The Highwayman, a firefly fanfic

Notes: Well hi there! This is my first Firefly/Serenity fanfic, though worry not for I do indeed know how to write, hehe. And this is certainly not the first time I've taken classic poetry that Loreena McKennitt put to music and twisted it into fandom. I've actually had this idea in my head for a while, but no one at all to use it for. Then a few days ago I finished re-watching the episode 'Safe' (one of my very favorites), turned off my tv, put on some music and sat down to write an entirely different fic. Loreena's version of The Highwayman started playing though, and I had a major brain storm. The music? Sounds JUST like it could easily slip into the Firefly soundtrack. I flipped. I got ideas. I finally had a muse for one of my favorite pieces of poetry! And I do so love the theory of River/Jayne.

This is intentionally dis-jointed and surrealistic, hopefully it is easy to follow. The action isn't what's entirely important. A few months Post-Serenity. Firefly/Serenity belongs to Joss, the poetry is originally by Alfred Noyes, set to music by Loreena McKennitt (go download! Seriously, the music will make you freak out). I will list the whole poem after the story. And I'm sure you've had enough of my talking all apologetically-like.

The Highwayman

"One kiss my bonny sweetheart, I'm after a prize to-night,
But I shall be back with the yellow gold before the morning light;
If they press me sharply, and harry me through the day,
Then look for me by the moonlight,
Watch for me be the moonlight,
I'll come to thee by the moonlight, though hell should bar the way."

There were millions of variables to this, whatever it was. Whatever she was, however strong, smart, and deadly she might have been and however in control of her mind and body she now was, there were variables to all lives. They were lucky and unlucky breaks, one less in tune with the specific logistics of the universe might say. They were times when deja-vu and life imitate art and fate allows one a glimpse of what is to come. And if one is able to notice the unordinary and strange variable when they happen around them, they may come through unscathed.

It had all seemed so very calm to River. They'd left Serenity for some self-proclaimed well earned shore-time. The Captain's Assassin Pilot and Resident Mercenary tended to get a bit tired after months straight of work, Jayne had rationalized. Actually, most of the crew was away from their ship home that week. Zoë had made plans to visit Wash's family and bring the sad news of their son's death and the less sad news of their pending grandchild, and Mal had gone with her. Inara had an engagement with a client and Jayne had expressed little desire to be left alone in a boat with Kaylee and Simon. He couldn't imagine the Doc's sister enjoying it much either.

And thus, the first variable had shown itself. Normally in a situation such as this, the Merc would leave on his own with only a vague description of where he was going and when he'd be back. River could tell though, even before he approached her, that something would be different this time. She was sitting cross-legged on her bed in the stationary ship, attempting to knit for the first time since she was a little girl, when the familiar stir of his mind echoed outside of her room. Jayne should have anticipated her already knowing he was there when he entered her door frame, yet it had still freaked him out slightly.

"Er, hey girl," He cleared his throat. He wasn't entirely sure why the sight of her looking at him calmly and expectantly was creepifying still. After all, following Miranda they'd both become the brute force behind this operation, which had made for a bit more of a feeling of compatriots between them, as opposed to tolerator and tormentor (who had been whom in the past had depended upon the day, of course). Still, there were moments when her dark eyes in that pretty face seemed like they could pierce right through metal, whether she was reading his mind or not. Jayne had never been one to care much about what others thought of his ways, but something about his fellow killing machine looking at him so calmly and knowingly was getting him dangerously close to doing so.

"He stands, he requests her attention, and then he says nothing?" River tilted her head, the slightest of smirks on her face as her knitting needles kept flying in her fingers. Jayne realized he'd been staring indeed, and shook his head,

"Jest wonderin' if you were wantin' to go into town fer this stay, 'stead of staying here with the lovebirds fer three days," He asked, grumbling a bit at the last part. River granted him a full smile. That was what she appreciated. No beating about the bush and no pretense of propriety. The world spoken of as it was, or rather as he felt it was. It somewhat tempered her intense shock at his actually seeming to request her company,

"Variables," She mumbled, slowly untangling herself from her own limbs, "Chances of the human tank requesting her company in an appropriate manner not relating to a battle situation is approximately one in 4,782, based on previous encounters," River frowned slightly, staring at the wall for a moment, "Chances of one variable following another very high in this case, I think..." Once she'd pushed off of her bed and was looking back at the highly confused Jayne (who was starting to think this had been a bad idea), she grinned again, "What is the weather like outside?"

