The Truest Thing part 2
Behind Jayne in the bunk, Darwhen frowned in annoyance. Pretending to sleep had been working like it always did and she'd learned lots. River wanted to keep her. Jayne wanted to help. She really liked that a lot.
But now pretending to be asleep meant she'd got left behind. She threw the covers off and moved to try quietly opening the hatch. It was kinda heavy but she managed it; just not as quiet as she hoped.
It appeared that didn't matter, cuz River and Jayne didn't notice her. Neither did Simon or Kaylee. And now Inara was looking out, and asking what was going on. Darwhen giggled, the first time she'd felt like it since Serenity had dropped her off at that place it didn't feel good to remember. Captain Mal would be out pretty quick too, she bet.
For his part, Jayne had halted in the hallway. Simon had gotten to River before he could.
Maybe just too tired to fight another person, River was talking. They started walking and Jayne followed while Simon dragged the story out of her.
"I don't understand," he said at the end of it. They were in the cargo bay. "The three of you, you function so well ... just now, I thought ..."
River grit her teeth. "I don't understand either, Simon. But he's ... he's everything. I don't know if I can handle that."
Her brother stared at her then shook his head. "I never did take you for a coward, but it seems I was wrong." Kaylee murmured wordlessly and laid a hand on his arm. The cargo bay lights flickered to full strength, turned on by Mal. Zoë and Inara were behind him, and all were unashamedly eavesdropping.
River straightened her back. A coward? Jayne knew that word had to sit kinda hard with her. Coming up from behind them, he must have made some small noise, and River turned. He could see how surprised she was as she watched him approach. She'd been so focused on her conversation that, for likely the first time in years, she hadn't known Jayne was there.
"We're in perfect agreement there, doc," Jayne said to her brother. "River, I know you're scared of losin' our, uh, our friendship." If this was how it had to be, with the whole crew listenin' in, then so be it. "But things are what they are. We can't go back to what was. And I think, maybe, we could have the old friend-ness, just have it too. Have more than that". He shoved his fingers through his hair, and then laid it all out on the table. "I think it's all or nothin', River. Can't have half of me. You either want me or you don't".
River only stood wordless, looking stunned at the ultimatum. She stared at him for what seemed a very long time. He waited. But she didn't talk.
"Guess that's a 'don't'" he muttered finally, and suddenly, he had to quit. He let her go, in his head, and the hurt inside was someway numbed, only a dull ache. Somehow he got his legs moving again, and he brushed past the siblings. He was done. He was just ... done.
"Think I'll go find me some trim. See ya later." Jayne walked away.
Simon made a wordless pained sound that River only half-heard. Jayne hit the button to open the ramp and then went down it. It was darkish out, but farther off, there were town lights. Watching Jayne go pounded a spike of pain into the apprehension through which River had heard his words. She didn't want him to leave and she didn't know how to be if he stayed.
But not only didn't she want him to go, she really didn't think she could take it if he left. Not if he was finding trim. And he'd meant that. She'd felt it through the battered mental walls she'd been struggling to pull back up.
She just couldn't have that. That wasn't an acceptable choice. So maybe ... her choices weren't to be in control or not to be. They were to have Jayne or not have him. She loved him, that was already out of her hands. And really, how could she not? With Jayne, blankets were weapons cases and a Callahan full-bore automatic was a teddy bear. She didn't know anyone else like that. He was so much of the rightness in her 'verse.
He was gone from sight now; her good thing, possibly the Best Thing that was to happen to her. She knew the opinions some people had of him, but just because his tenderness was rough and his affection awkward didn't mean they were any less precious. In fact, at some point along the way, they'd become all the more endearing for it. It was more work for him than for others, to be caring, and so caring from him meant more. Was she really going to let that pass her by? Wouldn't she always be sorry?
She knew, suddenly, that of all her regrets that one would be the worst. Fear for the future clenched her.
