Jayne sat under the tree trunk and picked the last leg off the beetle. He peered at its black shiny body and watched, fascinated, as the tiny thing's life ebbed away.

He was eleven years old, and hidin'. Lester would never gorram find him though, he knew, because when it came to hidin' Jayne was the best. He knew how to cover his tracks. Lester was a gorram monkey butt and when he saw him next he was gonna punch him.

Lester was his favourite kid in town. He liked to kill beetles to an' stuff like that. But he was also good to punch, Jayne thought. Sometimes he punched back - but that was okay too.

Punchin' was fun.

Flash.

Jayne was running, fast, through the trees. All he could hear was the thumping of his heart in his ears. His face was wet.

He stopped. Looked down at his hands. They were covered in –

Flash.

"Found ya, gorram ape." Lester's voice.

Lester, standing in front of the tree trunk. No shoes. Blonde, dirty.

Jayne, standing. Bigger.

"You jus' got lucky. Anyways I meant ya to find me. Bored."

"Wanna go set fire to sumthin'?"

"Yeah, why not,"

Laughter.

Flash

Lester, pale and cold. No shoes.

Blonde, dirty.

Bloody.

Jayne's eyes flicked open. He peered around the unfamiliar, rented Persephone room, but saw nothing. It was pitch black, and he was alone.

"River," he said, to the air.

Meanwhile, across the city, Mal looked across and Zoe and groaned. They were sitting in Serenity's galley, with a bottle of brandy between them.

"So what you're saying is," he said, "that just when I've lost my Companion and my muscle, I may now at any moment by killed by a ruttin' teenage girl..?"

"Well, sir, not any moment," she replied, as she placed her hands on the table. "From what she said – and she wasn't that coherent - you have to attack her first. I guess the idea when she was, well, built, was that this would protect whoever made from her acting of her own mind. Which you'd want to ensure if she really was gorram deadly. If you think about it…it's kinda…clever. In a sick, evil way."

Mal looked up: "But can she really do as she says? I mean, it may be that she's mistakin' what she thinks she can do."

Zoe pondered. "I don't know, sir.But Igotta admit I was confused as to why Jayne chose to shoot thatbeast with no more than a toy pistol. I mean, I remember he only ever bought that gun 'cos he thought it made Vera look even bigger. He never used it."

She continued: "And we got Kaylee's story about Niska. We can't be sure if that wasn't luck, but there's questions here - and her story provides answers."

Mal leaned forward, and poured himself another glass of the brown liquor. This is far from shiny, he thought.

He picked up the glass and downed it.

Presently, he asked: "You've not told the others?"

"Nope. No more'n I have about Jayne. I figured I'd wait until we knew his mind. But now I'm wondering if we should say nuthin' about nuthin' until we decide what to do. The rest might not feel too safe knowing we have a real live weapon on board - and one less man able to shoot it."

Mal nodded. "Yeah. Well to be sure I ain't feelin' too safe myself. I mean. It sounds likes she really believes she's a danger to us. And as much as I like her and the Doc - this changes the whole deal. Unless we can be sure she's no risk to us…" he fixed Zoe a look; "Well…."

Zoe's lips pressed together. "But where would they go, sir? You know as well as I do the only chance they got at avoidin' the Feds is to keep movin'. And for that they need wings. And people who are prepared to look out for 'em. Protect 'em. Lie for 'em."

She looked across at Mal, with an expression of guarded emotion. "What I'm tryin' to say, sir, is that they got lucky finding us. You. Are they really gonna find any other crew as accommodatin'?

Mal frowned, and gazed down into his empty glass.

"For now, we stay put. I need to think."

This day keeps getting worse, he thought to himself.

I wish Inara was here.

Jayne looked across at Randall and grunted.

"So, you old coot, if you want my skills you'll jus' have to pay like everyone else. You don't get no discount jus' cos of family, an' all."

The two men were sitting at a table in the same bar as their last meeting with Mal. Jayne, as ever, had Vera balanced in his lap. He was feelin' tired and grumpy from another fitful nights sleep. Too much confusin' stuff, people and names he didn't recognise…..it din't make no sense. And occasionally River's face. And body.

The tender eyed Jayne nervously from the corner.

Randall sat back in his chair, his booted feet hitched up onto the table, and a laser rifle in his grasp. He was peering under his hat at the younger man.

His eyes moved slowly from Jayne's gun,lingered onhis chest, and then settled on his face.

Finally he said: "How much?"

"Te…twelve percent, minimum."

"You're a lying dog," Randall smiled, coolly. "I'll give you ten, which I guess is what Mal had you for."

Jayne glowered. He raised a hand to his chest. The wound was now finally healing, but it was still smartin'. It wasn't addin' to his mood.

Randall continued: "But are you sure you want the work? You've not even asked what line I'm in yet. S'been a long time since I seen any of the Cobbs, including those who gave you that godawful name."

Jayne sneered. "Careful, old man. 'Cos at the moment I don't know or like you none. I ain't seen you since I was a kid, so you're jus' another man to me, buddy."

Randall peered at him though small, dark eyes, but said nothing.

The merc continued: "Mal said you were a merchant. I'm figurin' you need someone to 'support' your gettin' paid."

"Well, you guessed right. I do...other stuff too though. So it ain't all jus' beatins, although from what I remember of you that's your favourite part. I guess that comes from all the practice you've had. Hell, but that's why you pa called you Jayne anyway. I mean, with that name, you're a mean target!"

At this point, he let out a throaty, hawking laugh. He then raised a hand to his head and removed his hat, revealing a dark, hairless head. He had the same angle of jaw as Jayne, but being older, his skin sagged slightly around his jowls.

Anysense of him being in the calming twilight of his life was killed however by the vibrant, gleaming scarlet scar across his face, which looked almost new. He was big and bent, grey and old – but still, patently, capable of war.

"Yeah, your pa got the idea for that from some old folk song," said the uncle. "He knew he's been too drunk or workin' too long hours to bring you up proper so he found a way of toughening you up without tryin'. Even for him, pretty cunnin'!"

Jayne looked at Randall, blankly.

Slowly theuncle dropped his smile.Then he asked:"Do you remember my visits when you were a kid?".

Jayne pondered. "Not really. A few times I guess. I don't really think too much o' home. Send a few credits back once in a while, for Matty, who's sick, y' know, but gen'raly….well, I got no cause to think of it."

Randall's eyes narrowed. "Yeah, well I guess you got bad mem'ries anyway, what with the boy."

Jayne looked up. "What gorram boy?" But as he asked it he felt a pulse of pain shoot through his neck.

Wanna set fire to sumthin'?

"Well, hell, Jayne, that gorram friend o' yours. You know, the one you killed. Hell, even I remember that. I mean I was away at the time but your mama told me all about –"

"I never shot no boy," Jayne interrupted. "I killed a lot of men in my life but I never killed no kid. That ain't right. " A bolt of rage surged through him.

Ya gorram ape.

"Now lets' get one thing straight," replied Randall, as quick as a flash he lifted his gun and held it point blank at Jayne's face. "Call me a liar again and you're gonna die."

Jayne started and looked down the barrels. "But you're talking gosa, old man. I never.."

Jayne stopped.

Lester.

He paled. His stomach turned.

He closed his eyes and River's voice rang out in his head. Never good enough…

Randall watched Jayne's carefully. He smiled. "You jus' remembered. Huh? Well whaddya know, seems Jayne Cobbs' so gorram hard-headed he forgits about everyone eventually. Now that's a rare nerve."

He continued: "So it seems you're my kinda guy. And things are gonna work out. You see I like that boat of your last Captain's. And I'm of a mind to take it."