"...Sunny...bit windy and cool, too," Jayne finally replied. It was early spring on the planet they'd rested on, a planet he knew fairly well. River gave a pleased hum, putting away her knitting and grabbing a slightly ridiculous flowered straw hat Kaylee had bought her for her eighteenth birthday. Putting the hat on her head, a bag over her shoulder and strapping her gun on over her pretty purple flowered dress, River smiled up at the Merc,

"A torrent of darkness among the gusty trees...then let us escape this den of sin," She proclaimed, moving past him and down the hall, toward the cargo bay, "He has smacked down one domino, the winding crank and mousetrap may yet follow, but we shall never know unless we go forth..."

"I though you wasn't crazy no more," Jayne called after her, in a voice that was actually slightly amused. Much as she annoyed him, the image of the pretty girl dressed in flowers who could kill you without batting an eyelash was still an amusing one.

"Crazy I am not!" River replied over her shoulder with a grin, "Fond of making you confused, I am."

Her first warning pang was that evening, though she did not recognize it for what it was. A passing concern, River deducted. But she had not told Simon where she was. He knew where Jayne was though, and as of late she had more than proved herself sane and aware enough to go out on her own, though she still did not do it often. The feeling persisted for a time though, as she sat in the Inn that night with Jayne, looking over her purchases of the day,

"It dances," River was noting, flipping the new hunting knife in her hands with an easy grace, "Perfect balance, light, weightless in her hands..."

"Gorgeous weapon," Jayne agreed around his bottle, pretending that the sight of her near him with a knife in her hands weren't still ten types of unsettling, "But why spend one of yer first big cuts off a job on a fancy knife, when you can jest kill anyone who comes yer way with yer bare hands?"

"More efficient," River pointed out as if this were obvious. There was a pause as she eyed the blade, before her slightly mad eyes returned to Jayne's over the steel blade, a laugh twinkling in them as she added, in the same flat tone, "And less chance of the girl dirtying, chipping, breaking or otherwise maiming her fingernails,"

Flaxen hair and a buxom figure were making eyes at Jayne over the bar, but he was far too distracted at the moment, laughing out loud at Moon-brain, "Not only done bein' crazy, but worryin' about yer nails..."

"Indeed," River smirked, displaying the faintly purple nails on her fingers as they were gripping the knife, "Kaylee painted,"

"Well don't that beat all," Jayne shook his head, tossing back another drink. As he did so, River tilted her head, observing the woven red straw mat that the lamp on their table was set on. After a short moment, she reached out and sliced off a length of it, setting her knife aside once she did. She proceeded to twist and knot it about in her fingers, as the crowd around them talked on and music started playing. Jayne noted her deftly moving fingers and the look of deep concentration on her face, and frowned, "What the hell..."

"Love knot," River said simply, in her impassive, informative voice of times gone by, "Worn in the Elizabethan times on Earth That Was, traditionally by Celtic women or those of Celtic-Saxon decent."

"...Huh?"

"This," River smiled again, her voice that of the sane, albeit weird and slightly morbid girl she now was. She held up the length of dyed straw cord, now twisted in a perfect Celtic four-cornered love knot, "Call me Bess," She sing-songed, twisting the knot into her long hair, to hold it back from her face. Jayne shook his head again, as if this were entirely girlish nonsense he had no time for. His smile gave him away, though,

"One of these days," He noted, taking another drink, "I'm gonna be in on all of them inside jokes of yers."

"He truly wishes to be privy to them all that much?" River asked with a raised brow, the dark red color close to her face a pleasing contrast. Jayne grinned. Not that he'd admit what he was about to on the ship; he had a tough face to keep up after all. But things were a bit different when one was planet-side with a pretty girl who killed things, and one was working on a good beer buzz.

