So, my first Firefly fic! I was inspired to write this after seeing the times when Jayne cried and things, finding odd, but adding a nice depth to the character. So, here it is:)
Disclaimer: Don't own Firefly!
In the deep ice of space, a warm light cut through the white-tipped stars. It wasn't cold. It wasn't mere electrons. It was filled with community-friendship, food, feeling and worry. It was coming from the mess of Serenity.
She was a proud ship, Serenity. Been through hell, and always ready to jump in it again, as long as she was in the hands of her pilot. We all know the first rule of flyin', and Wash loved his ship more than almost anything. The one exception being his wife.
Through the grimy glass that peered down into the mess, the two could be seen close to one another, hand on hips, eye contact longer than was needed. Next to them, the engineer, Kaylee, sat by herself, alone. She was eyin' the pretty little city doctor, but he was too engrossed in his sister to notice. River was curled up in a ball, murmuring something about blood, when the only thing on her plate was low grade tomato sauce rations on chewy noodles.
Inara, a fell fledged Companion, walked into the room and immediately spied the situation. She was a woman if there ever was one-strong, capable, vulnerable, perceptive. Her shoulders were held back and her posture straight as she walked towards Kaylee. She sat down next to her, offering a gentle smile. "Good afternoon, Kaylee. How's your lunch?"
The unusually quiet engineer picked at her food with her fork. "Ah, good enough for rations I suppose. Shepard really knows his way around the kitchen, huh?" She shot back a listless smile. "Besides, it's good for you, right? All those vitamins and minerals packed in. Better for you than actual spaghetti, I bet."
Inara picked up an apple. "I suppose so, but-"
"What's cookin?" The loud warrior walked in next, fuzzy orange hat askew and a goofy smile on his face. For a killer, he was spectacularly ignorant. Sometimes that made him defensive, sometimes the but of a good joke. Other times, it made him like an annoying kid with delusions of grandeur.
"What'do ya think, Jayne? Good old spaghetti and meatballs." Mal Reynolds clapped the man on the shoulder before walking in and heading for the saucepan.
Jayne grumbled. "That again? When are we gonna get some real food?"
"When we get some real money." Offered Wash. Jayne just gave him a dirty look.
"Still, all things considered, I think the Shepard is doin' a pretty good job feedin' us 'round here."
Shepard Book cleaned his hands off with a dishcloth. "Thank you for saying that, Captain." Mal nodded to the Shepard tersely. He didn't have a problem with the man, just with his God. Ain't no place for a God who abandons honorable soldiers on his ship.
With that, everyone was in attendance. The food was served one way or another, and the closest thing to silence the crew got came into play when all the mouths were busy a-chewing.
Suddenly, unwantedly, it was broken. "Hey Jayne, what's that on your wrist?" As if a switch was hit, all eyes flew to Jayne's wrist. If they met with the bare one first, they passed on to the other. On his left wrist was a small bracelet. It was a red ribbon, tied into a knot, strung with handmade looking charms. One was a heart. Another was a little trombone. Multiple music notes littered it, accompanied by a little gun, a bear, a heeled shoe, a paint brush, and a rose flower. It didn't look like something a killer would wear, not even if made by a mother. "Is that a...bracelet?"
Jayne leaned back quickly. "Well, hey, a man can wear what he wants."
The doctor snorted. "It's certainly very...manly."
"Yeah, the stuffed bear is really intimidating." Quipped Mal.
"I think it's cute." Put in Kaylee. "Did you mother make it for you too?" She reached out and grabbed it to examine it closer.
"Don't touch that!" Growled Jayne, jerking his arm away roughly. Kaylee's hand had been around the knot, and her arm was jerked along, until the ribbon snapped. Tiny pings rung against the deck plating as the charms slipped off to freedom. The room was, by then, dead silent. Everyone could see that the mercenary was angry. He was stock still, glaring daggers into the table.
"I-I'm sorry, Jayne, I-" Kaylee was cut off by Jayne's furious glare. He bent down to pick up the ribbon and the charms. He'd gotten every one-after all, he'd counted them-except for the heart. He saw small boots in his vision, and frowned. He stood up to see River, her head tilted to the side oddly, and staring at him with wide unblinking eyes.
"Re-mem-ber...me." She rasped slowly. She extended her hand, and in it was the handmade metal heart. Jayne looked at it for a moment, and the entire crew, once joking, was now completely serious. Suddenly, he snatched it up and stalked past her, brushing her shoulder roughly, and not saying a word.
