"You're not going to just leave him there, surely?" Inara leant over Wash's control panel and glared at Mal. Out the window, the vista of Montgom'ry had darkened even further. Wash sat in his chair, his hands hovering expectantly over the controls.
The rest of the crew were standing around, with various expressions of shock on their faces. Save for Simon, who had already taken River into the surgery, to calm her. After the ramp had raised, she had scrabbled desperately for the open switch, her cries like fingernails on a blackboard. But Mal had put out a hand.
"Get her out of here," he had demanded, his face like thunder.
Now, he was standing over Wash, his arms crossed.
Inara continued: "I think we need to sort this out, whatever it is, before we up and leave. There's obviously things we need to know."
Kaylee lowered her head: "River's mighty unhappy," she said, sadly. "Jayne din't look to shiny neither, Cap'n."
But Mal shook his head. "No."
Inara gasped. "But, Mal, how can you say that? It's so obvious.."
Book interrupted: "Captain, I really feel.."
And then, even Zoe: "Sir.."
But Mal clenched his jaw and repeated. "NO."
And then, with a definite nod toward Wash, "Boost her up. We've got jobs to find."
Wash glanced nervously at his wife, and then slapped a hand on the ignition, before pulling her up.
Inara persisted. She raised her hands, so her bracelets fell down her slim, tanned arms: "But it's stupid. Didn't you hear him? Whatever it was, it was real. I'm not saying I agree with how it happened, or what happened, but he really seems to love her. You're being a gorram idiot!"
Mal flashed her a glare: "Don't question me woman, least of all here – or you're off my boat!" But as his eyes locked into hers, he knew.
Jayne's words. They had formed the sort of admission she had really wanted from him, he thought. He lowered his eyes from hers, quickly.
Then he pushed the thought from his mind, and then glanced around at the crew. They were still standing on the bridge, their heads bowed, but muttering. The ship rocked as it powered through the sky.
"Look," he said, "I know what you think you're doin'. But it's not for the best. I know Jayne, better'n you. He ain't gonna do nuthin' unless it comes from him. So there ain't nuthin' to do."
Kaylee raised her eyes to meet his. "But Cap'n, he ain't thinkin' straight. S'obvious.."
"Well that's as maybe, Kaylee. There were some things he said that made a mighty lot of sense. But either way, it's for him to figure, not for us."
He hesitated, and then reached out an arm towards his mechanic.
"I know it's tough," he said, more softly, as he laid a hand on her shoulder, "but if he wants us, he knows where to come. When, or if, he's ready."
The ship moved out of atmosphere, and dived into the black.
River felt the boat judder into vacuum. She gripped Simon's arm and looked him desperately in the eye. "Simon…!"
"Ssshhh," he replied. He was grappling with a needle. He needed to sedate her, to get any sense from her. He stood over her, laid his hand on her brow, and gently pressed the needle into her arm. She bit her lip, anxiously – but almost immediately, began to relax.
"Now give it a minute, River, and we'll talk." But as he spoke, his mind was already processing. He furrowed his brow. Simon was angry. No - livid.
That ape. Touching his sister. It was – disgusting. More than disgusting. He had obviously take advantage.
He looked across at River's pale face. She was already much calmer. Slowly, she lolled her head toward him, and fixed him a look with her big, sad eyes.
Simon pulled closer. "Now River," he began, his voice straining, "I think it's time we had a proper chat, don't you think."
Things had been a struggle after that. At least for those first few weeks. The boat had continued on, unrelentingly, away from him. And as it did so, Simon had questioned her, talked, pleaded, demanded. There had been no space.
There had been questions as to how it began. What he had said to convince her. When she had – been with him.
It had been hard. River had been struggling enough with her loss, without having Simon on her back. However many times he told her – it had been as much her as him – he failed to believe. So she was grateful when eventually, Inara took him to one side. And told him, in no uncertain terms, to stop the interrogation.
"You're not helping," River had heard her say. "And if you carry on, you'll drive her away. You have to believe what she says."
Inara had always been a slightly maternal influence on River. But the girl never appreciated or felt so close to her as she did in those dark days as they flew away from Montgom'ry. She came to her, and spoke. But crucially, she also listened.
Without her, River would have felt utterly alone. She had had all these feelings inside her, that she had wanted to share. And he had totally shut her out. She understood why, of course. He had made it clear. But she hadn't had a chance to tell him that she disagreed.