"Naw," He replied, "Jest get sick of feeling stupid 'round ya, is all."

She was so wrapped up in the pleasant evening, she missed the other warning. She missed the men who were watching them, what with her attention taken up by conversation with the human tank. That was one downside to being able to turn her reading abilities on and off, the warning flares were no longer there when she was not open to them. She was rarely closed, though. This was another variable. For an evening she let herself be just The Girl, talking and laughing and teasing the man instead of tormenting and annoying him. It had to be the evening when there was actually something to look for, just fate's scheme.

They got their own rooms that night. Surely, they could have gone back to the ship, but the entire reason Jayne had offered to let her tag along was to avoid the late-night unholy happenings that were no doubt going on aboard their sacred flying sanctuary. Plus there was definitely something to be said for sleeping on a thick mattress, a soft pillow and under a homespun quilt. River had the most peaceful sleep she'd had in ages, or so it seemed.

All finally began to click though when Jayne was leaving the next morning. He stepped into her room before he left, inwardly chastising her for forgetting to lock her door. The two had exchanged keys as standard precaution for any and all planet-side stays the crew made. It was anything but a standard sight that greeted Jayne though, what with the early morning sunlight filtering through her lace curtains, catching on all of that hair of hers. The love knot was still tangled up in the soft brown curls, her tresses falling all around her on the pillow, over the shoulders of her white night dress and her pale, bare throat. Jayne had to admit, she was gorram near the prettiest thing he'd ever seen in that moment. But he forced himself not to linger on that highly unsettling fact,

"Hey, Moon-brain," He said quietly as he stood next to her bed and nudged her mattress with his boot, though it was more than enough to wake her up. River's eyes opened smoothly, her gaze turning to him expectantly. Always alert, she was. Jayne smirked, "I'm headin' out of town to meet with my older sister and her folks, it's a ways out but she's got some valuables of mine she's been keepin' safe..."

"You would ask the girl to go with you," River interrupted him softly, "But she has already seen too much of you. He must go alone. Feel like himself again. Keep the family and the space ship separate."

Jayne reached up, rubbing the back of his neck. He didn't address her far-too close to home assessment though, "You got plans fer the day?"

"Promised Kaylee I'd go grocery shopping yesterday," River yawned, sitting up and reaching for the glass of water on her bed table. She took a long sip before settling back against her pillows, feeling deeply drowsy, "Will also seek out new literary items and," Another long yawn, "...drawing materials..."

"Good," Jayne took a step back, toward the door. Another variable, River thought sleepily as instead of leaving just then, he walked back to her bed, leaned over and gave her a small kiss on the forehead. Jayne swallowed, hovering over her for a second. Whatever the nutty girl used on that wild hair of hers, it smelled like green apples, "I'll be back a' fore moonrise, Crazy,"

Something in River's mind went off. Internal alarms sounded, even as a blush crept over her cheeks. It all clicked into place. All the signs she'd missed while following the variables. Love knots and moonrise and something in her water that made her unable to speak as Jayne left the room. The door shut, his boots thumped away down the hall, all before River had mustered the strength to speak, her hands gathering bunches of the quilt, her brow creasing in anxiety and alarm, "Shattered, shattering, one kiss and lace and gold and the way this ends and..." Her eyes shut as the drug took effect, "Jayne please don't come back..."

When she woke up, hours had passed. Her muscles instinctively tightened and her head snapped up, her eyes darting about. River was still in her room, but now she was tied to the bedpost that faced the open window, the road through the sleepy town dusty under an afternoon sun. She was gagged and tightly bound round her ankles, arms and hands. A lucky break for those who'd drugged her. They had no idea what River Tam could do to them with her bare hands, but they'd still tied her at almost all of the important pressure points. She could barely move her fingers.

Her mind scanned the surroundings as she forced herself to remain calm, taking in the three men in her room. They were all dressed in the rough rancher's clothes of this and so many other areas on the border planets. She recognized two of them though as they'd been in the Inn the previous night, drinking in corners or chatting up the working girl at the bar, all save the third, the one who crouched by the window. He hadn't been there last night.

