Disclaimer: The wonderful characters and the good ship Serenity all belong to Joss Whedon, or Mutant Enemy, or Fox, or whoever actually owns them, and that person or entity is definitely not me. Written for amusement purposes only. No copyright infringement intended or implied.
Rating: T, with rough language warning. May go up for later chapters.
Summary: Eight months after Miranda, the crew of Serenity still struggles to adapt to the "new normal." Constructing, and deconstructing, moments of her life, River attempts to assimilate her new and sometimes painful feelings for Jayne. - - Rayne, but will touch on other pairings. Post-BDM, of course.
Chapter 7: It's Only Funny 'Til Someone Gets Hurt
– Present Day –
"- and then Jayne punches this guy and he actually says 'Mommy' as he's fallin' to the floor- " the captain was recounting the events of the bar brawl, with hilarious impressions of Spanky, Jayne, the blowsy Ling, and various other key players. The entire crew was convulsed with laughter as they sat around the dining room table after dinner, hanging on his every word. Mal had glossed over the part about Miranda, and taken up the tale with Jayne and the pool cue.
River looked around at the shining faces, laughing herself, sharing the wonder of the moment. She ended up back at the captain, and she marveled again that this was his great gift…one he claimed reluctantly, if at all, but it was his gift all the same. He drew people to him, and made them his own.
She turned her head slightly and let her gaze slide over her right shoulder and behind Simon to look at Jayne, sitting in his accustomed place at the end of the table. He was balancing back on two legs of his chair with his arms folded across his chest, grinning reluctantly at Mal's over-the-top rendition of events. Even though Mal took every opportunity to describe Jayne in the most insulting of terms, the captain was making it perfectly clear that the mercenary was the big damn hero of this tale.
River studied Jayne as unobtrusively as possible. She could see the tape on his fingers where he'd bandaged himself up, and his short-sleeved t-shirt showed a large and angry contusion on his lower arm where he'd taken a bad blow. He had a bruise on his left cheekbone, too, a slight darkening just under the eye that was somehow quite alluring.
She was disconcerted at just how much she wanted to stroke her cool fingertips over that tender skin, to ease the painful swelling. Since he'd walked away from her in the cargo bay her sense of connectedness to him had faded rapidly, and she was once again reduced to kinetics and common sense when it came to deciphering his feelings. The frustration and loss she felt was in direct proportion to the intensity of the moment when he'd looked up at her and blazed his way into her heart. How could she not have seen this coming? She'd been fascinated by him from the start, even in her most unbalanced state, because he was so different from Simon, so big and crude and earthy. But Miranda had changed him in some subtle way. Over these last months, when he'd been so distant, she'd spent countless hours watching him, wondering about him, cataloging him. It almost seemed if she'd been waiting…waiting for him to break, to show her who and what he really was.
Jayne noticed her looking at him and quirked an eyebrow in insolent inquiry. She jerked her eyes away quickly. So much for his earlier pleasantry toward her.
"A spittoon?" Simon was laughing, shaking his head in amazement. "I didn't even realize those things still existed."
"'Course you didn't, bao bei," Kaylee reached over and patted his hand.
"And then here comes our little albatross – flyin' like one, too, in my mule, which the cost of fixin' any damage is comin' outta your cut, by the way, darlin' – and she slams into this balcony and skids across the damned thing, knockin' out most a Spanky's gang."
There were exclamations of amazement.
"River!" Simon admonished. "That was too reckless!"
"She knew what she was doin'," Jayne said gruffly.
A defense of River from that quarter was unusual enough to raise some eyebrows. Jayne saw Inara and Zoë looking at him in surprise and felt compelled to explain.
"Ain't saying it weren't crazy, just, ya know, she calculated the velocitile projection an' all."
"Ah," nodded Simon archly.
River elbowed him surreptitiously under the table and shot him a be nice frown. She couldn't help but look at Jayne again, a grateful smile hovering around her mouth, but he wasn't interested in making eye contact. Feeling foolish, River sank down in her chair a little bit.
"Well, her 'velocitile projection' saved our asses today," Mal lifted his glass to River.
"There was a twenty percent probability that you would have managed to extricate yourself from the situation, but not without sustaining significant bodily damage," River informed him earnestly.
"Good thing I didn't have to rely on no measly twenty percent," Mal grinned. "I had you and your acrobatics and nifty gun-tossin' abilities to up my odds."
"Gun-tossin'?" Zoë asked curiously.
"You all haven't heard the best bit. Before the thing even stops, River somersaults out the mule, throwin' Vera to Jayne and takin' up a crossfire position like they been practicing this trick for months. For a minute there I imagined myself the leader of some fearsome commandos, not a little girl and a beaten-up old merc." Mal shook his head with a slightly baffled laugh.
