I've been lurking around and reading tons of Firefly fics, but this little plot bunny has been bugging me since I saw the BDM, so I thought I'd give it a go. Apologies for the blatant OOC, but I'm just not very good at Jayne.

Er … do I really have to say that this belongs to Joss Whedon and associates? Not mine at all … if they were, no one would ever have known about Mal and Jayne …

So, are you sitting comfortably? Then I'll begin …

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Broken

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The mercenary sat in the gloom of his bunk, the only light a small spattering of fairy lights gathered close together in a corner, invisible from the ladder. A small box lay beside him on the bed, filled with various keepsakes and letters, all bearing familiarity and love to him as he wandered the 'verse. One callused hand held a picture of a family, dressed in their best, all grinning inanely at the camera, as if they'd never had their picture taken before. He grinned half-heartedly, remembering his Ma's insistence on him having something to remember them all by. It had been a hard year, that year; too many things had happened for him to stay, and so he had left the only home he'd ever really known, and the only family he would ever have, in search of new memories to crowd out the bad …

'Ma, there ain't no need for this …'

'Nonsense, Jayne boy, this is gonna be done proper, family-like,' Ma Cobb said firmly, straightening his tie with a tweak as she hurried past to shout out the window. 'Angelina Marie Cobb, if'n you get that dress dirtied up afore the man gets here, there will be a reckonin', am I quite understood?'

She waited until the small girl playing outside straightened up and dusted off said dress carefully. Jayne vaguely heard the giggled 'Yes, Gramma,' as his mother turned back to him.

'And if'n you think I'm gonna let you go galivantin' off without a proper goodbye, you've got another thing comin', boy,' she continued, as if the interruption hadn't happened. 'I can think of plenty reasons why you should stay here, with us … and one of 'em's gonna be waking up soon for her feed.'

Jayne managed not to roll his eyes at his mother's comment, but couldn't hold back the guilty flinch that came with the thought of the tiny girl curled up in her basket not too far away. And fast on the heels of that thought came the crushing sorrow as the image of her mother danced before his eyes. Ma Cobb's eyes softened.

'Meg wouldn't want ya to go,' she began, and jumped as Jayne's fist descended on the table.

'Gorram it, Ma, I ain't goin' through this again,' he snapped. 'I can't stay here, not any more … I'm a ruttin' awful Pa, and no kid should havta put up with my temper. She's better off here with you, and I'm better off as far away from here as I can get.'

She sighed softly and lifted a hand to his shoulder.

'I know, son,' she murmured. 'Hurts, don't it?'

Jayne felt himself sag in the face of his mother's understanding.

'Too much,' he muttered. 'Everywhere I look, I see places she should be, things she should be doin' … I don't wanna be a grumpy old man, stuck with memories, like Grappa was. Matty deserves better'n me for a Pa.'

She held his gaze for a long moment, watching as her second son drew himself together before her eyes. Jayne had always been the controlled one of her children, but there had always been that potential for violence, barely contained until Meg had wormed her way into his heart. Her death had been a hard blow for them all, and now she was a little scared of her Jayne when his hurt came to the surface.

A small voice called them to the present, and they turned to find James peeking around the door.

'Gramma, the man with the cam'ra is here,' he told her timidly, before looking beseechingly up at Jayne. 'Unca Jayne, do I havta be in the pitchy?'

Jayne grinned down at his eldest brother's son.

'Don't look at me, little man, ask her,' he laughed tightly, gesturing to his mother. 'Her idea, not mine.'

Ma Cobb gave him an appraising look, and shooed her grandson out of the room.

'Go get yer sisters, and tell yer Ma it's time,' she told him. 'And you, Jayne boy, go get yer brothers. I'll bring Matty.'

She shooed them all outside, greeting the picture man with a warm smile as she arranged her numerous children and grandchildren into something approaching a family pose. Jayne she pushed firmly into the middle, between Daniel and Larry, and behind the children. The others were arranged around him, wives included, and as a finishing touch, little Matty was pushed into his arms.

