Undelivered Cargo

Takes up about where I left off with my end-of-Jaynestown fic, Don't Make No Sense. Sorta.

Disclaimer: I make no claims as to nothin', be it intellectual property or financial gain.

Jayne found himself standing in the cargo bay, staring down at the weight bench. He considered the bench with a glower. It wasn't often that Jayne felt the need to clear his head, but when he did, he found there was no better way than the repetitive, almost meditative, motions of lifting. There was no room for thought when every fiber of muscle tissue was being strained to its limits.

Jayne sat on the edge of the bench, elbows resting on his knees. Another dilemma confronted him. He was in the cargo bay alone. He couldn't lift alone, Mal would kill him. Not that he needed spotting, but still. The only one that could spot for him was Shepherd Book, and the Shepherd was about the last person Jayne wanted to see right now, after Canton. The preacher had a way of getting you to confess what was on your mind, and what was on Jayne's mind was eating at him.

Right sick of dilemmas, Jayne kicked angrily at the decking with a growl. The toe of his boot clanked loudly against an imposing-looking dumbell lying on the deck. He bent to pick up the dumbell.

"Fine," he grumbled, "don't need no help anyways if'n I'm not bench pressin'." The weights on the dumbell clinked against each other with a metallic ring as Jayne curled and uncurled his left arm rapidly. After a time, he switched arms. Countless repetitions later, he dropped the dumbell to the deck with a contented sigh. He braced his arms his knees and rolled his shoulders a few times. "There. That done feel a mite better already," he said to the empty cargo bay. "Don't need nobody after all."

Strangely, Jayne found himself unconvinced of this fact. Maybe the Shepherd would be able to help him make some sense of the Mudder mess. Jayne shook his head quickly to rid himself of the thought.

Standing, he moved to the handles clamped to the decking above his head to do pull-ups. Jayne stretched his arms out in front of him, hands linked, and cracked his knuckles. He wiped his hands on his pants, then stretched his arms above his head to grasp the handles. As he began to pull himself up, the door to the cargo bay grated open, and Shepherd Book appeared in the doorway, towel around his neck. His usual habit and collar had been replaced by a soft grey athletic t-shirt. Jayne quickly dismissed the slightly creepyfing feeling that Book had read his mind.

The Shepherd smiled at Jayne as he entered. "I was hoping I'd find you here. Perhaps when you're through...hanging around, you would spot me?" Book grinned at his own pun, which was entirely lost on Jayne.

Jayne lowered himself to the deck and looked at Book warily. "Sure, Shepherd. S'long as we can do it all quiet like. Not lookin' for no enlightnin' con-ver-sating right now." He moved to the bench and removed a couple of weights from the bar. "An' you can return the favor fer me when yer done."

Book nodded and undraped the towel from about his neck, laying it on a crate of cargo. "You've got yourself a deal." He lay back on the weight bench, and waited for Jayne to get in place to spot him. Jayne double-checked the fastenings that secured the weights to the bar, thumping the bar in satisfaction. He nodded to Book to begin. As Book lifted, Jayne followed the motion of the bar carefully with his eyes, arms at the ready to grab the bar if help was needed.

Book lifted in silence for a few moments. He glanced at Jayne, and was startled to find that rather than Jayne's attention being focused on spotting him, it seemed to be focused on one of the crates in the cargo bay. Jayne was scowling something fierce at the crate, as if he were trying to see inside.

With a final clank, Book hoisted the weight bar to its resting place on the supports. He grinned wryly as Jayne's arms continued to go up and down, as if he were still spotting.

"What's got your interest over there, Jayne?" he asked.

Jayne frowned as he realized his arms were still moving to follow the now-still weight bar. He scrubbed his hand through his hair. "Thought I heard somethin', some kinda noise over there," he said. "Like nails bein' pulled outta wood. This cargo ain't 'aposta be makin' no noise, from what I recollect. Just some protein rations. Though this crate ain't the same kind as th' others. Hrm."

"What did it sound like?" Book asked. He peered at the crate his towel was draped over. The lid looked slightly raised, but there was no sign of anything amiss that he could see. Under his towel, the words HANDLE WITH CARE were painted on the wooden lid in white paint.

Grabbing one of the smaller guns he'd laid on the decking next to the weight bench, Jayne slowly approached the crate.

"Maybe we should call the Captain, Jayne. I'm sure he'd want to know of any oddness with his cargo."

Jayne snorted. "Maybe it's another nekkid crazy girl inn a box! An' maybe this one won't have no fancified brother followin' her 'round." He grinned widely as his own joke, winking at Shepherd Book. "Cap'n got the last crazy girl, s'my turn this time."

"Jayne, I highly doubt..." Book began.

"Yeah yeah, I know, Shepherd. Girls in boxes don't just fall from th' sky, even if it do seem like it 'round here sometimes. Thank the Lord," he added, under his breath. Book fixed him with a dour glance.

The smile evaporated and he became all business as he approached the crate slowly. Gun held steady before him, he stopped a pace from the crate in question and motioned Book to stay quiet. He bent down noislessley, and placed his ear against the side of the wooden crate.

"Gorram," he breathed. "It sounds just like..."

Suddenly, the crate exploded outward in a shower of bits.

A/N: I have no idea where this is going yet; I have some dialogue that's been going through my head that I want to get out but there's no story attached to it as of yet. We'll see where it takes me!