Ship
Author: FabledFigment
Disclaimer: There is no original content, except for the original content. All Hail Discordia…um I mean Joss. Yes, yes, All Hail Joss.
Timeline: Six months post BDM.
Rating: PG
Series Rating: NC-17 (Trust me, there will be plenty of lots of warning before I head into Jayne’s bunk.)
Previous
*
A/N - A warning before you continue: I am writing extensive Jayne back-story into this fic. It will immediately influence his character in important ways. I’m sorry if he turns into someone other than the Jayne we know and love. I still recognize him. If that bothers you (and I hope it doesn’t) please consider the preface a standalone. In addition, River is completely out of character. She is (mostly) sane. *blinks innocently* I call this character development. *evil grin*
*
Taaniko
An ancient Maori method of textile manufacture.
Traditionally the sole province of women.
It was also originally a spiritual practice with initiations and rituals.
I am not an expert.
Jayne usually sat so he could watch all the exits wherever he was. There were a few exceptions. Times that having the length of the table spread out in front of him outweighed the creepifying truth that someone could sneak up on him. Of course, when the ship was winging thru the Black was the only time he let himself get that comfortable.
When he was cleaning his guns was one exceptifying situation. Sharpening his knives was another. What he was doing now was yet another. It was called Taaniko, an ancient Earth-That-Was art of weaving with no loom.
It was a cross between macramé, basket weaving and knot tying. It was also the most manly yarn-craft he'd ever come across. Never knew a living woman who bothered to learn it. Or at least that's what he'd tell anyone who dared to ask.
Truth was a man needed a dozen hobbies to live out in the Black. Wasn't a single thing that didn't pale after a solid week. He shifted in his chair. Even nudie pics.
He drew his hunting knife and cut a thread. He absently sheathed the deadly weapon as if he hadn't just used it as thread snips.
Even though it was very manly, Jayne didn't usually weave when other people were around. He did at first on each new job, to get the unavoidable teasing over and done with. Funny how it hadn't been as bad here as it could have been. But it was something he did for peace out in the Black, private-like. Which was why he was sitting at the dining table in the middle of the night, six days out from anywhere.
Well, that and insomnia.
"Jayne?" It was the crazy girl, her voice was unsure.
Jayne looked up, startled. He hadn't heard her come in, but there she was, standing at the foot of the table in her nightdress like a gorram waif. She had grown up in the six months since the law had canceled her warrants, but tonight she looked as young and lost as she'd ever been then.
Sure made things easier that she wasn't crazy every gorram minute of the day. Hard to listen to her, though. Her words might string together so as some folk could understand her, but Jayne had some problem knowing what they all meant.
"Yeah?" He loaded the word with hostility without even really thinking about it. He didn’t need her to come in here and break up his peacefulness.
River sighed and sat beside him at the table, just around the corner, lots closer than he‘d like. She watched him, tapping her fingers nervously.
He deliberately looked down. He didn't want his mind to wander to how nice she looked in her thin nightgown. The girl was a gorram mind reader, and too dangerous to be given access to thoughts he had no intention of acting on anyway.
"Well?" He growled when he couldn't take it any more. "Are you just gonna sit there and be all creepifying?"
The tapping stopped. "Maybe."
"Well stop it. It bothers me." He dug another spool of coarse linen yarn out of the bag hanging from his chair. He held it against his work and glanced up at her. It didn’t quite register in his own mind that he was looking to her for color choice approval. She nodded.
Out came the knife again as he cut off the proper length. He went back to work.
"I came to apologize." She said after he'd almost - but not quite forgotten she was there. He couldn't actually forget, the tension in his spine wouldn't let him.
He grunted in surprise, not sure he'd heard her right.
"For the trouble I was before Miranda." The last word came out as a whisper.
"Huh?" He kept his eyes on his work.
"While I was unstable." She elaborated. "For everything, for ruining your Blue Sun shirt and for...well, what happened at The Maidenhead, and all the other fen li..." Her voice trailed off.
He looked up at her, but she was examining her thumbnail.
"I know why you did what you did at Ariel." She said, changing tacks. "I don't blame you either." His mouth fell open. "We were trouble from the very beginning. Simon may never truly forgive you, but I did a long time ago."
"Ya did?" He swallowed and let his face resume his puzzled frown. "Why?"
"Because, when the man double crossed you, and the screaming started," She met his eyes for the first time since she'd started talking. "You saved us too. You didn't have to. You could have just saved yourself."
"Yes I did, I had to." He looked back down at the mess of threads in his hands. "Once the screaming started..."
She nodded.