"Hey, pretty is awake!" One of the men said with a leer, pushing off of the chest of drawers he'd been leaning on. River's mind ran through his quickly. He was only paid to be here. All of them had been, all but the man crouching under the window. He was the one paying.

"Yer point, Leo?" He asked, turning a cold eye on the first man who'd spoken. The man named Leo shrugged,

"Thought I might get a little fun out o'this operation Jack, is all," He muttered, knowing the look on his employer's face meant no. Not that Leo would live to see tomorrow if he loosened any one of River's binds, the girl thought to herself. Her limbs still felt sluggish though, she didn't need to be able to move to realize that. Instead River fixed her mind on that of the man who crouched by the window. Jack.

He had no idea he'd drugged the water of a human weapon, but the men in his employ had told him Jayne had a knife-toting girl with him, who'd also had a pistol strapped to her hip. That had been enough for him to know she needed to be tied up tight. His feelings rolled off in waves that River caught with her straining head. He was smarter than most in that town and he knew it, which was why he'd been so galled to be out done by Jayne Cobb some years back, the meat-head brother in law of a local rancher. He'd seen Jayne and River in town yesterday...a lucky break he'd waited on for some time. A variable to his liking. He'd thought this up quickly, when he hadn't been able to break into Jayne's room. He thought it all a lovely trap with some lovely bait, unlike a simple graceless ambush on a road. There were two more men waiting for the Merc in the street.

Jack's eyes met River's for a brief moment, and she sensed a nervousness pass over the man. He knew she had a sharp mind just by looking, even if he had no idea she was a reader. She was figuring her way out of this, that he was sure of.

"Mace!" He whispered sharply, to a tall, drowsy fellow standing in the corner by the door. Mace blinked a few times, pushing the brim of his hat up slightly and looking at his employer expectantly, "Give me your rifle,"

"All right," Mace replied with a raised brow, slipping the gun off of his back. Jack shuffled over and snatched it up, striding over to the bound and gagged River. Staring into her eyes for a long moment, he reached around her and fiddled with the gun and her bounds for a bit. River shut her eyes, inwardly groaning. Of course, this was all part of the game fate had put together with all of those variables. That book of poetry from Earth-that-was that she'd read when she was a little girl. Jack stepped back, giving her a cruel smirk. If she moved her hands too much, the gun would go off...blasting straight through her back.

River had to wonder if he'd read the same book of poetry.

Jayne returned to town from the long trip out to his sister June's place late that night. He'd had to leave her new planet of residence pretty quickly eight years back after a visit, leaving the gold he'd nicked behind with her. It wasn't the first time he'd had to do so. But this time, the money had stayed where he'd left it. Upon hearing from their mother that Jayne was still up in the air, June had sent him word that she still had his gold buried on her husband's land. She always was a good sister, Jayne mused as he walked back into town. She hadn't touched her brother's rightfully stolen goods. He'd given her a good bit of it before he'd left this time.

Little did he know that said gold's original owner currently had his favorite little crazy person tied up with a gun at her back. He only got that message when the gun went off, followed by a scream, the sound echoing from the window of River's room at the Inn, those lace curtains fluttering in the evening wind under the moonlight.

She had faded during the day. To Jack, she looked resigned to her fate. He wasn't sure what he'd do to her, once he had Jayne dead in the street or in her room. Likely he'd leave her tied up, he was sure her momma was out there somewhere looking for her. He was unaware of the reality of the situation. River was waiting.

The drugs had worn off fully hours ago, and she simply hadn't forced her muscles yet. She knew how they all worked, how they protested the ropes holding her in place. Her strength needed to be saved. When she saw the moonlight crossing the bedroom floor, she knew it was nearly time. Jack had been sure to keep her hands still. He hadn't noticed her feet, as her ankles rubbed back and forth, gradually loosening the binds. Maybe this game of fates wasn't a game at all. Maybe it was simply showing her the variables in the poem it was paralleling. Maybe it was reminding her of all the ways one could get out of this.