Silence reigned for a while longer, before Inara dared breach it. "What was that about?"
No one spoke up. No one knew the answer. Finally, a willowy laugh cut through the room like an ice pick. Everyone shivered at the chill that crawled up their back at that voice. It was River's. "They drop dead and the others live on. Life is a joke, a game. No one is worth a song. It is only for them. When one goes on, where will they go? Little black rabbits down a dirty rabbit hole? No, they do not want to go. Cheat death, they say. How? Remember me. Remember me. Remember me..."She clapped her hands over her ears and Simon was at her side, trying to console her. She continued the mantra with her eyes wide, as if it had the same part in keeping her alive that her heart did. "Remember me, remember me, remember me..."
In the small bunk, close to his many guns, was where Jayne felt safest. it was there that he was, holding in his hands the shards of the bracelet. He had looked at every single one for hours, trying to discern the life of the person that owned them. They had been a musician, certainly. Probably a bit of a sap, or an artist. Not generally someone that Jayne Cobb would find interesting or admirable at any length. However, he hadn't just looked at it, he had studied it. Each one made by hand, not very skilled metal work, but enough to where the message got across, and enough to convey feeling. The maker must have been very determined and workman-like. He suspected this bracelet was the world to it's previous owner...
It's previous owner...he knew who that was, though he tried awful hard to not often think of it. He remembered the day like it was yesterday. It was a little job. Seemed routine enough. They had to meet up with some fence in one of the dingy space stations, sell the cargo they had nicked, and done. Some of the men who'd been stolen from had gotten wind of them and met em there, shootin' up the place. They put em down, but damage was a downside. It was a gorram mess...
Smoke littered the air, moving around like spectral ghosts. The crunch crunch of boots on shattered glass was everywhere as the Captain, Zoe, Jayne, and any walkin' got to their feet. The people just ran. Everyone except the three fighters. It wasn't often that a fight left them killing everyone, but none of the men had given themselves the slightest chance for mercy. The Captain surveyed the broken tables, the alcohol laced furniture, and the blinking neon lights. "Search for survivors."
Jayne's eyes snapped to him. "You gotta be kiddin' me, Mal. The Police 'ill be here any gorram second."
The Captain looked into the mercenary's eyes, his own dangerously glinting. "Search. For. Survivors. There were innocents in here. The police here are virtually nonexistent. They'll likely just pretend they didn't hear any call."
Jayne snorted. "You better hope so." He started his search. Zoe kept watch, Mal checked out front, and Jayne checked in the Pub. Tables and bodies were scattered, nothin' still breathing. He poked some bodies with the barrel of his rifle, and they didn't move. He headed on to the shady corner in the back. He was about to pass it when he heard a low mumble. He tensed, peering around the broken tables. He saw an arm buried under some wood. He pulled the slab back, revealing a young girl, probably around fourteen, lying on the ground. A thick shard of wood was impaling her stomach, and her hands were wrapped around it in an effort to slow the blood, which had by now colored her green tank top. Her eyes flickered open and found Jayne's frozen form. She reached out a hand.
"D-Don't shoot me, mister. Please, I don't wanna bullet." Her skin was pale, her form dainty and small. Her eyes were a kind of blue, and her hair a messy black.
Jayne lowered his gun, still slightly shocked. "I ain't gonna hurt you, miss. Gorram it, I'll go get some help!"
"No!" She rasped as loud as she could. "No." Her body tensed in a coughing fit that made Jayne wince. That couldn't feel good with a spear sticking through you. She beckoned him towards her. "Please, sir. I don't wanna be alone when I die. I ain't gonna make it much longer. I'm not stupid. I just don't wanna die alone."
She was going to die, Jayne knew. There wasn't anything that could save her from a wound like that, still, Jayne wasn't fond of being a girl's last interaction with a human being. "I ain't no preacher, kid."
Even in so much pain, and even with so little years under her belt, her eyes still managed to flash somethin' dangerous. "Does it look like I have a choice? Please, sir. All I'm askin' is to hold my hand."
The mercenary hesitated for a second, but then thought about what his mother would say if he just left her here. He crept towards her and sat down next to her, taking the shaking hand she offered. Her hand clamped around his hard, and he almost grunted. He guessed she was in a lot of pain. "So, what was a little lady like you doin' in a bar?"
