Chapter 2

Three hours earlier...

Here was a thing about Jayne Cobb: he did not let his guard down.

Not even when it looked like he did. He was on his third drink, the numbing buzz was slowly getting to his brain, but he was a strong drinker; he could take many more before he lost his bearings. He knew where to draw the line, depending on the place and situation. If not, he wouldn't have survived the 'verse for as long as he had.

And yet, something felt a bit off today.

See, Jayne wasn't a thinker. Wasn't one for pondering questions just for the sake of it. He was a doer, and he should have been in a bar fight by now, or in the arms of a woman, with anything but Malcolm Reynolds on his mind. Instead, he was sitting here at the counter at one of his usual joints, on a stool another patron had freely given up once he'd treated him to the Jayne Cobb death stare, desperately searching for relief at the bottom of the next glass.

Mal could go to hell!

Jayne's life had been a lot easier before he ran into that man. Sure, he'd offered him a sweet deal, and delivered on it too, enough so that Jayne had stayed with him for nearly three years, as had been pointed out to him this very day. But he fogged things up a lot. So gorramn unpredictable. One day he'd fight, the next he'd run. One moment he'd kill someone in cold blood, the next he'd give back all his (and Jayne's) hard-earned money, just 'cause he heard some sappy story about sick people or hungry kids or some such. As if that would even help anyone in the long run.

All of Jayne's former bosses had been unscrupulous sons of bitches, some more successful than others, mind you - hell, some, like Marco, had been downright stupid! - but at least they had been easy to read. And they hadn't punished him for no reason.

Jayne didn't really mind that Mal laid down the law once in a while. It could be humiliating, it annoyed the hell out of him, yes, but he was well aware that he crossed the line sometimes, and being reminded of that was just an inevitable part of being a subordinate. It was fine. But it didn't mean he would meekly take a lashing for something he hadn't done, or for something Mal would let others off the hook for doing, and, yet, it seemed he had unwillingly and undeservingly become Serenity's whipping boy. It wasn't like Mal would ever punch Zoë for speaking the truth.

Someone slid up next to him.

Jayne Cobb didn't let his guard down, but today he had. Gorramn that Mal Reynolds and his confounding behavior! He had been so lost in thought, trying to make sense of everything, that he'd let Rufus Miller find him.

"There you are," the piece of gǒushǐ chirped – as if Jayne had been waiting for him, as if they had planned to meet up here – and tapped the bar to get the staff's attention.

"Go away," Jayne muttered.

Rufus ignored him. "One more for my friend here," he told the bartender, "and one for me, of whatever he's having."

Jayne was about to again object to being called Rufus's friend, when the man pulled a thick stack of money from his pocket and slid a bill across the bar.

Well...

If he insisted so badly, he might as well share a drink or two with that idiot. As long as he paid for it. And didn't breathe on him.

"So," Rufus raised his glass at him, "what brings you to Persephone?"

Didn't miss a beat, that one.

"You know I ain't gonna tell you that," Jayne replied. "How 'bout you tell me about yourself instead? Still with Marco?"

Rufus shook his head. "Marco's dead. Thought you knew."

Jayne shrugged. "Hell, I didn't kill him."

"Might as well have. He was pretty much done after what you did to 'im. Got shanked in prison, last I heard."

"Well, I s'pose he had it comin'."

Jayne downed his drink. Rufus paid for another.

"You're not doin' bad, though," Jayne remarked upon seeing the thick stack of bills again.

"Had some good times, yeah."

Jayne didn't push for answers. There was no need. Rufus was going to tell him. He was too smug not to.

"My new boss knows how to score them big ones." Yup… "Doesn't waste her time fightin' over scraps like the rest of 'em."

"It's a her?"

"Svetlana Peng."

"Never heard of her."

"Don't blame ya. She don't like to brag. Keeps a low profile. But yeah, successful. Know that money transport hit on Beylix last year?"

That Jayne had heard about. It had been all over the Cortex. One hundred thousand credits! He'd asked Mal why they hadn't done that job. "Because we don't steal from people need it more," had been the captain's answer. Sure, the money had been the collective life savings of a small miner's town, but, hey… Jayne was poor too, wasn't he?

"That was her?"

"Sure was."

"And you work for this wonder?" Jayne emptied another glass and glared at Rufus until he refilled it. "Whattaya do? Breathe her enemies to death?"

"Haha. No, see, Svetlana, she knows how to assess a man. She recognizes value for what it is, and that goes for people too. I might not be a muscle man such as yourself, but I have my talents."

"And they are…?"

"Secrets."

