This is just a short song-fic type thing. My friend lent me a CD, and it had two songs on it that really reminded me of Firefly. One was the song 'When In Rome' by Nickel Creek (if you haven't heard the song, you should listen to it!) and the other was this, 'The Ghost Of The Girl' by Willard Grant Conspiracy. I hope you like it!
Disclaimer: I don't own Firefly, or 'The Ghost Of The Girl'.
Jayne watched silently as first Mal then Shepherd Book made their way away from the fire. He considered following, but decided that whatever Book wanted to say probably had nothing to do with him. Instead, he continued to sit by the fire, idly strumming his guitar. Everybody else was busy with their own things; Wash and Zoe were entwined opposite him, too wrapped up in each other to pay any attention to him, and Kaylee and the Doc were engaged in quiet conversation somewhere to the side. That only left River, not someone Jayne especially cared to talk with anyway, and she was staring intently into the fire, her lips moving rapidly and her brow furrowed. Jayne shook off the uncomfortable feeling the girl always give her; since they discovered she could read their minds, he always felt guilty, even when he wasn't thinking uncharitable things. He quickly looked away from her to stare into the fire himself, easily losing himself in the flames, so much so that he barely noticed when his random chords turned into a tune.
It was a song that he'd learnt from his father, back home. He hadn't heard it for years, but his fingers still picked out the melody well enough. He didn't try to stop himself from, when the lyrics came to mind, singing the words almost silently under his breath.
"I'm the ghost of the girl in the well,
Killed by a man who owned my family.
It's been years since I fell,
So many years, still no one has found me."
He felt a small smile spread over his face at the familiarity of the whole thing. Usually he hated reminders of the home he was able to visit all too infrequently, but sometimes he just needed to feel this closeness to the people he'd left behind.
"I was fourteen years old,"
His eyes snapped up when he realised he wasn't the only one singing. River had suddenly appeared at his elbow with the same intense stare on her face, only this time it was directed at him. His kneejerk reaction was to either make her go away or leave himself, but his fingers kept playing and his mouth kept singing.
"When I died," they sang together.
"The Earth had turned,
Fields were alive,
So alive."
He glanced at her, frowning slightly. The level of concentration on her face seemed odd, to say the least. She was supposed to be a genius child, and this was only one little song that even Jayne knew. Why did it need so much of her focus? Her eyes suddenly snapped to his and then away again, back towards the fire, as if she was embarrassed.
"Mister called out to me," Jayne muttered the words alone now, "and I ran.
I didn't want to be under him,
Anymore."
River's lips had begun moving again, silently calculating something Jayne didn't expect he would ever begin to understand.
"The ghost of the girl in the well." In an instant, her silent chatter had become song again.
"I was trying to hide
When my fingers slipped.
The darkness I cried,
Oh, how I cried,
All these tears
Taken by the water."
A look passed between the two, and, for a second, Jayne would've believed that River was just an ordinary seventeen year old girl. Her eyes shone with intelligence and understanding, conveying clarity that he would never have expected from her. A moment later and it was replaced by a slow grin as she gestured over to the fence.
"Post holer. For digging holes for posts." Jayne just grunted, unsure if that was a reference she intended him to get or not. She seemed content with that as a response, for she stood and went over to sit next to the Doc. Jayne stared after her. She'd left him wondering and confused; what did this song mean to her to cause that sort of response? He thought back over the words he'd just sung, but guessed that he didn't know enough of her past to form an answer. He satisfied himself by picking out the last notes of the song.
"I'm the ghost of the girl in the well,
Killed by a man who owned my family."