AN: Just moving the story along. Stick with me here, it's actually been very difficult to get this romance started. First I have to get them to respect one another, to trust one another, then to be friends, then and only then can the romance begin – and then there are even more obstacles to pass when we get there. I appreciate all the reviews, it's incredibly special for me to know that others may be enjoying this as much as I'm enjoying writing it.
Sleepless, again. A frustrated Simon stalked the halls, landing himself in the galley once again. This had to stop. He'd thought he solved the problem when he changed Jayne's sheets but apparently that wasn't even close to enough. Not to mention he had other things on his mind right now too. They'd just picked up a job moving some Alliance clothing fabric to Durintrel – where Inara was now living. It always frustrated him to see her, knowing there was nothing he could do to change the course of the world. Focus. He tried to focus on one thing at a time. First he would solve this problem with Jayne. Being perfectly honest, he knew he'd already done everything he could think of with Inara – but it didn't stop bothering him. There was no focus to be had. His mind jumped from Jayne to Inara back to Jayne again and occasionally to River just for old sport's sake.
Letting out a deep sigh he tried once again to focus. For starters, he should change Jayne's sheets again. The man hadn't made a late night appearance in the galley since their last exchange. He tapped at the table with his free hand and sipped tea with the other. But what more? What more could he do. The man had saved his life – even if it wasn't on purpose and even if he didn't want anyone to know it had been done. It's not like he could build a statue to his great deeds – that had already been done once. Two statues would probably get boring. He stopped himself. What in the world was he going on about any way? This was Jayne Cobb he was thinking about – idolizing even. Jayne Cobb, the man he hated pretty much more than any other living being in the 'verse and also some of the dead ones. Simon reminded himself – he was repaying a debt, not immortalizing a god. He took another sip of tea, thought about the gin stored up in the galley, took another sip of tea, finished his cup of tea, and walked over to the cupboards to rummage for gin.
Simon didn't drink much. It was hard knowing that at any moment his services might need rendering. He didn't like to think he was the only one who could do what he did on this ship, that in a moment of weakness he might find himself unable to perform. One drink couldn't hurt though. Besides, everyone was asleep, he could have a little drink, go to bed, and be perfectly sober in the morning – no one was going to die overnight. He wrapped his hind around the gin and shakily pour himself a glass. He was so wrapped up in thoughts that he was, once again, caught off guard when a large hand intercepted the glass from his grasp.
Jayne couldn't sleep. The smell was back and he couldn't figure out what it was. He'd checked his laundry, his waste basket, his bed, everything smelled the way it was supposed to – just like him. That's what brought him here now. He figured that a little bit of rum might black out his senses well enough that he wouldn't even notice. And that's what brought him in at the perfect time to see Simon pouring himself a cup from the bottle of gin they'd stored away. Gin would do.
"You sure about that doc?" Jayne scooped up the cup of gin before Simon could get his hands on it. "The way I see it is bein' a doc an' all – the only one we's got, you should probably be thinkin' twice about gettin' yerself loopy. I, on the other hand, am just a humble mercenary. Let me get a little buzz and I reckon I actually do my job a little better," Jayne sipped at the cup, letting the warm gin sooth his throat… in the burning fashion that gin likes to do.
Simon shook. He was tired, he was weak, he was frustrated. This probably wasn't the best time to push his nerves. Fortunately, the tired won out. "Just pouring it for you, apparently," he retreated. He didn't want to fight, he didn't have the energy for it, so he just followed Jayne to the table and sat down across from him. It was him to break the silence this time. "The smell back?" he questioned, curious to know if he might have actually been on to something.
Jayne nodded, not much in the mood for talking. Especially not to Simon. It was more than the smell though, he thought. There was his Ma – and the letter he was trying to write. Not to mention Inara. He didn't want to see her, didn't want to see what she was becoming. Didn't want to leave again not sure if she'd still be there when they came back again. "What's your story?" He finally persued.
Simon thought about it. He clearly wasn't going to share the part about wanting to pay Jayne back for saving his life. "Just Inara, you know? Every time we see her she's just a little worse off. I've tried everything, thought of everything and I just can't… fix it," his eyes watched his fingers tap on the table top.
"Know what you mean," Jayne agreed. "If I had your kind of learnin, I know she'd be ok. I'd fix her up right, have her back on the ship," he caught himself in a moment of tenderness. "Get her back to that planet where the pretty lady joined her, maybe even pick up some more whore jobs like that pregnant girl way back," he recovered.
