Disclaimer: See chapter one.

A/N: Keeping in mind that I usually only consider canon to be the actual series and movie (not the books or any of the other tie-in work), I'm not altogether certain just how long Mal's had Serenity (I know it's less than 6 years from the pilot), nor how long Jayne's been a member of the crew. Ergo, I have – gasp, shock – made things up as I see fit. If anyone has a better notion as to the right timeframe, shoot me a review letting me know. Thanks in advance.

Brompton Cocktail

Chapter Twelve

The completed puzzle Jayne and River had worked on for the better part of the last four days was now glued to the formerly-empty swath of ceiling above the dining table – probably the only place on the entire ship that was an even, if slightly curved, surface lacking in projections and lighting fixtures. The fixtures fit right against its sides. Zoë had helped Kaylee and River glue it in place the previous evening, while Simon was double-checking the infirmary to see if there was anything he needed to pick up when they landed and Mal was off… doing no-doubt captainy things.

River was lying on the table, staring up at her handiwork when Zoë left Jayne and headed to the galley. "He should tell Simon," River said, her voice quiet.

Had it been anyone else, Zoë would have asked what they were talking about. But since it was River, she just sighed. "I know, but he has his reasons."

River pushed herself up into a sitting position. "I wouldn't have forced the puzzle on him if I thought it was going to hurt him."

"I know. You couldn't have known it would. It's just a puzzle."

"If he did them like normal it probably wouldn't have. But he sees with his hands and with all the corners and points it bruised him. I forgot he likes to see with his hands." Her voice was still soft, but it had taken on a tone that clearly said she was taking all the blame for Jayne's suffering.

"It's not your fault," Zoë tried to comfort the girl, but was uncertain how successful she was at it. It had been too long since she'd last tried to comfort anybody. "It's nobody's fault."

River shook her head. "Not true. The man who gave him the curse of tiny red knives is to blame for it."

"Who?"

The teen looked through Zoë. "On Deadwood. He was dying and hated it. Wanted to make people suffer like he did. Bled himself into the ground meat. Served it to all comers."

Realizing that River was seeing what had happened, where Jayne had caught ruby fever, Zoë pressed for a little more detail. "Who was it, River?"

"Owned a little restaurant. Infected two hundred before he died. Some have already died from other reasons. But they all will succumb in the end. All that lives will die and he was just the instrument. A long fuse."

Frowning a little, Zoë tried another track. "How long ago was it, River?"

"Five interplanetary years, plus-or-minus a score of days of the same measure, depending on if you wish to count from now or from when first symptoms appeared." Relief that it had happened long before Jayne had joined Serenity swept through Zoë. So it's not likely to happen to us. The relief was quickly swept away by irrational guilt at the thought. River narrowed her eyes and actually looked at Zoë. "You shouldn't do that."

"Do what?"

"Feel guilty for being grateful it's not you."

"You can't just wish away a feeling, River. I can't help how I feel."

"You can't?" One of River's eyebrows twitched a little higher than the other. "Or is it simply you need to appease your conscious and won't?" The girl climbed down off the table and left the room before Zoë could reply.

How is it that she seems to get both saner and crazier with every passing day? Zoë pushed aside the conversation in order to focus on making breakfast. Before long, Oriole joined her. "Mornin'," the blonde yawned, reaching for the kettle and pouring herself a cup of tea. "I managed to shave a few hours off the arrival-time, and we should be coming up on Jiangyin in about six hours or so."

Back in his bunk, Jayne drifted in a pleasant state of not-caring. He wasn't certain, but he thought Zoë might have made a reappearance at some point. His fingertips still burned and ached, but the Opinax made it so he simply didn't give a damn. It was a bizarre sensation – to feel something and not care one way or the other about it. It was nearly as odd as the strange wavering in his sight that made it look like the walls were breathing. "Kaylee always did talk like the ship was alive," he muttered. "Looks like she was right."

The scent of green-flavored protein drifted on the air. "S'pose 'at means breakfast's ready." He tried to stand, but managed to trip over himself by way of simply forgetting to use his right leg.

"Huh." He untangled himself from the heap he'd become on the floor, then crawled over to his desk. The injection gun was laying on its surface, still holding the vial of Opianax. He pulled himself into the chair, making his fingers start up a chorus of screaming that he could easily ignore.

Fumbling, he managed to remove the vial of milky white liquid from the gun. It took three tries to get the red vial of amoxytrosin locked in place. With exaggerated care, he twisted the dial to the proper dosage and then aimed the tip at one of the veins he could see in his leg. He pulled the trigger, wincing out of habit.

In the galley, everyone else had convened for breakfast and to go over the last-minute details for the job that day. Mal took his seat and looked around. "Where's Jayne?"