"I didn't realize how bad you had it until I heard the screaming." He manipulated his weft again.
"That's why I forgave you." She played with the end of one of his warp threads. It was black and contrasted sharply with her pale fingers.
She was quiet again, watching his hands move. "You still think Serenity would be better off without me." She said sadly.
He paused, then grimaced, meeting her eyes. "Not exactly."
She questioned him silently.
"You can be very handy when there's Reavers about." He growled.
She shook her head. "But when there are no Reavers, you want me to go."
He licked his teeth under closed lips. "Not exactly." He repeated.
Serenity would be worse off with her gone, even without the Doc. He just thought maybe he might get some peace if she was gone. But he didn't know how to say that. He just wasn't sure a tiny boat was the place for them both to be at the same time. He didn't want to think about that long enough to put it into words neither.
"Your outward message has been the same since we met." Her big eyes bored holes into his soul, but he didn't glance up to meet them.
"Wha'da ya mean?" He said absently.
"Bad Simon. Take the dangerous girl and go away." She reached out and laid her hand on the scar she'd drawn across his chest. "Here, take her, we don't want her. On Ariel."
He clenched his jaw, distractifying girl.
"I thought the plan was they were getting off. Why did you bring her back?"
He smoothed one rough finger over the cloth in front of him, trying to ignore her confounding hand.
"You have wanted me gone since the first." She said sadly.
He grunted. "Yeah, I guess."
"You still do, but your reasons, your inner messages, have changed."
"No they haven't." He denied quickly.
"You want me to go because it is easier than wanting me to stay." She ran her fingertips along the length of the scar. "Well worn paths are easier than breaking new ground."
"Don't know what you're talking about, girl." He growled, glaring into her eyes.
"No, you don‘t." She agreed. "But I do." She smiled sadly. "It is within acceptable limits to want me to remain. I want you to want me to stay."
"I...No." He caught her softly stroking hand and pried it off his chest.
"I have always wanted you to want me to stay." The tiny hand trapped in his began tracing circles across his palm. He practically tossed her hand towards her.
"We make good partners." Her voice took on some of its old singsong qualities. "I'll watch your back. Save you from the Black."
"I don't need saving." He protested.
"Maybe you don't." She said, her eyes losing any craziness that had crept in. "But you're still afraid. What are you afraid of now?"
"Nuthin." He scowled. "I ain't afraid of nuthin." He met her eyes with the meanest glare he could muster. "I ain't never been afraid of nuthin."
She met his stare. "Untruth." She said after a considering moment. "That the Alliance will cause trouble." She raised one slender finger. "Crazy girls with sharp knives." A second finger joined the first. "Not getting paid. The screaming. Afraid the girl would know what you did. Afraid the girl would kill herself when she snapped and took down the whole bar." When she ran out of fingers her hand relaxed into a loose fist on the table.
She paused and tilted her head. "Sorry about your man-parts. You don't have to show me. My hand knows they're there." He thought he might see a hint of blush on her cheeks.
"Afraid for the girl caught with the Reavers when the door closed. Afraid of the Reavers in general, but that's sensible." Her eyes flashed. "You're still afraid, but perhaps now more afraid of yourself." Her brow knit in a little troubled frown.
"I don't want you to know I'm afraid." He said when it became clear she wasn't going to list anything else.
"Truth." She agreed. "But you are. Everyone is."
"What are you afraid of?" He asked belligerently.
She looked at him questioningly.
"Only fair." He set his jaw. "You know every one of my gorram fears."
She licked her lips before meeting his eyes. "I am afraid Jayne will never see the girl as a woman." She stood and turned to leave.
He grasped her wrist to hold her there.
In less than a second, her wrist was gone from his grasp. She wrenched away before he knew he had it, but she did turn to look at him again.
"Don't." He said.
"Why?" She seemed almost angry, but it was hard to tell. "You have always wanted me gone. Maybe its time I left."
"No." He said, his voice small. "I don't want you to leave anymore."
She sat back down. "Why not?"
"Do I really have to say it in words?" He grimaced. "Can't you just, you know, read it out of my head?"
"I need words." She said quietly. "I know what I think you mean, how I read you and what I want you to say." She paused. "But I don't think you know. Not really."
"You mean I don't know my own mind?" He asked, anger building.
"Mind, feelings, whatever." She played with an end of her hair the same way she had fiddled with his warp thread. "Your surface mind always means exactly what you say. Underneath is more of a mess. Underneath is where all of the fear lives."
He opened his mouth to protest, but she pressed her fingers to his lips, quieting him.