Jayne's chair came down with a thump, and a stormy look crossed his face.
"I can't imagine that Jayne let anyone else even touch his Vera." Kaylee giggled. "You're movin' up in the world, Riv."
River felt uneasy. Jayne's good mood seemed to have fled completely, and River sensed that Mal had gone from genial sarcasm to something a little…hostile. Repeating the story had reminded him that he had been disturbed by that display on the balcony, even though he himself did not fully understand why.
"There was no lettin' involved. I wouldn'ta had to rely on… no little girl if Mal hadn't taken away every single one of my weapons," Jayne growled angrily, shooting a resentful glance at the captain.
"Oh, come on, Jayne," Zoë chuckled. "You tellin' me you didn't sneak anything past him? Not even those little throwin' knives you always clip inside your boots?"
"He found 'em," Jayne griped.
"That belt buckle with the knife hidden in it?" Kaylee asked.
"Didn't wear it."
"What about that little graphite snub-nosed pistol you always got in that breast pocket of your vest?" Zoë put in.
Jayne blinked suddenly.
"You did well enough with a pool cue and a spittoon," Mal drawled. "No shame in lettin' River take some credit."
"That ain't it," Jayne muttered tersely, almost to himself, and shoved away from the table.
"Where you goin'?" Mal demanded.
"The mule's stowed and my chores are done. What business is it of yours?"
"I just thought since River was takin' Zoë's turn with clean-up tonight, you might want to give her a hand, seein' as how you two are workin' together so well nowadays." Mal's tone was slightly caustic.
Why are you pressing him? River wondered unhappily. Mal's intentions were swirling around in shades of grey, purple and red. Jayne's compliment in the cargo bay, heard but not seen, was flittering through his memory. Owlet? Owlet? Mal was perplexed, and Mal did not appreciate being perplexed. Mal was …probing.
Jayne just laughed. "Right." He started to turn away, but Mal's next words stopped him.
"I'm serious," Mal replied. And he was. "Least you could do, Jayne, seein' as how she saved your worthless life today." Mal had meant that to sound slightly more humorous than it came out, but he wasn't sorry.
There was a sudden pall as the others picked up on the tension in the atmosphere. It became clear to River that for some reason Mal was trying to make Jayne a little angry…at her. He wanted to see how Jayne reacted to the thought of helping her. She pushed inside a bit, and saw that moment on the balcony again, through Mal's eyes. She saw the intensity that had streamed between her and the merc. Had it been that palpable? Had it possibly been – she sucked in a tiny breath – mutual?
The whole room filled with discomfort, and Kaylee shifted uneasily, tryin' to figure on why the captain had gone from Malcolm the charmer to Malcolm the hardass in two beats. River could feel their general puzzlement, wondering why the mood had changed so abruptly. How to explain that it was, perversely, Mal's pride in Jayne that had caused this? That those feelings of camaraderie and brotherly affection had caused a small alarm in the captain because he still didn't entirely trust his hired gun? That he was looking for something…suspicious…because this was Jayne, after all, and there was always that threat of an interestin' day on the horizon? She bit the side of her lip. If she tried to say anything it would only make matters worse.
Zoë pushed herself out of her chair awkwardly, purposely putting a physical barrier between the two men.
"Just 'cause I'm round don't mean I can't carry a plate or two. It's Jayne and River earned a rest, sir." She began to pile plates and silverware.
"No, Zoë, please, I volunteered –" River stood up also, trying to wave Zoë back down.
"We can all help…" Inara offered calmly.
"Sure, I'll help the moonbrain," Jayne said tightly, spearing a bitter glance at River. "I'm all about – what's that word, now? Reciprocity?"
"Jayne used a five syllable word," Simon uttered faintly. Jayne ignored the jibe, invested in his silent altercation with Mal.
Mal's eyes were hooded as he studied Jayne, and River sensed his satisfaction at having reinstated the status quo. "Good to know."
&&&&&&&
They worked in silence, moving back and forth from dining room to kitchen. River looked at the mess that Simon created and gave an inward groan. His meals were always complicated, always perfectly nutritionally balanced, and almost always awful.
Jayne was banging the pot and pans around loudly, releasing his aggression on the cookware. The rest of the crew had fled for calmer waters as soon as possible.
"The captain's in his bunk waving Badger …you don't have to help anymore." River brought in the last of the cups and serving bowls.
"Let's just get it done," Jayne said shortly.
"Really, you don't…"
"You tryin' to make me into a liar now?" he turned away from her.
"What did I make you into before?" River paused to ask, genuinely curious.
