How could he have forgotten that? Jayne looked down at his hands and considered.

"Ruttin' gosa," he hissed. "You mean, dumb, sommbitch,"

Jayne never cared much for rememberin' things that weren't of immediate benefit. But even he knew this was different. It had been, he knew, his first killin'. And it had been… Lester.

Even now, though, he was struggling to remember the details. He was sitting, alone, in the bar. Randall had left him, after explaining his plan.

But Jayne hadn't really been listening. He had been far more set on drinking as much as he possibly could within the shortest time possible. To take the thoughts away. And the gorram feelings he had never had in his life and sure as hell wished he ever started havin'. His neck ached more than ever.

And what's more, he could hardly bring himself to touch Vera. She was now laying in front of him on the table, untouched. Things were looking very, very confusing. "It just don't make…no sense," he muttered to himself. He felt, he realised with a hideous, burning shame - almost tearful. "Gorram girl." he hissed.

Lester had been the kid next door. Same age, and just as uncontrollable. He was an ideal partner in crime for Jayne, who was full of energy, and only had a much smaller, sicker and more borin' brother to otherwise hang around with.

Of course when Jayne first met Lester he decided to beat on him, but after the blonde boy had smacked him a few times back with near-equal force, they had developed a grudging respect that turned to a unspoken partnership.

Over time he found out that Lester lived kinda like he did. His pa also worked at the welding factory.

Jayne's hometown was very industrialised. His own home was one of a row of identikit metal dwellings that backed onto one the biggest industrial units in theCore. It wasn't pretty – everyone was constantly filthy from the smoke and lung troubles were common – but at least his family had work. Both his pa and Lester's would do the same walk every morning to the grey, looming factory and return just before midnight stinking of metal and alcohol.

Lester's pa also beat on him of course. Most kids got beat on by their pas. It ruttin' hurt both inside and out - and Jayne himself had suffered a few broken bones over time - but it was life. It never stopped him and Lester from kickin' up the worst trouble that they could manage though whenever they got opportunity.

Lester had been the brains of the operation however. Jayne knew he personally wasn't stupid but he also knew he wasn't subtle. His solution to most problems had been to kick or kill it, and if you couldn't, run away. It seemed to work.

Lester however seemed to have the knack of getting what he wanted jus' by talkin'. Jayne had thought it kinda lame, but was also kinda impressed.

They'd been the time they stole the welder foreman's shuttle and taken it on a ride. Neither of them could pilot none, but they had learn quick enough, before dentin' it on one of the outhouses and runnin' away. The foreman had caught up with 'em and threatened to send them to the offenders camp. Jayne had prepared to beat the guy to shut him up – even at eleven he'd been big. But Lester had jus' come up with the most convincin' story about how they'd been nowhere near the scene and who the hell did the guy think he was wasn't Lester's dad one of his best workers din't they have some big important job on. Amazin'ly, the foreman'd left it alone.

But there had been more than scrapes. There had been the time when Jayne had really had a bad kickin' from his old man and could hardly see. He'd gone off in a rage and ended up fallin' through one of the old wells in the disused factory they often messed about in and had bust a leg. He laid there three days before they found him.

Well – Lester had found him. His ma said the boy'd visited every one of the hundred gorram haunts that the boys had together tryin' to find him. He'd even roamed at night and missed more than a fewmeals.

"He din't rest, boy," Jayne's ma had tearfully said later as she had patched up her son's latest wounds. "I'm glad you got someone who looks out f'you. 'Cos you're a gorram ape who's gonna get himsel' killed one day. You need him."

When Jayne had asked him why he'd bothered - he was particul'ly confused as to why Lester missed mealson his account - Lester had jus' said it was the "right thing". "You'd'a done the same," he'd said, simply, as he'd picked the wings off yet another flyin' beetle.

Jayne remembered even now the vague sense of confusion he'd felt at those words. Would he? Afterall, what Lester'd done din't make sense. If a man's time was up, it was time, was Jayne's take on things. Wasn't no man's business to change the way o' fate. Or to put himsel' on the line. Whyrisk two men when you could only lose one?

But as he reasoned, Jayne's mind flicked back for an instant to Stitch Hessian. "You protect the man you're with -- you watch his back! Everybody knows that -- 'cept the 'hero of Canton.'."…

A few days later, Jayne's had shot Lester square in the head.

He flopped on the floor like a gorram rag, and then there'd been nothin' but the wind through the trees and a strange feelin' o' floatin'.

It had been accidental. The actual details were sketchy, but it had happened in one of the authority-planted forests up on the hill. Jayne had been runnin' . He's been jumpy about sumthin', some kind of scare…..he'd been sweatin'. He couldn't remember. And for some reason he had a gorram pistol, kinda like the little silver one he'd lent River.

So when Lester had surprised him, he's reacted in the way that he always reacted. With force.

Lester's folks had been down on him after that. He'd spent a while at offenders, where he got a few more bones broke but learnt a few new tricks.

And then he got the hell out of that crap-heel town and that drunken old snake of a pa as fast as he ruttin' well could when he figured he could make a livin' using his skills.

Jayne had thought a few times about the boy in the early years. They'd been a few strange times. He'd done some strange things. But he'd got mean.He'd eventually managed to push it out of his mind. It din't serve no purpose thinkin' on a situation you couldn't change.

But now, as he sat at his table, rubbing his neck, Jayne felt like he was standin' on the edge of a big black hole and peerin' in. Because as much as he told himsel' what had happened had happened, there was still a hint of sumthin' about it that he knew wasn't right.

Never good enough..

Jayne bowed his head. There ain't no one you can trust like that when you stop bein' a kid, he thought. Because when you stop bein' a kid it gets different and confusin'. And the only things people understand are the smell o' money or the pinch of a gun.

People like him.

Jayne grabbed the bowl in front of him. He then began to quietly sing, in a angry, bitter voice: "He robbed from the rich, and gave to the poor, stood up to the Man, and gave him what for…."