Word Count: 3,300




 

Jayne’s first few weeks onboard the Sovereign were fairly uneventful, allowing him time to settle in properly and get a feel for the crew.  He’d gotten to know Marie fairly well during the time she’d stayed at the house; the young girl had attached herself to him like a leech whenever they left the property and had made a habit of talking to him in the night when she had nightmares if he was still up.  She still did that, occasionally.

            There was, however, one difference between the way he was with the Sovereign’s crew and that of Serenity, in that he would never let Monty’s people in, no matter how long he stayed there.  He knew better, knew how much more it could hurt if he did; and he wasn’t too sure it wouldn’t break him the next time.  He made an effort to be friendly and congenial with everyone, but that was all they got.

            The one concession he made was regarding Marie; he’d let her talk out her nightmares to him on the couple nights a week she still had them.  They were becoming less frequent, but it was slow going and Monty obviously felt guilty enough as it was that she didn’t want to burden him with more.  Besides, Jayne already knew some of the things that weren’t in the report, things that he’d overheard her tell Ma, so he knew the reasons behind her nightmares; a comfort to her as well that she didn’t have to voice them again just yet.

            In turn, Marie knew the basics of what had happened on Serenity with Mal; the very basics. He’d told her just enough for her to recognize that he did not and would not have any interest in her and left it there.  That second night at the house, she had come out of her room while he was sitting at the kitchen table and warily skittered around the kitchen, making sure to keep one eye on him at all times. 

After the long process of coaxing her to the table—most of the success had happened after he’d pointed out that Ma was just down the hall with her door cracked, the two had started talking and, gradually, Marie had started to relax.  He was already up when it happened again a couple nights later, thinking on whether or not to take Monty up on his offer, and in the silences of her recounting, he asked her about her ship and crew; ultimately deciding to go back out.  She’d smiled softly; comforted to have someone she trusted join the crew.

It was then that she shyly invited him to tell her about why he was always so sad when he thought no one was looking.  True to form, he kept to the bare basics, feeling in some ways obligated to return confidences.  He told her the who, the what, and the how it all went down, but that was it.  As they kept up their semi-regular midnight talks, though, every so often, he’d share something new; just a comment here or there, but she kept track of them and they added up to a man whose heart had been shattered, which made her ache for him.

---

            “How is she, Doc?”  Mal asked anxiously as he gazed at the heavily sedated Kaylee laying on the table.  She looked a mess; bandages, burns, and bruising covered most of her along with a few sets of stitches for the larger lacerations. 

            “An engine exploded with her hands in it,” Simon said coldly, “How do you think she is, Captain?”

            Immediately on the aggressive, Mal stepped in close, drawing himself to his full height, towering over Simon, “I don’t think I like your tone, Doctor.”

            Very coldly and carefully Simon explained how heartbroken he was that Mal didn’t like his tone, “Mal, I just spent the last four hours bandaging, salving, and stitching up the woman I love because the last time she asked you for parts, you made her cry—and it wasn’t because we couldn’t afford them!  So you think I give a damn right now whether or not you like my tone?”

            Exhausted and sick of holding his tongue to keep the peace, Simon punched on, “You. Who despite my persistent efforts, refused to seek help in getting a decent night’s sleep until after you collapsed on the job, causing Zoe to get shot to hell and have permanent nerve damage in her arm.  All because you felt it more important to punish yourself for the cruelty of your actions toward Jayne!  So I will watch my tone when you get back to being a decent Captain.  Now get the hell out of my infirmary!”

Mal’s jaw clenched tighter as his hand reflexively gripped the butt of his gun in a crushing grip throughout Simon’s tirade; in the War—and since, once or twice—he’d shot people for less. 

“Sir,” Zoe’s voice came from the doorway, distracting him enough that he took his hand off his gun.  Zoe stood there, impassively taking in the scene before her; Der held on her left hip as her right arm was still recovering, now months later. 

“River and Cal need your help lifting something in the engine room; I’ll see about Kaylee.”  Seeing Mal’s jaw clench and his hand fist up, Zoe insisted, “She requested your presence immediately, Sir; said it was important that we figure somethin’ out quick before any of the auxiliary systems kick off an’ Cal may be handy for liftin’ parts out of the way, but he ain’t much for finding us a solution to the problem.”

Pissed off that Zoe was essentially ordering him about on his own ship, but still too riddled with guilt about what had happened to call her on it, he ground out, “This discussion ain’t over, Simon.  You an’ me are gonna have words ‘bout this.”

Zoe’s icy look killed Simon’s response as Mal stomped from the room.  “So, how is she, Doc?”

Sighing heavily, Simon sat on the stool, “Her hands are the worst; she’s not going to be able to use them at all for a month and then she’ll be extremely limited in what she will be able to do for another one after that while the skin grafts itself through the flesh matrix I applied.”  He gestured helplessly to his love, “Third degree burns on her hands, forearms, and stomach.  Second degree ones where the fuel hit her when it ignited—they are all bandaged too, but without the matrix—and I’ve treated her first degree ones with the burn salve we keep on hand.  She took bits and pieces—a couple of them I need to wait until she is more stable to remove, but they are not life threatening—of shrapnel from the parts that exploded.”