Simon scoffed. Jayne? A doctor? Yeah. He didn't even attempt to hold in his chuckle. "I'm not so sure you'd be doing that job any better than me."
Jayne's pride was a pretty powerful thing and when Simon discarded his brief sentiment, it actually… hurt. He glared across the table. "What're ya tryin' to say, doc? Ain't no one in this whole 'verse big enough to be smart as you are?"
"Not at all, in fact, if size really were the manner in which intelligence was measured, you'd have the clear advantage over most the universe." It didn't even make sense. Jayne pretending like he could ever be a doctor. Jayne, the useless piece of fodder who thought a bottle of whiskey was the cure for what ailment one might have. It was almost insulting actually. Simon had trained for years and applied himself – something Jayne clearly would know nothing about. Simon struggled and worked his way to the top. He didn't know if his frustration was getting the best of him when he then blurted out. "But seeing at how all you seem to be good for is pointing a gun and pulling a trigger, there's no way an idiot like you could ever hold a flame to what I've become."
Jayne stood, proud of the fact that he caught Simon flinch, but mostly just… hurt. The man had struck a nerve in a completely different way than when he'd paralyzed one. An idiot. That's what Simon had called him. "No, that's real big of you, doc. You're right though, and don't make me remind you that I am, in fact, very good at pointin' a gun and shootin' the wormy brains out'a doctors that get too big fer their britches." Jayne swallowed the last of his gin. "I promised the Captain that I'd never turn on ya, but you just keep tryin' yer luck, little kite, ain't nothin' I can't make look like an accident." Jayne set the cup down on the table and stormed out.
Simon could only exhale in frustration. That man… he just hated him so much. Simon was sure now that there was nothing he should do to repay the man for saving his life. He was probably just saving it so that he could someday be the one to finish him off. He could picture Jayne standing over him with a gun trained on his head. He could see the grin on Jayne's face, the pure delight he would get from ending him. The man just played on his last nerve.
"You play on his, too you know?" River sat up from the couch she'd been laying on. No one had noticed her and she liked that. She had gotten to listen to the entire confrontation. She'd been laying there thinking about the things she heard the other day at dinner. She was thinking about Simon and his dream about their future without her having gone to that academy. She was particularly interested in how, through his entire dream, he'd never once imagined anything for himself. She couldn't quite work out why. And then Jayne – and the letters, the cloudy numbers, the way he'd practically admitted to his subconscious that he was… envious… of Simon. "He doesn't really hate you, big brother," she scolded. "I wonder though, why do you hate him?"
Simon was exhausted. "I don't have time for this, River, I'm tired," he pleaded. "Jayne does hate me, he hates you too. Remember when he tried to turn us in to the Alliance?" Simon was hoping it would end there.
"Sometimes," she tried. "What appears to be hatred can actually be something else. Do you truly only hate him because he hates you? That seems like a really silly reason to hate someone."
Simon exhaled in frustration. "I hate him because he's an idiot. Because he's rash and because he's a killer, how's that for reasons, River? He's not a good man. Shouldn't that be reason enough?"
River was hurt. He wasn't listening to her. She tried one more thing. "You hate him because he is an idiot? He doesn't know how to be a doctor like you? Well, my stupid big brother, do you know how to fix engines like Kaylee? Or how to fly a plane like me? You're something of an idiot if you ask me. And remember when Kaylee got kidnapped on Planet Delta? The Captain was pretty rash when he took off with the shuttle and got himself kidnapped with her in the process. Don't you agree that was pretty rash of him? Jumped into that one without thinking," she chided him.
"He's still a ruthless killer," Simon mumbled, tired, weak, frustrated, and at his end at this very moment.
River walked up to him and lifted his chin. "If being a ruthless killer is a reason to hate then why do you love me so much?" She heard nothing from Simon but silence. She was getting through to him. "What happened on Miranda changed all of us. I'm not the same person I was before. Jayne isn't the same man who turned us in all those years ago, Simon. You need to stop holding against him what he used to be and try seeing him for who he is now." River hated when things were so clear. It was painful and she could never escape that pain. She was a ruthless killer. Right now though, she needed to get away. She turned from Simon, sure that he'd gotten the message, and continued on to her place of comfort in the pilot's seat on deck.
AN: I hope this answers the question about Inara. I like the tragedy behind the idea that she was dying and I like to stick with that – also it's a great catalyst to push forward romance at any cost