A/N Another angsty one, I'm afraid! This one came courtesy of another prompt from the lovely Beawolf's Pen. In fact, the prompt gave rise to two stories. More on that at the end...

Shout-out to my guest reviewers, who have been particularly lovely of late, especially timbergirl. You guys are great :)

This story is set post-BDM and makes brief reference to episodes "Serenity", "Safe" and "Ariel".

True Beauty

Jayne had always loved pretty things. Loved the look of them, and their soft, smooth textures. Loved the feel of them, with their curving delights.

He weighed beauty as much with his hands as he did with his eyes.

It was why he always shined up his weapons; why he'd been willing to trade his best one for Saffron's daintiness; and why he'd been drawn to the crazy girl who was delicately picking her way around the fallen bodies.

Being a merc, Jayne had always known his life came with an expiration date, and sooner than most. Life became about survival, and getting as much as he could as quickly as possible. He'd done pretty well at it, up to the point the bullet took him through the chest.

Propped up against the wall he'd crawled over to, he still held his trusty LeMat, though there were no zá zhǒng left to kill, and it had long since run out of ammo.

He watched as she floated towards him.

He'd felt the pull from the moment he saw her crawl out the box, a strange fascination that deepened as she closed her eyes in the sunshine and dreamily spoke of cows.

River was shiny, no question. But it was a zhī lí beauty. Cracked, in more than one sense.

Jayne was drawn to deadly beauty, and if River had been a blade in the hand of an enemy, he'd have pocketed her. Polished her with reverent tenderness, then wielded her with lethal grace.

But she was both weapon and wielder, and that impulse, that attraction, had more than cooled after she sliced him with the butcher's knife.

Some weapons had nicks that could not be smoothed no matter how much you polished; some weapons were liabilities, with concealed flaws that couldn't be fixed.

Jayne didn't have the tools to take her apart and put her back together again.

But Miranda had.

After what happened there… after she gorram exterminated that peck of Reavers, she'd somehow fixed herself. He'd waited cynically for her to go all fēng le again, but… it had yet to happen. Sure, she still occasionally spoke in crazy-ass metaphors, but only when she was too tired to make the words come out right.

Made no difference now, anyhow. Not like she could make him die more. So, he watched unafraid as she came closer; even admired the graceful placing of her limbs that she did so unconsciously.

She moved like spun glass and steel.

She knelt down beside him, the oddest expression on her face.

"I will go for Simon."

Jayne snorted. "Too late for that, Moonbrain. 'M too far gone. You should know that – s'posed to be a gorram genius."

Jayne wasn't afraid to die. This death was a good one. Manly. Acceptable. They'd say he went down fightin'. 'Course he'd rather not have gone down at all, given half a choice. But least this way there was no shame to it. No fear. He'd moved past pain a few minutes ago, and he had to admit, it was more pleasant not to die alone.

And there were worse ways to go. The air was warm and sweet; why not go under a blanket of stars gazing on something shiny? Something beautiful? His gaze ran over River.

And realised she was crying.

"Why did he hide it? Why, Jayne? Why?"

His brows drew together in a frown. "Hide what?" It was growing harder to form words now, harder to think. Like dragging tiredness that came from good, strong whisky by the fire.

"Who he really is," she whispered. And she leant forward and pressed her lips to his.

There was enough time for a final burst of feeling, of heart-sputtering delight. Her mouth was like petals. Her taste was like sunshine. Through the roaring in his ears he heard her speak:

"I ne'er saw true beauty till this night."

For the first time he knew without doubt that he'd understood her perfectly.

Jayne Cobb died with a sense of wonder: that someone in the 'Verse found him to be beautiful.

When Simon found them she was wrapped around Jayne like a blanket, trying to warm a body long past feeling cold.

When he finally managed to pry her free, her eyes were glassy with shock. Dull and lifeless.

"River?" he asked, then again and again with increasing urgency when she gave no response.

He cupped her face in his hands, forcing her to look at him. Slowly, the eyes focused, but something in him knew the focus wouldn't last long. She shook her head, voice quiet yet utterly bereft.

"Thus with a kiss, I die."

Glossary:

fēng le - crazy

zá zhǒng - sons of bitches

zhī lí - fragmented

River is quoting from Shakespeare's Romeo and Juliet. The first quote is said by Romeo when he is secretly watching Juliet and musing upon his feelings for her. The quote in full runs as "Did my heart love till now? Forswear it, sight! For I ne'er saw true beauty till this night."

The second quote is Romeo's final words, just before he kisses Juliet for the last time and takes poison, because he believes she is dead.

A/N 2 The prompt given was to explore how River would react if Jayne died. This is part 1; part 2, the aftermath for River in the wake of that death, can be found in a one-shot on my fanfiction profile under the name "me without you". Hope you enjoyed!