The Truest Thing part 1

Jayne was out of bed with a pistol in his hand before he knew he was awake. A long, high, agonized scream was ripping his ears to shreds as he clambered out of his bunk and quick-footed it down the hall. He knew the source; recognized it just the same as everyone else who was pokin' their noses out of their beds.

Simon was there first, his and Kaylee's bunk bein' closer. He'd brought his own weapons, a medication vial with a syringe. But he hadn't ventured too close with it, yet. He was tryin' to talk River down first, for which Jayne had to give him credit.

As he dropped down through the hatch Simon had left open, Jayne heard another sound; a whimper. It came from Darwhen, who was backed into a corner, her eyes wide with fright as she listened to River shrill. He'd never heard the kid do that before, and he hoped her time with the hun dan Yarborough hadn't broken her permanent-like.

When the girl saw Jayne come through into the room, she pulled herself to her feet and crossed to him. After checking that the safety was on, Jayne tucked his gun into his waistband while Darwhen's hand anchored to his pants. Good thing he'd worn them to bed last night.

River was braced up against the wall, her eyes shut tight, still hollering. It must've been a bad one; she hadn't gone off like this in a long time. Darwhen was leaning on his leg, trembling. Jayne went to take a step toward River and the kid came along a little slow, dragging at his leg. Without thinking, he reached down, got an arm around her, and hauled her up onto his hip against his side. She melted into his shoulder with a little shudder.

Simon had given up trying to calm his sister verbally and was sticking the syringe's needle into the vial. Jayne sighed, leaned over his crazy partner, and slammed his open palm up against the hull right beside her head. The loud smack sound resounded through the room; Simon jerked and muttered a half-audible curse.

"Jayne, that's a good way to get me needle-stuck," Simon glared. Jayne cared about discommoding the doc about as much as he ever did.

River had jerked too; more importantly, her eyes had opened and she'd quit screaming.

Simon injected the liquid back into the vial when it was obvious that his sister was staring around the room with a semblance of rationality in her posture. River tracked on the two male faces and, finally, the small scared one peeping at her from the one eye not pressed to Jayne's frame. River's eyes glazed with tears at the sight.

"I dreamed your fear," she whispered to the child. "I'm sorry, I don't mean to pry … I'm so sorry he did that to you …"

"Scoot over," Jayne commanded, shoving at River's leg with his foot. Blinking, she did so, and he sat down close beside her. Simon cocked his head as he watched Darwhen curl into the merc's lap. The girl's eyes were wide and she was shivering a little. Jayne rubbed his hands briskly up and down her arms, though Simon thought the tremors were likely more of a fight-or-flight reaction than a coolness of body temperature.

"I'm sorry," Darwhen said so quietly he almost didn't hear her.

"For what?" Jayne demanded, tipping a frown down at her.

"I made River scared. I gave her a nightmare ... I was dreaming about Mr. Y-yarb..."

"Stop right there," Jayne cut her off while River sat forward with a horrified gasp. "Not your fault, River pickin' up your dreams. And that hun dan was a mean an' scary piece of go se, an' if you weren't scared and still thinkin' on what happened we'd be, uh, worried. Well, River would."

River's foot nudged his knee. "Language, Jayne," she chided softly. Her expression was even clearer than it had been. Jayne rolled his eyes at her admonition, but Simon knew he'd been taking pains about how he spoke when Darwhen stayed with them the last time; everyone had. They just needed to get into practice again.

"Jayne is right," River directed her speech to Darwhen now. "You had some bad things happen. We wish they hadn't, but since they did you are right to be scared. Just like you're right to be sad and miss your mother."

Darwhen kicked her feet against each other. "I'm not all the time," she said. "Just sometimes, still sad. Mostly I was scared, at Mr. Yarb- Yarbro's house." Her expression turned fierce. "He said call him 'Daddy' and I didn't want to ..." She leaned sideways into Jayne's chest again. "I'm never gonna call him anything but 'Mr. Yarbro' now. Even though it's hard to say."

River managed a smile at Darwhen, who smiled back. Then the child giggled as she stuck her feet over into River's lap.

"Thanks, doc," Jayne said quietly just when Simon was ready to assume they'd forgotten he was even in the room. "Think we'll be OK here."

They all looked settled in for the long haul, the man, the woman, and the child. It was Simon who blinked now. Lips pursed, he took his syringe and the unused med, and exited quietly.

He was still standing in the hall outside his sister's bunk when Kaylee came to check on them a few minutes later. She slid her hand into his unoccupied one, a wordless question. He smiled down into her sleepy eyes. His wife standing there in drawstring pants and an old shirt of his with the sleeves ripped out; the most beautiful person he knew.

"She's fine," he answered her. "I think – I think they're all going to be fine."

-------

In River's bunk, the verdict wasn't so certain. River stroked a hand over the top of the small foot in her lap. Jayne just sat and looked at her like that for a moment. She was beautiful, and it was in a way unlike any other woman. He guessed that some of that ethereal, other-worldliness stemmed from the remains of her craziness.

And he decided maybe he didn't want her normal.

"Don't want you normal. Wouldn't be you, if you were, 'n I love you." He just went right ahead and said it aloud, to her profile. He blinked after it was out, surprised with himself, then shrugged. He adjusted Darwhen uncomfortably and twitched the thigh that was laid against River's.

