Considering

Deserted, River wandered mentally after Jayne but knew he didn't want her to follow. So she applied herself to the task at hand and after gauging the humming washer/dryer from all angles, decided she could take it if it chose to attack her. She would have no warning of impending assault, however, being unable to read its thoughts, so she hurried as much as she could when the timer announced its cycles were completed. Feeling the warm softness of clean laundry against her skin calmed her on the walk back to her bunk. So once inside, she spread everything around on her mattress pad and lay down on it. She knew Inara might mention wrinkles, later, but this was now. Calmness was necessary.

She rolled her head over to hang it off the bunk; underneath, pushed way back in the corner, was the smallish white box she'd picked up on Shore's Leave. She contemplated it morosely; it seemed she'd been beforehand in purchasing it. It might sit there for a very long time, until it was old and lonely and abandoned. She had been foolish that day.

There was a job to do that afternoon, and River was glad of it. She needed something fill up the spaces of her mind that only wanted to consider a tall, dark-headed, sometimes obtuse Jayne. She arrived in the common room before anyone else, anxious to get on with it. Folding her legs into a lotus position on the floor beside the couch, she waited for the other players in the imminent criminal enterprise. She determinedly did not think about ridiculously sensuous lips or sexy rough beard stubble or the way his hair caressed the back of his neck.

"Woman does not live by testosterone alone," she told the empty room, paraphrasing the Shepherd's Book. Since his death she'd been trying to read it, some; he had been a mystery to her in ways most people were not, and she thought maybe his precious ancient literary work would give her some insight into who he had been. It had, actually, but not in ways she'd expected. Of course, lately all her thoughts had been taken up by one large mercenary. "It is not healthy," she continued insisting aloud, trying to convince herself and the furniture. "I need a more varied mental diet."

Unfortunately for her willpower, the next person into the room was Jayne. He hesitated at seeing her there on the floor, then seated himself on the end of the couch nearest her. She tipped her head back to look at him, while at the same time trying to throw up walls within her skull. She'd attempted to do it before, block out the thought impressions she got from others, with fluctuating levels of success.

This time it worked, and all she knew of what he was thinking came from his expression and body language. She wasn't very fluent in that language, yet, having been bombarded with actual thoughts for so long. Now she was left wondering. Was he angry? Pulling back from her? No, he'd seated himself beside her. Maybe he wanted to tell her face-to-face, like a man, that it was over.

"It hasn't even started yet," she told him anxiously. He frowned down at her.

"What?" When she didn't answer, he twisted his body and slanted his legs toward her. She couldn't remember what that meant. Aggression? Defensiveness? She was about to drop those mental shields out of frustration.

"Lookit, River, we gotta talk."

She pursed her lips at him. "Jayne is very feminine today." She didn't want to talk.

"Hey," he pulled back, looking distressed, she could comprehend that; "I thought we were past the whole 'Jayne is a girl's name' thing. I done told you"-

"No," she interrupted, "Not the name. The line, it is usually in the woman's purview."

He shook his head. "No idea what yer sayin'. River"-

Zoë entered, and he shut up.

The three of them waited. And waited. And waited for the Captain. When he did finally show, slightly out of breath, River was pushed up against the wall at her back by the emotions radiating off him. Astonishment. Amusement. A little fear. Mostly, nearly overwhelming joy and . . . love? River stared at him, dazed, while Jayne made a disgusted remark about the time and Zoë questioned him with a raised eyebrow.

"Sorry, I forgot," he said somewhat sheepishly, offering them a grin that could only be termed goofy. River leaned toward him hungrily, basking in the flow of his thoughts. Her walls couldn't keep them out. "Your miracle has happened," she murmured, her expression dazed.

"Er – yeah," he glanced a 'keep quiet' look at her. It seemed he wasn't ready to talk, either. She sat back, and he set off on a description of the job that allowed no room for interruptions from Jayne's or Zoë's curiosity. River sat there wishing for her own miracle. She was beginning to see how much she and Jayne had to overcome to get to serious togetherness. His short-term approach to life and her long-term craziness were just the start of it. She recalled an excerpt from Shepherd's Book that discussed miracles and belief, and determined to look it up when they got back from the job.

If Mal had been in the mood to notice anything about any of his crew, which he wasn't, he'd have noticed that Jayne's behavior just got stranger and stranger. Inara had an excuse for being preoccupied, too, and thus not discerning the extra quietness, which might have denoted consideration, in River. Zoë, Kaylee, and Simon all took note, however.