Jayne looked down at his daughter, and felt the familiar guilt rise in his throat. He'd helped to bring this little life into the world, and now he was leaving her to be raised by his brother and his wife. But he'd meant it when he said he was an awful father – the little girl would get all the worst of his temper for being the reason her mother was no longer around, and he couldn't bear the thought of her hating him just because he was angry at something none of them had any control over. Best if he just disappeared … best if she grew up with a proper family, and not some bitter old grouch who lived in the past.

His mother pushed into the group beside him, and laid her head on his shoulder, smiling indulgently down at her youngest grandchild.

'Alright, mister,' she called. 'Best get it done quick, afore my boys get grouchy.'

The man smiled faintly as he adjusted the box on the tripod.

'Done is done, Mrs Cobb,' he said, and pressed a button on the box. 'Smile everyone, please.'

And smile they had, widely and self-consciously. All except Jayne, who was forever captured looking down at his little girl with sad eyes, and his Ma, who was looking up at him with that same sadness reflected in her face. He sighed, and put the picture to one side, pushing away the sorrow and hurt as he lifted another picture from the box. This one was an engraving, done special for his wedding day, and even now, years on, he couldn't stop the pang that gripped his heart as he looked on his beloved Meg's smiling face …

'How long's we gotta sit here for?' Jayne demanded, adjusting his grip on the woman perched on his lap.

'Getting too heavy for you, am I?' Meg asked sweetly, and he grinned up at her, lifting his head to kiss the tip of her nose.

'Never be too heavy for me, bao-bei,' he promised, revelling in her delighted smile as she returned his kiss with an affectionate nuzzle to his temple. 'Just … there's a lotta people here, see, and they'll all be wantin' to take up a bit of our time. Longer we sit here, longer it is 'til I got you all to myself.'

Meg's smile widened into an embarrassed grin as he cheeks flushed prettily.

'Well, you'll just have to wait then, won't you?'

He narrowed his eyes, tightening his grip ever so slightly as she shifted a little.

'Waited long enough, I reckon,' he murmured, watching her blush darken with mischievous delight. ''Sides, it's our weddin' night … folks can't expect us to be waitin' around for 'em.'

She poked him playfully, making him squirm.

'Stop that, or you won't be getting your wedding night at all,' she threatened, her expression sobering for only an instant before the sunny smile returned at his shocked look.

'You wouldn't do that to me, would you, bao-bei?' he asked, half-afraid that she would. 'After I bin so good and patient with you?'

She put on a thoughtful expression for a moment and studied his face.

'If'n you've been that patient this long, you could go another night,' she began, cut off as he lunged at her, capturing her lips with his to prevent her from continuing that thought.

When breathing became an issue, they surfaced, and were greeted with a cheer and a round of applause from the gathered guests, causing yet another rosy flush to darken Meg's cheeks. The engraver – also the preacher who'd married them, and Jayne's second to youngest brother, Tristan – gave them a grin as he turned the picture around for them to admire. There they were, sitting together with those silly smiles on their faces as they looked into one another's eyes, captured for all eternity in a moment of complete happiness.

Jayne felt his throat tighten as he looked at the picture, hurt gripping his heart as he remembered the happy times he had spent with Meg, even from when they were children. Part of him regretted not staying with his daughter; by all accounts, she had grown into a miniature version of her mother, sweet and gentle, if a little weak and prone to illness. But then, Meg had always been susceptible to disease, just not sturdy enough to fight off most infections without a little help …

The young man paced outside the room, unable to sit still while his sweetheart was coughing great gobs of bloody phlegm and gasping for breath in between. Her parents were in there with her, tending to her distress, but he'd stayed close by, knowing that she would ask for him as soon as she was able. She always did, even late at night. The damp lung had got her this time, and the colony's medic said that there was a chance she might well give up this time. Jayne was determined not to let her go, not like this, not before he had a chance to ask her what could be the most important question of both their lives.

The wracking coughs died away, and he could hear her raspy breathing through the door, and the movements of her parents as they cleared away the evidence of her attack, unwilling to upset their daughter's suitor any more than necessary. Jayne was grateful for that. He found it hard enough to look on her after such an attack, so small and pale against her pillows, without seeing just what was coming out of her lungs.

Meg's father opened the door, smiling wearily at the young man's tense vigil.

'She's asking for you, son,' he told him, stepping aside and ushering his wife from the room as Jayne fairly ran past them to his customary seat by the bed.

