AN: This is the tip of a much larger iceberg. I haven't put fingers to keyboard(?) in about three years for more than term papers. Please be gentle, this is an experiment with two different challenges: third person omnipotent (which I blame no one, anywhere, for ever not wanting to use this POV), and taking two characters that otherwise hate each other's guts and finding a way to keep them as canon as possible while bringing them together romantically.

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Right where he ought to be. Where he belonged. At the giving end of a big ole' gun. Jayne Cobb stood contented as he stared down the barrel of his beloved Vera. "Does that mean I get ta' shoot 'em, Cap?"

"I reckon so, 'less the fine man has something more he wishes ta' say."

"Ah, well that's real good then, 'cause I've been itchin' ta pull the trigger ever since I laid eyes on this scrawny beau," Jayne lifted the gun only slightly to activate the shooting mechanism.

"No, my word, please no, I told ya's everythin' I know, I swears it." A young man, no more aged than 20 years stood quivering before the pair. His deep crimson suit fit tight enough to reveal just how badly his entire body was shaking. A single drop of sweat left a path from his left temple to his chin. "Please!"

"Then I guess we're done here." Mal Reynolds turned his back and listened to the familiar buzz of Vera's readiness.

"He sent a letter! Just a'fore he left – sent it postal. Might'n have even left the shop – was supposed ta' be headed ta' his lady friend. Please don' shoot!"

"Well that's the sort'a thing we call helpful, ain't it, Cap?" Vera continued to buzz in anticipation.

"For me, sure, looks a might unfortunate for you though."

Jayne lowered his weapon. "Aw, now, Cap, you been teasin' me for a month straight at how I'd get ta' put off a little steam on this job."

Mal smiled and found his gaze square with the young hostage. "To be honest, Jayne, I didn't think this one would be so easy to crack. Think of it… as a compliment – he's more afraid of you than he is of his psychotic employer."

Vera's buzz dropped to a low hum and with a hiss became silent. "I dun' know about complimenting much, but ain't a folk supposed ta' feel better after gettin' one?"

Mal laughed and patted the gruff, dejected man on the shoulder before extending a hand to the shoulder of a well dressed young doctor. "Well, Doc, looks like we didn't need ya' after all." Mal lifted his transmitter to his mouth. "Zoe?"

'Yeah, Cap?' it responded.

"Check out the mail house for me, will ya, lookin' for a letter came in today, headed for the missus."

'You got it, Cap.'

"Jayne, please escort our fine doctor back to the ship while I fancy up a way to make sure our friend here isn't sending any heads up places they ought not be headed," Mal brushed the two of them off and relished in the panicked pleading of the young mobster as he lead the crimson suit in the opposite direction. "I'll rendezvous with the others and meet ya back at the ship."

Jayne stared at Simon, disgusted at his spotless complexion, his innocent and caring eyes, and his deplorably kind smile. "Why's the Cap always gotta stick me with no fun?"

"And tying up another man is something you find fun?" Simon stared at Jayne and was met with the blank expression that could mean only one thing – he'd just said something incredibly stupid. His cheeks flushed almost as brightly as the mobster's suit as he turned to walk toward the ship.

"Anythin's more fun than havin' ta duke out a whole twenny minute walk with yer sorry ass complainin'," Jayne was kind, allowing the previous comment to pass noticed but not acknowledged.

"Well I'll try not to moan too loudly." Silence – again. A blank expression – again. "Never mind, I'll just keep my mouth shut."

"One o' the smartest things I ever heared ya' say," Jayne tossed Vera over his shoulder and trudged on behind the doctor, keeping a sharp eye out for any possible friends of their captive. A near seventeen minutes passed marked only by silence when a distinct whisper floated across the wind into Jayne's ear. "You hear that?"

"What?" Simon heard nothing but found himself almost immediately buried, face first, into the ground as an all too familiar whirr buzzed and then landed with a shattering thud. He didn't have time to look up before the whirr got a boisterous reply from Vera aiming with deadly force into the heart of their attacker. Simon checked himself nervously, he'd heard the thud – the bullet had landed in flesh. He checked his arms, his chest, his legs – and found nothing. No blood, no holes.

"God damn… fuck. This was a new shirt!" Jayne screamed at the dead body hanging over a far off rock. He lifted his fingers to compress the quickly widening red stain on his right shoulder.

"I'm alive," Simon breathed. "I'm ok," he told no one. "I'm – are you? Jayne! Your shoulder!"

"No duh, ya log head, now let's get movin' 'fore the dead finds backup." Getting shot was nothing entirely new but that didn't mean it didn't hurt like all hell. Jayne could feel the hot sleepiness of pain creeping up into his skull as he dragged the doctor to his feet and pushed him onward. The blood was beginning to flow down his arm leaving a small trail in the dry dirt behind them. As the ship came into sight, he noticed his eyes were getting sleepy and that Vera had seemed to put on a bit of weight. 'I should'a never'a tossed myself in fronna that bullet like that,' he remembered thinking when Vera's extra pounds pulled him to the ground and sleep came at him as fast as the ground he was crashing into.

Simon could only stand helpless as the giant of a man crashed unceremoniously into the dirt. Getting a good look, now, at the gaping wound in Jayne's shoulder, Simon realized just how serious the wound really was. The shot caught him perfectly in his major artery and his entire right side was now covered in a thin coat of blood. Reaching for Jayne's communicator, he called in to the ship. "Kalyee, I need you to bring the cart out here – ASAP! Jayne's hurt." Simon proceeded to tear off Jayne's shirt and use it to compress the wound as he waited for help to arrive.

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Final AN: I am currently in the market for a beta. I would like one as soon as possible. If you're experienced with Firefly, third person omnipotent, and dialogue for this particular series – I need you. Mature betas only please, as I find it easier to understand critique of people closer to my own age. Please review with your honest opinions. My sincerest thanks, Alliance.

Editing note: In the last paragraph, the line "Shepherd, I need you or Kaylee…" has been replaced. I have since decided that this story does, in fact, take place after Miranda so some minor editing did need to be done.