The first time Simon realized something was going on was when he was giving a hand (at the captain's direction) to Jayne, sorting and re-stowing boxed cargo since they'd off-loaded some on their last job. River had entered, ignored them both in the way she sometimes had, and crossed to the stairs leading to the catwalk, all with her hair hanging forward to hide her expression. Once she was up to the next level, she started to dance.

Simon winced at what the grating would do to her bare toes and heels. But she looked so delicate, and lost in her inaudible music, that he didn't have the heart to interrupt her. With a smile he watched her for a minute, seeing out of the corner of his eye that Jayne did the same thing. The hulking ape stood there kind of gaping in that way he had. Then he started, like he was coming out of a trance, reached into one of the many pockets his pants sported, and whipped out paper and pen. He frowned down at the cream-colored scrap, pressed it out against the nearest box, and began laboriously to scribe something unto it. His tongue was between his teeth in concentration; it seemed a big task for him.

This was curious enough to draw Simon's attention away from his sister. "Need some help with that?" he inquired half-seriously half-sarcastically, venturing nearer to get a look at what the paper held. Jayne snapped upright and stuffed it away, with a ferocious "cai bu shi". Simon held his hands up in peace-offering. "Shide, just trying to be nice."

Jayne rolled his eyes and hefted the box he'd used as a desk. "Get back to work."

Simon told Kaylee about it later that night, and she chewed her lip a bit while listening. He watched her with growing suspicion as she glanced around her cabin and played with the sleeve of his shirt.

"Kaylee, what's going on?"

She wrinkled her nose in a pleading, please-don't-press-me way. "Simon, I think you need to talk to River."

"Talk to River? About Jayne? You're serious."

She nodded. It was her serious face. He groaned. "I'm not going to like this, am I?"

She shrugged and gave him a sympathetic smile.

Mal finally clued in to something not-back-to-normal with his merc following a job that had gone a bit south. Shooting had been involved, and River had had to drop-kick a few guys. She'd done it so smoothly and elegantly it had hardly even seemed like violence. They were able to salvage the pay, so all considered he felt pretty good when the four of them piled into the mule to head back to Serenity.

Zoë drove, and Mal half-turned in his seat to address a remark to the pair in the back. Jayne had a piece of paper out over his knee, and was bent writing on it, eyes narrowed in concentration. He looked up to snarl at Zoë when she whipped the mule around ninety degrees to turn in through the bay doors. Then he looked back down. "Think twelve is enough," he muttered.

"Whatcha got there, Jayne?" enquired Mal lightly, having never seen the man with writing implements unless he was making out a letter to his ma. Jayne shook his head and tilted it away from prying eyes. He finished as Zoë cut power, and climbed off the mule with everyone else. Mal switched his gaze to River. She shook her head at him in a reprimanding fashion. "Do not ask me to know. I am experimenting with walls." She walked off in one direction, Jayne in another. Mal reflected that at least the bizarre flirting thing had stopped.

River had studied up on the miracles in Shepherd Book's symbol, and decided that the teaching meant; one could not cause or force a miracle, but could perhaps inveigle one from a friendly deity. Upon its commencement, one then had to take advantage of the opportunity posed. So all she had to do was; endear herself to a Superior Being, convince that being that her cause was worthwhile, recognize the opportunity when it arrived, and effect whichever actions would afford the best outcome.

She didn't need to be especially clear-headed to doubt the feasibleness of this sequence of events. Jayne had not interacted with her since that day with the laundry, except for polite hellos or nods. She was getting better at shielding her mind from everyone else's thoughts, and tried not to invade privacies, so she didn't know what he was thinking. However, she remembered how well his thoughts and words and actions usually melded. Her hopes for a future with Jayne wanted to fade off.

She clutched them stubbornly and forbade them to do so. She finally collected Kaylee and Inara in Inara's shuttle and tried to compel them to change something about her to regain Jayne's attention. Inara protested.

"Do you think that you want him if he only notices you when you've made an effort to be physically appealing?" she questioned as she poured tea. River shook her head, hands pressed to her sides. "No. But he still wants . . . I think . . . is just reacting to obstacles." Her brows drew together. "I am not prepared to dither as long as you did," she said flatly.

Inara, who had never considered herself a ditherer, was about to protest this too when Kaylee put a hand up to hide her smile. Sighing, she put the tea pot down and raised her steaming cup to her lips. "Yes, I suppose it was a long time."

"But worth it!" Kaylee enthused.

"Oh, yes." The tea cup lowered, revealing a full smile on Inara's lips. "Every minute."

"Jayne is worth effort," River inserted. Kaylee, who was all for the scheme anyway, clasped her hands and "awww"ed. Inara nodded in rather amused resignation.

