A/N Hi guys. Just so you know, I think this may be the last fic I'm going to post on this site. The last two I have posted have been all in bold or all in italics, despite me not writing them that way, and I can't fix it. The site seems to be becoming more and more buggy, which is frustrating. I think I'm going to start moving this story over to AO3. If you'd like to continue following it, or me, over there, my name there is JaycieVictory (no space).
Hope you really enjoy this fic. I had a lot of fun writing it :) Let me know what you think.
Deluge
Jayne slid down behind the rocky rampart where River was already crouched.
The sky was starting to darken with the approaching night, and darkening still more from the heavy clouds that were gathering, but enough light remained to see him clearly – eyes wild, hair glistening in the rain, a tear in his shirt where he'd scraped against the rock.
His aura was half-panting fear, half-roaring joy. But his hands were rock steady on Lux.
Jayne the crack shot; Jayne the coward; Jayne the warrior.
The contradictions drew her in.
The recent gun fight with the Alliance, the realisation of how badly outnumbered they were, the scream from the Captain to scatter and run… she could read it all in his colours, see it in the rapid rise and fall of his chest, feel it in the feral energy pouring off him.
The reds, ambers, and golds were even clearer than usual, gleaming, rippling, pulsating with adrenaline.
There was amethyst threading through, sparks of coruscating silver, as trajectory, ballistics and best lines of attack flashed through his mind.
An errant Ariel thought, black and squat like a spider, that pondered whether to ditch her. It was consumed from either side: a cresting wave of violet on the left – Moonbrain was crew, a life debt was owed, Captain would space him – and pinwheeling orange on the right – Moonbrain was a xiōngcan sha shǒu , odds were much better to stay close.
(A solitary spurt of grumbling green – he'd missed dinner.)
"You still hearin' those hún dàn, River?" His gaze was locked on the skyline in case a head appeared.
It took a conscious effort to look away, to focus her Reading on something else.
She already knew the answer. She'd fixated on his colours, the vitality, the passion, the warmth, to scrub out the memories of their minds. The focused, single-minded soldiers, so uniform and conforming – they rung echoes of cold, and sterile, and two by two….
"Hey! Hey!" Jayne nudged her with his foot. "You with me, Crazy?"
His reds and golds dissipated the blue memory like slimy smoke.
She nodded at him, grateful. "They are gone. We evaded them."
He kept Lux drawn but relaxed his deadly stance. It was a measure of trust in her abilities that surprised and warmed her almost as much as his colours.
He leaned against the rock. "Alrigh'. So, we just wait out the night and double back to the Mule at dawn." He looked pleased. "Looks like we're finally catching a break, Moonbrain."
There was a sudden crash of thunder, and the heavens opened.
In a matter of seconds, the steady patter of rain became a blinding downpour.
Jayne's expression was caught somewhere between indignation and resignation.
"Now, that's just mean." He holstered Lux.
River laughed and tilted back her head, extending her arms to embrace the sky. Her hair was plastering to her skull.
"Moonbrain, we gotta get out of the rain." He raised his voice to be heard.
She was one with the water, one with the parched earth it struck, one with the silt it was lashing to mud…
"Any settlements nearby?" He gripped her shoulder.
She returned to her surroundings with a jolt, stared into his eyes. Rivulets of rain were pouring off his face.
She unfocused again, but this time with intent.
"There is a cabin. Not too far." She pointed but did not move.
Jayne made a long-suffering face. "Come on, Crazy-girl." He snatched up her hand and towed her in the direction she pointed.
The sound of the rain was fainter in the cabin, softened by the canopy of acacias above the roof, and accompanied by the drip, drip, drip of River slowly shedding water.
Jayne re-entered the cabin after his recce nearby, carrying a moth-eaten blanket.
"Looks like it's been abandoned for a coupla months."
"Three," River replied, without thinking. "Jed didn't want to stay after Eliza died. She had made it a home, and without her the quiet was too loud."
She waited for Jayne to look repulsed, to say "that is downright creepifyin'". But if anything, he looked pleased.
"Shoulda used you on more jobs, River. Readin' like that is mighty useful. Some of Mal's plans might even have gone smooth."
