Disclaimer: See chapter one.

A/N: I'm going to have to reread this later - my niece and her husband and their teeny-tiny offspring have just arrived.

Brompton Cocktail

Chapter Twenty-Five

About an hour before they were due to land on Three Hills, Jayne knocked on Zoë's new door. There was still some fragments of tape clinging to it, but Kaylee had moved her sign and the fairy lights over to her new room. "Damen shi changkai de," faintly echoed through the metal.

Jayne opened the hatch and sat the box he was carrying down on the floor. Once he was most of the way down the ladder, he grabbed it again and stepped into Zoë's new room. "Hey," he said.

Zoë finished shrugging into her jacket and turned around. She hadn't seen much of Jayne since leaving Harvest, and it shocked her somewhat to see how much just two days had managed to change him. He was still tall, but he seemed shrunken in on himself. The heavy canvas coat that once was only baggy now looked more like a child trying on his father's clothes. Jayne's cheeks were hollowed out, and his eyes… The whites were mostly pink, stained with darker spots of brighter red, and a pair of bruised circles underscored each of them. The tips of his ears and nose looked sunburnt. Where his hands clutched the box he carried, she could see his fingertips were black, the nails sporting an unhealthy greenish tinge. She tried to say something – anything – but couldn't get her voice to cooperate.

Jayne knew he looked awful – he had a mirror, after all – and knew Zoë was trying to find something to say, but he decided it wasn't important. He'd not come to her to hear her talk, after all. He handed her the box. "'S for everyone else, after. Make sure it gets done. Not 'til after, though."

Zoë nodded and accepted the box. Jayne continued, "Iffen I don't get the chance ta later, Zo', I just wanted ta say thanks for all ya done for me. Weren't for ya knowin' that warden, an' I'd still be lookin'."

Zoë sat the box on her bunk and finally found her voice, "Oh, bi zui, you erbaiwu hundan!"

Without knowing just how it happened, Jayne suddenly found himself with a crying first mate wrapped around him. It was all manner of wrong in his mind. He stood there, awkwardly holding her shoulders with hands that had bypassed pain sometime during the night and were now simply numb for several long minutes. Eventually, her trembling seemed to slow some and he gently pushed her back. "Come on, Zoë. No cryin' when there's crime ta be done."

He ducked out before she could reply, heading for where he knew Mal would be reloading his pistol in preparation for the illegal side of the day's trading. They would have the grain unloaded within about an hour after they landed, and the buyers for the medicines smuggled from Greenleaf were due to show about two hours after that. He did indeed locate Mal in the small closet that served as the ship's armory, only to find he wasn't actively doing anything. Just standing in the middle of the room, turning in a small circle, staring at the walls.

The rack that had been fastened to his bunk wall was now hanging on one side, Vera taking pride-of-place as she always did. Under her, the rest – save the three he'd sat aside and the one he was wearing – hung from their places. Another rack had been added to the wall on the opposite side, this one holding the assorted knives, daggers, and other blades Jayne had collected over the years. The only one missing was the antler-handled one strapped to his hip. A third and final rack was on the wall across from the door. It contained the assorted gun belts, holsters, and bandoliers hanging from pegs.

Jayne leaned heavily against the door frame. "Look good?"

Mal startled a little and turned around. "This your way of givin' notice?"

The mercenary shrugged. "Figured it was better 'an shootin' ya."

"Might be at that," Mal allowed, noticing the same troubling signs his first mate had just a few minutes earlier.

"Afore ya ask, I can deal with t'day. Last one, though," Jayne said, then walked away.

Much to Jayne's relief, the buyer for the grain had a solid twenty people along with him to unload the merchandise, and contrary to all expectations, even the illegal cargo was paid for and unloaded without bloodshed; insults, sure, but no actual bloodshed. He didn't know – didn't really want to know, if the truth be told – just what Mal was told that kept Serenity on the ground for the night. But he didn't much care, either. It is what it is and I got me some huntin' ta do.

While Kaylee and Oriole headed off to shop, though there wasn't really anything any of them needed, Zoë joined Jayne and headed to the bar. River followed at a discrete distance. Quiet inquiries lead Jayne to the Green Fist Saloon. Since it was just past nightfall on a planet that was on the downside slide from fall into winter, the bar was pretty busy.

Zoë chose a spot where they could sit and watch for the redheaded man, buying a pair of whiskeys neither of them touched. Neither noticed River slip in and choose a similar out-of-the-way corner.

Tension thrummed in the air.

Every time the door opened, Jayne stiffened, but was disappointed.

And then he saw him, strolling down the stairs at the back of the bar, a bottle-blonde in too-tight clothes hanging off his arm.

Probabilities flitted through River's mind, and she saw Jayne get to his feet. Knowing what the results would be if she didn't act, she immediately got to work. She tripped a barhop, a kid who was only about sixteen or so, and he spilled a full tray of drinks across a burly man who'd been playing poker with three others.

The burly man didn't realize exactly what had happened, and so reacted on instinct, leaping to his feet, upending the table in the process, and punching the closest guy – the kid was still trying to get back on his feet when the much larger man whose only crime was being in the wrong place at the wrong time landed heavily on him, knocking him back to the floor.

The fight was on.

River smirked and slipped out a side door, then raced back to the ship, hopeful that she'd not been missed.

Jayne was halfway across the room when a fight broke out behind him. He grinned. Good. No sense in makin' this any harder 'an it has ta be. Body found after a brawl's always chalked up ta bein' part of the brawl. The fight grew quickly, and Jayne had to duck twice to avoid first a thrown bottle, then a piece of chair. The whore who'd been hanging off of his prey's arm skedaddled quickly when violence broke out, leaving Lionel standing at the bottom of the stairs, watching the fight with faint amusement.

Jayne slipped around a corner and slid up next to him. "Evenin'," he said, as though watching the progress of a brawl was of no pressing interest.

"Evenin' ta you, too," Lionel replied. "Know who started it?" he indicated the mess.

Jayne shook his head and surreptitiously drew his blade. "Nope," he said. "But I got somethin' for ya."

"Oh?" the redheaded man glanced at him. "What's that?"

Jayne held up the knife and grinned. "This." He paused just long enough for a flash of recognition to trigger in the man's eyes, before slitting his throat.

He caught Zoë's eyes and smiled at her. She nodded at him. They made their way through the fight to the door.

Zoë fell into step with Jayne, who was using the sleeve of his coat to clean the knife. Once clean, he slid it into its sheath and then untied the sheath from his belt. He handed it to her. "That goes in the box," he said.

"Feel better?"

Jayne shrugged. "Satisfied," he said. "'S finally over."

Zoë looked out of the corner of his eye. Jayne was standing straighter, like some sort of invisible weight had fallen off of him. Despite the evidence of his illness, he had a faint smile on his face and there was an indefinable aura of relaxation surrounding him that made him seem years younger. "Yeah," Zoë agreed. "It's finally over."

A/N2: Like I said, next few days will have updates running a little slower. Family. Gotta love 'em.

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