AUTHOR'S NOTE: Okay, sorry to anyone who's depressed, but it's about to get a bit more upsetting and a bit violent because I gotta break Jayne's defences down. So without giving the game away to much, if you've ever suffered any type of familial abuse I suggest you bear that in mind before reading on.
"For gorram's sake, boy, I thought you were a ruttin' professional. This is not what I call professin'," barked Randall.
Jayne stirred slightly from his slumber.His unclewas standing in the doorway of his dank, rented room, gun in hand, hat on head. He strode in, pulled back the curtains and looked out of the window. The mid-morning light bathed the room in a yellow glow - almost making it look attractive.
"Gorram it, Ran, I need t' rest," groaned Jayne from his bed. "I ain't be a' bed for more than three hours."
"So I hear," said Randall, in an icy tone. "D'you really think it's the wisest way for a man to carry hisself, getting' bust up on wood alcohol in this town? When there's no doubt already twenty men at least gunnin' for your head."
"Yeah, well when I wan' your opinion Ran - I'll ask fer it," came the reply. "I got things on my mind."
The old man's eye twitched in irritation. He turned and moved over to where Jayne was laying. He cocked his head and looked him over. Jayne was spreadeagled across the tiny bed, with little more than a grimy sheet covering him over. His feet were hanging well off the end.
"I remember you when you were a boy. You were a spry young thing," said Randall, his eyes scanning the merc's wide, muscular back.
He paused for a minute before adding: "But I kicked your ass then an' I'll do it agin. So get the hell up offa that pit 'cos we got that job to do. We're takin' that ruttin' Firefly for scrap, those pieces are worth a mint on the black market. Those ships jus' keep goin' and goin'. I'll be waitin' for ya at mine, on the hour."
And with that, he turned and strode back out of the room, his coat tails flying.
Later, Jayne wandered into Randall's as arranged. He looked around however, surprised to find the old man was a yet not there. So instead, he sat down heavily in one of the chairs in his front room, lowered Vera on his lap, and prepared to wait for a time. He growled. Jayne had a head on him like a bear.
He realised he hadn't even started thinkin' about this job. Truth be told, he'd not thought too much about anythin' of late for the fact of his head already bein' full of all kinds of strange thoughts that, unlike any other time, he seemed unable to shake off.
Like that maybe he shouldn't been so quick with the gun that time.
"You protect the man you're with -- you watch his back! Everybody knows that."
Jayne reached up and rubbed his neck. He wasn't sure if hittin' on his old Captain was really sumthin' he felt like doin'. At least, until he felt a bit more like his ol' self. When all he had t' think about was when to eat and what to shoot at and which whorehouse was next on the horizon.
I mean, Mal had been pretty reasonable when he left him, he figured. The superior cows-ass had actually been pretty understandin' about lettin' him go what with Ran bein' his uncle an' all. Also, his mind flashed to the crew.
They were okay, the lot of 'em, more or less.
Kaylee was sweet as a nut. He'd never met no one so gorram upbeat and smily. He liked it.
Book was a preacher, so naturally fine – even if he did have a strange way about him.
Zoe and Inara stood their own ground. He din't care too much for Wash, on the grounds of him talkin' too much, but he flew well enough.
And the Doctor was stuck up - but at least useful.
And the girl.
In many ways, the most useful o' them all. A real surprise. Sweet as Kaylee but as mean as Zoe. Graceful, with big eyes that do all the talkin' you really need to know. And useful to have around when a gorram beast leaps out at you in the woods. Small enough to want to protect - but big enough to protect you right back.
The rest of the crew had no idea just how original she really was, he thought. Especially that patronisin' brother o' hers. Of course,Jayne was still mad as hell at her for the words they'd had, but the way he was feelin' at the time he had a mind to agree with what she said.
He weren't no good.
He was smart with a gun, sure – but still a sommbitch. Accident or not, he'd done him in when the kid had just gone an' saved his ruttin' life.
No. The girl had been right. She'd seen right through him. Jus' like all those times before, like on Ariel. She could still be a mean-talkin little bitch - but a truthful one. It was time, he realised, that he faced up to it.
