Mal stood on Serenity's ramp, and looked across the teeming vista of the docks, in the light, scudding rain. Time was runnin' out, he knew. Truth was, he didn't want to make a decision about the Tams no more than he wanted to leave Persephone and….Inara.
Inara?
Suddenly his eyes caught a glimpse of her in the crowd. His heart leapt. Her dark hair was flying loose around her head. She was running.
Running? Well that weren't too ladylike, he thought. And then, nervously….maybe she's…runnin for me…?
She was at the foot of the ramp now. She was carrying her long, lustrous skirts in her hands. But she'd lost her shoes. Her feet were muddy. She almost fell into him, gasping.
"Mal!" she cried. She grabbed his arms.
"Ina.." he started.
"You gotta come.," she continued. "Sumthin's very wrong with Jayne."
For a second, Mal paused. She'd never looked so beautiful.
"Zoe!" he yelled.
Mal, Inara and Zoe arrived on the scene only minutes later. They had to fight through a gathered crowd, but when they did - they found Jayne and Randall wrestling in the mud, limbs flying. Punching, kicking and gouging.
Jayne's thigh was already smoking from a laser wound. He had also taken several injuries to the face. Randall's own face however was little more than a bloody pulp. Both had lost grip on their weapons. Vera was lying on her side, just out of reach.
The henchmen were stuck rigidly in place. They seemed unsure as to what to do.
Jayne rolled over on top of the old man and started punching him repeatedly in the head. Mal's face wrinkled in horror as he heard the crunch of bone. As Jayne's hand came up, he saw it was strained red to the wrist.
Mal turned to Zoe: "What the hell's goin' on?"
Zoe's mouth parted. "Not sure sir. But - " She gestured towards one of the henchmen, who had finally decided to raise his gun against Jayne.
Mal raised his. "Careful," he shouted. The man narrowed his eyes, but lowered his weapon.
Jayne brought a fist down, and let out a terrible, animalistic cry. "He was onl' a gorram BOY!"
The whole crowd shuddered.
The merc'seyes flickered. Images flashed through his head.
He'd been running through the wood, pistol in hand. He'd stolen it from his pa. He'd had a plan to go shootin' birds to practise his aim.But as he went past the clearing he heard a noise. He stopped.
He caught a glimpse of Lester's profile. Pleased, he went to call out. But there was another voice.
"You ruttin' piece of GOSA!" Crunch.
Jayne peered around. His uncle Randall had been visiting that week. Both him and Lester were sitting on a fallen trunk.
"I weren't runnin' away from anythin' that day….."
Lester seemed upset. Randall put an arm around the boy's shoulders. Lester shrank. But then he smiled, nervously.
Jayne'd felt strange.
"I was runnin' to – I was gonna tell 'em what you really were.."
And then Lester had looked up. Caught his eye. Randall didn't see. Gave him that look.
Jayne'd pulled away. Retched. Started to run.
"But he din't want me to. He din't want it." Jayne's voice cracked. He started to sob.
Runnin' down the pathway. His hand on the pistol. Then footsteps right behind. Turning. Shoot.
"You made me shoot him you bastard. You made me."
The afterwards, sitting. Mutterin. Cryin. I din't see. I didn't see nuthin'. I din't see nuthin.'
"And now you're gonna DIE."
Jayne lunged across for Vera. However, just as he got a grip on her she slipped from his wet, bloody hands. Randall grabbed his chance, and rolled free.
Just before he reached for his own rifle however, he hesitated. Turning his mashed face to Jayne, he started to speak.
His words were muffled and slurred. But still no less vicious.
"I din't make you. You did it yoursel'. Why'd you think he was with me anyway. No one else gorram really cared for him."
He spat blood. "Yeah, he knew it. Not even his ruttin' so-called friend."
Jayne's hand finally grasped on Vera. He rolled on one side and caught the old man point blank in the head. Randall let out a wheeze - and died.
The crowd was deadly silent. A moment passed.
Jayne then fell back into the mud, and raised his eyes to the sky.