So she instructed River in makeup application and apparel, admonishing that for River a natural look was best and not to overdo it. River followed direction industriously, noting color and style combinations. Inara nodded in satisfaction as she laid the last makeup brush down. "And now, for your hair," she said, rising to her feet. She was unprepared for the reaction she received. River scooted out of her chair and backed toward the entrance.

"Not the hair! The hair is sacrosanct. Not to be up!" River used her hands and arms to try to cover it up, as though Inara might rip it from her head.

"That's fine, it's all right dear," Inara soothed, surprised. "We can leave it down. But just a little trim, I think, to even out the ends?"

"And sparkles!" Kaylee put in, holding up some small shiny clips of her own.

It took a little more cajoling, but River came back to her chair and let them proceed.

Later that evening, after they ate, Jayne found her down in the common room. Her brother was puttering about in the infirmary, so he waited around impatiently. River watched him standing against the wall with crossed arms. She didn't speak. He didn't say anything. Simon clunked something heavy down on the counter.

"You 'bout done in there, doc?" Jayne called. Simon poked his head out the door.

"Very nearly," he said politely. "Did you need something, Jayne?"

"Not from you," Jayne snorted. Simon's eyes drifted to River, sitting with her feet beneath her on the couch. She was looking at the floor and seemed unaware anyone else was in the room. Simon hung there a moment, debating with himself, then pulled back into the medical bay. He finished quickly, exited, shut the door behind him, and crossed to the common room exit, too. "Good night," he said softly to the room at large, and left. Jayne blinked slowly.

"Huh." He said. "That was diff'rent." But only momentarily distracted from the reason he was here, he eyed the girl on the couch warily. They'd had little to say to each other for days. He wanted to know what she was thinking.

"What ya thinkin'?"

She stopped looking at the floor and started looking at him, which she hadn't done in awhile. The impact hit him like a fist in his gut. He straightened away from the wall, hands in his pockets.

"I am wondering what you're thinking," she told him.

"Uh." He moved over to her. She pulled her legs out from beneath her and rose. He'd missed being this close to her. "Wait," he said, in case she'd been about to do something. "I'm, well, I made somethin'. Fer you."

Her head tipped back in curiosity. His lips twitched, but didn't quite make it to a grin, 'cus he was nervous. "Here, just take it." He pulled his hands from his pockets. In one was clenched a cream-colored bit of paper. She recognized it. She reached out, hesitantly, and he shoved it into her palm. Her fingers curved over it.

"Gotta read it," he instructed, backing a step away. He didn't have any idea what to expect as her reaction.

She opened the folded sheet and turned it right-side up. There were words there, in large slightly crude hand-written letters. She began at the top, felt her breath catch. It was a list. The words were misspelled and there were cross-outs and a hole in one place where the paper had been rubbed through by something. But slowly, she made it out.

REASONS I LIKE RIVER TAM (BESIDES HER LOOKIN' GOOD)

ain't like anybody else in the 'verse

only treats me like I'm stupid when I am

puts up nice with her chunren brother

dances like she means it

fights like she dances

thinks she can take care of me

makes me want to protect her

can protect her own damn self

sees stuff nobody else does (kinda like but not the same as #1)

brain's pretty clear, considerin part of its missin, and all kinds of shiny

11. makes me consider on things

12. wouldn't matter who the pa was, would make beautiful babies

Once she'd gotten to the bottom, she went back to the top and started over. Jayne stood and fidgeted, began to make growling noises, and finally reached out to snatch it back. But she was to fast for him, twirling away, pressing it close to her heart and fixing him with wide eyes and open mouth as she came full circle.

"He – you made this for me," she got out, sounding as though she'd just finished a twenty-mile hike up steep hill country. He nodded.

"Don't like hurtin' ya," he told her as he shuffled his feet. "Next time I do, kick me 'r somethin'. Then read that there, maybe it'll help." He moved his shoulders around. Waited. She looked down again at the List.

"Well?" He queried. He sounded as though he was trying to make it sound impatient. But it came out as anxious.

"Well what?" She smiled at him, tilting her head up on that long neck, and his tight insides eased somewhat. Nevertheless, he huffed impatiently, because that was what Jayne did.

And it was how she liked him.

"Well, now what are ya thinkin'?"

Her smile left and she closed her eyes. Sensed the crinkles of the paper against the skin of her hands, and it felt like, felt like . . .

Not like Kaylee and Simon. Not like Captain Daddy and Inara. Not like Zoë and Wash. It was its own, different. It was good. Her eyes opened again, and were very very bright.

"I'm thinking", her words were solemn; "this is the most precious piece of paper in the 'verse."

cai bu shi; no way

shide; yes, all right

chunren; jerk