It took waay too long for this to happen and there seems to be another story in this crossover category (nods appreciatively to fellow author) but I'm astounded that I'm only the second one to do this.
Unwanted Goods
Jayne was having none of this.
None of it, whatsoever.
Mostly, he was angry. Upset that a man like this had claim to such a reputation. Following behind that anger, in a much smaller quantity, was grudging respect, because even though the guy sobbed like a girl with one of those paperback romance novels, he still managed to take out twelve men with a couple of too-accurate shots from that big pistol of his.
The two things hadn't happened at the same time, of course, rather the blonde haired idiot bawled all over the captain and Zoë before all the conflict actually went down. Apparently the man found the veterans' plight was a good reason to cry all over the engine room while Kaylee attempted to comfort him. Mal was plenty pissed off about the whole thing. He needed his mechanic to be a mechanic, not some therapist for individuals who made the problems of others their own. Jayne sided with his captain-not exactly because he agreed with those specific reasons. Most of the support for his position came from the fact that crying was a woman's job and it was up to this "Vash the Stampede" to grow a pair, or Jayne would rip off what small amount he had and nail it to the wall of his room, right next to Vera.
The source of his grudging respect came later, when Mal decided he could take no more Vash and came to the conclusion that the only way to solve the problem was dropping the irritating man on the next moon where they were conveniently delivering some goods to a man named Arnold Coleson. Serenity landed on some washed up wasteland of a place, orbiting Three Hills. Jayne couldn't recall the name, but he was sure it was something completely unthreatening, like Thomas or Al. It wouldn't be any fun if bleeding heart 'Vash the Stampede' expected the world they dropped him off on was dangerous and possibly blood thirsty. Jayne wanted the ruttin', wide-eyed idiot to get a nice, undiluted dose of reality- and maybe a couple of bullets, if things came to that.
Of course, it was the burly mercenary's turn to be surprised when the man stepped off the ship and into the barrels of a dozen guns like it was no big deal at all.
"Excuse me gentlemen." Vash brushed by them with little care. It took a moment for the red-garbed man to notice all the weapons being wielded in his vicinity, but Jayne could physically see when the idiot realized.
"Aw man you guys, you didn't have to take all that out for me!" Was accompanied by a nervous laugh and a large amount of frenzied head swiveling. He obviously meant the guns, which the attackers hefted higher despite (or possibly in response to) the words of that Rǔtóu cì gǔn.
"We didn't take 'em out for you." The man who appeared to be leader growled to Vash, but kept his eyes trained on Serenity's crew.
"Oh, you drew your guns for them? C'mon, those are some really nice people. Can't you all just talk it out? Nobody has to die."
One of the armed grunts looked to the blonde man with something akin to a hybrid of disgust and bafflement.
Mal was, of course, not amused. However, he still held that half smirk that was used to buy time in altercations like this. It was accompanied by a puff of what could be interpreted as confused laughter.
"Have we met before?" The captain asked as his fingers skirted his belt, pressing back the folds of his brown coat to reveal a hand on his pistol.
"I'm afraid we haven't, Malcolm Reynolds."
"Well then," Mal's face hardened "I'm afraid you're gonna have to explain why me and my crew merit such a welcome."
There was a moment of pause in which the only sound present was the wind across the scrublands.
"The deal's off, Reynolds."
"I don't believe I'm doing business with you." Mal looked imperiously over the gathered men. No weapons were lowered and the crew's inconspicuous threat of drawing their own guns remained.
"Does this look like business?" The man fingered the trigger with a bushy eyebrow raised under his Stetson. The captain's mouth straightened to a tough, angry line, his eyes were all icy.
"Where's Coleson?" Zoë questioned shortly.
"Mr. Coleson don't want to deal with the likes of you."
"And what changed Mr. Coleson's mind? He didn't seem to have a problem with us about a week ago." Mal was far from impressed.
The armed men looked between each other before their leader responded "There's news you got a fugitive hiding on that ship of yours". The man smirked as if getting into conflicts like the current predicament was what he lived on. Jayne didn't even have to look to see Simon retreat, pale and worried over that no-good, moon-brained sister of his. None of Serenity's crew had anything to say. For whatever reason, Vash plastered on this determined expression from where he stood off to the side. Jayne hoped a sneer would effectively convey the idiot's need to stop whatever he was planning.
"Mr. Coleson don't always deal with the most savory types, but he's gotta draw the line somewhere."
Jayne could feel Mal's temper simmering from where he stood beside Zoë.
"And pray tell me, who on my ship's got him drawing that line?" The captain growled.
"Some mad man who's flattened two entire cities. Goes by Vash the Stampede."
For the first time during the exchange, Jayne spoke. "You gotta be kiddin' me."
Up on the ramp, the crew swiveled heads to look at the man they had just planned to ditch. The object of their attention only let out a nervous laugh and gave a small wave. The crowd of attackers turned their attention in the same direction.
"Gentlemen, that information has got to be wrong. That man ain't no criminal; he's too much of a gorram man-child to do any harm above annoying the hell outta someone." Mal reasoned, an expression of almost humored disbelief gracing his features. Vash only shrugged at those words like the limp noodle Jayne knew he was.
