Disclaimer: See chapter one.

A/N: It's been a really weird day and it's only 0700.

Brompton Cocktail

Chapter Twenty-One

Kaylee had dinner duty, something she usually enjoyed, but Simon was off reading and Oriole, Zoë, and River were up on the bridge. Mal was doing 'captainy' things – mostly paperwork and figuring how much of their latest take would go to each person after deducting all the necessaries – in his bunk. And Jayne hadn't been acting like himself all day.

While she figured out what to do with the leftover goat meat Oriole had purchased for them, Kaylee watched Jayne from the corner of her eye. He was sitting at his usual spot at the table, slowly scraping a whetstone down the length of his antler-handled knife. He ain't talkin' an' he ain't whistlin' an' he ain't hummin'. Tama de, I don't think I heard him say more 'an three words all day. She decided to simply fry the meat up with some peppers and onions. That simply ain't like him.

"Just say it," he said, not even looking up from his task.

Kaylee startled a little. "Shen me?"

"Can feel ya watchin' me." He paused and looked over at her. "Somethin's buggin' ya. Spit it out."

She shook her head and focused on cutting a bell pepper into precisely equal chunks. "Ain't nothin'."

The black hole inside him rotated, and suddenly he felt something more than hollow. "Gorram it, Kaylee!" he threw the whetstone on the table. "'Tain't like ya not ta say what's buggin' ya, so go on ahead, ya gong gong qi chi!"

Kaylee's head snapped up at the insult. "I am not!" she shouted back at him, but it was ruined somewhat by the wobble in her voice. "I'm not!" The second time it was quieter. The kitchen knife clattered to the surface of the cutting board and Kaylee fled to the engine room, crying.

As quickly as it had sparked, Jayne's temper evaporated. Aw, hell, Kaylee. I'm sorry. Shouldn'ta said that. Dunno why I did. He picked up the whetstone and headed for his bunk. Once inside, he slumped on the edge of his bed. "Sorry," he murmured out loud. Making Kaylee cry was like kicking a puppy; no matter how irritating or annoying, afterwards it made a person feel about two feet tall and the biggest gouzaizi in the 'verse.

While Jayne kicked himself in his bunk, Zoë finished up on the bridge and went in search of Kaylee, to see if she wanted to go ahead and start moving their things after supper. On not finding her in the galley, Zoë rolled her eyes and headed downstairs, expecting to find her with Simon. Simon, however, was alone, stretched out on the sofa, reading, so Zoë headed to the only other place Kaylee was likely to be during daytime hours.

"Why's he gotta be so mean?" Yep, Zoë's assumption was accurate. She could hear the mechanic talking to the ship from the corridor. "I mean, I know somethin' ain't right with him, but that don't give him no reason to be callin' me a slut."

Wo de ma, what did Jayne do now? Zoë hurried a little and entered the engine room to find Kaylee perched in her hammock, petting the bulkhead next to her. "Kaylee?"

The mechanic sniffled and scrubbed a hand across her face. "Yeah, Zoë. Whacha need?"

"Well, I was going to see if you wanted to start moving our stuff after supper, but it looks like you could use an ear."

A watery version of Kaylee's normal smile forced its way into existence. "Don't worry about it," she said. "Wasn't nothin'. I really should finish makin' dinner." She stood.

Zoë halted her exit from the room by way of blocking the door. "Kaylee." The intonation of the mechanic's name was order enough.

Her resolve crumpled and everything babbled out in a flood of words. "Somethin's wrong with Jayne, I know it is! He's skinnier 'an he should be 'cause he ain't eatin' enough ta keep a mouse alive, an' he don't work out no more. An' he's always movin' slower 'an he used ta. An' today he's been all silent on top of ev'rythin' else!"

Zoë closed her eyes and took a breath. Damn it, Jayne. I know you needed some time to come to grips with it, but I think your time's about up on keepin' this under wraps. Opening her eyes, she simply said, "I'll talk to him."

Kaylee's regular smile reappeared and she hugged Zoë on her way past. "Would ya?"

Zoë nodded. "You can count on it," she replied. "Go on and see to supper. I'll go track down Jayne."

Back in his bunk, Jayne cradled his head in his hands, his elbows propped on his knees. Gorram it, Kaylee, I really didn't mean ta hurt ya. Just slipped out. Don't really think on ya like that. Swear it. Just don't want nobody pokin' at me right now. 'Tain't nobody else's business. The image of her chin doing that wibbly motion flashed through his mind, coupled with wide eyes. That same inner twist flipped again and new anger rushed through his veins.