Zoe’s eyes took on a shiny gleam as she looked down at her friend poor meimei; Simon mused in a lost fashion as he stared at his hands, “It’s like he doesn’t even realize—or care, rather—that anyone else is here and affected by his actions, Zoe; Kaylee’s been begging him for the money for those parts for three months, Zoe.  Three months!  And the last time she asked, I find out later—once I got her calmed down—that he yelled and insulted her into hysterics.”

Looking up at the First Mate, whom he knew was their only shot left at getting through to the Captain, “It’s not safe—for any of us, really—to stay here with him; he’s going to get us all killed before long—it’s a miracle that didn’t happen today.  But it’s also not like we can just pack up and leave either, this far out.  Transport back to the Burham Quadrant is beyond what we can afford, much less try to find passage on a safe ship; we’re stuck here,” he finished bitterly.

            Zoe looked at him carefully, noting the lines of strain and worry lining his young face; she was relieved, though, when those lines ease a bit when he took Der from her while she helped out in the engine room.  And Simon was right, she sighed, heading out of the infirmary, Mal needs to take a look at what he’s doing to the rest of the crew.  She herself had started looking at other options; she didn’t fully trust Mal anymore on jobs, something she never thought would happen after all they’d been through in the War, but it wasn’t just about her: she had Der to think about. 

            Mulling things over as she headed to join the others, she wondered if she played things right, could she get Mal to take them all home, back to the Burnham Quadrant.  At least there, they’d all have more options; and if she did it quietly enough, she might be able to take Inara up on her offer…

---

             Monty was a good Captain, Jayne decided as he suddenly realized that he’d been onboard for just over six months now; not bitter, rash, or prone to blinding fits of pique like Mal.  He paid his crew well and promptly, treated each of them with respect once they earned it, and had bounced back enough from the War that he didn’t object to the occasional Alliance-funded job to pay the bills. 

Those jobs especially, had gotten Monty’s name on a list of ‘Trusted Captains’, making it easier for them to bypass many of the checks and avoid surprise cargo hold raids, allowing them, in many cases, to transport separate loads of legal and illegal cargo at the same time.  Most of the jobs were safer too; Jayne hadn’t had to shoot anyone in going on two months—practically a record.  All in all, Jayne thought, it’s a right good place ta work.

            A hand on his shoulder pulled Jayne from his musings as he turned and looked up.  “’Sup Monty?”

            Monty gave Jayne an intent but indefinable look that instantly had him on guard.  Jerking his head toward the cargo ramp, he said, “I thought maybe you and I could go for a drink; celebrate your six months an’ all.  I’m buyin’; got somethin’ I wanna talk to you about, but not here.”

            “Sure thing if you’re buyin’,” Jayne said with a smirk that covered his caution; a captain wanting to talk to you offsite was never a good thing in Jayne’s opinion.  Picking himself up, Jayne brushed his hands off on his pants and followed Monty down the street to the nearest bar where they picked an empty table in one of the corners. 

Jayne sat, nursing his drink as he waited for Monty to say what was on his mind.  Finally, Monty fidgeted uncomfortably and took a deep breath, “Under normal circumstances Jayne, I wouldn’t ask since I knew ya pretty well before you signed on with me, but I need to know…what happened between you an’ Mal?”

Instantly, Jayne’s face shut down and his eyes bored into his suddenly empty glass.  “Why,” he asked, his voice a guarded tone.

Sighing heavily, Monty rubbed the back of his neck; Jayne was a good kid, he thought, feeling that Jayne deserved his privacy for something like this that was still obviously not something he was ready to talk about, but the Wave he’d just received made it necessary.  “I…,” the Captain began, “Just got a Wave from Mal.”  He didn’t miss that Jayne stiffened next to him.

Continuing on, Monty explained, “Now he don’t know you work for me; I wanted to talk to you first ‘fore I said anything of the like.”  Jayne visibly relaxed and released a slow breath, trying to make it seem like he hadn’t been holding it.  “Apparently, the engine the Alliance got for ya after Miranda’d been faulty an’ near killed that little engineer Mal’s got an’ stranded ‘em on Kalorie way out in Zeta—took ‘em near a week to limp there from where it blew in the Black.  Wants to know if we can tow Serenity all the way back to Beaumonde where it’ll be ‘bout four times cheaper for a new engine.”

“Mal tell ya if Kaylee’s okay?”  Jayne looked up at him concerned for her, but still not giving anything else away.

“Didn’t say they lost ‘er so that’s somethin’; he’d like as told me if they did.”  Taking a breath, “Jayne, you know Mal don’t trust too many people; and we’re the only ones he does that have the engine and fuel capacity to power both ships—rather’n just tow ‘em—the whole way back, but it means six, seven weeks in close proximity with both boats being tended to by both crews.” 

Jayne just sat there staring at his empty glass, his stomach churning too much to have another. 

Treading carefully, Monty pressed again, “I gotta know if you can do it; we’ll be a sweet lookin’ target to any pirates that far out and I’d feel a lot easier with your guns at my back should we need ‘em.  Ya need me to, I’ll set rules with Mal an’ run interference ‘tween you two much as I can, but I need to know what I’m doin’ it for.” 