Meg smiled weakly at him, lifting a pale hand to grip his fingers as he settled himself.

'Doc says I'm not getting any better, bao-bei,' she rasped, ignoring his protests. 'I got something I want to say …'

She coughed again, gently this time, as though frightened any moment might be her last. Jayne watched her with agonised eyes, wishing he could help her in any way, take the pain away, something.

'You don't gotta tell me now,' he urged. 'Save it for when you're better.'

She shook her head against the pillows, swallowing whatever it was that had come up.

'I want to tell you now,' she insisted, pulling his hand up onto her stomach and forcing him to perch on the edge of the bed to prevent himself being pulled onto the floor. 'And no, it ain't something that can wait.'

Despite himself, Jayne grinned. She knew him so well … well enough to predict what it was he might say to stop her weakening herself. He reached up and brushed the strands of honey coloured hair from her forehead, warmed when she leant into the tender touch.

'Jayne …' she managed, clearing her throat carefully before continuing. 'I don't want to say goodbye … I want to stay, I want to grow old with you, and …'

She paused, drawing in a calming breath.

'I love you, Jayne Cobb,' she murmured, 'and there ain't nothing in the 'verse gonna stop me from loving you, not even dying.'

Jayne's jaw dropped, making her chuckle softly.

'Excuse me?' he spluttered, eyes wide with badly concealed delight.

She gave him a wry grin.

'You heard.'

Swallowing, she nestled back against the pillows, still keeping her grip on his unresisting fingers as he stroked her cheek with familiar affection.

'Well, in that case, you ain't gonna be dyin' any time soon,' he told her softly. 'Cos I'll never forgive you if'n you do.'

Her smile was a little forced as she fought for breath.

'You see, I was gonna ask you to marry me, Meg,' he murmured, staring fixedly at the sheet where their hands rested entwined. 'But since you're so set on dyin', I guess I'll just havta find someone else to be my bao-bei …'

Her grip tightened.

'Well, in that case, I don't think I will die anytime soon,' she said firmly, her voice suddenly much stronger than before. 'Who wouldn't wanna be your wife?'

His face lit up with a genuine smile as she lifted her hand to his cheek.

'Don't you go writing me off just yet, Jayne Cobb,' she told him gently. 'I've got a wedding to go to first.'

That had been only one of many illnesses she had come down with, he remembered, and everyone of them she had bounced back from, ignoring the weakness that each inflicted on her, and determined not to let it happen again. And Matty seemed to be the same, catching everything that came her way, but never letting it slow her down, if his mother's letters were anything to go by. He glanced over at the cluster of fairy lights, feeling a soft smile work its way onto his lips. They had been a gift from his little girl; the first thing she'd bought with her own money, and she'd sent them to him so he'd have something to remind him of her when he was out in deep space. And he was grateful too, that it hadn't been a picture, or a letter … anything like that would just bring back the day he'd gained a daughter, but lost a beloved wife …

'She's lost a lot of blood, Jayne,' his Ma was saying. 'Too much, I reckon, and on top of bein' so weak from the 'monia … well, I wouldn't get your hopes too high this time.'

Jayne ignored her, pushing past to where Meg lay limp in the bed, her eyes turned to the tiny girl lying at her side. He forced himself not to look at the bloodstained bedclothes, nor the ice packed about her hips in an attempt to stem the flow. She rolled her head to look at him, and managed a faint smile as he knelt beside the bed.

'Ain't she beautiful, Jayne?' she whispered, too weak to speak any louder.

Without even glancing at the child, he smiled at his weary wife.

'Sweet as mornin' dew, bao-bei,' he told her, leaning across to kiss her sweat-soaked hair. 'Just like her ma.'

She laughed weakly, seeing in his eyes what he wished he could hide.

'I've gone too far this time, ain't I?' she asked, watching as his façade of cheery hope faded away to leave her with the truth in his heart, the fear and concern of a worried husband.

'I think you might've, darlin',' he agreed, swallowing against the lump in his throat the thought of losing her. 'Trust you to go that one step further'n you should.'

The smile died on his lips as she blinked wearily, and he felt the last of his hope crumble. Lowering his head onto her hand, he let the tears flow.

