The end of the following week found Serenity on Beaumonde and Jayne, reluctantly, exiting the ship with River. Not that he didn't want to be with her, but he didn't want to be doin' this.

It was ridiculous. She'd continued to insist he needed medical attention and he'd given in, gracelessly, finally, just to stop her nagging him. And because, a few times, her serious concern crept through when she was talkin' about his health. She'd eye him when he was extra-grumpy mornings, like it was a dire symptom. She didn't believe him when he told her he just wasn't a morning person, or that if she'd let him do more than just hold her at night it'd go a long way toward repairin' this particular mood. She was more annoying than he usually felt like puttin' up with, but he also didn't want her to decide he wasn't worth the bother. So he figured, once medical people took his side – that he didn't snore – she'd a) have to shut up about it and b) quit worryin'.

It was early afternoon, planet-time, but ship-time they'd already put in a whole day's work. The clinic River was dragging him to was near the port and never closed, to accommodate the differing sleep cycles of ships' crew and passengers. Jayne's appointment was scheduled for an hour from now. He carried a small bag with a change of clothes, as did River.

She'd continued to sleep in his bunk over the past ten days, despite Simon's protests. As angry as the doctor had been over the crew interfering with his sibling relationship, he'd slowly bent to Kaylee's tender insistence that he simply didn't have the right to decide these things for River. He settled for making his displeasure known, vocally and loudly, at every possible turn. River and Jayne had tacitly agreed to let it ride, for now.

Their interactions over the past week had grown increasingly awkward, though, as Jayne contemplated what being with River meant. It meant long-term, 'cus weren't no way he could sex a crewmate and then leave off, without the balance of the ship being upset somethin' fierce. He didn't want that to happen, he liked things pretty well as they were. It took awhile of thinkin', but he came to see that he also didn't want to switch crews or ships. And he thought he was comin' to want River enough to put up with her brother's whinin'.

He didn't know how to behave in this situation. And he had a feelin', from River's increasing hesitance, that neither did she.

The clinic was all sterile whites and clean cool blues, a bit too much like the Ariel hospital for Jayne's comfort. He sneaked sideways looks at River until he decided she wasn't bothered by the atmosphere at all, and that somehow irked him. They were greeted and led to a small windowless room by a young nurse with a bedside manner so like Simon Tam's that Jayne'd like t' 've gagged.

Jayne changed clothes as directed, filled out the forms that were thrust at him, and laid down in what he had to admit was a more comfortable bed than what he had on Serenity. The snottily soothing nurse began to explain the procedure to him while River slipped into a nearby bathroom to change, herself. There was a reclining chair provided for her in one corner.

Clad in her long nightgown, River returned as a technician was unwrapping electrodes to apply to various areas of Jayne's skull. She watched with a curious third-person detachment; she'd seen similar actions so many times, but never when the ensuing procedures were to be done on someone else, not her. She was shaken out of her dislocation by Jayne's growl.

"Nobody said anythin' 'bout stickin' my head all over with those things!"

The tech paused in polite confusion.

"This is how we monitor brain wave patterns, Mr. Cobb. It will indicate your level of consciousness, among other things." She pulled the backing off one and reached to apply the sticky side to his temple.

Jayne caught her wrist before she reached her target and glared.

"I know you've got other ways, machines that read the patterns right out of the air. Use one of those."

The tech sighed as she lowered her arms.

"There is such equipment, sir, but it's much more expensive to use. Truly, you will experience no discomfort."

"Yeah?" Jayne sneered. "Ever have one a those sticky things pulled offa yer chest hair? Hurts like ge zhen de hundan. I 'spect head hair ain't gonna feel much better."

"Mm, actually, Mr. Cobb, we will be applying electrodes to your chest, too. To monitor your heart." She hastened to hold up a razor, while smiling reassuringly. "Don't worry; the nurse will shave you first."

"Shave my chest?" Jayne's voice pitch went so high it cracked. "You're more feng le than my xin gan, here."

River, who'd been laughing quietly to herself, perked up at the endearment. She knew he didn't even realize he'd said it, as he continued to glare.

The tech leaned out the door to call the nurse, and left when he answered, apparently not feeling it in her job description to deal with noncompliant patients. The nurse entered with that smooth calm-the-patient manner that so irritated Jayne. He paused at the sink to wash his hands, and River questioned Jayne in a low voice.

"Why don't you wish to have the electrodes applied, Jayne? I know it is not the pain that you fear."

Jayne grimaced.

