Disclaimer: all things Firefly/Serenity are the property of Whedon et al. I'm not making any money of this, just playing with the toys. No beta reader, either.

Set post-BDM. Strongly recommend reading "The Way" and "Judas and Mercy" and the two previous chapters of this series.

A/N 1: the ending is fairly intense and those faint of heart, take heed. A/N 2: italics are either thoughts or flashbacks

The jailhouse was small, to say the least. The founding fathers never figured that anyone would ever want to do harm in a place called Bountiful as they would be full up and not wanting for a thing. They didn’t see a point in building a jail in the first place, until they found their first pickpocket and thought that maybe just the image of a jail would be enough deterrent.

It wasn’t.

When the town grew dusty and dry, folk resorted to more mischievous behaviour and thieving was tops on the list. They didn’t want to, necessarily, but when the times were getting leaner, food had to come from somewhere. No one wanted their babies to starve.

Jayne counted himself lucky to have left the world when he did. He wasn’t about to let his ma or brother go into crime just to live. He’d take that job himself. Didn’t figure himself to be good for much else. He grinned. Well, there were one or two other things he was pretty good at.

Ducking his head to enter the small building, Jayne followed his ma in after the sheriff let them through. The wooden building smelled dank and mouldy and he was fair sure that the other smell assaulting his brain wasn’t a new type of cleaner. “Ai ya! Who up and died in here?” He made a face.

Emma Cobb made no remark, but stood near the lone cell, eyeing the man in there with steeled resolve. He’d tried something with her she swore no man would ever do again. And God willing, he’d get his punishment.

“Well, woman, come t’finish the job?” his hoarse voice called from the cot inside the cell.

She spit at him then faced the sheriff. “What’s to happen to him, Roy?”

Sheriff Roy roughly scratched his head. “Well, seems ol’ Ren here’s got himself a arrest warrant.” He pulled through a small stack of plastic pages and grabbed the one he needed. He leaned onto the desk, facing the Cobbs and looked the sheet over. “Stealin’ gov’ment prop’ty. Causin’ grievous injury t’Alliance men. Rapin’ a few women.” He looked to Emma. “Says there’s a re-ward. Five hundred.” He showed her the bulletin.

Glancing at it, she eyed the sheriff. “He’s going to an Alliance jail?”

Roy nodded, making a sucking sound with his teeth. “Most like.” He stood and strolled the two steps to the cell. “Seems ya been a ornery bad boy, Terrence Cobb. Time t’pay.”

Ren stood shakily from the cot, his shoulder paining him from Emma’s shot, and went to the bars. “Cobb’s ain’t easy t’take down, eh, boy?” He sneered towards Jayne. “‘Sides, ya wouldn’t turn in yer own pa fer a bit a coin, would ya?” His eyes narrowed.

“You sumbitch,” Jayne cursed. He now stood face to face with his father, his head still hurtin’, but not backin’ down. “I’d turn ya in fer free, you liou coe shway duh biao-tze huh hoe-tze duh bun ur-tze.”

Ren grinned. “Yep, yer my blood.” He stepped back as Jayne tried punching through the bars.

“C’mere! C’mere you-”

“Jayne.” Emma’s voice was strong and quiet. “He’s not worth it.”

He whipped his head around. “You jokin’? Ya don’t recollect what he done tried on ya?” He moved to his mother, eyes down at her. “He don’t got th’right. May as well take what’s comin’ an’ score ourselves some coin in th’meantime.”

“No, Jayne. He’s your pa. Not right to profit from that.”

“Hell it ain’t! He ain’t done nothin’ good fer us ‘cept leavin’ this go se town.”

“If’n I might,” Roy stepped in. “Ya may want t’reconsider what yer thinkin’ there on, son. I know he ain’t spic an’ span, but ya do some fool thing in ret’ibution, I’ll have no course but t’arrest ya. Sure don’t think yer ma’d like that. Eh, Emma?”

“No.” She forced Jayne to look at her. Don’t do nothin’ stupid, boy, she said. She heard Jayne’s hard breathing through his nose and the look of finally understanding what she was saying. Stomping past, he barrelled through the door and slammed it shut.