"Yeah!" Wash butted in, looking like he had something incredibly funny to say "That's the guy who cried when Kaylee found a dead mouse in the engine room. Does that sound threatening to you?" Jayne remembered when the rodent incident happened. It had taken all of the mercenary's very questionable self control to not bring the hilt of one of his many knives down onto the idiot's temple. Vash had a way of fraying the nerves of any genuine badass and if Jayne liked to think he was anything, he was definitely a genuine badass. So it was inevitable that his nerves were sufficiently frayed.
"Mr. Coleson don't care what the man cried over. He matches the description so we ain't doin' business."
Those standing in Serenity's holding bay were still caught between anger over the cancelation of the deal, and incredulity at the possibility that their most recent passenger was anything but a bumbling idiot who frequently sobbed bucket-loads of tears for the problems of strangers.
"Coleson wants to lose the goods 'cause we gave a ride to this pìgu xiàng hòu xiǎochǒu de?"
"Coleson don't want to lose anything."
Mal arched an eyebrow at the men below him "Well, he'll just have to deal with us leaving and taking what we've got with us"
"The boss won't have to deal with any of that." The still unnamed head of the group assured and any drooping guns were immediately leveled at targets once more. Jayne was more than ready to respond in a similar fashion. He wasn't to keen on the idea that a couple of assholes like the men at the bottom of the hold door thought they could intimidate the crew of Serenity with a some cocked pistols and supposedly threatening words. Someone had to defend their pride- even if that someone was Jayne who was about as synonymous with dignity as canned beans were with the Core.
"Was your boss just lookin' for some excuse to get something for nothing?" Mal cut in before Jayne could act, all sharp and dry.
"Coleson's getting his goods." The man aimed his pistol.
"Sound's like the boss is a coward and a thief. Wouldn't want to recommend him to any of my people-and you know how word travel's round the 'Verse."
"We know. That's why we're killing ya. Ain't got no mouth to tattle with if you ain't alive."
At this point, Jayne had pretty much had it with the cluster of díkè xiēhòuyǔ and was ready to puncture a good few of them with a couple of rounds.
"Well, looks like you all have yourselves a problem, because none of the people on my ship plan on dying."
Suddenly everyone had a gun, including Vash, who whipped out an impressive looking pistol that Jayne doubted the man could handle. The group was at a standoff. Mal, Zoë, Jayne and Wash had the advantages of higher ground and crates to hide behind in the cargo bay. The number of Coleson's men nearly cancelled all that out. Both sides put one hundred percent of their attention on the other.
"Hey! Why do we have to shoot each other? Do you guys like being shot?" The spiky-haired idiot seemed to sprout up between the groups. "I know I don't like being shot. Can we all just settle this peacefully?" His hands were raised in spineless surrender and the gun was back in its holster.
A similar expression seemed to settle on everyone's face. It translated into something along the lines of "Who does this asshole think he is?". Of course, said asshole thought a bit of arm waving and some words about non-violence could stop a crowd of opportunist, business-minded criminals and proceeded to appear very surprised when one of Coleson's men pressed the muzzle of a gun to his back.
"You're Vash the Stampede?" One minion asked with the same amount of confusion that might accompany a question regarding the creation of protostars.
"See? He's definitely not town-flattening material." Wash quipped from further within the cargo hold. Nobody acknowledged the comment. A stalemate of fingers hovered before triggers continued.
"You're gonna let us fly our ship out or Coleson's getting hell." Mal had reached his no nonsense stage in which he made no attempt to disguise just how solidly pissed off he was.
"Coleson's getting nothing but the goods, you no-good-"
The speaker's voice was cut off by a sudden crack over the rocks in the surrounding canyon. Someone had gotten impatient, buckling under the stagnant air of the stand off. Jayne recognized it as a shot from one of the minions below. A bullet burst through space, a great echo ricocheting off the valley walls, swirling into quieter nothingness. All of Serenity's crew was just waiting for an excuse to fire, but no one was hit. The man must have aimed skyward in a effort to end the futile argument.
The tensest silence Jayne had ever felt proceeded the sudden noise until a commotion rose from the enemy below. Someone threw down their gun, cursing a whole variety of bright and colorful language. The leader shouted a garbled and heated reprimand at his underling who responded with another round of equally angry profanity. Jayne would have taken the time to be impressed with the creative, choice words had he not been so damn confused by the was going on in general.
It took him a moment to realize the tall form of Vash the Stampede was now on the ground.
"They shot the gorram idiot." Jayne stage-whispered to Mal and Zoë, uncertain if they too were having issues decoding the scene before them.
"No, Jayne," the captain started with a strange quietness to his voice "The idiot got shot for us."
Their eyes traveled to the motionless form under the rumpled and ridiculously elaborate red coat.
"Huh?" Was Jayne's most eloquent response.
