Disclaimer: See chapter one.

A/N: I reiterate, today has been a very odd sort of day.

Brompton Cocktail

Chapter Twenty-Two

Kaylee accepted Jayne's peace-offering with good grace. It helped to know that, in his words, 'Yeah, somethin's on m'mind, but I ain't sayin' nothin' on it 'til after we leave Three Hills, so doncha be buggin' me none on it afore then, dong ma?' Jayne spent most of the following day sequestered in his bunk. Her observations, coupled with the promise, just made Kaylee worry more, but she took care to do it quietly. By the time they landed on Harvest to exchange the citrus they'd picked up for locally-grown wheat, she and Zoë had also managed to trade rooms, much to the amusement of their captain.

Speaking of Mal, he was rightly impressed with the multi-stop trade his li'l albatross had come up with. Though the wheat itself would only fetch them about a thousand credits profit, the black market medicines would likely triple or even quadruple that amount. And feds don't tend to look for smuggled goods in a hold packed full of legal cargo. He was sitting on the catwalk, watching Jayne and the two guys from the warehouse stack burlap bags of the grain in orderly rows. Even with his… problem, he's still workin' twice as hard as either of them. He had to smile a little. That's what happens when ya pay someone by the hour, 'stead of by the job. Makes 'em lazy. The smile flickered away as fast as it showed up when Jayne paused and coughed loudly. The sacks sent up little puffs of grain-dust every time they were moved. What the hell am I gonna do after he leaves? It's hard as gorram hell to find a trustworthy merc. The thought blindsided him.

Had us our difficulties at first, I'll grant that. Nearly shot him my own self half a dozen times those first few weeks. And I really was ready to blow him out the airlock after that gou shi fengbao on Ariel. Fully expected him to walk away when I made clear what I planned to do about Miranda. Coulda knocked me over with a feather when, what was it he said? Oh, yeah, 'if ya can't do somethin' smart, do somethin' right'. Then he just cocked that rifle and sat there. Mal adjusted his position. When the hell did that hundan grow a set of morals? And how come I never really noticed until now?

He sighed. Because he was 'just the merc'. Loud, obnoxious, abrasive. Obsessed with money and sexin'. But Kaylee saw right through him from the start, treating him like some long-lost brother. And Inara put up with more from him than she ever did from me. Think the first thing that really surprised me about him was that first night we had Book on board. I remember Book asked to say grace, and I damn near bit the old geezer's head off. But he followed my rules, and always said it silently. That wasn't the surprising bit, though – it was the fact that my hardass mercenary followed along with it.

Down below, Jayne coughed again. Mal looked a little closer at him. "Y'all about done down there?"

"Just about," Jayne hollered back. "Only got twenty more sacks."

"Step to it then! Ain't got all gorram day!" Is it my imagination, or is he paler than he was at breakfast? Mal frowned, the expression settling on his face like an old friend. Said he'd tell me if he wasn't fit to work. Might've been a bad idea not to inform the doc about it. He don't tell Simon soon, I'm gonna.

Another sigh ripped its way out of him. And that leads me right back to where I started. What the hell am I gonna do when he's gone? Sure, 'Tross is a fighter, but she looks like a little doll. Nobody'll take her seriously. Besides, even though she's doing better lately, she still has her occasional crazy flashes. She makes a good back-up and I can't deny her reading abilities have come in handy on more than one job, but I need someone who can be intimidating just by bein' there.

He scrubbed a hand across his face. Someone who won't stab me in the back, isn't a fed or fugitive – had enough of that kinda person to last me a whole gorram lifetime. Intimidating, stays bought, no feds or 'fugees need apply. Oh! Also gonna need to make sure they ain't gonna cause no problems with Zoë, Kaylee, 'Tross, and Oriole. Basically, I'm gonna need a decent human being. Ain't the sort that become mercs. Jayne… Jayne's just the exception on that pa'ticular rule. Damn it, Jayne! Why you gotta up and do this to us now?

"A copper for your thoughts?" Oriole's voice sounded from his right and slightly behind him.

Mal turned and looked up at the pretty blonde. He favored her with a warm smile. "Not much, t'tell ya the truth. Just wishin' they'd hurry up and load us already. Been dirtside too often this last month."

Oriole arched an eyebrow at him and settled herself next to him. "Are you aware that you can't lie very well?"

"What makes you say that?" As far as Mal knew, he was pretty good at BS-ing. It was part of his chosen career, after all.

"The corner of your left eye twitches when you're lying and you get this faintly disgusted expression about the ends of your mouth, like you just bit into a rotten lemon." She smiled at him. "From the stories Kaylee and Zoë have told me, I would assume that's why you get shot so much."

"I get shot 'cause folks don't like the way I do business, never mind I tell 'em up front that I do the job, and I get paid. Usually, it's that second part what has 'em reachin' for their pistols," Mal explained.

Oriole gave a half-shrug. "If that's what makes you sleep better at night, who am I to argue?"

Mal rolled his eyes. "There a reason you're out here buggin' me and not off doin' piloty things?"

She snickered. "We're parked, in case you haven't noticed. Not a whole lot of 'piloty things' that need doing while landbound. And yes, I did want to tell you something."

"You ain't quittin' on me already, are you?"

She laughed at his panic. "No, not hardly. I find I'm liking it here. No, what I came to tell you is that I just got a wave from my folks on Newhall. The last of my brothers is getting married, so if we manage to find ourselves out that way come New Year's Eve, Momma said, and here I'll quote directly, 'you and whatever bunch of riff-raff you're flyin' for these days are welcome to come to the reception, so long as there aren't more than twenty of you'."

Mal chuckled. "That's still a good four months from now. Remind me again, closer to then."

"Will do, captain," Oriole replied, climbing to her feet. "Looks like they're about done, so I should go see about those 'piloty things' you wanted done."

A/N2: I have no idea why this is, but I'm finding that I am having difficulty getting into Mal's headspace. It's partly why there hasn't been as much of him in this story as there probably should have been. Did I do well? Or does he sound off in the above?

Crack me, folks.