Ren laughed from his cell and Emma faced him. “‘Vengeance is mine, sayeth the Lord.’,” she began. “Trouble is, you don’t know when the good Lord’ll be coming to collect. If you’re lucky, it’ll be before you get freed from jail and Jayne gets a chance at you. Because I won’t be there to stop him, even if I wanted to.” With a nod to Roy, Emma left the jailhouse, feeling a little stronger.

A few minutes later, Roy heard a tapping at the only window. Glancing up, he saw Jayne directing him to the back entrance. Once outside, Jayne asked “That reward say anthin’ about bein’ alive or dead?”

Later... Most folks figured that Kaylee’d most miss the sun. Bein’ so much in the black, she’d need some kinda light to keep her all happy and cheery-like. Personality like hers, it wasn’t a stretch of thought.

But it weren’t the sun Kaylee missed most after weeks in space. It was the rain.

Her home moon was filled with sun almost 24 hours out of a 33 hour daily rotation. The place got more sun than most planets or moons. It had the effect of making the place a prairie. Grasses grew readily and heartily and it suited ranching, but it wasn’t a lush place. Even the small mountains were tough and scrubby.

Still, it had been Kaylee’s home for her entire life and she loved it. She loved feeling the sun shine on her skin or bathing the landscape in a purplish-orange glow twice a day. She’d watch her ma and pa come out onto the porch after dinner, hand in hand, and walk out into that sunset, smilin’ and murmurin’ to each other. The kids would laugh and Kaylee would sigh. It filled her heart and made her happy. Her folks were joint real good and she could only hope to find somethin’ even close.

But when it rained, she could play. Rain came infrequently to the moon and was cause for celebration to the whole place. People would run out into the streets or into fields and let the rain pelt them until they were soaked through. Children would make mud balls, swim in puddles and pretend to be live fountains spewing water from their lips. Farmers welcomed the rain on crops and be grateful that the moon wasn’t made of clay. With proper irrigation, enough could be stored and spread out nearly the rest of the season.

Sun may have been the Giver of Life, but rain was the Joy.

She smiled as she thought on rainy memories. Seemed whenever the rain came, so did the boys. With all the people runnin’ about bein’ glad as punch, no one noticed her and the boy under the tree or ‘neath an awning. Folk just ran on by with beamin’ faces, ignorin’ the lovebirds on the bench. Got so’s her sisters’d start sayin’ that it was rainin’ boys.

Seemed only natural that the rain would bring her first sex. Ritchie was a slim boy with a square jaw that made sixteen year old Kaylee’s heart twitch. She was bringin’ him some lemonade and wearin’ her best dress when the sky let loose. They ran inta the loft of the barn, heavin’ and smilin’ then kissin’ and handlin’ as the rain pounded the rickety roof. Good thing her folks had been in town that time; she didn’t want to go explainin’ to her pa on how all that straw got tangled up in her hair.

She chuckled while standing in the hot shower. A poor substitute, she knew. Nothing man made could ever be as good as the real thing.

Punching the shower release button, she pulled the door open and reached for a towel, letting the cooler but humid air prickle her skin. Quickly running the towel over her, she stepped out proper and wrapped her body with the cloth. Looking at her reflection after wiping the small mirror, she noticed the fine changes in her appearance since boarding Serenity.

Reaching to her neck, she traced the marks left behind from Mr. Universe’s. Simon hadn’t ever said nothin’, but she reckoned he didn’t much care for ‘em. Too many bad memories in that boy’s head. She couldn’t blame him, really, as he kept avoiding that part of her neck. She didn’t much care for ‘em either.

Nor for the round scar at her belly.

She found a small giggle when thinkin’ on her tummy.

Where some folk might have called her a milk-fed farm girl, her family called her properly fed. Didn’t do nobody good to starve themselves in a place where physical work was the norm rather than exception. No one in her family was weak and they all pulled their share of the load. And they all joined in the reward of that work. Besides, the boys complained none about her and that brought another smile.