She smiled shyly.
"Looks like Jed cleared most things out when he left. But least we can use this to get dry." He brandished the blanket.
She shook her head. "Ezra is close to a desert planet. The sun has fully set. At night, temperatures drop to forty degrees and lower. In wet clothes, we may even go into hypothermia and die." An image of her brother reminded her to wring out her hair; she complied but was already beginning to shiver.
"Go shi," Jayne swore, but in a way to suggest his heart wasn't really in it. "Fine." He exited the room again then returned a short while later with a stack of firewood in his arms and a long stick wedged under his armpit.
"Luckily, good ol' Jed didn't fully empty the wood house when he left." He opened his arms and allowed the wood to tumble to the floor.
River retrieved one that had bounced into the corner and came over to help. Within seconds, though, Jayne was making scoffing noises and shouldering her to one side.
"Gorram Core Girl. Don't know nothing 'bout fires and chimneys." He spoke with a sneer. "That chimney's been dormant for months. You try to light a fire right away and we're all gonna choke on the smoke. Gotta clear it first."
He picked up the long stick, looking very pleased with himself.
River stood back while he cleared the chimney, feeling chagrined.
Within a short space of time, the cabin was illuminated with a warm golden haze
The patina of smugness overlaying Jayne's colours was palpable.
She decided to fight a little dirty. "The theory is sound, but execution will be inadequate. Factoring extrapolated rate of combustion by projected hours of use, the material is inadequate."
Jayne looked a little dazed, as she'd known he would. "We're going to need more wood," she translated, feeling vindicated.
He looked around the largely bare cabin and settled on one of the few pieces of furniture remaining: a three-legged spindly chair leaning against one wall.
He lifted it overhead and smashed it against the floor; the muscles in his back rippled with the action, clearly defined against his drenched shirt.
"What you hummin' at. Moonbrain?" Jayne was holding the pieces.
Her eyes snapped back up. "Nothing."
"Well, quit it. It's creepifyin'."
River stared at him blankly as if her mind was elsewhere; it was a useful final line of defence, and one people were quick to believe when you were fēngle.
Jayne sat on the floor and eased his combat boots off, placing them near the fire to dry out. He held his feet out to the flames with a happy sigh.
River started to peel her sodden dress over her head and became aware of a strangled cat nearby.
She allowed her dress to drop back down and looked over in enquiry and discovered it wasn't, in fact, a cat, but Jayne.
She experimentally raised the dress again and he made the same noise.
Eventually words made it out.
"What are you doin', Crazy?"
"We will warm much faster with the wet clothes removed," she explained. "And we are going to be here overnight. Sleeping in wet clothes will increase muscle and joint pain and possibly lead to skin infections."
"You… you wan' us to be naked?" His voice sounded like it was coming from far away.
She nodded.
Jayne clearly and visibly had two very warring trains of thought in response to this.
One side appeared to win, and a word jumped out writ in large letters: SPACED!
"Down to underclothes but no more!" He said sternly. "And you gotta change inside the blanket and keep it on." He held it out to her.
She nodded her assent, figuring it was best not to tell him she wasn't wearing underclothes on her upper body anyway.
Jayne spun around with clear resolution while she changed.
The moth-eaten blanket was thankfully softer than it looked. She placed her dress and shoes nearer to the fire then sat cross-legged on the floor with it wrapped around her.
Jayne had removed his shirt and cargo pants, one of his thoughts self-soothing that his long johns covered near as much of his lower half anyway.
She figured it was best not to tell him that they were a lot more fitted.
They also didn't cover his upper half; she could see his back even more clearly now. His muscles were as polished and honed as his weapons, she realised. But more aesthetically pleasing.
"Are you decent yet, Crazy?"
"Yes."
He turned around and she shifted her gaze to the fire, as though that was where it had been all along.
Jayne's reds, golds and ambers were pleasingly framed by their flaming counterparts.
His gaze skittered over her and then off again.
"Guess we oughta try to get some sleep if'n we can. You gonna be alright sleeping on the floor, Fancy Girl?" The sneer seemed a bit of an effort.