And in that fear, she found her strength. She picked her skirt up and darted past a startled Simon, down the ramp, out into the dark and dust. Jayne heard the soft padding of her bare feet and slowed, turned, came back towards her. Serenity's light gave down the ramp and she could tell from the look in his eyes that he didn't want to hope. But he did, anyway, at the sight of her. She saw it flare up in his face, the fragility of it clutching at her being and sending a shiver down her back.
"I can't," she said, coming up near to him and stopping, and it wasn't what he wanted to hear. He felt that last malicious shred of hope fade; his face closed and he swung away, shoulders set. Not toward town; toward Serenity, her hull. He couldn't really see well enough to walk right now.
He knew she was back there but she didn't say anything. He couldn't get himself to turn around, so he just stood there staring at the metal wall and feeling all kinds of sorrowful and stupid. And seething – he'd laid it out in the open, all his heart and soul; he'd never done that for anyone before. And she'd, she'd ...
He knew when she started to move, he heard the whisper of her dress against the skin of her legs. But he wasn't prepared for two small hands touching, ever so tentative, at his back. He jerked in surprise and they were gone. But when he neglected to run, or speak, or even breath, they returned, so soft it was only fabric her fingers depressed. A few sketchy hesitant moves, the fingers fluttering as if they didn't understand what to do; then she spread them out and laid her palms fully against him. That was all, for a moment, while he choked on pure air and clenched his eyes closed against that hope he'd thought finally dead, that wasn't. She just stood there behind him, touching him, almost weighing him. Judging, deciding. He thought it was a decision more about her than about him.
Jayne's eyes opened again when she made her choice. Her hands telegraphed the verdict to him as they smoothed down below his shoulders, along the length of his spine, then forward around his rib cage and under his elbows. Where her hands went so went fire, and he felt the warmth of her as she stepped in to his body. Her arms wrapped around, folding him into hot delight, while she laid her cheek between his shoulder blades and her fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt, and his heart.
He stared down at her touching him, holding him, at the pale skin of her arms and the crumpling folds of his shirt and the rest of his life. Maybe he could have it, he thought torpidly, as he raised his own arm and enveloped both her hands with one of his. Maybe he could have the not-aloneness. Maybe he could have private glances and shared hurts and us-only jokes, and someone by his side at the end of his allotted time who remembered the same years that he did. Maybe he could even treasure all that, if River was the one he had it with.
And maybe he wasn't such an idiot, after all, if he was smart enough to grab for this, with her. Jayne moved his feet, shuffled them really, in a circle till he was facing her and her arms clasped his back. The closeness of her was a marvel.
"I meant," River started to talk, low so he bent to hear her, "I can't be without you. If I have Darwhen or if I don't ... I need you. With you, I might break. Without you ... I surely will." She was murmuring, not meeting his eyes. "I want all of you. As much of you as I can get, anyway. And you're right. You're strong enough ... you could take me. A lifetime with me." Her face scrunched as she struggled for words that weren't coming easily or in ways that pleased her.
He had no words in his head, either, there was just relief pounding through him. She was halting and uncertain, and he thought she deserved a bit of that, for what she'd put him through. But then she got the nerve to lift her head and look at him straight on, and that small bitterness faded like she'd dumped real sugar over him.
"I was stupid," she concluded, and sighed slow, as if she was letting go a heavy load.
"Yeah," he agreed. And he bent down far enough and kissed her. Unexpected, it was, because of the sweetness and the slowness of it. And she didn't fight it, didn't try; nor did she tumble half-unwillingly into a well of lust. Instead she partook, partook joyfully of what he gave, rising on tiptoe and when that wasn't enough just climbing up him. She had no real sense of anything but his strength full against her, his heat and hardness there for her to touch as much as she wanted and her own body singing with the feel of his hands on her. Her smallness was lost amid his greatness, but it was a kind of lost where she thought she might have been found. His arms were around her hips, supporting her, and hers were about his muscled shoulders. She was the first to deepen the contact, the first to open her mouth, and the one who pressed herself so hard up against him that finally he pulled his mouth free to laugh.