Jack had seen Jayne. River knew this even before he signaled to his men outside. Jayne wouldn't see it coming. Jack's gun cocked. River's head snapped up, her eyes suddenly sharp and deadly alert. Behind her back, her finger slipped onto the trigger of the rifle, one foot was loose enough to swing back, knocking the gun aside just enough so that when she pulled the trigger, the blast only ripped through her left shoulder.

"Ai ya, hwai luh...!" Jack's gun went off askew, as River gave a mighty yank to the bed post, fire and pain exploding behind her eyes. But those trained and rested limbs of hers served her well, even with her fresh wound. The old wood snapped, and with a few swings she had both Leo and Mace down with the broken bed post. She had her knife in hand and her bonds cut before Jack even had time to blink, and when he did, her pistol was in hand and aimed between his eyes.

Jayne had gone for cover as soon as he'd heard the gunshots, heart pounding. He should have thought of this, but he wasn't much of a thinker now was he? He'd heard her scream. They'd gotten her. But he had to keep a clear head now. Sure enough, two shooters on the ground were soon firing at him. Jayne had them dealt with in short order, and then he was running toward that Inn.

He didn't know why he'd expected to see a far worse sight than he did. This was Crazy, why should he be worried? But he was. Even seeing her standing there in that room with a gun trained on Jack Callahan and two other local brutes out cold on the floor was a relief. The sight of her shoulder shattered and bleeding all over that pretty white night gown was making him slightly sick, and the rope burns on her wrists, ankles and arms didn't escape his notice either. But River only turned her head and smiled at him, her arm unwavering and that love knot still in her tangled hair, "And back he spurred, like a madman..." She murmured, in a voice still raw from the rag that had been in her mouth for hours.

There was no hesitation. Jayne pointed his gun at Jack and shot him clear through the head. River looked down at the body by her feet and pouted,

"Stole from the girl her satisfaction," She looked back up at Jayne, "He stuffed that gag in awfully tight."

"Yeah, well, he's had this coming to him," Jayne grabbed a sheet from the bed and pressed it into River's shoulder. He didn't even need to stop and think, her well-being at the forefront of his mind in that moment. As if just realizing that she was bleeding, River staggered on her feet and let him carry her to her bed, "We gotta get you back to your brother..."

"I can feel your worry," She murmured dreamily, smiling, "Was never really in harm. The girl can always outsmart. Learns from the past. Learned from departed Bess..."

"You're talkin' crazy again," Jayne informed her, though his voice and thoughts gave away his addled state as he tore into the sheet and wrapped up her shoulder. He felt guilty. He felt that he should have never left her alone, that it didn't matter if she really could kill with her brain or break five grown men in half at once, he should have never left his pretty little crazy person alone. River sighed,

"Warned you, didn't I?" River looked up at him, "Gun shots, and then he knew what was wrong..."

"Yeah," Jayne's voice cracked. He knew Simon would have her all patched up if he got her back to the ship in time (not to mention the choice words that were no doubt waiting for him anyway), but he knew why she was torn up and bleeding. And that was a fact that floored him, "Yeah you did...gorramit, girl, I 'aint worth almost killing yourself over!"

"Mmm, no, you're not," River smirked, as he finished wrapping her up and lifted her into his arms again, moving through their rooms and grabbing their things as he did, "You only kissed her on the forehead. Bess got a real kiss at some point. Until such time that I get one as well, I'll not be shooting myself through the heart for you."

"Well there's incentive!" Jayne cracked, even as his thoughts betrayed his worry and his stirring, strange affections for the crazy girl in his arms, "Kiss crazy and she'll be inclined to die getting me out of a jam," River smiled again, even as the loss of blood was truly making her loopy,

"You will," She whispered, as she was carried out of the Inn and into the night, toward the place where they'd parked the transport, "After all of this? It's an inevitable variable..."

Author's Notes: Loved it? Hated it? Feel free to tell me so. I always get so twitchy when posting my first fic in a fandom, hehe.

