Disclaimer: See chapter one.

A/N: I was asked if I had checked out some of the tie-in work for Firefly. Um… No, not really. I tend to research obsessively, though, so if any details from the novel(s) and/or comics are listed as canon detail on any of the Wiki-sites, then I'll incorporate those details (as long as it suits the needs of my story); however, I tend to consider canon to be just the series and the movie – just so y'all know, of course.

Brompton Cocktail

Chapter Two

The source of the nosebleed was tracked down to a small vessel high up in the back of Jayne's nose. Simon wound up cauterizing it. Despite the cleanup done afterwards, though, Jayne still spent the rest of the day not smelling much other than blood and burn. It knocked him somewhat off-kilter, having one of his senses not telling him anything that might be of importance. Granted, he tended to use his eyes the most, then his ears, but scent was something he wasn't used to being without. He was also a little light-headed most of the day.

Figuring the doc probably knew what he'd been talking about, Jayne dropped back into the galley and sliced an end off a molded protein bar after cleaning up both the mess in his bunk and himself. Not bothering to try to make it any more edible, he slowly gnawed his way through the faintly-fruity damp sawdust and washed it down with the cold remains of Zoë's coffee. Definitely need ta see 'bout restockin' some. Wonder if we can get some tomatoes this time 'round?

"The probability approaches certainty," River's voice floated out from under the table. "Particularly if one were to enquire at the Southdown Abbey."

Jayne practically jumped out of his skin. "Yesu, tama de…" he took a breath, held it for a split-second, then nearly shouted, "Don't do that!" Though River had been doing rather well since Miranda, she still had her moments of insanity. Jayne wasn't sure whether to believe Simon or not that River had always acted like this – and the girl was still a reader, something that honestly gave him a severe case of the creepy-crawlies.

The girl giggled and crawled out from under the table. "Clarify?"

Jayne frowned. "What?"

"Not startle the ape-man, or not answer a question not yet asked out loud; which would you prefer I stop doing?" She blinked at him, smirking.

"Either! Both!" Jayne gave himself a little shake and headed for his bunk, River's laughter chasing him from the galley. "Gorram fengle moonbrained…" his muttered grumbling trailed off at spotting Zoë standing in the corridor, staring at the hatch to the quarters she'd shared with Wash. To Jayne's knowledge, she'd not slept in her own room since Wash died, preferring to crash on the couch – when she slept at all, that was.

The strangely blank look of concentration on her face told Jayne that she was in the process of putting off – again – the need to enter her quarters and go through Wash's things. She made no indication that she realized he was even there. Jayne looked at the door to his own bunk, then at Zoë. Tossing one last longing look towards his own space, he gave a mental sigh. Damn it. Why the hell ain't Mal dealin' with this? But he knew why. Mal was too busy sulking over Inara leaving again, choosing her career over him, to be all that aware that Wash's death still had a strong grip on his first mate. Though, I oughta be fair. Ain't like Zoë's come out an' said it was still on her mind. Even if she did, I doubt the cap'n would notice. Jayne gave another mental sigh and stepped lightly over to Zoë. He gently laid a hand on her shoulder. "Zoë?"

She didn't react immediately. He was about to try again when she finally glanced at him. "What, Jayne?"

He looked in her eyes, seeing more there than she ever allowed to surface on her face. Anger, hurt, confusion. Faint traces of some strange shame. Pro'ly for not gettin' killed her own self. "Ain't gonna get no easier for puttin' off."

The soft words, spoken in Jayne's gravelly murmur that never could be a whisper, tripped her anger and it flashed through her eyes. She whirled to face him, shoving him back a step. "What the hell would you know about it, you ben tiansheng de yi dui rou!" her voice hissed through the air like the trail of steam from a tea kettle just about to whistle.

For half a heartbeat, Jayne was shocked, then his own anger boiled up. He stepped back into her personal space and grabbed her shoulders. Leaning over, no trace of his normal sense of humor on his face, he shook her to punctuate his words. "You think you the only one in this whole gorram 'verse ever lost someone? You ain't." He dropped his hands, turned on his heel, and crossed the distance to his bunk in two large strides. He kicked his hatch open, then slid down the ladder and slammed it closed behind him.

Zoë was left standing somewhat stupefied in the corridor, blinking at the sudden disappearance of Serenity's hired gun. In all the time she'd known Jayne, he never once reacted that way to anything said to him. Then again, a small traitorous voice spoke up in the back of her head, you don't really know him, do you? You never took the time. Figured he'd be gone the second someone offered him a better deal. But he's still here. Even after… After Miranda. Wasn't something he got paid for, either. And it's been a good long while since he's done more than make token grumblings about money. She realized she was probably going to have to apologize. The thought was almost amusing – her actually apologize to Jayne Cobb, of all people! – though it managed to make her feel even more miserable than she'd been before.