"Should've known once you made up your mind you'd try to take over," he muttered, clenching his fingers around the curve of her backside. She just sighed, not to be distracted, and occupied her lips with the side of his neck. She was finding honesty, finding acceptance and certainty. Certainty that wasn't about what the future held, but about how they would face whatever that was; together and with courage.
Darwhen had giggled when she sneaked her head around the frame of the open door and saw Jayne and River down on the ground in the half-dark, 'playing kissy-face' like her mama would have called it. She turned around and saw that everyone else was watching too; Inara had tucked her head into Captain Mal's shoulder, and she had that happy soft look. Kaylee's hands were folded and she was cooing. Even Zoë had a little smile, if you looked close.
"Dr. Simon, are they gonna stay that way all night?" Darwhen moved to the man's side, and when he reached a hand down to rest it on her shoulder she didn't really mind.
"I expect," he told her, "that if you want to you might call me 'Uncle Simon', now."
"Girl's got a point," Mal said, separating himself from Inara to walk to the top of the ramp. He raised his voice to reach the entwined lovers.
"Not that we're not all mighty entertained by this exhibition of physicality, but some of us would like to sleep sometime tonight. Which we can't do with the ramp down. Either get yourselves back in here or go get a room there." He gestured vaguely in the direction of the town where they had business tomorrow.
His words penetrated the haze of desire enough for River to pull back. She saw Jayne cast a glance up the ramp into Serenity's welcoming glow, and then turn that gaze on the distant lights of the town a few miles away.
"Too far," she murmured.
"Got that right," he returned, swiveling them both so they could board. "I've waited long enough. My bunk it is."
He had to pause inside the cargo bay, though, for they were greeted there by a glowing little girl who looked half-afraid to smile.
"Dr. Simon says I can call him Uncle, now," she informed River, her hands on her hips as she tipped her head back to look up. "He says I should ask you why."
River knelt to her height, slipping away from Jayne's arm to do it. Jayne glared at the doctor for a second, not happy about this delay on his sexin' plans. Simon shrugged, and grinned.
"Should ask her first," Jayne said down at River. "Be sure this is somethin' she wants, before we go makin' firm plans for her."
River wrapped her arm around his leg to have a part of him to hug, while she addressed Darwhen's question.
"Jayne and I have been talking," she said.
"That what that was?" Mal wanted to know from the side. "All these years, I never knew all that touching was needed for a conversation to occur. So that's what's gone wrong on all my dealings with Badger -- I need to be kissin' on him more."
"When have you kissed him, ever?" Inara inserted with warm amusement. "That's a story I'd like to hear."
Kaylee giggled while she snuggled into her husband's side. Zoë's eyebrow was up, and despite her captain's previous statement she evidenced no more interest than anyone else did in going to bed. Darwhen rolled her eyes and crossed her arms and somehow looked absurdly like a mini-Jayne.
"Can't get any privacy," Jayne groused. "Think people'd respect an important occasion like this."
"I think you've got the wrong crowd for that," Simon told him, smiling. Kaylee nodded brightly.
Jayne snorted and crouched down by River. Darwhen was looking mighty impatient to hear what was what, and he didn't blame her. He was wantin' to get on with certain things, too.
"Look," he said to her, "River and I are gonna – uh – get married?" He turned to River with a question on his face. They hadn't actually discussed makin' anything formal-like.
River returned his look wide-eyed, and swallowed. "I hadn't considered. Would you – is that"- she wrinkled her nose and shook her head; this new inability to say what she meant was truly irritating her. Even Zoë was laughing now, in the background, while Darwhen's face was becoming more and more annoyed. And Jayne bet that River was tired of dithering over decisions.