Slight creases formed at the corners of her eyes with that grin. When had those appeared? She weren’t that old, was she? She counted off the months. Yep, time and the sun were starting to catch up.

And the lack of proper, regular food were also showing through. What would her mama say about seeing her collar bones clear through or ribs sticking out when a year ago they didn’t. Saying that Serenity faced tough times was like saying the Alliance weren’t nothin’ but uniformed Buddhist monks.

Still and all, she wouldn’t willing give up her life on Serenity. She’d found the next best thing to family and a home that any girl could possibly want. Made her eyes crease again.

The music was of a stringed instrument, plucking a small tune, designed to invoke calm and stillness. Few candles burned and incense filled the shuttle with a smoky aroma. It was a perfection environment for meditation and contemplation.

Unfortunately, neither of those things were happening at this moment.

Rather, two loud voices were yelling themselves hoarse over foolishness, to the outside observer, and strict matters of pride by the combatants. No solution seemed forthcoming, increasing the tension that much more.

“And how many times must I remind you, Captain, that I make my own choices about who I spend my time with? Not you.”

His hand balled, ready to punch anything close, Mal replied “Regular folk, fine. But not the payin’ kind. Thought we understood that.”

Inara’s eyes narrowed. “I told you, I am a companion. It’s my job!”

“So quit!”

She blinked. “What?”

“Quit the gorram blasted job.” He stomped around the small greeting table and stood at the shuttle’s cockpit entrance.

“I can’t just...a companion doesn’t just quit.”

“Never?”

“One or two have moved beyond their training. But that was their own choice.”

“Guess I’m askin’ ya to choose.”

“That’s not fair.”

“You wanted fair, sweetheart, you ought notta come back and say sweet nothin’s to a man t’make him think you made yer decision.”

“As I recall, Captain, you were the one asking me to stay.”

He took a swipe at the tapestry, frustrated at not feelin’ the thing break. Oh, how he wanted to break somethin’ right now, get this feelin’ a frustration outta his system. Damn woman still fogged things but good. “That ain’t how it went.”

Inara bent to retrieve her tea set. “Believe what you want, Mal, but don’t ask me to give up my career for a what-if and a large number of maybe’s.” She placed the set in a small container to be washed in the galley later.

His arms hung limp at his sides as he watched her move, her silks flowing around her beautiful form, making him want her even more. He pushed his hand through his hair. “Didn’t come lookin’ for a fight.”

“You’ve said that before.”

He glared. “Just wanna know, Inara, how it is you think ya can still whore and be my woman.”

She straightened her shoulders, her back straight.

Wrong words, Mal, very wrong words. He raised his arms in defence. “An’ before ya get all huffy-”

“Huffy?” The eyebrow arch was the only warning he would get.

“I didn’t mean it quite like how it came out.” He took a tentative step to her. “I’m befuddled, is all. You come back to Serenity, say yer gonna stay, give strong indication that you wanted t’make a go of us, but yer still booking clients. Point out the flaw of logic, if ya please.”

Inara breathed out. “How else can I say this? It’s my job, Mal. It’s who I am.”

“And who am I?”

“Shuh muh?”

He took another step. “Where does Malcolm Reynolds fit in the life a Inara Serra? If I ain’t your beau then what am I?”

Memories of the man attempting to be gallant in front of her rolled around in her head, their conversation on the bridge being the strongest. Rather than pull her into a deep kiss, the Captain had opted for kissing her hand. She shuddered a little.

What could Inara say? Mal wasn’t true love. The man was far too stubborn for love, but if she were honest, so was she. Being a companion was easy and safe, Zoe had been right. Closing herself off from the person she was with had been simple with the proper training. Merely perform the actions and have your client believe in them. She was an actor playing on stage with an audience of one.

The trouble was that Mal saw through the acting. He tested her, challenged her to see what she didn’t want to. Her life was just a charade, expensive and ornate, but not substantial. And that made him different. Perhaps different enough to risk her heart.

The question remained: what was Malcolm Reynolds?