Yeah, just drive 'em off, one by one. You really are one stupid gorram hundan. He shifted slightly so that his head was held just by his left hand, then fisted his right and punched himself in the thigh. The immediate pain of the act managed to break past even the fading haze of the Opianax still in his system. He focused on it, actually relishing the familiarity of what was sure to become a colorful bruise. It drained the latest spike of anger away.

With the anger gone, though, the hollow feeling he'd carried all day tried to make a reappearance. "No, gorram it. No. Not goin' there." He mumbled to himself as he pressed a thumb into the center of where his bruise was going to surface. Tired o' not carin' what I'm doin' or sayin'. Tired o' not bein' able ta think straight.

You're just plain tired, honey, Kaida chimed in with her two cents' worth. Ain't nobody's fault, either. Not what happened to me, and not what's happenin' to you. Know ya won't believe me none, but it is what it is.

I know, sweetheart, he thought back at her, idly wondering if carrying on imaginary conversations with his dead wife was as crazy as it sounded. I am tired. Tired of the huntin' an' the livin' hand-to-mouth. Tired o' the fact it's been fourteen years since I last saw ya, held ya. At least I'm almost done, in ev'ry sense o' the word. Only one left, darlin'.

He ran a hand through his hair. It was starting to get a little long. Should see iffen maybehaps Kaylee'll cut it for me. He winced at the memory of her running out of the galley. Screw it. I'll let it grow.

I always did love your hair, Kaida said and he swore he could feel phantom fingers tingling across his scalp.

A knock at his hatch pulled him back into the real world. "'S open," he called out.

A very angry-looking Zoë descended into his space. "Jayne."

The way she said his name came across as an accusation. He sighed. "Yeah. I'm guessin' Kaylee tol' ya?"

"Something like that," Zoë replied. "I think you should tell her. She's noticed you've not been your typical self lately."

Jayne nodded. "I know. Need ta tell ev'ryone. Just… Don't really know how."

Zoë recognized the lost expression on the mercenary's face as the same one she'd seen in the mirror until recently. Part of her flaked away and her irritation dissipated. "I can do it for you," she offered.

Jayne looked hopeful for all of a half a second before scowling and shaking his head. "Nah. Should be me." He scrubbed a hand across his face. "An' I will, just… I wanna wait until after we leave Three Hills. Can ya stall 'til then?"

An uncomfortable thought surfaced in Zoë's mind. She narrowed her eyes at Jayne. "You ain't plannin' on doing something stupid, are you?"

It took a minute for Jayne to realize exactly what Zoë was asking. He laughed, the sound foreign to his own ears. "Cao, no! Nothin' like that! Once that gou cao de liu koushui de biaozi he houzi de ben erzi hundan is taken off the to-do list, I still gotta tell Ma it's over with. Gotta get home after it's all over."

The suspicion disappeared and Zoë nodded. "Then I can stall until then. Maybe." At Jayne's expression, she clarified, "I can't help it if Kaylee takes her observations to Simon. To be honest, I'm surprised he's not noticed anything himself." Jayne smirked a little. It was always good – in his opinion – any time he managed to get one over on Simon. The smirk faded quickly at a light glare from Zoë. "You still need to apologize to Kaylee, though."

"I will," Jayne promised. "Didn't even mean ta say it."

"Tell her that, not me." Zoë left Jayne to his thoughts.

You didn't tell her what ya got planned for when ya get home. Kaida sounded disapproving.

It ain't her business. You know well as me what I got in store iffen I don't do it. An' I ain't goin' out like that. Won't be tied ta no machinery just ta keep breathin' a li'l longer. Ain't my style. His eyes darted to the drawer where he kept the satchel from Dr. Baker.

I know, honey. I know. The phantom fingers caressed his cheek. Ya got a 'pology ta go give. Don't ya still got some stick-candy hidin' 'round here somewhere?

Since Mal was adamant about not letting Jayne smoke on the ship – not even in his own bunk – he had a pretty decent supply of suckers and stick-candy in the top drawer of his desk. He climbed to his feet, wincing some as the bruise from earlier joined in the general chorus that was starting to tune up as the painkiller wore off. It didn't take long to find a cherry sucker among his hidden goodies. Too bad I don't got any strawberry.

I'm sure she'll forgive you. Whether Kaida meant for the name-calling or the lack of strawberry-flavor, Jayne wasn't altogether certain.

A/N2: Technically, what Jayne did was to call Kaylee a 'city bus', which, according to the lovely list of Mandarin filth on Wikipedia, is akin to calling someone a slut by way of implying that 'everyone's had a ride'. I cackled when I read that. Cackled, I tell you!

Please review. Please. Pretty please. With cherry syrup and chocolate sprinkles.