River didn't move, didn't look at him. He was done talkin' for the moment, and thought what he had said should be enough for any woman.

"Jayne ..." his name on her tongue was just a breath, a little broken, a benediction and a plea. Her eyes sparkled with tears when she did finally face him fully. He frowned at them. Not what he was hopin' for. He was getting' mighty tired of this.

"What should I do about this, though?" River asked him with just a little hitch behind her voice. She spared a glance for the child who was, apparently, uppermost on her mind, but Darwhen's eyes were closed and her breaths even. "Darwhen needs a mother. I – I love her. I can be a good mother to her. Except …"

"Except when you can't", he finished for her. She sighed and let her head fall back against the wall.

"Except when I can't," she nodded. "Except in crowds, if the touch of many strangers and their thoughts tear down my bricks. Except at night, if I have a dream and wake up screaming and needing an anchor. Except in the day, if I have a flashback and can't recover on my own. Except for the times when I'm not balanced, not rational, and can't take care of myself, much less a child."

Jayne was shaking his head. She didn't give him a chance to speak, though.

"I don't know why I ever thought I could do this," Her lids drifted shut. Jayne ventured yet nearer, just wanting closeness, while her voice dropped to a whisper. "Bitter little taunts, the dances of hopes and dreams …"

Jayne shifted legs that were startin' to go numb under Darwhen's weight. He didn't really know what to say, but he talked anyhow.

"Simon says you could do it with help," So, it wasn't exactly what Simon had said, but it had been in there. He adjusted Darwhen's head. Kid breathed kinda heavy when she was asleep. He wondered why he'd never noticed that before.

River giggled, and the sound had that eerie softness that meant she wasn't tracking on all counts. Jayne hurried on.

"If you had that anchor you're talkin' about, you could do it. You need a …" his voice trailed off for a minute, scared away by what it carried. This wasn't their little pretend scenario with five children from earlier in the day. This was open and honest and gave him nothing to hide behind, but he shook his head and finished it; Simon had said it, months ago. "A 'long-term commitment from another person.'"

River's head dropped and rolled toward him. She'd re-opened her eyes and he had to turn his toward the opposite wall. She didn't speak. He swallowed.

"If you had that – commitment – would you take it?"

She still made no sound. He angled himself toward her and punched the side of her leg. Then he left his hand there, thrilled when she didn't jerk away.

"Need an answer." He squeezed her thigh lightly.

"I'm not certain what the question is."

"Yes, you are."

River moved her feet to the floor and stood, turning to face Jayne. He looked up as she bent forward, curved in towards him. Hearts pounded a fast, unsyncopated rhythm. He was putting it out there, and she was listening. Not running.

"For clarification. Who would offer this long-term commitment and what would those terms be?" If he'd been a few more feet away, he wouldn't have heard her, she spoke so low.

"I don't know the terms, exactly," He tried to clear the gruffness from his own voice. "And you know that I would be offerin' … but I have to know. If you had that option, wouldja take it?"

She leaned back again, straightening her spine. "I don't know."

Anger flashed through him, quick and fierce.

"Is that because I'm dumb and you're crazy?"

"Not - entirely."

River couldn't see his face again; it was so sincere yet guarded. She was struggling with awe at what he tendered, and yearning to be truthful with him because he deserved that. It was the best way she had to show her respect for him.

"I'm smart and you're sane. We balance." Though she knew it wasn't entirely true. She wasn't just crazy. Some days she was very sane. And he wasn't just dumb; some days he was really smart. Quite incredibly intelligent. So what was the truth?

"I'm scared." For truth, it was a simple, ugly one. A paltry thing to offer in the face of what he'd asked her. She tried to do better. "I can't – I've never had fullness of joy. I don't want to believe in it, it's too – big, too far outside my realm. Grabbing for it, I'd fall. Falling, I'd break. Again. And Simon and men and horses couldn't put me together again. Not again." Her voice was rising. "I'd lose control, I'd break, and you'd be cut on the shards of what was left of me. I can't do that to us."

It seemed she was done. Jayne couldn't do much with Darwhen layin' on him, so he stood up, tucked her into bed, and then faced the woman he loved. He stood close, near enough that she felt it and leaned into it. She wanted it. And he refused. He denied her himself. She might as well have a taste of wanting and not having. He'd had to do it all these months.

Besides, there were things needed sayin', never had been his strong suit, and he had to give it all his attention. He'd never expected to love any woman but his ma, but since it had happened, he was gonna do it right.

"Your brain may not always be so worthy of trust, River, but your heart's as true as truth's possible. Think Book'd say that's the worthier part. And waddaya mean I'd get hurt? 'spect that's what happens in most relationships. Don't mean I'd be destroyed. I got strength, and I know you, River-woman. I can take all you got and more."

She clenched her eyelids together, spreading brief wrinkles about her nose and temples. One hand reached out to him, and he was about to step into her, but she stepped instead to the hatch, head down, and then left her own bunk with him in it.

He watched her exit up the ladder, tried to get control of his gritting teeth, wanting desperately to punch something. Something satisfyingly sturdy that would hurt and be loud, but it would also wake Darwhen and he didn't want that to happen. So he just checked she was well-covered with the blanket and then followed River out the door. He wasn't lettin' her get away with this no more. It had to be decided, one way or the other.