"Yes, Jayne, I would be pleased to marry you." River said it firmly and loudly and the sound silenced all others, for an instant.
He'd been right. Jayne nodded, satisfied that it was settled. "All right, then."
River grinned rather foolishly, looking up into his face, and an answering one sneaked out and settled on Jayne's lips. Their moment of mushiness was interrupted by an exasperated sigh.
"Will you tell me what Doctor – Uncle Simon meant? Or do I gotta guess?"
"We'll tell you," Jayne rushed to answer before River could. "We're gettin' married, and we wanted to ask, if you'd want to – uh ..." he couldn't quite say it, and he looked to River for help.
"We would like you to be part of our family," she supplied, solemn anticipation in her quiet tone. "You would stay here, on Serenity, and this would be your home. I don't mean to take the place of your mama. You could keep calling us 'River' and 'Jayne', if that's what you're comfortable with. But we would... We'd be your parents. Adopted parents." Her breath rushed out between pursed lips, once she'd gotten it out. And now she waited with what looked like a hope she wasn't sure she could trust.
Darwhen wasn't speaking, just standing there big-eyed. Maybe, Jayne thought, they'd made a big mistake.
"You don't gotta decide right now," He said to Darwhen, tightening his hand on River's slim shoulder to maybe help brace her against disappointment. "Take a bit to think on it. Let us know what you decide."
He was tensed to stand when Darwhen spoke to River, consideringly.
"You would be my mama number 2."
"That'll be a bit of a mouthful," Mal muttered. Jayne supposed the captain had kept quiet as long as he possibly could. The mercenary shot another baleful glare around at the still unrepentantly present crew.
"If you like," River answered Darwhen. Darwhen nodded.
"That would be good," she allowed, and River's face eased back into a joy-filled smile. Darwhen turned her serious gaze to Jayne.
"I'm comf'ble callin' you papa." She said it hesitantly, as though afraid he wouldn't care for the idea.
Jayne didn't, himself, actually feel entirely comfortable; he rolled his shoulders around and looked from the floor to the ceiling. But then he shrugged. "Guess that'd be okay," he allowed. And let himself catch the kid's gaze out of the corner of his, and even return her smile a little.
"And I can stay here," Darwhen wanted to double-check. Inara stepped forward.
"You'd stay here until you were grown up," she said gently. "Once you decide this, you can't change your mind later. Be sure."
"That's a bit much to put on a six-year-old's shoulders, doncha think?" Kaylee wanted to know. Simon nodded, but Inara shook her head.
"She's makin' a choice. She needs to know what she's doin'," Mal put in. He looked down at Darwhen seriously. "Once you're in a family, you're in. That's it. No backin' out, dong ma?"
Darwhen nodded, eyes big and grave. But then she reached without warning to clasp her hands about River's neck. "I wanta be here with you. I don't wanta go away."
River held her close and stood, Jayne at her side. And finally the nosey crew began to trickle back to their beds. Going themselves, the new family unit held as close as they could while still allowing for movement. Jayne grumbled the entire way about how gorram patient he was being.
But he had yet more waiting to do, because Darwhen was too wide-awake and excited to go to sleep, even though it was well past midnight by now. So first there was a need for a drink of water. Then a demand for a story after Jayne tucked her in, which River met (though Jayne was pretty sure the one she told was made-up). Then another drink was called for, and of course after that the toilet was necessary. Jayne's jaw was clenched by the time the little girl's eyes closed and the two adults were able to slink out of River's bunk and into Jayne's.
"It gonna be like that every night?" he wanted to know as he dropped to sit on his bunk. He reached and pulled River to stand between his thighs.
"I don't know," she returned, cradling the back of his head between her hands. She smoothed at his hair. "I expect we will need to become better disciplinarians."
He growled, pulling her in further and toppling them back so she lay atop him. "We can think about that tomorrow," he rumbled. "Right now we got better things to do".
River agreed.