Disclaimer: Not mine.

A/N: I've been trying to write some Anatomy-stuff but "light-hearted" isn't coming out (or at least, isn't coming out any good). Blame it on the winter blues.

I'm still working on it, but in the meantime, this is a new, stand-alone piece. I'm not sure yet, but I feel like this might go somewhere...

Nothing But A Dream

by Tince

It ended 'bout as fast as it had started.

As she had started it, he corrected bitterly.

Gorram Moonbrain with her those big, unnaturally bright eyes of hers, and that musical ruttin' laugh of hers, and the irritatin' way she made his stomach all twisted and turn'd inside out when she smiled.

He didn't know when she'd started to have her unsettlin' effect on him. Had'ta be after she'd gone off the meds for a few months 'cause she was in the sick bay most nights then. And it had'ta be after Zoe had been put on bedrest by the Doc 'cause before that he'd go days without seein' her and he wouldn't really care too much (just make sure she was alright and wasn't gonna go batshit crazy like the pre-Miranda days).

And then once she'd started going on jobs with 'em to replace Zoe's pregnant pi gu, it was all a blur in his mind of guns and gore and the best gorram partner he'd ever had in his life. The two of them together were ruthless - two sides of a deadly coin - and even when he wasn't sure if he liked her, he knew he trusted her at his back.

And that was something.

But that was then and now, it was all different and he just didn't know when it had changed.

It seem'd like it should've been a big moment, an important moment - something he'd notice as out'ta place and unusual in his regular day-to-day, moonin' after Crazy. But it wasn't and that's what got him shaken.

She'd gradually snuck under his skin, in hundreds of little ways, with hundreds of different moments - things that he didn't think twice about or protect himself against - and now she was there. Firmly situated in that region between his head and his... y'know, and he didn't know how to get her the hell out.

The problem was - 'cause it wasn't one big, 'verse-shatterin' moment - he couldn't seem to find one, big 'verse-shatterin' way to get rid of her. It seemed he'd have to wait it out - spend all that time she worked her way in with to work her back out again.

But Jayne Cobb was never mistaken for a patient man... largely due to the fact that he wasn't.

So one day, when they'd been assigned ship-sittin' duty together by Mal - while the rest of the Crew went planetside - he decided he was sick of it. Sick of the twisted stomach, and the anxiety, and the forcin' himself to stop lookin' at the way the lights reflected off her hair. He wasn't gonna do it anymore.

And with that singular thought fuelin' him, he walked out'ta the cargo bay (where he'd been distractedly movin' boxes around for no reason) and purposefully made his way to the mess. He knew she'd been in there drawin' in that sketchbook of hers since this mornin' and figured she probably hadn't left.

Seein' as there was no way she'd missed his heavy footfalls up from the cargo bay and through to the mess, when he reached the doorway and she didn't look up, he reckoned she was ignorin' him.

Well, that sure as hell wasn't gonna work for him.

"Moony?"

"Ape?"

Despite of himself, Jayne grinned, walking over to the couch and sitting next to her. Girl didn't mind his names anymore - callin' them "terms of endearment" after one particularly respectful "Jellybrain" - but took every opportunity she got to use her own nicknames for him.

But he could tell that her response was automatic - she wasn't really focused on him and he needed her to be. This conversation was gonna happen - he'd set his mind to it - but things'd go lot easier (and faster) if she was Readin' his emotions. So musterin' up all the things he'd been thinking about endlessly in private but had kept out'ta his mind when he was around her, he let go of what felt like the 'verse's weight on his shoulders - baring himself fully to her.

And at the flood of thoughts and feelings and emotions in the room, he heard a tiny gasp and River looked up at him at last, brown eyes meeting blue.

"Girl, we gotta talk."

When she looked like she was about to respond, he stopped her - he needed to get this out.

"Y'know what? ...scratch that, I've gotta talk. Gotta tell you something."

And then he'd told her.

Told her that he'd been alone for more'n half his life and how he liked it that way - chosen it that way. 'Cause when people got too close, they hurt you or betrayed you or got sick and left you.

Told her that he wasn't sure what she was doing to him, that he didn't know why it was happenin' or why it was happenin' to him. That he had never been here before and didn't know how to get out.

Told her that all he knew was that he couldn't stop thinkin' about her - about her smile and her hair, and her laugh, and the way she looked with a gun in her hands and fire in her eyes.

He'd have told her more too but after he'd said the last thing, he saw that same fire blaze up in her eyes and before he'd known what was happening, she was in his arms and he was kissin' a girl for the first time in over twenty years.

But it was important to him - even as his brain felt like it had overheated and shut down - to know that it wasn't any girl, it was this girl, the only girl he'd wanted to kiss in over twenty years: River.

It was everythin' he remembered too - like electricity in his veins, like flying and falling at the same time - but better. Soft and intense and cinnamon-scented because of her hair around their faces.

And he couldn't help but think he wanted to do this forever.

...when she'd jumped up and out of his arms, moving to the middle of the mess, lookin' terrified. From the way she was flutterin' about, she looked like she didn't know whether she wanted to return to his embrace or run as far away from him as possible.

Before he could even get out more than a nervous "River...?", she seemed to make up her mind.

Closing her eyes, she straightened herself up and if'n it had been anybody but him, she would have seemed the picture of calm. But he saw the tremblin' of her hands and the tightness of her mouth and knew she was anything but.

He tried again - working desperately not to betray the shock and anger he felt at her abrupt rejection - "River, are ya... uh, alright?"

Still refusing to open her eyes, she answered - her voice, sharp and brittle and the way it used to be in her very first days on the ship - "She is fine. She is... she's fine."

Like hell she was.

"But -"

She cut him off. "She must go. She is - she is just... m-momentarily...un-untethered."

And with that she turned, her back to him, and walked towards the door. Following her progress, he felt something in his chest lift up - desperately, hopefully - when she stopped in the doorway, back still facing him.

Although it was barely a whisper, he heard it as clearly as if she was still in his arms: "She's sorry, Jayne. She made a mistake. I...I am sorry."

Then she was gone.

And the thing that had reared up in his chest turned from hope to despair.

Well, it'd ended 'bout as fast as it had started.

And so he couldn't help but feel like it was all some dream his fevered brain had thought up. Longing and desire creating an impossible fantasy where he wanted her and she wanted him too.

She had started it and she had ended it, and it was nothing but a dream.

A/N: Like I said, this might be continued. I feel like it isn't finished and there were a couple of things I was thinking about for the 'next chapter' while I was writing this. I don't know yet. Feedback is appreciated - especially if it helps me sort out what I should do with it...

*A bit of trivia: I was listening to "Little River" (... unintentional, I swear) by The Tallest Man on Earth while writing this, and the title/part of the last line is from that song. I recommend a listen (or fifty).

**Oh, and tomorrow Adam Baldwin turns 50 (which blows my mind) - so this is kind of my way of celebrating ;)