The girl snorted. "Work's hard to find. They don't ask questions as long as you can do the job good and I needed the money."
Jayne nodded, and nothing was said for a short while. "So, uh, there any folks you want to-"
"I don't got nobody, sir, if that's what you mean. No one I know well enough to miss me."
Jayne shook his head. Fine young future layin' in front of him, and it was goin' out and nobody would care. Her breathing quickened and it now came with a low whine each time.
"I'm, I'm gonna die? I'm gonna die." Her grip tightened. "I'm afraid, sir."
Jayne, tough man though he was, had to hold back tears. "Plenty times I've almost been dropped, and no matter how tough you get, you never stop bein' afraid of death."
Tears sprung to her eyes. "I always wanted to feel the ground under my feet. A nice planet, you know? I guess...I guess I won't get to now."
"You can go everywhere now, sweetheart." Jayne's voice had cracked, and he roughly wiped his eyes with his free hand, gun long since thrown aside.
She laughed and it ended in a painful grunt. Her eyes held so much fear now. The end was not far off. "You'll send a prayer up, wont ya? For me? You seem like a nice enough man, certainly better than me." Jayne blinked, but didn't bother telling her that he didn't have any more virtue than her. He just nodded. Suddenly, the girl took her shaky hand out of his and ripped off the bracelet that had been on the other wrist. "H-Here. I want you to take this. Take it."
He had tried to refuse it. He didn't need some dead girl's trinket, but the look in her eyes made him take it. "All right, I'll hold onto it."
She smiled, relieved. "I just want someone to remember me, you know? That way I won't really be dead."
Jayne smiled a little. "What's your name kid?"
The girl glanced up at him. "M-Melody."
Jayne winked. "Nice name."
Suddenly, she jerked slightly, trembling something terrible. She took his hand tightly again. "Oh, gracious. It's time." Tears spilled out of her eyes. She pulled herself up as far as she could go, and Jayne put an arm around her to help her up towards him. With her free hand she took his collar weakly. "P-Please. Remember me."
"I-I will." He assured her. She didn't seem to hear.
"Re-remember me. P-please. Re-mem-ber..." Her pretty eyes lost their light, her head lolled, and her body slackened in his grip. Jayne stayed like that for a moment, letting stray tears leak from his eyes. His momma always told him a strong man wasn't afraid of nothin', not even tears. Slowly, he laid her down on the crushed glass, prying her hands from him and folding them neatly on her chest. With shaking hands, he closed her glassy eyes, praying for her departed spirit. It would be indecent not to. He opened his eyes and took the bracelet from his pocket. After a moment, he tied it around his wrist. It barely fit. Grabbing a nearby table cloth, he draped it over her body.
As he walked back to the entrance, he didn't even hear the glass under his boots crunching. It took Mal a few times to get his attention.
"Jayne? I asked you, are there any survivors?"
The mercenary turned to him slowly, not really seeing him. He steeled his resolve and tightened his jaw. He knew they could see the tear tracks on his grimy face. "No." He stated sharply. "No survivors." With that, he stalked away, leaving the Captain and Zoe to exchange glances, and follow him out.
Jayne fingered the bracelet gently. He had kept it. He suspected he would always keep it. It was ripped again and now it couldn't fit his wrist. He sat up and rifled through his bag, grabbing some rope. He tied it to the bracelet to elongated it. As a last minute thing, he tied on the firing pin of one of his old guns; he had kept it because it was the first gun his mother ever gave him. Now the bracelet was a little bit his, too. He didn't think Melody would mind. He tied it to his wrist and laid down in his bunk. He remembered her face like she was looking at him right now. He wondered if it was fate that made them meet, but he didn't much like believing he wasn't in charge of his life. In any case, he had made a small difference to the girl, and that made him feel...gratified. It was better than just killin' things.
He figured he needed some shut eye, so he turned off the light. He closed his eyes, but before he embraced sleep, he murmured two words. "Goodnight Melody."
He would remember. He would keep her bracelet till the day he died, and it would be buried with him. It would be buried in genuine soil, on a real planet. In a way, Melody did get to set foot on the soil. She was laid to rest in the ground. Ashes to Ashes. Dust to Dust. Remembered always, and never alone.
The end! So, I'm pretty sure this will stay a one shot. I don't really see how I can expand it really. I would very much love to hear how you liked/disliked it so I can improve my writing. Also, I'm anxious to hear if this was realistic, and how correctly I got Jayne written. Or incorrectly:)