He's Got a Secret

Day 3 – Pain

(Author's note: credit where it's due to Maureen McHugh for the term "Chinglish.")


Malcolm Reynolds found himself pretty content with his lot.

Two days before, he and his crew had done an honest-to-goodness good deed, helping lasso some bank robbers in New Topeka. The local sheriff who'd deputized them for the purpose had been right appreciative, too – giving them not only a plentiful reward but vouchers acceptable in the town's fruit and vegetable market. And to top it off, the sheriff was also the local brewer, and Mal struck a deal for a hundred barrels of what Simon (roped in as emergency taste-tester) called "a very smooth pilsner" – one they could probably sell for almost twice what they paid.

Long and short of it, not only did the Serenity crew turn a tidy profit, but they had cargo to move, and could enjoy some real live produce with their meals for a few weeks. Almost made a man want to believe in a god, just so he'd have someone to thank.

Yep, life was looking mighty fine. They'd just cleared atmo, heading back to Persephone to move the beer and rustle up the next job. It was Kaylee's day to cook, and she'd managed to whip up some proteins and spices into what almost passed for chorizo and eggs. The ship was running smooth, no one from the Alliance appeared to be sniffing around, and Inara hadn't picked a fight in over a week. Not a cloud on the horizon.

Well, one cloud. Named "Jayne Cobb."

This morning, Jayne had been acting … squirrelly, that was the only word Mal could think of to describe it. At breakfast he'd stood to one side – not surprising, given the location of his wound – but had barely eaten, didn't say much to anyone, and was first to leave. The only times he wasn't looking straight at his plate or mug was when he made sidelong glances at River, which she didn't pay the least attention to, far as could be told. And after, he went back to his bunk and hadn't been seen since.

He just wasn't himself, that was it. All his normal bluster was gone. He was too quiet – and not his usual sulking, angry quiet, but … Mal tried to think of what it compared to. It was like soldiers he'd seen in the war who were shell-shocked, like they were trying to think things through before they came back to reality. Jayne was … closed.

He shook his head; that was silly. Sure, Jayne'd gotten hit with a pretty good spray of lead, but it wasn't the worst he'd seen the big guy take. Wasn't one of the dozen worst, and usually he got ornery as a stuck bull about it. What was different this time?

"Something bothering you, Captain?" Zoe had walked up behind him.

Mal nodded. "Jayne."

"Mm. What did he do this time?"

"Nothin'."

"Nothing? That is suspicious." Mal usually had trouble telling if Zoe was being sarcastic or not. By the way she walked off without another word, he guessed she was.

Well, one way or another, he should probably ask around some, see if anyone knew why Jayne was acting contrary to his usual ways. And he had a good idea where to start.


River was sitting on one of the catwalks above the cargo hold with a skein of yarn, doing a cat's cradle. Only, River being River and all, it was a lot more complex than a normal cat's cradle – more like a geodesic dome.

Mal sat down next to her. "River … want to ask you something."

"The father worries about his eldest son."

Uh-oh. It had been awhile – several weeks, at least – since he'd heard River talk like that. Mostly these days, she spoke plain English (or at least Chinglish), much to the crew's relief. If she was lapsing back into what Zoe once called "weird-speak," it was probably not good news.

Press on, soldier. "Any idea why Jayne might be acting different this morning?"

"Terrible things can be hidden in dark caves. Dangerous things."

Yep, trouble. "I don't doubt it."

"It isn't safe to drag out what lives in a dark cave. Better to wait until it seeks the light on its own."

In other words, none of your business. Only it was his ship, his crew … his business. "River, if he's planning something that could hurt Serenity –"

She cut him off, speaking rapidly. "When left to themselves, things in caves are only dangerous to themselves."

Mal'd had it up to here with the metaphors. "River, you know what's going on with him. Now I want you to tell me plain – no more fei-hua. What is it?"

River was silent for several seconds. Then she looked him right in the eye, and said, "I will tell you. After I talk to Inara."

What did the Companion have to do with this? "Inara? Why Inara?"

She stood up. "Why, to tell her all of your inmost secrets," she replied innocently, before turning away, toward the starboard shuttle.

Ai-ya! Mal hurried to catch up. "No … no, now, that's not necessa …"

River wheeled on him. The cat's cradle had now turned into what looked like a fishing net. "But you are not afraid to invade his cave. Why should she not know what is in yours?"

She had him there, Mal thought. River could blow all their covers if she wanted … but she hadn't. She'd respected their privacy as much as she was able. And he'd always said that once they were part of his crew, a person's past didn't mean a thing to him. He couldn't justify violating that rule now.

River looked up at him, knowing what he was thinking, knowing that he knew she knew. "Father, be patient with your son. He is in great pain. Let him come out into the light in his own time. And please do not ask me to drag him – or anyone in the family – out of hiding." She extended a hand, still tangled in the yarn. "Deal?"

Frustrated as he was, he knew what she was asking was perfectly reasonable. He took her hand and shook it firmly. "Deal." Then: "You fight dirty, little girl."

She sat back down on the catwalk, and grinned up at him. "Father has taught me well." Without another word, she went back to her yarn.


Mal couldn't quite let it drop, yet. But other than Simon sensing some nerves, no one else had any hint as to why Jayne would be out of sorts. Finally, he decided to take River's advice – let Jayne come out with it in his own time.

Which was fine until dinner. And then things got a little tetchy.

Kaylee's try at "sloppy joes" was more edible than successful, but Jayne did eat some – standing again, leaning his undamaged cheek against a counter. Still, he was unusually quiet. The table conversation had turned to the subject of fathers, which left Mal out – he had no memory of his own daddy, who'd died when he was just an infant. He just sat back and listened. "Actually, he didn't have any problem with my choice of profession," Inara said in response to a question from Zoe. "He had to talk Mother into it, though."