Nerving herself, Inara answered “I don’t know.” She hesitated in seeing his expression sadden. “But this isn’t going to be easy, for either of us.” She raised a hand to stop him from jumping in. “You will do jobs that put you in danger and I will do jobs that will anger you. We can’t stop being who we are, Mal. It’s not in our natures.”

“No, Inara, that’s wrong.”

“Do you mean to say that if I asked you to stop thieving and smuggling that you simply would?”

He now stood close to her, his hand reaching for her hair. “You ask me t’stop breathin’ an I would.” His voice was a whisper, deep and intoxicating. She felt her legs wobble slightly, grateful for the dress to hide the motion.

Regaining her composure, she continued. “If I’m not a companion, then what am I?”

That stopped Mal.

Jayne flexed his left hand, grateful to have the brace removed. Simon had given the mercenary the clear to start using it again, but on a limited basis. Jayne knew exactly what he wanted to do and now stood in front of the contraption, unable to do it.

He narrowed his eye, staring at the weight bench. Clear memories of the Shepherd and him doing their work outs ran through his head, along with a softer memory of Inara and a client a hers that weren’t no man.

“Need to go to your bunk?” the high voice called from the catwalk.

Jayne cringed. “Told ya before, Crazy, stay outta my head.”

River grinned then walked in her way down the steps and stood opposite Jayne in front of the bench. “You want to, but you’re afraid.”

“Ain’t afraid.” Not even he believed it, it sounded so pathetic.

“I can help. Be the Preacher.”

The big man was going to say something about girls and moonbrain talk, but something in his head clicked. He understood her meaning. “Might hurt ya some.”

River shook her head. “Doubtful.”

He huffed. “Reckon so.” He scratched his cheek, mindful of the stitches across most of it and the smaller bandage over his right eye. Doc still hadn’t given a prognosis on that little bit of medical and Jayne was reluctant to do his own. Girl had been right, he was afraid.

“Sit.”

“Huh?”

She pointed to the bench, her own self now at the bar. He sat carefully and leaned back, his hands finding the familiar grips. Only twenty pounds were on it, pitifully easy before, now, not so easy. Swallowing hard, he breathed in, lifted the metal and felt a jolt of pain in his left hand. Grunting, he lowered the bar then raised it cautiously back up. Didn’t feel too bad, well, not mind-blowing painful bad.

He finished a set of five before River took the bar from him and lowered it into the cradle. She beamed, giving him the chills. Straightening to wipe his face with his shirt, he wondered why Crazy was here, helpin’ him.

River tilted her head in that way. “Healing folk need to stick together.”

He huffed. “Yeah. Join the gimps club.”

River laughed. “Not a gimp.” She stepped away from the bench and grabbed his hand, leading him to the mat she placed nearby. “Sit.” He did and she sat with him. “Lie back.” He again did as instructed. She pushed his feet until they were under his knees then sat on them. “Come up.”

“Don’t know if yer brother wants me doin’ sit ups.”

“Doesn’t matter what Simon wants. What do you want?”

Well, if Jayne didn’t grin on that. Little sister seen fit t’do not what her brother wanted. Kinda liked that. “Won’t be pretty.”

“Procrastinating.”

“Procras - what?”

“Do it!”

Without thought, Jayne lifted his chest to his bent knees and groaned loudly. The burn was strong, but not altogether unwelcome. Felt sorta good flexin’ the muscles some.

River grasped his shoulders before he could lower himself back down. “Two times three?”

“Huh?”

“Two times three? What is two times three?”

Math test? She was givin’ Jayne Cobb a math test? He shook his head. Still crazy girl.

“Not crazy. Helping. Two times three?”

“Uh...five?”

She raised an eyebrow looking ever so much like Inara doing it. “Don’t play. Serious time now.”

“Six.”

She smiled and released his shoulders. “Another.” She gestured for him to rise up again. “Capital of Londinium?”

“New London.”

She smiled again and the process was repeated twenty times.

Zoe laughed a little watching the pair on the stairs leading to the galley. Who would have thought that River would take it upon herself to help fix the big man?