And here's the poem!

The wind was a torrent of darkness among the gusty trees,
The moon was a ghostly galleon tossed upon cloudy seas.
The road was a ribbon of moonlight over the purple moor,
And the highwayman came riding,
Riding, riding,
The highwayman came riding, up to the old inn-door.

He'd a French cocked-hat on his forehead, a bunch of lace at his chin,
A coat of the claret velvet, and breeches of brown doe-skin.
They fitted with never a wrinkle. His boots were up to the thigh!
And he rode with a jeweled twinkle,
His pistol butts a-twinkle,
His rapier hilts a-twinkle, under the jeweled sky.

And over the cobbles he clattered and clashed in the dark inn-yard.
And he tapped with his whip on the shutters, but all was locked and barred.
He whistled a tune to the window, and who should be waiting there
But the landlord's black-eyed daughter,
Bess, the landlord's daughter,
Plaiting a dark red love-knot into her long black hair.

He rose upright in the stirrups. He scarce could reach her hand,
But she loosened her hair i' the casement. His face burnt like a brand
As the black cascade of perfume came tumbling over his breast;
And he kissed its waves in the moonlight,
(Oh, sweet waves in the moonlight!)
He tugged at his reins in the moonlight, and galloped away to the west.

He did not come at the dawning. He did not come at noon;
And out of the tawny sunset, before the rise o' the moon,
When the road was a gypsy's ribbon, looping the purple moor,
A red-coat troop came marching,
Marching, marching,
King George's men came marching, up to the old inn-door.

They said no word to the landlord. They drank his ale instead.
But they gagged his daughter, and bound her, to the foot of her narrow bed.
Two of them knelt at her casement, with muskets at their side!
There was death at every window;
Hell at one dark window;
For Bess could see, through the casement, the road that he would ride.

They had tied her up to attention, with many a sniggering jest.
They had bound a musket beside her, with the barrel beneath her breast!
"Now, keep good watch!" and they kissed her. She heard the dead man say-
'Look for me by the moonlight;
Watch for me by the moonlight;
I'll come to thee by the moonlight, though hell should bar the way!'

She twisted her hands behind her; but all the knots held good!
She writhed her hands till her fingers were wet with sweat or blood!
They stretched and strained in the darkness, and the hours crawled by like years,
Till, now, on the stroke of midnight,
Cold on the stroke of midnight,
The tip of one finger touched it! The trigger at least was hers!

'Tlot-tlot; tlot-tlot!' Had they heard it? The horse-hoofs ringing clear;
'Tlot-tlot, tlot-tlot,' in the distance! Were they deaf that they did not hear?
Down the ribbon of moonlight, over the brow of the hill,
The highwayman came riding,
Riding, riding!
The red-coats looked to their priming! She stood up, straight and still.

'Tlot-tlot,' in the frosty silence! 'Tlot-tlot,' in the echoing night!
Nearer he came and nearer. Her face was like a light.
Her eyes grew wide for a moment; she drew one last deep breath,
Then her finger moved in the moonlight,
Her musket shattered the moonlight,
Shattered her breast in the moonlight and warned him with her death.

He turned; He spurred to the west; he did not know she stood
Bowed, with her head o'er the musket, drenched with her own red blood!
Not till the dawn he heard it, his face grew grey to hear
How Bess, the landlord's daughter,
The landlord's black-eyed daughter,
Had watched for her love in the moonlight, and died in the darkness there.

And back, he spurred like a madman, shrieking a curse to the sky,
With the white road smoking behind him and his rapier brandished high.
Blood-red were his spurs i' the golden noon; wine-red was his velvet coat;
When they shot him down on the highway,
Down like a dog on the highway,
And he lay in his blood on the highway, with the bunch of lace at his throat...

'Still of a winter's night, they say, when the wind is in the trees,
When the moon is a ghostly galleon tossed upon cloudy seas,
When the road is a ribbon of moonlight over the purple moor,
A highwayman comes riding,
Riding, Riding,
A highwayman comes riding, up to the old inn-door.