Mal looked down Vera's barrels and considered his options. Something had gone very wrong.
Jayne looked terrible, to begin with. The small patch of blood that he had seen on his chest was now beginning to drizzle down toward's the mercenary's ribs and waist. As a result, the big man was looking increasingly pale, sweaty - andit had to besaid, a wee bitbug-housed.
But really, if truth had been told, Mal was more worried about the big damn gun that was currently threatening to propel his brains to space in a scarlet firework display. Still, he figured, it was only a matter of time before…..
Jayne tottered to one side, then another. Mal looked hopeful. Jayne steadied.
Mal grimaced.
"Okay," barked the mercenary. "You think you're better than me, eh? Call yoursel' a Captain? Well tell me then why you ain't got a clue what the hell you got on board. Why you don't realise it'sthe smartest, most terrible gorram weapon in the whole damn world!"
Great, thought Mal, Jayne's on another ego trip. "But I do, you gorram dumbass," he replied, which simultaneously wondering whether such insults were wise at this point. "Which is why I pay you 10 percent and cope with ruttin' tantrums like this one. Now sit the hell down, soldier, and that's an order."
Mal of course certainly didn't expect Jayne to listen to him. He had seen him lose his temper like this before and it normally took at least a few minutes before he came back down to earth. So he was more than a little surprised as the merc's face suddenly changed from his normal look on these occasions ofgrim violence - to a mild desperation. He slightly lowered Vera, and said, with a slightly wavering voice:"I don't mean…you gorram cows-brain. Why is it everyone on this ruttin' boat is a stupid as a purplebelly?"
His eyes continued to scan Mal's face. But the Captain got the distinct impression that somehowJayne was looking through, rather than at, him. He sensed a chance of escape.
He sensed wrong. Jayne's eyes refocused, and narrowed. "Don't try it," he hissed. The desperation had gone as quickly as it had come. The grim rage was back. The merc's trigger finger tensed, worryingly.
Mal felt his buttocks tighten. Okay, he thought – this is not going to be as straightforward as normal. He peered into Jayne's dark face,seeking answers. Had he lost it? Was he sick? Or was this somethin' else?
Either way, he was gonna find out.
"Okay now. Jayne, listen to me," he began, raisinghis hands in surrender, "If you haven't noticed, you're bleedin' again, and a fair amount. So you probably ain't feelin' too good. Which is okay, in one way, as it explains why you're currently in danger of blowing my head off, but in other ways ain't okay - as you may well blow my head off. But before you do, I suggest you let the Doc look you over, to save you makin' the wrong choice."
Somehow, the brute heard him through his red haze. Jayne's face slipped back into desperation again. "S' true. I ain't feelin' quite so hot. But I had sumthin' to say…" he murmured.
For a second, Jayne tilted his head to one side, as if considering his next move.
Then, he lowered his arm, took two steps back, and sat down on the edge of Mal's bunk. Vera dropped between his feet.
"But now I'm here I just can't be gorram bothered," he sighed.
After the mercenary had left River's room, he had decided straight away that he was gonna tell Mal the truth about her condition. That she was, in his gorram opinion, a big risk. Afterall he had seen it with hiw onw ruttin' eyes. But just in case Mal didn't believe him however, and also because he was in a foul mood, he decided to take some persuasion. Hence he had picked up Vera on the way.
But now that he sat here, with the knowledge about the girl burning a hole in his head, and her words and the wound a hole in his chest, he realised that he just couldn't see what the hell gorram profit any of this had for him anyway. When it came down to it, at that gorram moment, he didn't care what she was and what she did, and whether anyone knew about it. And to be honest, it was all beginnin' to get a mite confusin' and complicated whereas before it had all looked so simple.
So instead, he looked up, and announced: "Mal, I'm sick of this. When we hit Persephone, I'm out."
Mal had until this point been admiring the feeling that was now retuning to his buttocks. But he returned quickly to reality as he took in Jayne's words.
"Is that what this is all about? You hate your job? 'Cos there's really much more effective ways of getting' employer recognition that tryin' to kill the boss," he replied.
"Yeah, well, I don't give a ruttin' dogs-ass for any of it anymore, I ain't built to be stuck in this tiny tin can," grunted Jayne.
This wasn't true of course. Jayne had been quite happy with life until – well, a few seconds a go, give or take a few minor points. But then she had spoken. He'd of course had much worse insults. It had just been that, she had said it with such conviction. Such force. Somehow it had hit a mark that he hadn't realised he had.
The truth was, however, that Jayne had always had that mark. But it had been a target that he'd buried, long ago. It wasn't something he could remember though, because it was something his mind had worked hard to forget.