She ducked into her quarters, studiously ignoring the bed, and grabbed a small foil-sealed brick out of her closet, then darted out again. All-in-all, it took maybe ten seconds. It took her longer to grab clean clothes, but most of the time, she got side-tracked by Wash's appallingly colorful side of the closet. Moments later, she stood in front of Jayne's door. Before her nerve could desert her, she steeled herself and knocked.

"It's open," came Jayne's reply.

It was hard to tell through the metal, but it sounded like Jayne's voice was back to normal, carrying no lingering traces of anger. If he's still pissed, I won't share. Zoë opened the hatch and climbed down one-handed. The other still carried the treat she'd claimed from her room.

Jayne sat on his bunk, slowly dragging the blade of his antler-handled bowie knife across a whetstone. He glanced over at the rectangular indentation where the ladder stood. "You need somethin'?" he asked.

Zoë's eyes roamed the small room, noting that it was far neater than she'd expected. Jayne's desk was cluttered with various oddments – including three guns, two knives, and a strange-looking vice-like thing she couldn't name. All of his laundry, dirty and clean, was nowhere in evidence, save the bloodstained t-shirt from earlier that morning, which was soaking in the sink. Even his bunk was neatly made, though lacking in a pillow. He scraped the blade down the whetstone once more, clearly waiting for Zoë to say something.

"I'm sorry," she blurted out. "Shouldn't've said that earlier. Just…"

Jayne just nodded, focusing on his knife. He tested the edge with his thumb, then scraped it across the stone again. "I know, Zoë. Ain't gotta 'pologize. Not ta me."

"Yeah," she argued. "I do. Wasn't called for." She stepped a little closer to him, standing about halfway between his bunk and the ladder. She held out the foil-wrapped brick. "Share this with you?"

Jayne looked up at her and let a small smile crease his face. "That what I think it is?"

"Only one way to find out," Zoë replied, some small measure of her dry humor showing through.

Jayne stood and took the offering. Setting the whetstone next to his gun-vice, he used the knife to slice it precisely in half, then stepped aside. "Pick your half."

Zoë grabbed a chunk of the chocolate without bothering to look and quickly unwrapped the open end. Jayne followed her example, but pulled out his chair and gestured for her to sit, first. He returned to his bunk and bit into the peace offering. Without his sense of smell, all he could taste was sweet, so after the one bite, he laid the rest on his bedside table for later.

"Never thought I'd see the day you turn down free food, Jayne," Zoë teased, though it was a faint echo of how she'd done so in the past.

"Nah, not refusin'. Just gonna wait 'til I can actually taste it. Right now, I'm still smellin' blood. Not the greatest flavor in the 'verse."

"I'd imagine not." They fell silent for a few minutes before Zoë's curiosity got the best of her. "Who was it?" she asked, recalling how Jayne had disappeared without answering her question about if he had any other bothers and sisters.

"Who was what?" Jayne threw on his best puzzled-dumb-merc look.

Stowing the last fragment of the small piece of chocolate between her teeth and cheek to slowly melt, she glared back at him. "Don't play the idiot, Jayne. Know you're smarter than that." It hit her that he really was a lot smarter than he let on. She filed the stray thought away to deal with later. "You know damn well what I meant."

The befuddled expression evaporated, leaving behind traces of the expression she'd glimpsed as he'd growled at her in the corridor – hard to the point of being stony, anger burning with an ages-old hatred in his eyes. She knew it wasn't directed at her, though she couldn't have precisely pointed out her reasoning. "Ever'one's lost someone, save maybe Kaylee," he tried to redirect the conversation.

Zoë could see how the comment, if she answered in her usual manner, would have skillfully side-tracked things off on a tangent that had nothing to do with the man sitting not six feet from her. How many times has he done that, she wondered. Made some comment that kept us from asking anything personal? The tally was probably far higher than she would have given him credit for. Even her earlier flash of realization that the merc was anything but an idiot didn't really prepare her for this latest development. "Just answer, Jayne. Please?"

In truth, it was the 'please' that did it. Don't think I never heard her say that afore. Not ta me in any case. Jayne's posture slumped and he rested his elbows on his knees. He stared at the floor for long enough that Zoë was about to give it up as a lost cause before he spoke.

"I never was one for schoolin'," he said, ignoring the little voice in the back of his head that was screaming at him that this was a bad idea. He simply told that little voice to shut the hell up, then locked it in a closet. Think she needs this. Maybehaps I do, too.

The story he told her kept them busy until nearly dinnertime.

A/N2: The next chapter should be up soon. It's going to cover the 'story' Jayne told Zoë, so (though I hate them, personally) it's going to be a flashback.

Please remember to let me know what you think! Thanks in advance.