She borrowed Inara's voice. "As opposed to the luxurious life Serenity affords?"
He was startled into a laugh.
"The blanket will afford some cushioning against the floor. If we make a cocoon around us both, we will both sleep better and double our warmth." She forestalled his objection. "Something we will need when the fire dies down. Forty degrees," she reminded him. He hesitated. "I will keep my back to you to preserve modesty. It is the logical solution, Jayne. Even with the flames, one side of you is cold." She gestured at the goose-flesh peppering his torso.
Sweeping her still-damp hair over her shoulder, she shuffled closer to him then lay down, facing the fire. One side of the blanket was tucked underneath her; the other was loose.
A few seconds went by, and then she sensed movement. He slipped in behind her, his lower body not quite touching, but his upper body a delightful shield against the cold.
She expected it to be hours before she settled, mind and body alert and tense.
Safe, warm and soothed as much by the colours as the steady beat of his heart, River fell asleep.
She awoke to drowsiness. But a drowsiness so different from the fog of drugs that had she had often woken to in the past. The light through the windows showed it was pre-dawn. The fire had gone out, but she was still wonderfully warm.
The rain had softened to a gentle patter. She could feel the regular rise and fall of Jayne's hair-roughened chest against her back. Feel his hand resting on her hip where his arm naturally fell. He had moved closer in his sleep.
She had thought he was still asleep then realised what had awoken her. A yearning, aching need so purple it had brought her back awake. A need that would be sternly rebuffed only to flare back up again.
She could see the image in his mind like it was her own. Skin-to-skin contact lent extra clarity. The curve of a hip dipping into a waist, skin glowing in the firelight. The desperate, aching urge to run his hand along it. The certain knowledge of what a bad idea that was. Of where it might lead. A whirlwind of fleshly sequences flashing through his mind all the way through to discovery, to waking bound in the doctor's chair, to floating out into the Black, or Moonbrain kicking his ass. The urge would be quelled for a moment then rise up again, just as sharply acute.
She recognised some of those sequences from when she had spied on Simon and Kaylee – until she had realised what she was watching.
She understood the practice in theory – if you have such interlocking bodies, why not interlock – but the idea had had no weight behind it personally. She'd left for the Academy young enough to have only kissed a few boys, young enough not to have had much urge and therefore practical experience of it.
The drugs they had pumped her with while there, then the drugs and brain fog that remained after Simon stole her back, had kept such urges at bay too…. But now she was older, clearer in mind, closer to someone else than she ever had been. Not just someone else. To Jayne. That intriguing, soothing, lawless contradiction.
Tentatively, she indulged in one of his sequences for a moment. Tested out the idea in her mind. Imagined his rough mouth trained to softness, pressing gentle, open-mouthed kisses down her long back. His teeth nipping softly at the base.
The thought made her lick her lips, unconsciously shift her hips a little.
There was a silent explosion of swearing and whimpering in the colours behind her. Then a reluctant decision was made.
She felt him start to ease away from her, felt his thoughts of standing and re-dressing, of putting some much needed air between them, of going back out in the rain and standing there till dawn, if needs be, until his gorram Johnson calmed down!
The idea of distance when they had been so close, mind and body, was unbearable.
She turned in his arms…
…and pressed her lips to his.
His mental sequences had held all sorts of different kinds of kisses, but never on the mouth.
But for River, it was the only part she'd known. She had vague memories of its sweetness. She wanted that sweetness with Jayne.
So, she began where she had left off.
Jayne seemed shocked, but not averse. He allowed her to tentatively brush her lips over his, learning the shape of his mouth.
She could see an echo in his aura. As if his own memories had been kindled. Long-ago kisses from a long-ago Jayne.
Tender pink blossomed like a flower.
He held her face in his hands and touched his lips to hers, coaxing a response from her, reminding her of what she had forgotten. Teaching her things she had never known.
After a few minutes of nibbling and exploring, he gently touched his tongue to hers and she sucked in air sharply. Felt the sudden leap in his own response at the sound.
An aching need like Jayne's earlier one swept through her. She didn't know exactly why; she only knew what she wanted.
She tugged at his shoulders.
"Lie on top of me, Jayne?"
