""Scuse me sir – but are you gorram mad?"
Zoe looked incredulously at her Captain. They were sitting in the galley finishing off the bottle of brandy as a mid-evening nightcap.
"Jayne ain't changin'," she continued. "He's just getting worse. Before, he was self-centred and selfish. Now he's gorram self-pityin' as well. From where I'm sitting', that's no improvement."
At which point, she picked up her glass, downed it, and set the tumbler back on the table with a bang.
Mal had been sitting back, peering at his fingernails, his face locked in an expression of annoyance. When Zoe had finished talking however, he lowered his hands and gave her a levelled glare. "Okay, well how do you explain not tellin' on the girl about her powers? Or killin' the old guy?"
Zoe shook her head. "Well, how about him not tellin' us about the girl when she may well be a threat? Or the fact he already admitted he was on his way with Randall to take Serenity? And what about lyin' over the cat? You gotta admit, there's just as many black as gold stars here."
Mal considered. As ever, Zoe was grounding him. And, he had to admit, she had a point.
"The thing is, sir," she added, "You look for the positive in him because somehow you can't face up to what he really is. A lyin', black, dog."
"No," replied Mal. " You're right in a way. We don't know exactly what's been in his mind, and he sure ain't no angel. But – I talked to him today, Zoe – not you. I've seen enough in my time to know when there's sumthin' goin' on. So have you."
"Yessir. But I also know we get things wrong. Look at Tracey, " came the reply. Mal's eyes locked into hers.
A moment passed.
Presently, Mal resumed, coolly: "Look, you're right to be concerned. But the fact remains that he's one of the best mercs around, and I want to keep him."
Zoe sighed, tipped back on her chair, and raised her legs onto the table.
After a while she said: "Sir, have you considered that maybe his best days are actually over? Seems from what you say he's havin' some guilt about how things have gone before. In which case, whose to say he's even gonna want to follow that path anymore?"
"Which is exactly why I gotta get it through his thick skull that whatever the hell he did weren't his beef, and within the next two weeks."
"But sir – how can you be sure it wasn't?" Zoe looked questioningly at Mal.
"What do you mean?"
Zoe reached for the brandy bottle, poured herself a new glass, and resumed drinking.
"Maybe he's feelin' guilty, because he has means to. We all like to give a man a break, sir, especially when he's down. But at the end of the day, you should know as well as any o' us, that just because a man feels bad he don't deserve what he gets."
She knocked back the last few dregs. "Jayne's done some bad things in his time, Captain. Maybe it's just desserts."
Jayne leaned his head over River's shoulder and gasped. She was propped up against the washboard in his bunk, her legs wrapped around the backs of his thighs. Her own head was tipped back, her eyes closed.Like him, she was catching her breath after the exertion.
It was the third time that night she had felt himcome within her.
She had once again managed to slip away from Simon – but unlike the night before, had appeared in his bunk with no plans to sleep away their time. Within seconds of arriving in his room, she had pressed her lips against his, and pushed him back onto his bunk. Her near frantic-energy had surprised and once again invigorated him. He had responded without question.
Just as her however, Jayne had also planned more for the evening. But, for the first time in his life,it involved conversation. As the girl uncoiled herself from him, dragging her eyes unwillingly from his own, he caught her arm and began to speak.
"When were you plannin' on mentionin' Bisonville?" he asked. He was surprised to hear his tone betrayed not only his vulnerability – which he knew, in his present state, was at times proving hard to conceal – but also took on a slightly accusatory tone.
River had heard it. Her eyes returned to his with a look which contained both shock and, he recognised, disappointment.
"Okay," he continued, " I guess I ain't given you much chance. It's jus' that Mal was in here earlier and said you're shippin' out in just over a week. I jus – I guess I jus' wanted to know…"
River raised her hands, and shrugged her shoulders in reply. "No choice. The blue hands control. Not River." she said, sadly.
He looked into her eyes for a moment, before turning away. Well, he considered, it ain't as if I was plannin' on getting' gorram married. But somehow, the thought of her being in that safe house – locked in a cell – would not leave him.
In fact – it really bothered.
"Why's that?" he asked. " I mean, ain't there no other way you can stay? Take some ruttin' drugs. Stay outa the way." But as he said it he knew it was impossible. He himself had come to the conclusion weeks back that Mal himself would be a fool to keep her on board if she had proved dangerous. Since then, he had seen with his own eyes that she was.
Jayne suddenly felt a surge of rage. Both at the thought of her, alone, in that cell. But also, for himself. The day had been a tough one. The thoughts had come and gone. The hope of her return had been the rock he had clung to.
Without her, there was only Vera.
He felt the panic rise in his chest. He blurted: "Well, why the hell are you here for anyway!"
River had patted over to the bunk where she had been planning to lie. To be with him for a few more hours, while she could. Stroke him. Perhaps, once more, slip around him.
But as she heard his tone, she turned on her heel and stared with wide, dark eyes. She had come to be with him, to help him. He had only just been inside her. She could still feel the heat within her, the reminder. And now, he was attacking?
She looked at him staring, his face locked in a bitter expression. He was naked, and his skin glowed with the flush of perspiration.
River was so shocked, she was amazed how clearly she snapped a reply. "You're leaving. You're going home. Why is it any different?"
Jayne grimaced.
"Because…you knew when my time was over. You never thought to gorram tell me."
Stop it, you ruttin' dambass, said a voice in his head.
But he continued, "What the hell am I gonna do for the next few weeks until I get home? Sit here on my gorram own again. With not even Vera for ruttin' company."
River could hardly believe it. Despite everything, he was still thinking of himself.
She felt the blood rush to her head as she angrily replied: "Is that all you can say? I'm about to gorram spend the foreseeable future in some cold cell on a stinkin' terraform. And you're thinking of yourself.'"
Jayne's eyes opened in surprise. "When the hell did you get comprehensive?" he asked. But all the same, he felt a pang of guilt in his chest.
River too, was questioning herself. She realised she had been so caught up in the experience of being with him, enjoying him – reaching him – she hadn't thought of telling him that their time was even shorter than expected.
Partly because she didn't think it would matter. But mainly - I didn't want to break the spell, she thought. To think of the end. Afterall, only moments before, they had been so close. He had whispered her name as he had reached his climax, his lips on hers as he had shuddered against her. But now, she felt as if an icy wind had passed between them.
It was too late, she realised. It was already broken.
Slowly, the tears appeared in her eyes.
Jayne looked at her with horror.
"Gorram it, stop that," he barked. "Ain't no point cryin' about it,"
And then, as she continued to sob - more softly: "Look, I'm a dumbass. I'm sick in the head and feelin' like a kicked dog."
However, River had had enough. She picked up her clothes, and went to pull them on.
Jayne's eyes flashed. " Oh no you don't," he said.
And before she could move an inch, he strode towards her, grabbed her, and pulled her to his lips. She felt a new urgency from him as his tongue reached for hers, and his arms wrapped tightly around her waist.
It was a few seconds before she realised. It was desperation.