Archangel –Chapter Three
Author owns no rights to Firefly, and no copyright infringement is intended.
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Book didn't approach the man known as Jayne Cobb until after Ariel.
It was apparent, at least to the Shepard, that Cobb had attempted to turn the Doctor and his mentally unstable sister over to the Alliance. Why he hadn't done so was a mystery.
He found the mercenary lifting weights in the cargo bay, silent anger pouring off him in waves that were hard to ignore, if one knew the signs. Book knew.
"Hello, Michael," he said softly. The bar froze in mid air, hanging effortlessly in the man's large hands.
"Think you got the wrong man, Preacher," Jayne replied finally, raising the bar at last, and placing into the rest.
"No, I don't," Book insisted quietly. "You are Michael." Jayne flowed to his feet with a grace that no one else on this ship would have expected. Book was not surprised.
"I said, you got the wrong man," Jayne repeated, heat in his words. Book smiled.
"The temper of a man is like that of steel," Book smiled. Jayne rocked back slightly.
"Once lost, both become useless," Jayne replied, almost against his will.
"The prodigal son," Book murmured, and Jayne shook his head.
"I ain't no prodigal," he argued. "I ain't going back."
"No," Book nodded, sitting down on a crate near the bench. "No, it is too late for that, I fear. The school is no longer of any use to you."
"What do you want, Preacher?" Jayne demanded.
"I simply want to talk," Book said, hands raised. "Nothing more." For now, he didn't add. But then, he didn't need to.
"I ain't listening to any more gibberish,' Jayne told him flatly, but sat down on the weight bench. "Never done me, nor no one I know, a drop o' good."
"I can see where you would think that," Book nodded. "You've had a hard and difficult life, Michael. . ."
"The name," Jayne ground out, "is Cobb. Jayne Cobb. And don't try that psycho-babble on me, neither, Preacher. Talkin' 'bout my 'hard and difficult life' ain't the way to reach me."
"What is, then?" Book surprised him. "What is the way to reach you, Michael. To reach past the man you want others to see, and talk to the boy who once was?"
"That boy is dead," Jayne assured him harshly. "Gone. Died a long while back."
"Indeed," Book smiled. "Yet I see some of the boy remains. Or at least," he added at the fierce scowl, "some of what the boy was taught. What he believed."
"'Spect that's true of us all," Jayne nodded, hating to concede the fact.
"Your anger is consuming you, Michael," Book warned him. "How you have held it at bay this long speaks well of Brother Thomas." Jayne winced at the mention of the old monk. The one person he'd missed in all these years, other than his ma, had been Brother Thomas.
"I manage," was all he said.
"Yes, you do," Book nodded. "Or you did. But you're slipping. Ariel proves that. The Captain did not betray you, Michael," Book added, seeing the start he'd caused. "I am not, perhaps, as dumb as I look."
"Never thought you were," Jayne muttered.
"You tried to turn the Tams in," Book said it as a statement.
"Yes," Jayne looked him in the eye. "I did."
"Then didn't leave them," Book pointed out, smiling. "Why?"
"Don't matter," Jayne shrugged.
"It matters a great deal, I assure you," Book's voice was suddenly hard edged. Jayne looked up at him.
"The girl's been. . .messed with," he finally replied. "Hurt. Wasn't. . .wasn't right, lettin'em take'er back, like that."
"You killed, to prevent it?" Book asked. Jayne nodded.
"Likely so. Ain't sure," he added.
"You are absolved of that," Book told him. "Ever though you were at fault, you saw the right thing, and did it, in the end."
"Don't need no absolvin'," Jayne almost snarled. "If anyone needs absolvin', it's that pansy-ass doc. Lettin' Kaylee lay there, shot like that. Refusing to help her."
"And he will pay for that, Michael," Book promised him. "Pays for it every time she is nice to him. And it is not your place to decide who pays, nor how," the edge returned to his voice.
"This from the men who taught me that justice must be administered in strange and often ancient ways," Jayne snorted. "Got your message a bit twisted, there, Holy Man."
"Do not call me that," Book's voice suddenly went very quiet. "There is nothing Holy about me."
"Whatever," Jayne snorted again. "You act like you're holdin' the cards, Preacher, but I might surprise you. But enough of that," he stood. "You got something to say, or you just wanna sit here talkin' in riddles."
"Your anger is consuming you," Book repeated. "You need help to contain it."
"Been doin' fine on my own," Jayne shot back.
"Why did you betray the Tams?" Book changed tactics. Caught off guard, Jayne slowly sat back down.
"I already told you why," he responded, but the reply sounded lame, even to him.
"You love her, don't you?" Book's voice was kind, all at once. And sad. Jayne looked up as if slapped.
"That ain't none o' your concern!" Book sighed, shaking his head.
"You know, I assume, that you can never. . ."
"I don't need no reminders o' that, neither!" Jayne was back on his feet, fists balled. For a moment Book thought he might have pushed to hard.
"Let me help you," Book's voice was calm. "I owe it to you. And to your mother."
"Mother?" Jayne looked at him, eyes losing focus. "You knew my ma, didn't you?"
"I had that honor, yes," Book nodded. "A most formidable woman, she was. I see much of her in you. Her influence has not been lost over the years."