Something sparked in his eyes in response. Sparked a maelstrom in his colours.
"Can't do that, darlin'." He shook his head almost frantically.
"Why?"
"Cos I won't be able to stop," he said frankly. "Only reason I ain't running hands all over you is cos they're on your face." And it was surprisingly nice to have them there, his thoughts completed.
"Would it be so bad not to stop?" she asked.
Something in him howled, and he closed his eyes, looking genuinely pained. More fleshly sequences flashed at lightning speed, though she saw enough to feel very intrigued.
Instinct and Reading made her think if she instigated some of them, he would change his mind.
But in amongst that flattering, startling need was genuine panic. And some Ariel thoughts. But not the bad ones – the ones that had made her forgive him. Where he had learned what the Academy had done to her. Where he had hated them for it and hated himself. Where he had wanted her to be okay.
Images of the Lost Shepherd Book also kept popping up for some reason.
In his mind, continuing now would somehow be wrong. He seemed equally surprised and annoyed by this thought. But it didn't change its surety.
So, she accepted it. "Okay, Jayne… but can we still kiss for a while?"
He smiled a smile she couldn't remember ever seeing before and drew her back in.
Zoë and Mal had seen Jayne and River flee in the opposite direction when the unexpected Alliance outpost in town had recognised her. They had tried to distract them with as much gunfire as possible, but the majority had still pursued the mercenary and the girl.
Having dispatched the few who had followed them, they returned to the Mule to wait for the duo. It had been hidden well out of sight in the grove before they'd walked into town and, with a lot of terrain to cover, the Purple-belly soldiers hadn't found it.
Night was drawing in and the temperature was already beginning to drop when they retreated inside. Even before the ruttin' rainstorm had hit they were grateful for the upgrade Kaylee had installed, meaning the Mule now sported a roof and doors.
After a few hours, they had a choice: wait there where River and Jayne knew to find them or go back to the ship. Chances of finding them out there in the pitch-black on foot were slim. And flying a ship that close to the settlement would only bring the whole outpost down on 'em. Far better chance that, come dawn, the duo would find them.
A small worm of worry squirmed through Mal's thoughts. But of all his crew Jayne and River were probably the best pair to survive – well, anythin'.
Even still, he was glad the good Doctor wasn't with them on this job; he woulda gone frantic at the separation. Caused even more trouble by racin' into the night lookin' for her when it really wasn't necessary. As it was, Simon knew the job might turn to overnight and he and Kaylee were happily critter-watching for Zoë back on Serenity.
So, the Captain and his Lieutenant slept inside the Mule and were both more than grateful for the blankets Kaylee had also lovingly stowed on-board. Even so, it was a ruttin' cold night.
They were both appropriately grumpy and crick-necked come the morning; Zoë sourly remarked that she had forgotten just how much Mal snored, and it was one thing she really didn't miss from their soldiering days. Mal accused her of insubordination, and she told him to thank himself lucky that she hadn't thrown her boot at him to make him stop.
Mal sulked then cheered himself with the thought that the other two would have likely had a much worse time of it.
When they materialised between the acacia trees, the worm of worry dissipated completely, and he prepared himself to take full sadistic pleasure in their wretched appearance.
So, he felt both cheated and deeply annoyed when the two of them were clearly well-rested, smiling away and giving off general airs of contented well-being.
Zoë, who sometimes knew him infuriatingly well, smiled amusedly, despite her own bad night. "Why, River – you almost look like you've been at a spa. You're practically glowin'!" Jayne was pulling himself into the Mule; he seated himself and resolutely looked back the way they had come, apparently checking they hadn't been followed. "Wherever you got to sleep last night, it must have been mighty, mighty comfortable." Mal glared at her.
"It was." River skipped her way over to the Mule and climbed inside, humming. She was smiling in a way that made Mal uneasy, though he couldn't say why. She turned to face them with a wide, happy grin. "And I hope to sleep there again many, many times in the future."
Jayne went into a coughing fit.
fin
Mandarin Translations:
fēngle- loopy in the head
go shi – shit
hún dàn – bastards
xiōngcan sha shǒu - ass-kicking killer