"It's partly those cords," he said, gesturing to the thin filaments running from the electrodes to the bed's monitors. They gathered neatly together and disappeared into the machine, and River could not understand what was so offensive about them.

"They make me feel – tied up. Don't like cords on me. Don't like my movement constricted. Prob'ly won't be able to sleep." He ended on a petulant note. River quashed the sympathy in her chest and rolled her eyes.

"If one of us has a reason to dislike medical equipment it is me, Jayne. And if you thought I needed to have a medical procedure done, I would do it."

"Really." Abruptly, there was pure deviltry in Jayne's voice. Visions of breast augmentation and luridly crude tattoos were suddenly dancing before River's mind's eye.

"I meant, anything medically necessary. For health reasons. That I needed. Medically." She backpedaled so hurriedly that her words came out in disjointed phrases. Jayne laughed and relaxed back on the bed. But, to her satisfaction, he nodded to the nurse.

"Go ahead and put them 'lectrodes on. But no shavin'! Think I wanna have my whole chest itchin' when it grows back in?"

Over his own better judgment, the nurse applied the electrodes, since Jayne's chest hair wasn't so thick that it would seriously impede the electrical signals that needed to be passed. River caught enough emotion off him that said he felt this patient deserved the impending pain that would be dealt when they were pulled off. Finally, with everything set up, the nurse clicked off the lights, River retired to her chair with a blanket, and Jayne rolled over unto his front to try to sleep. Sleep, the reason he was here.

River listened to his soft breathing and knew he hadn't drifted off yet. Ten minutes went by. Jayne flipped unto his back. Another half-hour, and he turned to the other side. A loud sigh issued forth. River stifled a giggle. An hour in, Jayne was fussing with his blankets and experimenting with raising and lowering the head of the bed. The nurse made an appearance to advise Jayne to just relax, and would he like to read or watch the cortex? Jayne's 'no' was snarled. The nurse left with an "I'm being very longsuffering" set to his shoulders and Jayne continued to struggle. River closed her eyes and tried to tune him out.

It had been nearly three hours of tossing and turning when Jayne found a new button and let out a startled cry as the foot of the bed elevated and the head lowered. There was no headboard in place, and Jayne slid off.

River jumped to her feet to see if he was hurt as the lights flicked on. The nurse, a truly aggrieved expression on his face, stood with hands on hips to observe his patient, sprawled on the floor. Jayne was unhurt, but he'd mangled his lines and pulled loose his electrodes. He shook off River's hands and stood on his own, his sheet pulled around him like some comic Greek ancient, and climbed back into the bed. She heard him hissing "when we get back to the boat you'd better be good and appreciative of this." River glared at him while the nurse applied new electrodes with jerky, annoyed movements.

"How did you even find the Trendelenberg button, Mr. Cobb? It's on the underside of the foot of the bed. You would have to have been hanging off the end -- It's not anywhere a patient's hands should be."

Jayne shrugged and muttered something incoherent. River could have sworn his cheeks had a red tinge. The nurse finished reattaching lines and added his glare to River's when he ordered that all the bed's buttons be left untouched. Jayne glared back. The nurse flung his arms out and left.

"Jayne," River said quietly once he was gone, "what is wrong? You don't commonly have this much difficulty achieving sleep."

Jayne shook his head, and she trailed back to her chair. All was quiet for a few moments, then his voice sounded low in the dark room.

"It's you."

River didn't know what he meant; she sat up to look towards his bed and listen.

"I've had you beside me, sleepin', fer the last twelve nights. Guess I got . . . used to you bein' there. Now I'm not used to havin' you gone." She dimly saw his shoulders rise in a shrug. "Can't sleep, 'cus somethin's missin." He cleared his throat awkwardly.

She sat in the dark stillness, feeling a smile creep over her lips. Then she stood and padded over to him.

"You miss me?" she questioned softly, standing at his bedside.

"Yeah, that's what I'm sayin'."

This was of import, River thought. She wasn't sure exactly how, but it seemed a crucial thing, that Jayne missed her presence enough that he couldn't sleep. She slowly pulled down the blanket and sheet, and when there was no protest either from Jayne or from those who were monitoring patterns from outside the room, she slid herself in beside him. The bed wasn't large but it was wider than the one they'd been sharing on the ship. He rolled unto his side and she tucked in against him. He cuddled – it was cuddling, though he'd never admit it – cuddled her into him. Fifteen minutes later he was asleep. But only after he'd gruffly whispered,

"Don't know that I ever wanna sleep without you again."

- - - - - -

ge zhen de hundun; a real bastard

Xin gan; sweetheart