"Shut up and go do somethin'."
River sighed and went to wipe the table down. She could hear Jayne's sotto voce litany of the usual River insults over the counter as she worked. He'd throw in a curse at Mal for variety every once in a while.
When she finished she went back into the kitchen and saw Jayne trying to force the biggest pot into the dishwasher. It had to go in a certain way, or it would dent the sides, and possibly break the rack. River had worked out the precise angle of the handles for the pot to fit comfortably.
"Here, let me help…" she reached out and tried to adjust the pot. To her surprise, Jayne wrenched it away angrily.
"I think I been doin' dishes a hell of lot longer than you, little girl. I don't need your help." His eyes were hot blue pools.
"But you're doing it wrong." River said stubbornly, wrenching the pot back.
"Like there's a wrong way to put a pot in the washer." Wrench.
"There is, and you've managed to discover it." Wrench.
"Let go a the gorram pot!"
"You let go!"
They each had a handle of the pot and they were yanking it back and forth across the open door of the dishwasher like a double-handled saw. River knew this was completely ridiculous and childish, but he was wrong. Wrong to be angry at her, wrong to be so resentful of her, wrong to be so frustratingly attractive, and wrong about the stupid pot.
Suddenly he said, "Fine!" and released his side. River, still pulling, lost her balance and fell back against the counter. The pot clattered to the floor as she scrabbled for a hand hold, letting out a cry of pain as her palm came down on a large knife that had been left on the cutting board.
She lifted her shaking hand, seeing the blood well up quickly from a long gash that bisected the plump skin of her flexor retinaculum, watching as the blood laced down and across her pale wrist.
"Damaged," she whispered, and stared at the redness of the blood. Damaged, that's what they'd called her when they'd dragged her, trailing blood, into the emergency room at the Academy. The subject has damaged herself…and River had tried to explain…not damaged, but like the doomed Taniyama, merely unconfident in her future. She looked up at Jayne, her pupils dilated. "Cast no dark shadows…"
Jayne's face was blank with shock, and then he reached for her, grabbing her wrist and looking for something to wrap the wound in.
"Fucking Simon," he growled as he tugged open the drawer where the dishcloths were stored and saw that there were no clean ones left. The blood dripped down River's arm and onto the floor, making neat, precise little circles in a polka dot pattern.
Frustrated, Jayne hauled his t-shirt up and wrapped her palm in the soft material, pressing down with the fingers of his other hand and making River hiss in pain. She welcomed the sensation, though, because it brought her forcibly back to the here and now. Jayne kept up the firm pressure for a minute, until it looked like the blood had stopped spreading through the pale grey cloth.
"Lemme see now," Jayne said gently, and spread the material open to look at the cut that ran diagonally down her palm, to the top of her wrist. She saw his face tightened as he realized how close it had come to her artery. The gash was long, but fairly shallow, and the bleeding had already turned sluggish.
"That ain't nothin' but a scratch…a little of the doc's dermabond and you won't even know it was ever there tomorrow," he patted guiltily at the cut with the hem of his t-shirt. River's hand jerked with each little dab at the tender skin.
River looked up at him, and he looked down at her, and they both realized how close they were standing to one another. River could feel the warmth of his hands through the thin lining of his shirt, and her pain faded away. There was a brief moment of breathless anticipation, and then Jayne eased back.
"You all right now, crazy?" he asked gruffly.
"Your t-shirt is ruined." River said fretfully, trying not to let her disappointment show.
"S'all right. Not the first one you've wrecked. Here." He reached back one big hand and pulled the material over his head, pulling out first one arm, then the other, very gingerly. He enveloped her little fist in the plentiful cloth and stepped away.
"Jayne…" River's eyes widened. His right upper abdomen and his right side were a mass of bruises, including some raised hematomas. She reached out her unwrapped hand toward the angry reddish blue welts, but he moved aside jerkily.
"Have you seen Simon?" She stood very still. She was not the only one who was damaged.
"Don't need to. I got pain killers from the last time." He took one of the dirty dishtowels from the sink and crouched to wipe up the blood splatters on the floor. "Now git along, and have your brother take care a that before you make another mess."
"Jayne…"
"I'll finish up here." He picked up the pot off the floor and stared at it for a second before glancing at River with a flicker of rueful amusement in his eyes. "Think I'll wash this one by hand."
&&&&&&&&&&&
A/N: Hmm. Took me seven chapters to get Jayne partially unclothed. Must be losing my edge. ::grin:: The "Damaged" line is my tribute to one of my favorite Rayne songs and frequent inspiration: "Damaged" by Plummet. Hope you enjoyed! Thanks for reading and reviewing! Gem