Title: Weapon
Author: Vintage Quills
Fandom: Firefly, post-Miranda
Pairing: Jayne x River
Rating: K+
Disclaimer: Wouldn't have gotten canceled if I owned the series.
Author's Notes: C:
He can't stop looking at her. Can't stop looking at the slip of a girl, same girl that took out dozens and dozens of Reavers. Same girl, white arms, white legs, bottomless brown eyes that stare without blinking; long dresses that barely fit, sleek combat boots. Thin little bird that flew higher than any of them.
He can't stop thinking about her, and it's driving him crazy. Not the same type of crazy that rattled her brains around, mind you, because he wasn't that kind of crazy. Killed him, though. Killed him to know, but not to understand, how a slip of a girl who looked like a wind could blow her over could take down an army of Reavers when he couldn't – not even with Zoe's help – how?
He sits in the kitchen, frustrated. Captain's telling some joke, and Zoe is chuckling for the first time in a while. Doc's smiling, his hand brushing Kaylee's now and then, and she's got a smile on her face that's shinier than any of the polished utensils on the table.
No one notices his frustration.
No one but the slip of a girl notices.
She sits beside him, the same spot every mealtime, and occasionally pilfers things from his plate. It's become a "thing". The crew jokes about it now and then, and he plays his part, gruff and annoyed, but of late, his heart isn't in it.
She stares at him side-ways, from behind a curtain of unkempt brown hair. Hollow eyes. Eyes that see and See – maybe it's the same thing? He doesn't understand that part, either.
He stares back at her now and then, and each time, his lips pull into a scowl and he looks away again.
The rest of the crew seems to have taken her "other personality" into stride. No one's made any big fuss over her abilities, no one's made any comments – no one's fussing over how a girl who barely weighs a hundred pounds (he guesses) can take down a gorramn army of man-eating, flesh-ripping monsters, and suffer no injuries uglier than a few bruises here and there.
When dinner is done and he's on washing duties, he realizes that it's because they feel she's no longer a girl to be protected. They've seen past her appearance, and see her as a valuable crewmember. She's not just a girl with some brain crazies anymore. Valuable crewmember. Valuable weapon.
He scrubs at a plate with unnecessary force, lips pulled into a scowl so fierce that it was in danger of becoming permanent.
She's a weapon all right, but something dangerous – he isn't sure why he's the only one who sees her as such. He isn't sure why he's the only person on this boat who still watches her with wary eyes. He isn't sure why the crew see her as something valuable and something to be cherished, when all he sees is a barrel of gunpowder, liable to go off at any moment.
They can all be summed up so simply, mind you.
Mal was a captain, but just a man who loved his boat. Zoe was a warrior, but just a widow with a gun. 'Nara was riches and class, but just a quality whore. Kaylee was a mechanic genius, but just a young woman. Doc was big words and reserved thoughts, but just a lost young man.
And him? Just some big, dumb old mercenary; gun for hire, paid for muscles, not for his brain. What did that make him?
"Impressive power of the mental state is not highly valued, nor wanted, in his line of work."
He places a washed cup away, slamming the cupboard shut when he's done, and turns to fix – whom else – the girl-weapon a frown.
"Don't recall askin' anyone to stay behind 'n 'sult my smarts, moonbrain."
She tilts her head, observing him with those glassy eyes. "Negative connotations were not intended behind her remarks. Merely passing through with her interpretations."
"Well, git," he says shortly, hardly in the mood to humor her. Has he ever been in a mood to humor her? He doesn't think so, but can't remember. He turns back to the pile of dirty dishes before him. Crew eats like a hoard of pigs.
"Mess," she says quietly.
"Y'bet yer ass it's a mess," he mutters, reaching for another plate.
She shakes her head, even if he isn't looking. "In his head," she elaborates, "Dark clouds and rain storms. They aren't letting up. Clouding. Confusions."
He slowly sets the plate aside, and when he turns around again, his face is hard and angry. "Girl," he seethes quietly, "I ain't a tolerant type, and if you stand there and keep Readin' me, yeh'll get a lick o' my temper, and yeh don't want that. Git."
She looks at him with those solemn eyes, and he fleetingly wonders if the crew would still find her so capable if he leaves her in a bloody mess in the kitchen. No sooner does the thought enter his head does she smile mirthlessly.
"The family has reached a conclusion that he is not attached to."
It takes him a second or two to catch her meaning, and when he understands, he shows it with a small jerk of his head.
"Why?" she inquires.
He thinks for a little while. "Y'saved our asses once, moonbrain. Don't make you some kind'a hero. Makes yeh somethin' to be cautious round. Cap'n 'n the others think yer some kind'a shiny medal. I ain't buying it. Yer a weapon. Can't be trusted."
She rocks on the balls of her feet, bare as usual. His words are harsh, but her face is serene still.
He stares at her, unsettled by her unspoiled composure.
She gazes back at him, and at length, breaks the silence. "She is not angry with him."
The tables turn, and he is the one to question this time. "Why not?"
"She cannot be angry when presented with reasonable facts. Can only accept the truths. Girl is a weapon, can't be trusted. She understands his trepidation." She smiles at him, as if to comfort him, and his temper flares again.
"I ain't scared, girl," he snaps, on the defensive.
She has already turned, bare feet carrying her tiny frame away as she nods. "She knows. He too is a weapon. Can't be trusted." She turns briefly and suggests, in a thoughtful, spoken-to-self sort of way, "Birds of a feather?" When she receives no response from him, she merely shakes her head a little, and slips away.
He stares after her.
He too is a weapon.
Reviews are shiny! I'm not sure if this will remain a one-shot, or if I'll follow it up and end it as a two-shot just yet.