"You're lucky. When I told Dad I was joining the Independents, I thought he was gonna blow a gasket."

"He was pro-Alliance?" Simon asked.

"Oh, no – he just didn't want his 'little girl' in the line of fire. It wasn't until after I joined – and after the Alliance started attacking his shipping routes – that he started seeing it my way."

"When the line of fire became unavoidable."

"That's right. I bet your father was pretty passionate about the war – on the other side."

Simon nodded and rolled his eyes. "Oh yeah. Every night he was reading news dispatches to us at the dinner table – 'the brave men and women fighting for the Alliance, bringing order out of chaos and stamping out the terrorist threat!'" He shook his head. "By the end of the war, even I wasn't quite buying the propaganda. That's … part of why I wanted to become a doctor – I figured I'd rather be involved in putting people together than tearing them apart."

"He believed what he had been told," River added sadly, and Simon nodded again.

"How about you, Jayne?" Kaylee chirped.

Jayne didn't look up from his plate. "Mm?"

"You haven't told us anything about your daddy. Don't you have any stories about him?"

He glanced over at her – looking for all the universe like an animal spotting a predator – then back to his food. "Nope."

"Aw, come on," she wheedled, ignoring the warning looks from Simon and River. "I bet you got lots of fun yarns about father-son hunting trips or visits to town or some such. Tell us, won'tcha?"

Jayne set his plate and fork down on the counter, his meal only half-eaten. "Good grub," he mumbled. Then, without another word, he walked out of the room.

Everyone was silent for a spell, watching the door where he'd left. Then Kaylee jumped up. "I gotta go apologize!" She lit out after him before anyone could stop her.

"Kaylee, don't …," Simon called out.

"It's okay," River said softly.

"But … but the state he's in, he might hurt her!"

River shook her head. "He won't."

That seemed to mollify Simon – after a few seconds.

"But will she be able to help him?" Inara asked.

River sighed heavily. "She won't."

Oliver twisted up his mouth, scratched the back of his neck, then turned to River. "Lass ... d'you ken whut's wrong wi' ..."

"Don't," Mal and River said at the same time. Oliver looked from one to the other, cocked his jaw to one side, nodded and went back to eating.

The others were about to do the same when Kaylee returned. She sat back in her seat, tears running down her face.

"Are you all right?" Simon asked, alarmed.

"I told him I was sorry … I told him I didn't mean to pry … I asked him what was wrong … but he … he didn't (sniff) say a word … he didn't even look at me … he just, just kept walkin' 'til he got to his bunk and … and then he … (gulp) … he went in and … and closed the door and …" She picked up her napkin and blew her nose. Simon put an arm around her shoulders and pulled her close.

And most everyone else looked at Mal.

Mal sighed. The burden of command. "Suppose I'd better look into it." He held up a hand to River before she could speak. "I know, I know. But …" He shrugged. "Can't go on like this." And since he didn't have anything else to say, he didn't say anything, just returned to his meal. Soon, everyone else did too.


Three hours later, with most everyone else bunked down for the night, Mal was outside the door to Jayne's room. Man, he hated this part of the job. But he knocked anyway.

"Gun kai!"

"No." Mal knocked again, and waited.

Soon, he heard footfalls on the ladder, and a voice muttering something like "hou-zi-tsao da-tiao." Finally the door opened, but Jayne only stuck his head and shoulders out. "What?"

Mal blinked. The man looked like he hadn't slept in a month. "Need to talk to you, Jayne."

Jayne shrugged. "So talk." His voice was starting to match his face.

Mal squatted down so he could look at Jayne … well, closer to eye-to-eye. "I'm worrying about you. A lot of people are."

Jayne glared at him. "Don't." He reached for the door handle.

Mal put his hand against the door, to keep it open. "Jayne, I know something's going on with you. I don't know what, and maybe it's none of my business …"

"Ain't no maybe about it."

"… but it's making you act strange. I don't need my merc acting strange – it's unsettling to the crew."

"That's why you're worried?"

Mal waited a piece before replying. "That's part of it." It would go against everything either man stood for to come out and actually speak of friendship. Living it was all shiny; talking about it wasn't. But he knew Jayne was smart enough to read between the lines.

Jayne didn't move a hair, but Mal could see his face softening. When he spoke, his voice was softer too. "There's things that happen to ya … that ya don't never want to talk about. Things ya don't want known." He took a slow, deep breath, looked away, let it go. "Bad enough one person knows, even if she ain't talkin'."

"River?"

Jayne's eyes whipped back up. "What'd she say?" he growled.

"She said she wasn't gonna tell me, unless I wanted my secrets blabbed around too." That was, when you got down to it, what River had really said.

One corner of Jayne's mouth twitched up for a second. "Don't suppose ya wanted that."

Mal smiled and shook his head. "Don't suppose I did. But …" He took a deep breath of his own before going on. "… if you need to talk about it, you can."

Jayne managed to work up a sneer. It still looked tired. "With you?"

"With almost anyone on the ship, I reckon." Mal stood back up. "But I can't have you moping around all the time. Do what you gotta do – but do it. Okay?"

Jayne looked up at him for a while before grunting.

Mal took it as a yes. "All right then. 'Night." He walked off, but never heard Jayne's door clang shut behind him. Must not have been closed until he was too far away to hear it. He went up to the bridge to take over for Zoe.

The first officer turned around as he entered. "How'd it go, sir?"

Mal shrugged. "Too soon to tell." Zoe nodded and left, and Mal dropped into the pilot's chair. He looked out at the blackness of space, sprinkled with stars. "Too soon to tell …"