"Everyone lies to themselves. Everyone pushes the fear away. Its part of how the brain works."
"Except yours." He wasn't sure he'd said it out loud. Simon had told him about this on Ariel.
"Part of what they did to me. Simon has only made it all fainter, easier to ignore, even with all he has been able to do." She agreed. "You also have a fear of caring for people. You think if you like anyone your armor will crack and leave you vulnerable. But it isn't how you think."
He sat and let her talk. Troubled that what she said might be true. Too many of her words tonight might be true. Hell, he was able to grasp too many of her words tonight.
"The cracks are already there. Hidden where you can't see them. That's why you need someone to guard your back. To shield the cracks. They're huge." She drew in a deep breath. "But you don't see them and you don't want me to see them either." Her eyes flashed. "You don't need to say that. I know you deny it."
"No...Yes. I mean..." He closed his mouth and looked at her in anger. "I don't know what I mean."
"I do." A little hysterical laugh escaped her lips. "I know. But I can't tell you." She covered her mouth with one tiny hand. "You won't believe if I tell you." She shrugged, dropping her hand. "You have to know what the words mean before you can say them. Out loud. On your own. Otherwise they aren't real. They're just the crazy girl babbling to herself in the dark."
"Please." He whispered soundlessly.
"I'll give you a hint." She leaned towards him over the table, licking her bottom lip. "Do you want a hint?"
"Yes." He replied, drowning in her eyes.
"Good." She moved slowly, not breaking her hypnotic gaze.
He saw it coming, but he didn't believe it, so he didn’t make a move to stop her.
It wasn't the gentle innocent kiss he expected. It was fierce, consuming. It startled him more than he could ever say.
Only their lips touched. He wanted to pull her to him around corner of the table. He wanted her writhing beneath him. But he didn't. He couldn't. Something stopped him.
She withdrew almost as quickly as she began. She leaned back, head tilted, evaluating him calmly. Her eyes were like knives, ripping thru any defenses he might have had.
Finally she nodded decisively. She turned to leave.
"River?" He gasped.
"Sort out your fears. Think about what you want to say." She did not turn back. "I'm not really going anywhere."
She faced him just as she reached the door.
"Yet." She surveyed him with what he would have called a hostile glance if she hadn't just kissed him senseless. Then she was gone.
Story List : Next
Series Title: Partner Ship
Author: FabledFigment
Disclaimer: There is no original content, except for the original content. All Hail Discordia…um I mean Joss. Yes, yes, All Hail Joss.
Timeline: Six months post BDM.
Rating: PG
Series Rating: NC-17 (Trust me, there will be plenty of lots of warning before I head into Jayne’s bunk.)
Previous
*
A/N - A warning before you continue: I am writing extensive Jayne back-story into this fic. It will immediately influence his character in important ways. I’m sorry if he turns into someone other than the Jayne we know and love. I still recognize him. If that bothers you (and I hope it doesn’t) please consider the preface a standalone. In addition, River is completely out of character. She is (mostly) sane. *blinks innocently* I call this character development. *evil grin*
*
Taaniko
An ancient Maori method of textile manufacture.
Traditionally the sole province of women.
It was also originally a spiritual practice with initiations and rituals.
I am not an expert.
Jayne usually sat so he could watch all the exits wherever he was. There were a few exceptions. Times that having the length of the table spread out in front of him outweighed the creepifying truth that someone could sneak up on him. Of course, when the ship was winging thru the Black was the only time he let himself get that comfortable.
When he was cleaning his guns was one exceptifying situation. Sharpening his knives was another. What he was doing now was yet another. It was called Taaniko, an ancient Earth-That-Was art of weaving with no loom.
It was a cross between macramé, basket weaving and knot tying. It was also the most manly yarn-craft he'd ever come across. Never knew a living woman who bothered to learn it. Or at least that's what he'd tell anyone who dared to ask.
Truth was a man needed a dozen hobbies to live out in the Black. Wasn't a single thing that didn't pale after a solid week. He shifted in his chair. Even nudie pics.
He drew his hunting knife and cut a thread. He absently sheathed the deadly weapon as if he hadn't just used it as thread snips.
Even though it was very manly, Jayne didn't usually weave when other people were around. He did at first on each new job, to get the unavoidable teasing over and done with. Funny how it hadn't been as bad here as it could have been. But it was something he did for peace out in the Black, private-like. Which was why he was sitting at the dining table in the middle of the night, six days out from anywhere.
Well, that and insomnia.
"Jayne?" It was the crazy girl, her voice was unsure.