But although he hadn't conciously realised it, her words had shaken it loose. Unearthed it. And now, in the darkest, dampest, coldest cellars of Jayne's mind – a trapdoor had opened. And something very old, and very ugly, was peering out.
Jayne reached up a hand to his neck. He hadn't realised up until then, but it was gorram stiff as hell. His eyes also looked down at the small pool of blood that was also collecting around his feet - and worse, Vera's barrels. He suddenly came to.
He looked up at Mal: "Gorram it, Mal, I think you're right. I'm sick. I'm gonna go get myself sorted out." He stood up to go.
"And then I'm gonna pack my things."
Mal waved his hands in frustration. "Whoah, whoah. Okay, you turn up, put a gun to my head, say you're leavin', and that's it? No explanation of the…violence, at least?"
Jayne leaned to one side. His chest really was hurtin' some.
"I jus' got mad. I'm sorry. You can airlock me if you like. But I'd much rather if you jus' let me off at Persephone. I won't be no more trouble," he said.
"But why the sudden decision?" asked Mal. It was suddenly dawning on him that actually, despite the big dumbass's obvious poor temperament given that he was bleedin' like a pig - and gos knows what else - he was actually serious about going. Momentarily, his mind flashed to Inara.
It's all fallin' apart, thought Mal.
"Nothin' sudden," replied the big mercenary. "I've been getting' mightly scratchy. It's jus' been gettin' harder to cope with. I ain't meant to be in a team for too long. So - it's time."
Mal took a step forward. "Look, Jayne, let's at least talk about it. If it's a question of money, then perhaps we can come to a deal. I think you know in terms of this boat – I need you. Serenity needs you. Despite you gorram meat-headed tendencies and your ability to make me - on occasion -want you dead, you're the best ruttin' shooter and tracker I've ever met."
Jayne looked at Mal out of the corner of his eye. A dull pulse of interest passed through him at the thought of extra money. But somehow, as he stood there in that moment of time -it just didn't seem worth it.The girl was a psycho,but she'd just bothered him in a way he'd never been bothered before - and he wanted to get away from that gorram feelin' as quickly as possible. It made him feel - postal, and not in a good way. "No, " he replied. "No deal."
Mal was shocked. This was worse than he imagined. "Well at least give me a chance to talk to you properly. It's just not ruttin' fair to just leave me in the lurch, especially now I've got this job lined up. At least help me find someone else. If not for me – for the others. For Kaylee."
Mal knew he had to hit a soft spot there. He had always recognised the slight affection the merc had for the mechanic.
Jayne stood, for a moment, and considered. "Okay," he said, finally. "We can talk. But not on this ship. I'm gonna go back to my bunk now and I'm not comin' out 'til we hit the gorram Core. Then I'm goin' out for a few days to clear my head. After - we can talk. Over a drink.And you can pay. "
And then with that, he raised a heavy arm to the ladder and heaved himself out, leaving Mal standing in the centre of his room, alone.
Jayne slammed his head against the headboard let out a gasp. His back and thighs arched back, shuddering with the last, strong pulses of his orgasm. He pushed hard against the moaning body beneath him. And then slowly, as the pulses calmed and then gently disappeared - he relaxed.
That was good, he thought, as he slowly recovered. But still…not quite good enough.
He looked down. Directly beneath him, lay a whore, her legs wrapped tightly around his haunches. She was slightly older than him, but still handsome, in a comfortable, fleshy way. She was, at that moment, smiling broadly.
"Well hell,that Captain o' yours been keepin' you in the black too long," she said, as she rubbed a hand enthusiastically across thehot, damp chest muscles that werepeeking over the Jayne's bandages."You're a gorram machine!" She let out a low, satisfied sigh.
Smiling momentarily, Jayne recovered his breath. He unlocked himself from the slippery grasp of her legs, pulled away and lowered himself back down beside her on the bed. He held his hand to his chest wound as he laid back, grimacing slightly with the pain.
Normally he felt tired, but pleasantly satisfied after sex, especially with this whore. She was his favorite in thisPersephone whorehouse. Buthe was irritated to find that he felt only marginally less tense. He raised a hand to his neck, which was still aching. What the hell was that, he thought.
Glancing across at the whore however, he cheered momentarily to see the content look on her face. At least she was happy. He turned his head towards her, and said gruffly: "Yeah, well. It's a talent o' mine." As soon as the words were out of his mouth however, a knot of anxiety gripped his stomach. His memory flashed back to River's cold eyes. Never good enough…
His neck ached even more. He looked again at the whore, pensively. He was horrified to hear a tremble in his voice as he then half-asked: "I mean, you seemed to enjoy it."