So she told Inara. He had assumed so much. That she wanted things from him. And although she realised perhaps he had in part been speaking truths – he was also wrong. The hopelessness, and waste of it, made her weep.
She had no desire at all to return home. Go back to her old life. The idea of her living now in the family home, studying, was laughable. She was, afterall, a killing machine. There was no denying it. And nor, she realised slowly, did she want to deny it.
The weapon inside her was part of River Tam. She was that weapon. But she was also a person.
It was this thought that finally got her to leave her cabin, and start to return to herself.
It led her, one day, to his bunk. She opened the hatch, and crept down the stairs. As she looked around, her mind remembering past occasions, she saw that everything was as he had left it. It smelt of cigars. His guns were still lying out. And when she had looked at them, she had realised why he had left them. They were hers now. If she wanted.
Her eyes widened. And for the first time in weeks, her heart lifted.
Straight away, she returned to Simon and told him, she was moving out. He looked at her, incredulously. But, pressing his lips together, he said nothing. So within days, she had set himself up in his room.
She laid out every single weapon. And then, she started to take them apart. And once they were apart, she put them back together. Piece by piece. Even the silver pistol.
The weeks passed. The boat stopped off to do one job, then another. By which time, she knew every single gun inside out. Further, she had managed to actually teach herself to shoot them, without provocation.
She had been setting herself up in the hold, putting herself through the paces. It gave her routine, focus.
Meanwhile, Mal had started to notice.
One day, she also laid herself down on the weights. She knew of course, she could never lift what he had. But she would find her own way. Strengthen herself. And over time, she did. He slim pale arms took on a slightly harder tone. She was able to lift her body with one arm.
Her clothes had been the last thing to change however. One day, while she was practicing her martial arts, she caught her skirts in one of the hold gratings. It ripped up to her hem, leaving her lily-white leg exposed.
So at the next stop en route, she wandered out into town, and spent. She came back with her own cargo pants and vests. And when she came to dinner that night, her lithe but strong body at last revealed, Simon had looked at her open mouthed.
"River, what are you.."
"What?" she snapped. And then: "I figured I was too old for school uniform." He had said nothing more.
Of course, she had still kept some of her dresses, for herself. But not the off-black one however. That had gone.
For all of her efforts however, almost two months later, she was still alone when she closed her cabin hatch.
Every night, she thought of him, and wondered what was doing, where he was. Ran her hands down her arms, imagining his touch.
Mal had helped. There was eventually another job on Ariel. That had been tough, as so many memories. But, despite the risks, he had let her come. They were desperate.
She had stood in the hold, a determined look on her face, her hair tied back, a laser rifle strapped across her chest. "Take me," she had said to Mal, "You know I can help." Her voice, so clear, concise.
He had looked at her and laughed: "Okay," he said, "Okay. You win. And anyway, I doubt the Alliance would recognise you anyway. You're like a new woman."
"No," she had replied, dully, as she had walked past, "I'm still the same, inside."
But she had allowed herself a smile, later, at the use of the term. Woman. No longer girl.
He had even let her continue her duties after she found out about the baby.
She had half expected it, half dreaded it. But when it was for certain, it put a hope in her heart. It was something to hang onto. But also protect. And something to remind her of him. It had been too long now, she realised – almost three months.
He wasn't coming back.
"River, this is just too much," Simon had raged, unable to control his disappointment. "You're only just a baby yourself. This is no place for it. It's ridiculous."
But again, Inara – and, interestingly, also Zoe – had come to her rescue.
"Well, I gotta say, I never did hear Jayne speak quite so well before, until that time," said Zoe, as she sat with River in her bunk, nursing a drink. "He was a dumb sommbitch – well, that much is clear – but you know, I think he really gorram loved you. And that's the rub."
"It'll all be okay, honey," added Inara, as she knocked back her own liquor."We'll look after you. Well, when you don't want to look after yourself."
Mal had said nothing. He knew better than to mess with the women on subjects like that.
And finally, Simon had also started to come round. "Hmph. Well, I suppose we'll cope," was the best he would admit to. But, she had noticed how tenderly he had started to hold her wrists as he checked her blood pressure. "Hope he has your brains," Simon had said one day.
And slowly, River began to accept she was facing life without Jayne. She could say his name. And although the pain of his loss remained, it was beginning to be something she could live with. He had been right.
She was a fighter, but also more. And she had found her place, here, on Serenity.
It was just a shame, she realised sadly, he would never know just how far she had come.