Jayne looked up, startled. He hadn't heard her come in, but there she was, standing at the foot of the table in her nightdress like a gorram waif. She had grown up in the six months since the law had canceled her warrants, but tonight she looked as young and lost as she'd ever been then.
Sure made things easier that she wasn't crazy every gorram minute of the day. Hard to listen to her, though. Her words might string together so as some folk could understand her, but Jayne had some problem knowing what they all meant.
"Yeah?" He loaded the word with hostility without even really thinking about it. He didn’t need her to come in here and break up his peacefulness.
River sighed and sat beside him at the table, just around the corner, lots closer than he‘d like. She watched him, tapping her fingers nervously.
He deliberately looked down. He didn't want his mind to wander to how nice she looked in her thin nightgown. The girl was a gorram mind reader, and too dangerous to be given access to thoughts he had no intention of acting on anyway.
"Well?" He growled when he couldn't take it any more. "Are you just gonna sit there and be all creepifying?"
The tapping stopped. "Maybe."
"Well stop it. It bothers me." He dug another spool of coarse linen yarn out of the bag hanging from his chair. He held it against his work and glanced up at her. It didn’t quite register in his own mind that he was looking to her for color choice approval. She nodded.
Out came the knife again as he cut off the proper length. He went back to work.
"I came to apologize." She said after he'd almost - but not quite forgotten she was there. He couldn't actually forget, the tension in his spine wouldn't let him.
He grunted in surprise, not sure he'd heard her right.
"For the trouble I was before Miranda." The last word came out as a whisper.
"Huh?" He kept his eyes on his work.
"While I was unstable." She elaborated. "For everything, for ruining your Blue Sun shirt and for...well, what happened at The Maidenhead, and all the other fen li..." Her voice trailed off.
He looked up at her, but she was examining her thumbnail.
"I know why you did what you did at Ariel." She said, changing tacks. "I don't blame you either." His mouth fell open. "We were trouble from the very beginning. Simon may never truly forgive you, but I did a long time ago."
"Ya did?" He swallowed and let his face resume his puzzled frown. "Why?"
"Because, when the man double crossed you, and the screaming started," She met his eyes for the first time since she'd started talking. "You saved us too. You didn't have to. You could have just saved yourself."
"Yes I did, I had to." He looked back down at the mess of threads in his hands. "Once the screaming started..."
She nodded.
"I didn't realize how bad you had it until I heard the screaming." He manipulated his weft again.
"That's why I forgave you." She played with the end of one of his warp threads. It was black and contrasted sharply with her pale fingers.
She was quiet again, watching his hands move. "You still think Serenity would be better off without me." She said sadly.
He paused, then grimaced, meeting her eyes. "Not exactly."
She questioned him silently.
"You can be very handy when there's Reavers about." He growled.
She shook her head. "But when there are no Reavers, you want me to go."
He licked his teeth under closed lips. "Not exactly." He repeated.
Serenity would be worse off with her gone, even without the Doc. He just thought maybe he might get some peace if she was gone. But he didn't know how to say that. He just wasn't sure a tiny boat was the place for them both to be at the same time. He didn't want to think about that long enough to put it into words neither.
"Your outward message has been the same since we met." Her big eyes bored holes into his soul, but he didn't glance up to meet them.
"Wha'da ya mean?" He said absently.
"Bad Simon. Take the dangerous girl and go away." She reached out and laid her hand on the scar she'd drawn across his chest. "Here, take her, we don't want her. On Ariel."
He clenched his jaw, distractifying girl.
"I thought the plan was they were getting off. Why did you bring her back?"
He smoothed one rough finger over the cloth in front of him, trying to ignore her confounding hand.
"You have wanted me gone since the first." She said sadly.
He grunted. "Yeah, I guess."
"You still do, but your reasons, your inner messages, have changed."
"No they haven't." He denied quickly.
"You want me to go because it is easier than wanting me to stay." She ran her fingertips along the length of the scar. "Well worn paths are easier than breaking new ground."
"Don't know what you're talking about, girl." He growled, glaring into her eyes.
"No, you don‘t." She agreed. "But I do." She smiled sadly. "It is within acceptable limits to want me to remain. I want you to want me to stay."
"I...No." He caught her softly stroking hand and pried it off his chest.
"I have always wanted you to want me to stay." The tiny hand trapped in his began tracing circles across his palm. He practically tossed her hand towards her.
"We make good partners." Her voice took on some of its old singsong qualities. "I'll watch your back. Save you from the Black."
"I don't need saving." He protested.
"Maybe you don't." She said, her eyes losing any craziness that had crept in. "But you're still afraid. What are you afraid of now?"