"Huh?"

"Information. She likes information. And I'm just full of it."

"Like whatever you're trynna pry from me now, you mean?"

Rufus clicked his tongue. "I don't have to pry information from you, Cobb. Everything 'bout you is already out in the open, plain as day. You've been fightin' with your captain, haven't you?"

Jayne said nothing. Rufus just laughed. "It's not even hard. Why else would you be sittin' here in the middle of the day, drinking up your money, with a rather splendid bruise developing on your chin."

Drinking up your money, you mean, Jayne thought to himself. Out loud he said, "He looks worse."

Rufus chuckled. "I bet he does. What's the matter? He don't 'preciate ya? Hardly surprising. They never seem to do, do they? Well, their loss, I guess. You used to work for two, the way I remember it. Hell, sometimes people caved in just lookin' at ya! Crews should be fightin' over that kinda talent."

"Who says they don't? I got no trouble finding work."

"I suppose that's true. But you can't blame people for not trusting you, right? After all, you did sell out your boss for a private room."

Jayne turned in his chair to face him this time. "I am not a complicated man, Rufus. I get paid, I'm happy. And if I work for two, then I guess they should pay me double, right? Now, are you gonna buy me 'nother drink, or what?"

"Absolutely." Rufus tapped the bar and had the bartender refill their glasses. "You should consider joining up with us," he said afterwards. "Like I said, Svetlana knows talent when she sees it. She'll like you."

"Nobody 'cept my mother likes me."

"I like you."

"No, you don't."

"Well, yeah, maybe not. But that's beside the point. She doesn't have to like you to like your skills, if you get my grip."

Jayne glanced at the clock above the bar. Half past one, still more than two hours to kill before departure. There was still time to visit the Palace, but then again, he wasn't really in the mood. Which was saying something.

"Miller!" a voice from behind rang out. "Finish your business, we're leavin'."

Rufus looked back over his shoulder, and Jayne followed his lead. Just a short glance, to see what he was dealing with. Two men. One of them, a short, fat guy dressed in a silk jinbaori, was eyeing Rufus impatiently. "Hurry up," he barked. "We need to be at the rendezvous on Aberdeen before they do."

Jayne side-eyed Rufus. "Do all the guys on your crew spill your plans out loud in crowded bars?"

"Only the foolish ones."

"I see." Jayne emptied his glass and got to his feet. He straightened up in his full, impressive height, and turned to face the men.

"You wouldn't be out for Malcolm Reynold's cargo, would you?" he asked them.

The jinbaori guy's face soured. "Who are you?"

"That is Jayne Cobb," the other guy answered. He stepped forward, and Jayne diverted all his attention to him. This was the man to look out for. He was older, maybe fifty, but looked fit for his age, and was probably considered handsome, if Jayne had cared about such things. He had cheekbones sharp enough to cut glass, and close-cropped, silver hair. His eyes were piercing blue. And he clearly wasn't an idiot. "He is Mal Reynold's man."

"Not necessarily," Jayne said. He slowly reached for his gun. He didn't think these guys were stupid enough to start shooting inside a crowded bar, but you never knew.

Something poked his ribs, and he looked down to see the barrel of Rufus's gun pressed against his side.

Gorramn it, he really had let his guard down!

"I'm saving your life right now," Rufus whispered out of the corner of his mouth, then turned to face the other men. "Moab, your timing is, as always, impeccable."

Jayne held out his hands, indicating to everyone that he wasn't about to do anything rash. Not even Rufus would miss a shot from there.

Moab waved the jinbaori guy away and stepped closer. "How much did you tell him?" he asked Rufus.

"Not a thing," Rufus replied. "He figured it all out by himself. I told you he isn't as stupid as he looks."

"A shame. Now we have to deal with him. But not in here. Hui, take his gun."

Jayne scowled at jinbaori-guy, or Hui, as he came up to him and pulled his LeMat revolver out of its holster. The shǎ guā only glared condescendingly back at him, too stupid to even know what kind of idiot he was.

"Move," Moab said, and all four of them shuffled their way through the bar and out onto the street. Rufus holstered his gun, leaving it to Hui to keep Jayne under control, and slid up next to his boss as they turned into a deserted back alley.

"It'll be a waste to kill 'im. Let's take 'im with us."

"Don't need us no turncoat," Moab replied.

"He knows Reynolds," Rufus argued. "Knows his tactics. He could be useful."

"Don't be an idiot, Miller."

