An Incongruous Peace
They'd known there was an Alliance outpost on Redfall, but it was a small settlement, verging on backwater, and the outpost had historically been stocked with inferior weapons and sluggish officers.
Which was why the ambush was so effective.
Post-Miranda, the Alliance seemed divided as to the crew of Serenity, some willing to let them go their own way, like the Operative, others apparently hell-bent on revenge, and still others seemingly determined to reclaim River and the weapon she represented, no matter the cost.
Which was why the ambush targeted River.
Inara was entertaining a client, Mal had taken Kaylee to look for a grav dampener upgrade and Kaylee had wheedled Simon into joining her. Which had left River with Jayne. Something that would have once horrified her gē ge, but familiarity had dulled the edge of concern.
They'd done dozens of jobs together since Miranda and had yet to kill or maim each other. They even showed a tendency to gravitate towards one another in social situations. Jayne had once approvingly declared that "Moonbrain's got a good head for moonshine, considerin' she ain't no bigger than a gnat".
Which was why they were in the saloon when the troops hit.
Jayne pushed open the doors; they walked into the bar and stopped dead. The large room was totally deserted.
Jayne's brows drew together in a frown. "What the-?"
River felt the psychic shout a split second before the first shooter burst into the saloon. Enough time to yell a warning; enough time for Jayne to twist even as he drew the revolver holstered at his hip and opened fire. So the bullet missed his heart, burrowing into his side.
Jayne swore, fluid and long.
The next few seconds were a blur as reflexes augmented by adrenaline, fear and rage took over, and River moved without conscious thought.
There was a whooshing sound followed by a muted bang; she unquestioningly accepted and used the cover the sudden smoke provided, even as she took apart the faceless men that appeared before her.
At some point she had taken someone else's knife, using it at close quarters when there wasn't time to shoot. Jayne was doing his usual sharp shooting with his LeMat, Boo, but he had also acquired a second revolver somewhere along the way, increasing his deadliness… at least at first.
When she realised Jayne was slowing, she switched tactics, seeking primarily to push the forces back instead of annihilating them.
They had fought together many times, knew how the other moved and thought in combat, so he quickly followed her lead, working with her until the bar was clear aside from the dead or dying, at which point she shoved a table up against the saloon doors as quickly as she could. Turning she saw Jayne was already following suit, lifting a second table on top of the first, panting a little at a load that would normally be negligible for him. He'd ripped a sleeve from his shirt and bound it tight across the wound. Enough to slow the bleeding, but not enough to stop it. And adrenaline could only go so far.
Her mouth tightened, but the weapon in her knew she had to secure the ground before she could see to her comrade. But the girl in her, the woman, longed for some kind of reassurance that he was okay. So, she spoke to him as they worked, willing an ornery, Jayne-like response:
"Smoke grenade?"
He nodded. "Ever since the bank job on Lilac, I carry two grenades in case of a rainy day – one to slow things down." He nodded towards the smoking doorway. "And one to shake things up." He patted the lump in the artillery belt at his waist, grinning.
He turned to drag another table, but she stopped him; they had achieved the optimum result. Any further weight would be superfluous and only serve to weaken him.
Besides, she'd heard the cold, hard words in the mind outside and knew what was coming. Jayne was taken by surprise, however, when an electronically augmented voice suddenly boomed: "You have five minutes to surrender River Tam – then we'll blast this bar off the grid."
He pursed his lips. "They bluffin'?"
"They have plasma dampers."
He grunted. "Not bluffin', then."
River shook her head. "Their orders are to take me alive, but if not possible, they are licensed to kill. If we do not surrender, they will kill us." This thought frightened her far less than the second part: "If they take me alive, they'll take me back. Two by two, hands of blue," she added grimly.
There was a long pause. "They take us alive, they'll take you back to the Academy?"
She nodded then looked at him, waiting for him to make the obvious, logical response, that she should surrender. That at least then they'd both be alive.
He grunted. "Gun fight it is, then." And he calmly lowered himself to the floor to reload as though he hadn't just turned River's world upside down.
She blinked at him, stunned. "But, Jayne…"
"You're not going back there, Moonbrain. You're gonna shoot your way out."
She stared at him. "We're going to shoot our way out."
He just looked at her. Unbidden, her hands started to tremble; unbidden, she found herself stepping towards him.
"How bad is it?" She crouched down, reaching out to touch the sluggishly bleeding wound, but he shifted away from her, grunting:
"Bad enough to slow me down." His gaze locked with hers. "You hafta get out of here."
She shook her head stubbornly. "Not without you."
He bared his teeth at her. "Don't talk stupid, Crazy. I'd only slow you down, and you know it." His voice turned clipped and clinical, a military assessment. "Don't wait for them to come to you – take the battle to them; take Boo," he proffered his LeMat, "and I'll cover you. There's still a chance you could shoot your way out of this."
Bewilderment as much as anything held River motionless. Shocking enough for him to risk his well-being for hers – if she left him, his chances of survival went from tiny to non-existent – but this went even deeper than that.
Jayne knew ballistics and tactics, could calculate battle outcomes as quickly as she could. He knew what his chances would be; he also knew even if she took Boo, she would still be badly outgunned.
They both knew what he was saying wasn't possible. For some reason Jayne was pretending different.
She spoke slowly, trying to understand. "Even if I left you, probability has me dead within two minutes or taken back by the Hands of Blue and thereby dying a much worse, slower death. But even if it didn't… even if I could fight my way out…" She hesitated. He'd known she was outgunned. The fact he'd still offered Boo… the denial of her death she could see flickering in the colours round his head… She drew a deep breath for courage, then spoke: "I would rather die with you then live without you."