"Nuthin." He scowled. "I ain't afraid of nuthin." He met her eyes with the meanest glare he could muster. "I ain't never been afraid of nuthin."
She met his stare. "Untruth." She said after a considering moment. "That the Alliance will cause trouble." She raised one slender finger. "Crazy girls with sharp knives." A second finger joined the first. "Not getting paid. The screaming. Afraid the girl would know what you did. Afraid the girl would kill herself when she snapped and took down the whole bar." When she ran out of fingers her hand relaxed into a loose fist on the table.
She paused and tilted her head. "Sorry about your man-parts. You don't have to show me. My hand knows they're there." He thought he might see a hint of blush on her cheeks.
"Afraid for the girl caught with the Reavers when the door closed. Afraid of the Reavers in general, but that's sensible." Her eyes flashed. "You're still afraid, but perhaps now more afraid of yourself." Her brow knit in a little troubled frown.
"I don't want you to know I'm afraid." He said when it became clear she wasn't going to list anything else.
"Truth." She agreed. "But you are. Everyone is."
"What are you afraid of?" He asked belligerently.
She looked at him questioningly.
"Only fair." He set his jaw. "You know every one of my gorram fears."
She licked her lips before meeting his eyes. "I am afraid Jayne will never see the girl as a woman." She stood and turned to leave.
He grasped her wrist to hold her there.
In less than a second, her wrist was gone from his grasp. She wrenched away before he knew he had it, but she did turn to look at him again.
"Don't." He said.
"Why?" She seemed almost angry, but it was hard to tell. "You have always wanted me gone. Maybe its time I left."
"No." He said, his voice small. "I don't want you to leave anymore."
She sat back down. "Why not?"
"Do I really have to say it in words?" He grimaced. "Can't you just, you know, read it out of my head?"
"I need words." She said quietly. "I know what I think you mean, how I read you and what I want you to say." She paused. "But I don't think you know. Not really."
"You mean I don't know my own mind?" He asked, anger building.
"Mind, feelings, whatever." She played with an end of her hair the same way she had fiddled with his warp thread. "Your surface mind always means exactly what you say. Underneath is more of a mess. Underneath is where all of the fear lives."
He opened his mouth to protest, but she pressed her fingers to his lips, quieting him.
"Everyone lies to themselves. Everyone pushes the fear away. Its part of how the brain works."
"Except yours." He wasn't sure he'd said it out loud. Simon had told him about this on Ariel.
"Part of what they did to me. Simon has only made it all fainter, easier to ignore, even with all he has been able to do." She agreed. "You also have a fear of caring for people. You think if you like anyone your armor will crack and leave you vulnerable. But it isn't how you think."
He sat and let her talk. Troubled that what she said might be true. Too many of her words tonight might be true. Hell, he was able to grasp too many of her words tonight.
"The cracks are already there. Hidden where you can't see them. That's why you need someone to guard your back. To shield the cracks. They're huge." She drew in a deep breath. "But you don't see them and you don't want me to see them either." Her eyes flashed. "You don't need to say that. I know you deny it."
"No...Yes. I mean..." He closed his mouth and looked at her in anger. "I don't know what I mean."
"I do." A little hysterical laugh escaped her lips. "I know. But I can't tell you." She covered her mouth with one tiny hand. "You won't believe if I tell you." She shrugged, dropping her hand. "You have to know what the words mean before you can say them. Out loud. On your own. Otherwise they aren't real. They're just the crazy girl babbling to herself in the dark."
"Please." He whispered soundlessly.
"I'll give you a hint." She leaned towards him over the table, licking her bottom lip. "Do you want a hint?"
"Yes." He replied, drowning in her eyes.
"Good." She moved slowly, not breaking her hypnotic gaze.
He saw it coming, but he didn't believe it, so he didn’t make a move to stop her.
It wasn't the gentle innocent kiss he expected. It was fierce, consuming. It startled him more than he could ever say.
Only their lips touched. He wanted to pull her to him around corner of the table. He wanted her writhing beneath him. But he didn't. He couldn't. Something stopped him.
She withdrew almost as quickly as she began. She leaned back, head tilted, evaluating him calmly. Her eyes were like knives, ripping thru any defenses he might have had.
Finally she nodded decisively. She turned to leave.
"River?" He gasped.
"Sort out your fears. Think about what you want to say." She did not turn back. "I'm not really going anywhere."
She faced him just as she reached the door.
"Yet." She surveyed him with what he would have called a hostile glance if she hadn't just kissed him senseless. Then she was gone.
Story List : Next