Jayne glanced sideways at Hui. He still had his gun trained on him, but seemed distracted by the conversation between the other men. In one swift move, Jayne slammed his elbow into his face, and then wrestled the gun from his hand as the man buckled over in surprise and pain. Rufus and Moab spun around in time to see Jayne cock the gun and aim the barrel at the whimpering simp.

Moab only arched an eyebrow. "He don't mean nothing to me."

"Didn't think for a moment that he did," Jayne said. "But I happen to be looking for a job." He fired the gun and Hui slumped to the ground. "And it seems you have an opening."

Moab stared at him. "He's crazy," he told Rufus, who just laughed.

Moab glanced around. He knew, just like Jayne, that someone would have heard the shot. A zealous fed might show up.

"I don't trust you," he said, glaring at Jayne. "But then again, it's not up to me. It's Svetlana's call."

He held out his hand. Jayne handed him the gun without much worry. He would deal with this, one step at a time.

Because here was another thing about Jayne Cobb: he always looked out for himself.

Twenty-six hours later…

The flight from Persephone to Aberdeen took about seventy hours if you burned hard enough, and that was precisely what Mal had insisted on. Wash had voiced concern. "We'll arrive just six hours later at eighty percent capacity," he'd pointed out, "and we'll have fuel to spare. If something goes wrong –"

"What do you mean 'if something goes wrong'?" Mal had bitten him off. "Everything's going according to the gorramn plan! We'll refuel once we get paid."

And that had been the end of that discussion. Wash had looked at Zoë, to see if there was any point in pushing the issue, but she'd just shaken her head. She knew which battles to pick and they weren't many. Not with Mal on his toes like this.

He had been a lot ornerier after Inara's departure, there was no denying that. Snippy and short-tempered, and even though Zoë wasn't one to question him, she had to agree he was being slightly unreasonable at times.

One would think that pulling Jayne out of the mix would have made things better, but now, about one third into that seventy-hour trip, it seemed to have had the exact opposite effect. It was as if the captain no longer had anywhere or anyone to direct all that anger at, and it was slowly filling him, threatening to spill out at any moment.

At least the others seemed to be aware of the ticking bomb walking amongst them. They all gave him the space he craved. There was no bickering, no yelling, and no fighting. It was unnervingly quiet.

Zoë didn't like it.

"So, still no word from Jayne?" Simon asked as they sat down to dinner that second day. Zoë flashed him a look. As far as she knew, this was the first time anyone had brought up their absent mercenary. She hadn't expected the doctor to be the one doing it.

She looked at Mal. She could see how his jaw tightened. "No," she hurriedly replied.

Wash, however, welcomed the opportunity to get the unspoken issue out in the open. "What I find slightly worrisome," he said, tapping his fork against his plate, "is the fact that he left all his stuff behind. I can see him walking out on us, oh yes – but Vera? She's still in his bunk, I checked."

"It is rather strange," Shepherd Book agreed. "He seems quite fond of his guns."

"He'll ask for his guns," Mal snapped. "He'll be in touch once he's done sulking, and if I'm feeling particular generous that day, I might even let him have 'em. But he can stay off my boat."

"You're not gonna let him come back?" Kaylee said, then stared at her plate when they all looked at her.

Mal said nothing.

"A little time-out might not be so bad," Book interjected. "For all involved."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Mal barked at him.

"You did throw the first punch, sir," Zoë pointed out.

"He provoked me!"

"Not more'n usual."

"Red and blue makes purple," River said.

Simon shushed, and Mal ignored her. He just kept glaring at Zoë. "Whose side are you on?"

"Ain't about takin' sides, sir. But we don't know what happened yet. And Wash is right, Jayne loves that gun. Something's definitely not adding up here."

Mal muttered something under his breath, but left it at that. Wash tried to steer the conversation onto fun facts about Aberdeen. When that fell flat, they ate the rest of the meal in uncomfortable silence.

"Many a time have I pictured life without Jayne," Wash told Zoë later, when they were alone in the galley doing the dishes. "Never pictured this."

"I guess it is a big hole to fill."

"Who'd have thought sitting through meals without anyone making lewd comments would be so boring." He sighed. "And as punching bags go, he was perfect."

"Yeah." Zoë pondered on it for a few moments, then added, "Maybe he did get tired of being one?"

Wash put down the towel and took her hand. "You think he's in trouble?"

"Ain't he always?" She squeezed his hand, appreciating the silent support. Then she reached up and straightened his collar. "We'll finish this job. I'll talk with the captain once it's done."

"I hope you do. Because I remember him saying something about not leaving his crew behind. And if that had been you, or Kaylee, or even the Tams… he would've turned Persephone inside out by now."

She couldn't argue with that.