"Probably overslept, sir," Zoë replied. "I'll go get him." She started to stand up, but Mal shook his head.

"No, sit down, Zoë." He stood, frowning. "I'll go get him."

Fantastic, Zoë thought. He's in his 'I'm-gonna-be-angry-for-no-good-reason' mood. "That's alright, sir, I'll do it." She attempted to stand again.

Mal glared at her. "Zoë. Sit. Eat your breakfast." His voice immediately threw her back in time to when she'd been bound to take his orders like a good soldier and not just a crewmember of a space-freighter.

Zhishi wo de yunqi, Zoë's own frown slipped into place. I know I've thought this before, but can't Jayne catch a break? She ignored Mal's 'suggestion' and followed him.

Jayne had just locked the last vial into the gun – a strangely cheerful and slightly opaque yellow color – when he heard his hatch bang open. Some part of himself that remained unaffected by the Opianax registered Mal's voice as something he should really be concerned about, but he was too focused on his task to bother. He lined up the tip of the gun with a new place on his leg and hit the trigger, vaguely registering the sound of boots on his ladder.

Mal emerged into Jayne's bunk in time to see his mercenary set down an injection gun and start slowly moving colored vials into elasticized pockets within a black canvas pouch. "Zhe daodi shi shenme kuaile de hushuo!" He quickly covered the distance between himself and Jayne, then reached out and knocked the vial out of the mercenary's hand. He grabbed Jayne's wrist and yanked the man's arm, wanting to get him to stand, but only succeeding in spinning the chair around.

The abrupt motion made Jayne blanch. 'S bad enough by itself, don't need no help makin' me more dizzy. He closed his eyes and waited both for Mal's inevitable shouting to start and the queasy feeling to fade.

Mal was just about to start in on a strongly-worded lecture, which would have likely come out primarily in Chinese, when his seldom-used reason actually kicked in. Jayne was pale, more so than normal for someone who rarely saw the sun, and sported a faintly greenish tinge. His t-shirt was also looser than Mal remembered it being and he suddenly realized Jayne had been wearing his camo-print hoodie as a jacket for the past few weeks, instead of wandering about in shirtsleeves as was normal. He let go of Jayne's arm. "You open your mouth, you gonna barf on me?"

"Maybe," Jayne admitted, his eyes still closed.

Mal could see numerous track-marks of varying ages scattered across both of Jayne's legs. This is bad, and I don't think it's what I thought it was at first glance. He heard Zoë's light footsteps descending the ladder. "Close the door, Zoë," he ordered, most of his irritation from earlier gone. After she did so and joined the pair of them, Mal looked from his second mate to his hired gun and back. "Take it you knew 'bout this?"

"Yes, sir," Zoë replied.

"What is this?" Mal asked.

Jayne finally opened his eyes and stared up at his captain. "Ruby fever," he stated.

"Wo de tian, a," Mal muttered.

Jayne snorted. "Not hardly. Jus' some piss-poor luck. Story of m'life."

"Simon know about this?" Mal ignored the aside.

Jayne shook his head as Zoë said, "No, sir."

"Why the hell not? Seems like something the ship's doctor ought ta know about!"

Zoë opened her mouth to reply, but stopped at Jayne's 'hold-that-thought' gesture. "Tell you what I tol' Zoë here. Kid's a good doc, sure, but there ain't nothin' he can do about this that I ain't already doin'. An' you know well as me that he'd try. Ain't learned yet he can't save ev'ryone. Rather he didn't learn it from me."

Mal opened his mouth to argue, but no sound came out. Zoë had to stifle a grin at his goldfish impression and wondered if she'd looked that ridiculous when Jayne had told her the same thing. The captain flicked a half-hearted glare in Zoë's direction – he'd seen the twitch that said she was grinning even if her expression hadn't actually changed – then refocused on Jayne. "Won't be able to keep it from him forever."

"I know," Jayne sighed. "Not askin' for it ta be permanent none, just a li'l more time."

"How much time?"

Jayne shrugged. "Let ya know."

"Fair enough. You gonna be alright to work?" Mal asked.

Jayne nodded. At Mal's frankly skeptical expression, the merc clarified, "Was just a really bad night. I'll let ya know if I can't do m'job."

Mal wondered if he could trust Jayne to be able to know if, or more likely when, that would happen, then figured it didn't much matter. It would wind up being fairly obvious. "I'll hold ya to that."

A/N2: I'd originally intended for Mal to go off all half-cocked on one of his assumptions and throw Jayne in the airlock. But the characters in my head were rather mutinous at the idea, so I had to rework it a little. I actually like how it worked out better this way.

Please review if you like. If not, thanks for reading anyway! I do keep tabs on my hit-counters.