(I don't own Firefly or any characters within the show, also please forgive any grammar and spelling errors I am Dyslexic and even with spell checker it's difficult for me to see them)
Innocuous
It had been a long exhausting day hauling heavy crates and pallets on to the ship and then securing them, though it wasn't just the cargo that had tired him today for some unknown reason he felt completely drained of all energy like a leach had attached itself to his core and drained him dry, he didn't even have enough energy left to answer the half hared insults thrown his way by his ship mates, he couldn't put his finger on it but something about today had just sapped him dry.
He moved through the ship his hand hovering above the railings and gliding along the walls just in case, for he fear collapsing and allowing the crew to see his weakness that was something he couldn't allow, he had learned the hard way that showing weakness was a cardinal sin in the business, because one moment was all it took to slide the knife in a person's back. He came upon his cabin door he felt a brief wave of relief flood him, he hefted the door open and slid down the ladder to his bunk room to his small piece of sanctuary out in the black.
He lied back on the bed tiring to get comfortable but it didn't matter how he tossed or turned he could not get comfortable he moved, folded and beat his pillow countless times and tuned and balled up and spread out on the bed but he just couldn't get into that sweet spot that would allow him his rest after about an hour of restless turning and muffled threats to the good lord he knew that the night would be a long one, he sat up still muttering obscenities that would make the devil blush in both English and Mandarin, he rubbed his eyes tiredly his large biceps and triceps aching at the movement.
He pulled off the deep crimson coloured blanket and stood as naked as the day he was born his chiselled body aching with fatigue of a hard day's work, and as he stretched his aching body to its full height his mind ticked over what he should do to tier himself out, he had already stripped and cleaned all of his guns and had already done Vera twice since the last job when his mind went to the small black armoured box tucked away under his bunk, a box he hadn't thought about in over half a decade yet was never without, it was old beaten and dented with a few bright stickers attached form the different customs offices it had gone through over the years.
He pulled it out and for a moment he struggled with whether or not he should even be doing this, He had left well enough alone but he was tired and needed sleep had he been fully awake he would have left it where it was and questioned himself for the thousandth time as to why he still had it but before he knew it he had popped the latches that lined its lid and placed his large hand on the lid almost as if he was reconsidering what he was about to do.
The lid slid open as easily as silk just like it was brand new and hadn't seen all manner of punishment over the years, he sighed before he pulled out the contents a pair of weather beaten black leather gloves, a pair of black leather jackboots beaten dirt patched and worn well, a pair of brown boot covers muddy and patched, a pair of tan brown cargo trousers a bullet hole in the mid thy and accompanying blood stain it had patches on the knees roughly stitched onto them, one grey woollen shirt with a few knife holes in the torso and a bullet hole in the right shoulder and lower torso and a pair of back braces, he laid the clothing out on his bed and began to work on them.
First was the trousers he carefully unstitched the patches taking the slightly darker brown pieces of cloth and lacing them next to him on the bed, it had been a while since he had sown anything but he was far better at it than he was all those years ago and as he finished the stitching he bit the excess thread cutting it with his teeth, from there he moved onto the grey woollen shirt he patched the material as best he could, wool had been his latest nemesis in recent years his mother had mastered it but he was sadly lagging behind once he had finished he pulled out shoe polish from his side tables draw and began on the boots.
He allowed his mind to wonder for a few moments only to catch himself quietly singing an old hymn his mother had taught him as a young boy.
"..He is trampling out the vintage where the grapes of wrath are stored; He hath loosed the fateful lightning of His terrible swift sword" he deep rumbling tenor reverberating around the bunk room like Gregorian monks chanting deep and soulful, he found comfort in it allowing the song to shield his mind from the memories both good and bad of a life he had left behind, as he finished polishing his old boots his eyes once again rested on the contents of the box and the last solitary item inside a beaten up brown duster, it was worn dirty and the only other colour on it came from a single solitary green patch, it was triangular in shape with a dark green border the point of the triangle was aimed down towards the hand , at the centre there was a single black five pointed star over two golden bars.
He took the coat out and placed everything he had taken out back inside the black box, he held the duster up in front of himself as if he was drinking in the dirty cloth one last time, he ran his hand over the brass buttons each stamped with a single star and then over the left breast where his name resided. He felt the jingle odd something within the inside breast pocket he pulled out his old dog tags
"Lieutenant Jayne Cobb 1st first regiment 7th cavalry" he whispered as he ran his thumb over the stamped steel finally he had enough he could no longer keep the memories at bay, he stuffed the tags back in the jacket and duped the duster back in the box haphazardly making sure that all of the coat was in the box before slamming it shut and shoving it back under the bunk. Jayne ran his hand threw his hair before he crawled back onto the bed.
Only one other person aboard knew or even felt what had happened and she would not say anything, though she did find it strange that such an innocuous piece of cloth could dredge up so many violent memories both happy and sad.