He sneered but she could see his heart wasn't in it; his leaping aura told a whole different story. "Don't talk crazy, Crazy."
She shook her head again, her hand crept out to touch his cheek. "Where you go, I go."
The attempt at subterfuge, never Jayne's strong suit, fell away. This time it was he that shook his head, not in negation, but with something like wonder. "That actually makes sense. Guess that makes me crazy as you."
She smiled and sat down beside him.
A few seconds passed by, ticking their way down to plasma explosions, to imminent death, but feeling strangely far away in the smoke-wreathed quiet as they gazed into each other's eyes, dizzy with the shock of unexpected discovery.
The weapon in her reminded her there were minutes left of her life; the woman asked her what she wanted to do with them.
The answer came surprisingly swiftly.
She seized his face between her hands and crushed her lips to his, sealing all her love, all the blazing, beautiful things she would have done in this life if she could, would have done with him if she could, into this one moment, this one declaration.
This one kiss.
When she pulled back, he looked dazed.
He licked his lips and glanced at the blocked doors, colours pulsating with fiery red. "How long you reckon we got?"
"Minutes." A wave of sadness threatened but evaporated in amusement as the surging fire she felt from him flailed in something very like a sulk, pouting that there wasn't enough time to do more than kiss.
Even in the face of death, he was so very… Jayne.
He scowled at her amusement, but then softened, eyes intently tracking round her features and back again. Over and over.
He spoke with simple truth, tone unadorned: "If I had more minutes, I'd spend 'em on you."
One of the most confusing things about Reading people, before she'd got better at compartmentalising, was distinguishing between their internal and external voices. People often said one thing whilst thinking quite another.
But on this occasion River had no trouble distinguishing the unspoken words.
They were the same as the ones she'd laced through her kiss, that had lain quiescent in a hundred encounters, actions and choices since Miranda. The same as the ones woven through his colours like pulsing gold.
Jayne gave a tiny sigh, gaze raking her face once more, then the unaccustomed solemnity vanished. "Well, I sure as hell ain't goin' out sittin' on my pi gu. How 'bout we take the fight to them?"
River nodded, unsurprised at how calm she felt. There was sorrow, especially when she thought of her brother, but no fear. She didn't fear death; only separation. She had fought to the death for Jayne and herself, and she would continue fighting if there was the smallest chance they would both make it out alive. But as soon as it looked like he wouldn't… Her resolve hardened.
Jayne was surveying their make-shift barricade. "Reckon you can shift those tables back on your own? I can stand, and I can sure as hell fight better'n those streaks o' piss, but heftin' those'll only make me bleed out faster."
River frowned. "If they hear us moving the tables, they'll know what we're doing."
"Or they'll assume we're surrenderin'," Jayne pointed out. "They'll be off their guard."
River grinned evilly and set to work.
Once she'd finished, she took hold of Jayne's hand and leant back, using her weight to help pull him to his feet. Slinging one of his arms round her shoulders, she manoeuvred them over to the bar and the cover it afforded. Adrenaline was already tightening her muscles, heightening her body's responses, and her heart fluttered at his closeness even as her skin seemed to hum.
He somehow sensed it, the arm round her shoulders pulling her flush against him as he stole one last devouring kiss.
Then he grinned wickedly and held up the remaining grenade, raising an eyebrow at her in question. "All guns blazin'?"
She nodded back, grin matching his. "Like Big Damn Heroes."
As one they shifted to face the exposed doors.
He tossed the grenade; the doors burst outwards.
Their guns were ready. They came up fighting.
By the time word reached the others on the far side of town, more than an hour had passed and dusk was descending.
Mal, Simon and Kaylee gunned the Mule to its fullest capacity, zipping at breakneck speed round hairpin turns, headed for the saloon whispering gossips indicated as the source of the gunfight. The sharp smell of gunpowder and the corpses gave truth to the rumours, but the battle on the ground was over.
Fear lent Simon an extra burst of speed, and heedless to Mal's barked commands and Kaylee's worried calls, he'd leapt from the Mule and raced ahead of them, frantically following the trail of bodies, sure his goal, his sister, would be at the end of them; whole and triumphant.
He pelted through doors ripped apart by grenade blasts… past ever-increasing grey-clad corpses, past a flash of blue, to where the battle had been thickest… to the two figures propped against the wall on the other side of the bar.
She was cuddled up next to him, hand entwined with his. It was hard to see where his blood ended and hers began.
But one thing was clear. They were both long past any medical skills he might offer.
He fell to his knees, numbing shock momentarily keeping the tsunami of grief at bay. Shock… and puzzlement.
The scene should have been painted with horror, with tragedy and fear. But even as the doctor in him calculated what pain they might have suffered, even as the gaping holes their absence left began to rip open, somewhere in the centre there was comfort.
Somewhere at his core was an incongruous peace.
In the gently dying light, he could've sworn they were both smiling.
fin
A/N The prompt for this story was that both River and Jayne die, and, man, I struggled to fill it. The hopefulness of the first half, of their discovering their feelings for one another – it actually kind of hurt killing that possibility. And them.
I blame/praise Beawolf's Pen. She gives the best/worst prompts ;)
Luckily, she accompanied this prompt with another far fluffier one, which I wrote simultaneously to counteract all the sorrow I was feeling, and will post a.s.a.p!
Let me know what you thought :)
Glossary:
Gē ge – big brother