'Don't leave me, Meg, please,' he begged her. 'I don't care if you need lookin' after every hour of every day, just don't go and leave me alone. I need you with me, bao-bei …'

'Hey …' her gentle voice drew him back to her needs. 'Don't say things like that. I'm not afraid … I can face this like a Cobb should, like you should. You gotta look it in the face and not back down, remember?'

He managed a half-smile for that reminder of his brother's favourite saying. Her fingers ran gently through his hair as she spoke.

'I love you, Jayne Cobb, and I'll always love you, dead or alive,' she smiled weakly. 'I've always been the one who was left behind, even when we were kids … now I'm the one who's going ahead. I'll get to see what's really on the other side afore anyone else does, and I'll be waiting … I promise …'

Her smile turned sad as her hand fell back against the bed, too weak to continue her affectionate grooming.

'But I know I'll be homesick for you, even in heaven, my Jayne,' she whispered, sagging back into the pillow. 'Stay 'til I'm sleeping, won't you? Don't want to do this alone …'

Jayne fought hard against the tears that were welling up, gripping her hand fiercely.

'You don't need to do nothin' alone, bao-bei,' he swore quietly. 'I'll be right here, I promise.'

And he had stayed too, long after she had gone to her rest, cradling the cold body against himself and howling his heartache to whoever was listening for hours. It had taken the intervention of all four of his brothers and their Ma to pull him away in the end, and he had taken to wandering the colony alone, searching for someplace where the memories wouldn't hurt so bad. Something had happened to him during those desolate few days, to turn him cold and vengeful. Perhaps if a man had killed her, he might have gotten over his grief by killing the man who did it, but as it was there was no one he could blame. In the end she had simply slipped away, exhausted by what life had expected of her, but never afraid of what the next adventure might bring. But since that day, he had not formed any attachment to any woman outside the family, nor cared enough to try. Meg was in his heart and soul, and he would never betray her memory. Oh yes, he whored and wenched, but no woman would ever take her place … the walls were so high, she would need the patience of a saint and the persistence of a burrower to break through.

With a sigh, he replaced the pictures and letters, letting one last one fall to the top of the pile. The scene within provoked a grin that would never quite go away, though now it was tinged with great sadness. Five boys wrestling in a mud pile, while their mother looked on with an exasperated expression. Those had been good days, he thought, before life caught up to them and made them grow up too fast, or … here his face fell, his eyes casting up, towards the console on the wall … not grow up at all.

The image flickered on the screen, but it was one he knew would remain scorched in his mind until the day he died. Fire licked the homestead in the background, and bodies lay strewn across the dusty ground. His brothers, lying together on the hot ground, each armed, each bloodied, each dead … their wives, all huddled together on the porch, now only burning corpses, their children's limbs scattered across the ground about them …Ma Cobb, spread-eagled in the dust, her eyes wide and staring, blood seeping through her shirt to soak the ground beneath her … and there, close by her, little Matty – his little girl, Meg's little girl – her throat slit, and her pretty pink dress stained with her own blood. Nothing could hurt them ever again, he knew, and wished he had been there to either stop it from happening, or to die with them.

If your enemy goes to ground, leave no ground to go to, was what that hun dan of an Alliance operative had said to Mal. Only a few hours ago, Jayne would have agreed, but now … now his family lay dead at the hands of that man, and friends he had known here on Haven were to be arrayed across the ship to get them through Reaver space. He knew another saying, something the Shepherd had told him once when they'd been lifting weights together. If you can't do something smart, do something right …well, he knew it wasn't smart to go up against a man like the operative, especially with your mind clouded with revenge, but maybe it was right to find out just what he was protecting, just what had cost Jayne so much. If Miranda was where Mal would go, then he would be there with him, to see what the Alliance was trying to hide, what was so important that so many innocent lives had been lost.

He carefully closed the box, and placed it back under the bed before erasing the horrifying image from the view screen. And lying down on his bed, his face close to the lights that were now his only link to the family he had once known, Jayne Cobb wept for what he had given up so long ago, and now would never regain.

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Hope you enjoyed … I would appreciate feedback seeing as this is my first (and possibly only) Firefly fic, but no pressure, k?