Well, maybe. He sighed. "I really gotta find me a beer."
Seconds after he spoke,he heard the squeak of door hinges. Expecting Randall to appear, he glanced into the door's direction – so was surprised to see it open only a few inches, and a small eye peer out.
As he looked on curiously, the door opened just an inch wider, and the one eye became two. Eyes, it turned out, that belonged to a young kid.
The kid looked at him with a strange expression. He had what Jayne easily recognised as beat bruises on his face. But there was sumthin' funny about his eyes. Like he wanted to speak but couldn't quite bring himsel' to say anything. But he looked ruttin' scared.
Jayne felt a shoot of pain go down his neck. Suddenly, he saw Lester's face. With the same expression. Standing across the other side of one of the clearings in that old authority woodland. Eyes that spoke to him.
Don't tell no one. Don't say nuthin'.
Jayne opened his mouth to speak to the boy. But just as he did, Randall swept into the room. The door slammed shut.
The merc swivelled his head round to his uncle. But Randall was lookin' across at the door in a suspicious way, as if he wasn't quite sure if he's seen it open. He then glanced at Jayne, guardedly.
"What you jus' see?" he demanded.
"Jus' a kid. Belong to you?"
Randall regarded Jayne for a minute. He then said, simply: "Yeah."
"And?"
"And nuthin'. Now come on, and get your gorram gun. Mal's still in dock, so we're payin' him a visit."
Randall went to move towards the door. However, Jayne stayed put. He had a confused expression on face.
The old man stopped, and looked back over.
"What the hell is it? Are you comin' or not?"
Jayne carried on staring at the wall.
"Jayne?" Randall's voice rose with impatience. "We only got so much ruttin' time. I got five men outside who charge by the gorram hour and we're wastin' minutes."
Slowly, the merc rose to his feet.
He turned to Randall and gave a strange smile. But his eyes weren't smiling.
"Sure. Lead the way."
The old man looked at the merc for a second. And then he turned and swept out into the street. Jayne, hitching Vera onto his shoulders, followed.
They'd walked about a hundred yards, Jayne, Randall, and the five other henchmen in tow when the uncle stopped in his tracks. Around them, the streets were teeming with people. Almost naturally however passers-by moved out of their way,as if sensing their intent.
Randall turned to Jayne and asked: "You sure you're up to this?"
The merc jarred his head to one side, and cricked his neck. "Sure. I'm lookin' forward to it." Again though, when he spoke, his voice had a slightly menacing tone. "Havin' second thoughts yoursel'?"
"No."
"Good."
The pair then regarded each other for a moment.
Presently, Randall began to speak. "Why is it then, Jayne Cobb. I'm getting' some mighty strange vibes comin' from you right now?"
Jayne stared at his uncle. His jaw clenched.
"I don't rightly know, uncle." He spat the words.
Jayne then took a step towards the old man. Overhead, the sky started to darken.
"You're mad, ain'tcha," said Randall. "Mad at me for bringin' up the past."
"Oh no, sir, I ain't. In fact," said Jayne, stepping again closer to the old man. "I'm mighty pleased your brought up the whole subject,"
Randall shifted uncomfortably. He looked at Jayne. His face was set in a pale, resolute mask. Yet there were spots of water in his eyes.The five henchmen around him looked confused. They started to look at one another in alarm. This was mighty strange.
"Well, I don't know why. Seemed to me you were happier when you din't remember," said the old guy. And then, with steel in his voice; "It ain't every day a man remembers he killed an unarmed boy."
Jayne didn't flinch. He simply said, threateningly: "Yeah well - turns out that I remember a whole lot more about that gorram day."
Randall's hand snaked towards the laser rifle on his hip. As he did so, the first drops of rain started to fall from the sky. Somewhere, there was a low rumble of thunder.
"I'm jus' surprised that you don't," added Jayne, his voice cracking. "You evil. Godless. SOMMBITCH."
Randall's went for his rifle, just as Jayne – lunging forward with a movement both fluid and fast - slammed Vera's stock as hard as he could into the old man's face.