The woman raised herself onto her elbows, and looked at him with slight surprise. Then she reached out and slapped his shoulder, playfully with her hand. "Of course, you big ape. At least a girl gets her Christmases when Cobb comes to town!"
Her big brown eyes looked genuine, thought Jayne. But as he grunted his reply, he knew his tone was unconvincing: "Yeah, and best you remember it, woman."
What the hell was goin' on? He thought to himself. Bad enough that I'm lookin' to start over again, that I'm losin' my ruttin' nerve as well.
He sat up, and sighed heavily. Then, he lifted his naked self up from the bed and moved towards a wash table that stood unsteadily in the corner of the room. Grasping the water jug upon it, he poured most of into contents into the table bowl, and proceeded to start splashing himself in the face and chest. The coolness refreshed him.
Perhaps he just needed a real rest, he reasoned. The past few months had been tough and well, however you looked at it, he wasn't gettin' any younger. And maybe bein' cooped up in that boat had been gettin' to him as well. Either way, it couldn't jus' be the girl that was makin' him feel so unsettled.
Well, he continued, I made my bed now either way. I'm back on my own and I'm my own master. The best way to be. Simpler.
Meanwhile, the woman remained in bed, watching him. A ray of light from the window suddenly flashed out, and centred on his back. It revealed the thin trickles of water that were now running from his tanned, taut shoulders, over the bandages, and into the small of his back. As gorram god made men, he's a real beauty, despite all of the scars,thought the whore. And then, with pragmatic shrug - shame they're not all like that.
Presently, she spoke.
"So how's about you tellin' me what her name is then?"
Jayne stopped splashing his face for a second. "You wha'?".
"Her name," she said. "Because as much of a brute that you are, lover, you ain't never been so angry as that before. Hell, I was strugglin' to hang on!" At which point she let out a warm, throaty laugh. "And also, in all the time I've known you honey, you also ain't ever asked me whether I had fun. Which makes it as clear as day. Jayne Cobb's gone and got himself thinkin' some, on a woman! It's the only reason why a man gets mad and questionin' that way."
Jayne turned around to face her. "Gorram it Loretta, I paid for the fuck - not for motivational speakin'."
As he spat out the words, he gave her his most threatening, glowing look. But she was utterly unperturbed. Loretta had seen men just as hard and tough as this onemewl like babies in her arms. She was unafraid.
She replied, in a kindly, teasing way: "Yeah, well if I really believed that honey, I'd wouldn't just but a whore, but a stupid one. You don't ever pay just for a fuck, otherwise you wouldn't come back to me every time you pass this way. You'd just take the quickest and cheapest."
Jayne looked at her, uncomprehending.
She sighed. "You gorram cow-brain. You're a lunk but you really ain't got too much brains when it comes to real feelins. Not even your own! Listen. In my experience, there's two types of men. The ones who want sex, and the ones who want it - with a bit of care. And you, my love, are one o' the latter."
He shrugged his shoulders, and went back to washing. Were all women ruttin' mad?
"Yeah, honey, you ignore me," she continued. "It don't matter because next time you're in town - you'll come back."
Jayne merely grunted, signalling his disinterest. At which point, a moment silence fell over the room, as Loretta's face settled onto a wistful, maternal look. Jayne flashed a look across at the clock on the table. He had an hour to meet Mal. He din't have time for this gosa.
Meanwhile, with a slow grace of a woman at ease with her body, Loretta rose up and moved towards him. As she drew close, she laid a hand on his flank, and started to stroke. Her hand brushed from his shoulder down to his ribs, and then back.
Jayne said nothing. But he stopped washing and gazed at his reflection in the cracked mirror, that was barely hanging onto the wall.
"I know it's hard," she said, simply. "I know you've killed you more than your share. But you ain't got a friend in the world. 'Cos in your line of work, you can't. And what's the point, anyway - it don't pay to have roots, right? And it probably suits most of the time. But not always," she stressed. "And after a time it suits less and less. And it's been suitin' you less and less, ain't it honey? Am I right?"
Jayne lowered his head and grunted: "Gorram it, woman, will you stop yer yammerin."
But unlike just moments before, there was no fight in his voice, and he didn't move from where he stood. He didn't shift away from her touch.
"Why not take the advice of an aging whore, who's startin' to get a bit too gorram sentimental. Accept how you feel and get on with it. 'Cos a man like you only got so much time to find out what he really wants. Before he's layin' in the earth."