"That man just jumped in front of a bullet for us." Mal sounded impressed. He also sounded a special kind of exasperated that Jayne predicted would have the captain stomping through Serenity with a visible headache later on. It was hard for a man like Jayne to understand sacrifice. Yes, there were people he knew that would give their own life for others: Mal for his crew, Wash for Zoë and vice-versa, doctor pansy for that looney sister if his- Hell, the hired gun reckoned he'd put his own life in danger just to never see Kaylee shot again. Kaylee being injured like that was the equivalent of throwing a whole basket of puppies into a river and even a man like Jayne knew that throwing a basket of puppies into a river was something you just didn't do.
So when Vash the Stampede took a bullet for a group of complete strangers who had just attempted to ditch him, everyone was more than a little surprised and perplexed. In fact, everyone was so stunned that when the object of their confusion stumbled to his feet again, obviously alive, and began taking out their enemies with unbelievably accurate shots to knees, hands, and feet, their only reaction was to continue as spectators, guns slipping limply through grasps.
"Sir," Zoë turned to Mal as the idiot took out the last man, a bullet whizzing inches from the fugitive's cheek and into the scrubland "who did we pick up again?" Her voice dripped with an odd need for justification.
"I reckon that man is Vash the Stampede." Mal answered and gave no further elaboration. Instead, he chose to stroll down the ramp and up to the red garbed man with his sprawl of wounded foes. Jayne watched from above, not yet ready to accept what he had just witnessed. Behind them, Wash let out a low whistle. Zoë retreated to her husband's side, face returning to its usual, unfazed default.
Below, Mal was stepping over the groaning bodies to their newest passenger. With a jerking motion, Vash doubled over, clutching his side. The sun glinted off silvered metal as his gun dropped from covered fingertips and onto packed earth.
Mal, never one to get all sentimental-like, ignored the idiot's pain and swiped the weapon from the ground. Some words were spoken, too quiet for Jayne to discern (but certainly in the captain's trademark gruff manner), and the revolver was returned to its owner. Only after this exchange did Malcom Reynolds hoist the other man up and declare loudly to the hull that he needed Simon. As the two struggled up the ramp, Jayne stared.
Vash the Idiot Stampede's eyes were, for once, completely dry.
He had obviously been shot somewhere- although his coat made finding the wound harder- but the only signs of discomfort was a deeply furrowed brow and a clenched jaw. It was yet another unexpected development for the rough mercenary. In all earlier events, it seemed the broom-headed pansy jumped on any excuse to become a humanoid sprinkler system. The instant Vash had any valid reason for a grown man to cry he remained about as stoic and dry-eyed as one of those marble statues on Sihnon. It left Jayne feeling unsteady. The man certainly wasn't one to track the patterns of others, but it wasn't a great leap of intellectual observation to note that Vash was not someone to predict. He was making less and less sense and Jayne's already lacking comprehension level couldn't hope to grasp any semblance of understanding.
"Jayne." Mal's voice was irritated, the cadence clipped "I asked you to get the doctor." With an arm slung over the captain's shoulders, Vash gave the mercenary and sheepish smile and wave combo that seemed horribly out of place. Jayne grunted to cover all the crazy befuddlement.
"Didn't even get to shoot one of 'em."
The weirdo only laughed tightly. "That's alright." He smiled like the reassurance would settle Jayne's confused-as-Hell thoughts "This was the only way to make sure no one died."
The mercenary saw Mal raise an eyebrow.
"Ya think we couldn't handle ourselves?" Jayne felt insulted "Ya think we woulda gotten ourselves killed?"
Vash raised a placating hand. "Naw. I was mostly worried about those guys" he motioned down the ramp to the mess of injured men "You all would've destroyed them." He said this with more than a hint of disapproval to his words.
"Ya gotta problem with us killin' a few men that need killin'?" Jayne avoided the pointed glare of Mal who had about given up on his hired gun getting that pansy of a doctor.
"I do." The spiky haired freak countered with admirable conviction which transformed into pain soon after.
"You're a gorram idiot, that's what you are." The captain grumbled loudly and with out any specification as to which man he was talking about. Jayne assumed it was Vash because Mal continued on that vein while hefting his lanky burden over the rear threshold of the cargo hold. "Can't believe the Alliance thinks you're some kind of town flattener."
Vash the Stampede had no response aside from a grimace. Jayne figured it was from the gunshot wound, but there was something oddly pensive about the look-not that Jayne would describe it that way. To Jayne, it was more along the lines of 'thinking real hard about stuff so the hole in your side don't seem to hurt as much' which was a method he employed often in similar situations.
"Thanks for the help Jayne." Mal called from further inside Serenity "At least close the hold so we can leave this God-forsaken shǐ kēng."
They stumbled further into Serenity, "We're stuck with these goods for a little longer." Jayne caught Mal's voice as their uneven footfalls echoed down the narrow corridor.
The mercenary punched the great big button to close the hold and Wash got the ship in order, lifting off with a "We're leaving this world!"
Rubbing a hand over his nose in a half utilitarian-half unconscious motion, Jayne grumbled to no one in particular,
"So much fer ditchin' the idiot."
A.N.: got you some translations. These are the Chinese curses in order of appearance. Beware! Used google translate so no guarantees of actually legitimate stuff.
-Nipple licker
-Ass backwards buffoon
-dick twisters
-shit hole