"What is it you want, Preacher?" Jayne asked again, his voice almost lost. "I ain't no. . .I won't go back, and I won't be one o' your 'messengers' neither. I know what I am. And I know I only got. . .what do you want?"
"Just to help you," Book shrugged. "I can help you finish your training, Jayne," he stressed the word with a smile. "I can help you find your center. Regain that which was lost."
"And that helps me how?" Jayne asked, not challenging, but in honest curiosity.
"It helps keep you sane," Book almost whispered. "And in control of yourself."
The man now known as Jayne looked at the deck beneath him. Sane. He'd hidden his fears a long time, but recently he had begun to fear his growing lack of control. His mind wandered too much. He had feared to even think that he was losing the last shred of himself to whatever was eating at his body and mind.
"I wondered if I was gettin' worse," he finally murmured. Book placed a hand on the man's shoulder. Jayne flinched, but didn't brush it off.
"You are doubly cursed, son," Book told him. Jayne nodded, remembering an overheard conversation a lifetime ago. "But you can have some peace, perhaps. If you're willing to work at it."
Jayne lifted his head, looking at the man before him. A Shepard. But there was more to him that a collar. A robe. Finally he nodded, suddenly exhausted.
"All right, Preacher," he sighed. "I'll try it."
Book smiled, patting the shoulder beneath his hand. Inside, however, he was in turmoil. He hadn't shared the bad news with him.
That can wait, he decided. At least for a while.
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"So, you're really goin', then," Jayne asked quietly from Book's door.
"I am," Book nodded, turning from his packing to look at him. "My work here is done, I think. And there are others who need me. Need a Shepard."
"And you need them," Jayne said.
"Yes," Book agreed, his voice soft. "I have a great deal to atone for, Michael. A great deal. I must make amends as best I can, in the time I have remaining."
"I. . .I ain't had call, much, in my life, to say thanks," Jayne told him. "But, thank you, Book. For. . .for everything."
"You're quite welcome, my son," Book smiled warmly. "I was honored to have been able to do it."
"Ain't no honor to me," Jayne said bluntly. "I'm beyond that, now. But a man pays his debts, Shepard. I owe you. You need something from me, it's yours."
"Then be true to your teaching, Michael," Book told him softly. "Use that which haunts you for the good of others, so long as you can. Make a curse into a gift."
"Don't see no way to make that happen," Jayne replied honestly. "Way you tell it, one day. . ." he trailed off with a shrug.
"That may come to pass," Book nodded, sadly. "Yet, it may not, as well. The future is not set into stone, my son. And your case is unusual, to say the least."
"Practically one of a kind, ain't I?" Jayne grinned, but it faltered almost at once.
"Yes, you are," Book smiled. "And a better man, perhaps, than you give yourself credit for. One day you'll see that, I'm confident."
"If I had stayed," Jayne asked suddenly, "and not run off, would it have made a difference?" Book looked at him for a moment, then shook his head.
"No, my boy, it would not," he admitted. "You would have been better prepared as things ran their course, but other than that, no. It would have made no difference."
"I'm glad to know that," Jayne nodded. "Makes me feel a bit easier."
"Good," Book smiled. "I look forward to your coming to visit, Jayne," Book offered his hand, just as Jayne felt a presence behind him.
"Thanks, Preacher," Jayne immediately lost his stoic attitude, reverting to the Jayne everyone knew and despised. "Been a real comfort, having a man o' God on board. At times," he added, with a wink only Book could see.
"I'm sure I've made a lasting impression on you, my mercenary friend," Book laughed.
"Jayne, need to get ready to off load," Mal ordered shortly. "Don't pay you to stand around, jawin'."
"I'm just saying goodbye, Mal," Jayne mouthed back. "Just cause you ain't well mannered don't mean the rest of us is." With that he tromped off, scowling. Mal shook his head.
"Sorry about that, Shepard," Mal turned to Book. "Can't take him nowhere."
"He's isn't a problem, Captain," Book fought the urge to frown. "I've become good friends with Jayne, during my time here."
"Likely the only friend he's got, then, way he carries on," Mal chuckled, walking off.
"Don't be too sure of that, Captain," Book murmured, too softly for Mal to hear. "Don't be too sure of that."
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The ship was quiet.
Too many people missing, Jayne thought, sitting in the cargo bay. Too much lost.
Miranda lay behind them, along with both Wash, and Book. The only good thing to come of it, aside from exposing the evil worked by the Parliament with the Pax, was that the girl seemed sane, all at once. Jayne snorted in amused pity.
Too bad I can't find something like Miranda for me, he thought idly. But he was happy for the girl. No child deserved all that. No child deserved anything like that.
He walked restlessly around the cargo bay, burning off energy.
Energy, he snorted again. Adrenaline. Still trying to fool myself all these years later.
He reclined on the weight bench, and began pumping weights. As much as he could stand. He'd do it until he was exhausted. And then keep going. Burning away his self-pity, his doubts, his adrenaline.
Long into the night cycle, as the ship made it's way through the black, it echoed with the clanking of weights, and the soft grunts of the man using them.
The only therapy he had.
