Author's Notes: I wrote this for my friend corrielle's birthday. The story takes place between "Objects in Space" and the movie. I got the Chinese from a few different sources (fortune cookies and fireflywiki), and they may use different phonetic systems to Romanize the words. I don't speak Chinese, so I wouldn't know. The definitions are footnoted in case you care to know what the words mean.

Constructive criticism welcome. In the meantime, please enjoy!

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Jayne brushed aside the beaded curtains in the doorway and entered the establishment. There was a polished oak bar counter at the far end, and cigar smoke and incense mingled together, hazing up the room. People's movements shifted the smoky mixture languorously about. Jayne's eyes followed one trail to a pair of swaying hips just barely holding up a red silk skirt. He grinned.

No doubt about it: this was a quality whorehouse.

He looked her over. Long, sturdy legs, nice hips and enough breasts to get a good hold of. Moved a bit dainty-like though. Delicate sort. Well, he was looking for something a bit more lively than a do-si-do.

The woman stepped up to the bar and ordered a small bowl of grapes. She noticed Jayne watching her, and she smiled. Plucking a grape from the bunch, she placed it on the tip of her tongue and drew it slowly into her mouth.

On the other hand, Jayne thought, his mouth suddenly going dry, maybe there's something to be said for finesse.

He leaned forward on the bar table and caught her eye. "Duo-shao qian?1" he asked.

"For the grapes?" she said.

"Well, if you want to include them with you."

"More than you can afford," she said with a smile. She leaned back and popped another grape into her mouth.

Jayne grinned back and pulled a wad of credit bills out of his pocket. "That's too bad," he said, flipping through them with a studied nonchalance. "Guess I'll have to go find someone in my price range."

She looked up, swallowing the grape quickly. "Well, maybe we can work us some kind of arrangement."

Jayne put an arm around her waist and crushed her against him. "I like the sound of that."

The warmth of her flesh as she pressed herself against him and ran her hands across his skin was intoxicating and very, very distracting. Jayne never saw them coming.

All he felt was a needle in his arm and then the sudden weakening of his muscles. He turned to look his opponents in the eye, to face them standing, but his legs gave out and he collapsed face-first, his eyes level with a pair of heavy laced boots. One boot drew back and smashed into his face, breaking his nose. Jayne felt the sting of blood trickling down his nose, and as he swallowed, the acrid iron taste filled his mouth.

Let me face you like a man, you coward-spawned sonsabitches, he thought as he faded out of consciousness.

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When Jayne woke up, he couldn't move his arms. He tried to look down, but his head wouldn't move either. Then he realized that he was being held in place by thick restraints. Something brushed against his forehead—a spider, maybe. No—it had a metallic feel to it. He forced his eyes upward. Long wires trailed from his forehead to a machine across the room, where a small bespectacled man monitored the readouts.

The man looked up and smiled. His face was soft and bland, almost grandfatherly, but the smile….

Not many things gave Jayne a fright. He could probably list them on one hand, if he could move it. Reavers. Running out of money. Rats. More Reavers. Needles. And that smile. It had a snake-like quality that made Jayne's skin feel like it was trying to run off.

"Ah, good, I see you are awake," said Adlai Niska.

"Wuh de ma!2" Jayne flexed his arms against the restraints. "Get these ruttin' things off of me!"

"No, I think then you would make trouble for me," Niska said. "You see, Mr. Cobb, you have reputation. A strong man, but not to be trusted. Not solid."

"I'm plenty solid," Jayne said.

"Oh?" Niska stepped toward Jayne, a faintly mocking interest in his eyes. He flicked open a large jagged knife and rested the blade on his fingertips. "Yes, perhaps today we find out how solid you are."

The corner of Jayne's mouth twitched nervously. "Look, why you got to be all in a stabbing mood? I never done nothing to you!"

Niska shrugged. "No, maybe you do not steal from me. Maybe you say to Captain Reynolds, 'Niska will not like this.' I do not know. But you have friends who cross me. Everybody hears, knows they still live, and there goes the gossip. 'Niska is weak,' is the talk. I take your friends to show I am still strong, to restore my reputation. But in the end they escape—most distressing. It is possible you help them get away, yes?" He closed the knife and adjusted his spectacles, peering at Jayne. "Yes, I think I do not forget a face."

Jayne felt his stomach sink, but he tried to put on a brave front. "Well, I got a lot of people that look like me," he said, giving Niska his best disarming smile. "Hell, even you got to be wrong sometimes."

"Sometimes, yes. But not today." Niska smiled. "You know what you are, Mr. Cobb? You are little fish, swimming around, around… I fish for big fish, I catch you. Not what I want. I can throw you back, maybe. But you have value as little fish, because you know where big fish live." He gestured to a muscular henchman, who opened a large briefcase full of money. "I think you know, perhaps, how to find Captain Reynolds?"

Jayne smirked. "Duo-shao qian?"

"Ah, so you have price for your friends?" Niska leaned forward.

"I've got a price for everything."

"Yes, so I see. And I have money. A good arrangement; perfect, it seems. Only one small thing." He snapped the briefcase shut and stared intently at Jayne.

The smile melted off Jayne's face. "What's that?"

"You see, for business negotiation, you must have trust. Is foundation of everything. You would betray your friends, maybe you would betray me. This is not an acceptable arrangement." Niska stepped back to the machine and shook his head sadly. "So there can be no negotiation."

With that, he flipped a switch on the machine, and burning electrical current surged through Jayne's body.

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1 "How much?" Courtesy of a fortune cookie.

2 "Mother of God!" Courtesy of fireflywiki.