Still not looking up, Jayne bit out between clenched teeth, “When you gotta let him know?”  At Monty’s surprised look Jayne clarified, “He’d’ve given ya a time ta Wave him back with the need for boosters on account a’ the distance; they gotta schedule them kinda calls out there.”

I’d rather know now, Monty thought, but he understood that Jayne needed sometime to think, “I don’t gotta Wave Mal back ‘til about four in the mornin’.  You don’t do it an’ you give me the respect of tellin’ me why, I’ll have no issue with that; be happy ta pick you back up after the job’s done with no hard feelin’s, but I’d really rather have ya with me on this.”

Jayne sat quietly for a minute, “I gotta think on this a bit, Monty; you been a right good guy ta work for an’ while I wanna do right by ya, but I don’t wanna be the cause a’ problems ‘tween you an’…Mal.”

“You let me worry ‘bout that,” Monty told him firmly, respecting the conflicted mercenary for factoring in more than just himself in his decision, though he still wanted to know what had happened between Jayne and Mal.  “You gonna tell me at all ‘bout you two?”

Jayne nodded, “’F I go, I’ll tell ya afore I do; how’s that?  We do this, I’ll have ta tell ya at some point on the way out there anyway, just so ya hear it from me first.”

Nodding, Monty got up from the table, “Want ya back onboard by midnight—with an answer, though, ya hear?”

“Yessir.”

---

            Jayne stayed at that table, ultimately paying the bartender for the space, just to be fair as his tab was no where near enough to cover the time he spent tying up the table; he needed to think on what Monty had said with a sober mind.  The pain of Mal’s betrayal was still just as crippling now as it had been when he left; he was fine if he could avoid thinking on it, but the only way he’d keep that up now would be a right hundan toward a very decent Captain, one who’d even offered him a job based on trust rather than money.

            That, Jayne had to admit, was what stuck with him most; the trust that Monty afforded him from the beginning, he’d never had that, not even with Serenity.  When he’d first signed on with Mal, and granted he’d had Mal and Zoe at gunpoint and then shot Marco for the better deal—Jayne snorted bitterly, bet Marco’d be happy as a guy with a free whore ta know how that ended up turnin’ out—he and Zoe had watched him like a hawk, making sure that their new mercenary never got too close to Wash or Kaylee, much less dream of sullying Inara with his presence.

            At the time, he hadn’t minded being treated like an outsider, always suspect; it was how he’d always been treated since he’d left home.  It just wasn’t until after Simon and River came onboard, along with Book, and seeing how they all had been welcomed—even with the lying and getting Kaylee shot, that had come along with the Tams—into the family fold, with him still outside looking in, he realized that he wanted to be included, wanted to be part of the family.  He also knew, though, that that would never happen; and, in the days after Ariel, he’d come to accept that as being partly his own fault.  And so, after Miranda, he’d started trying to change, trying to be better—more like someone they’d want around, rather than need around for jobs.

            It was what had made Mal’s betrayal so hard; Jayne had thought he finally belonged and let himself believe the lie.  He’d believed it right up until it had all come tumbling down, too.  Looking back, he could see the little things about Zoe that his previously suspicious mind would have flagged as being off, but his desire to belong and his growing feelings for Mal had allowed him to be lulled into letting his guard down.  He’d finally thought he could trust them.

---

            Monty was waiting for him at the ramp.  “Well?” 

            Sighing heavily Jayne sat down on a crate nearby, “I’ll come with ya, Monty.  Ain’t sayin’ I’ll have an easy time of it, but I’ll come with ya; you’re a good Cap’n, been more’n decent ta me—‘specially with lettin’ me know about this here trip—so I’m a gonna have your back, like you had mine.”

            Monty inwardly swelled with pride at his gun hand; he’d chosen well this time, though he had a feeling that Jayne had been very different before Serenity and had experience on both sides of that coin.  Quietly he asked the brooding man, gently prodding, “You gonna tell me?”

            Chucking a pebble he’d found on the deck, Jayne hedged seriously, looking his Captain in the face, “I done a lotta thinkin’ tonight, Monty; gotta process it all first, ya know?  I’ll tell ya afore we get there—I will—just…I can’t right now.”

            Not entirely happy, but he could see that Jayne was emotionally drained and let it go—for now, he thought.  “I’ll give ya ‘till we get to Sirus, Jayne.  That’s the last stop before we hit the Open Black for a month; you don’t tell me yourself by then, I’m puttin’ you off.”

            Jayne nodded, “’S more’n fair ‘nough.  Thanks Monty,” he said with a hand on his Captain’s shoulder as he headed for his bunk.

            Three days later, he found Monty doing watch on the bridge, still eleven days out from Sirus, Monty noted with some surprise, happy that Jayne was coming to him now rather than later.  Stepping in, Jayne asked uncomfortably, “You still wanna talk?”  At Monty’s nod, Jayne closed the bridge door and sat down heavily in the co-pilot’s seat, the story of him and Mal, coming out a little at a time.

            Monty broke his favorite mug when he threw it at the wall.