Later... River looked to Kaylee who turned and went to Jayne’s new bunk. Leaving the siblings alone, Simon pulled his sister into him, letting his arms envelope the small woman and gently rocked her. “Shh, mei-mei, everything’s going to be fine.”

“He remembers!” she sobbed. “Hurt. Pain. Jumbled inside and doesn’t know how to come out.”

Simon nodded, wondering how long it would take for Jayne to remember his torturous ordeal. Shifting to lean against the wall, he thought on his first observation of the man, blood covering much of him and holes the rest. He couldn’t get his mind around the level of abuse inflicted on the mercenary, how he could have warranted such treatment.

“Lied,” River sniffled, calming some. “Ugly man lied to him, but Jayne didn’t want to believe. Lost.”

Simon smoothed his sister’s hair back, vaguely thinking that she needed a haircut and some pretty girl hair clips. “Everything’s going to be fine,” he said again.

She gripped his forearm. Fine was such a relative term.

Kaylee stood at the entrance, her mouth hung open lightly at the sight before her.

Jayne stood, hands clenching the small sink. His torso was bare and Kaylee was finally able to see just how much pain his body had endured. Scars criss-crossed his back and chest and another stood out red near his abdomen. More than that, though, he looked...smaller. This wasn’t the big, strong Jayne that she knew, a man who could easily snap your neck one-handed without any trouble at all. No, this Jayne was not-Jayne.

“Jayne?” she called tentatively. Something in his shaking body and silent mouth gave her pause and real concern. Heat and anger washed over her and she felt afraid. He was an animal caught in a trap, ready to lunge at anything that came close enough.

Lifting his eyes to her, she stepped back. They were feral, wild. Her breath caught in her throat. She blinked furiously, wanting to run away. No, she thought hard, don’t do that. Gotta be strong. Taking a deep breath, she took a step inside, pushing her body tight against the wall away from him, hoping to show that she wasn’t a threat. “How about lettin’ the sink go, dong ma?”

Surprisingly, Jayne did. Slowly turning to her voice, Jayne’s body changed. She could see him loosen slightly, his breathing coming more regular. His eyes were still wild, but coming into greater focus.

“There. That’s good,” she continued gently. “Now why don’t ya move to the bed?”

He stopped and hulked.

“Or not. Standing’s good.” Though she could see that his leg was paining him and he threatened to topple over any moment. She thought on what to do next.

“Took it.”

His words made her jump she was not expecting them. “What was taken, Jayne?” She tried to sound calm and even, but wondered how successful she was being.

“Pulled my fucking knife. Ripped it off.” His face softened, sadness overpowering it.

Kaylee bit her lower lip. The dragon. “Yeah. He did.” She took a small step. “But he didn’t take you.”

Flame flashed into those eyes again. Emotions momentarily quieted with her voice raged through his head again. Burning of skin, tearing of muscle, ripping all were felt at once. He howled.

Kaylee felt her hands shake. Oh, God, please, please don’t let him do nothin’ bad. “Jayne, yer here. Now. With us on Serenity. It’s over.”

But it wasn’t over. He could feel the hot breath scorch his face, breathing fire into the wound. The dragon was there in front of him, taunting and whipping its tail. Flame flew from its mouth and burned. He shut his eye and bellowed once more.

“What in good gorram hell is going on?” Mal stood at the doorway, unable to comprehend how his mercenary was more animal looking than he would have generally preferred and his mechanic trying to calm the beast. “Kaylee, best come on outta there.” He held his hand out.

“It’s okay, Cap’n.” She kept her eyes on Jayne. “He just needs a bit.”

“No, Kaylee, it ain’t okay.”

Jayne cocked his head at Mal and that’s when Kaylee saw the shoulder with the bandage removed. The scar was ugly and huge and she swallowed hard. Thinkin’ that somethin’d been done was sure different than seein’ it. “Jayne,” she said quietly again. “Jayne, bao bai, please just come over and sit a spell. You’ll feel better.”

He whipped his head to her. Kaylee held her breath.

“Once I have your captain, this will all be over and you’ll feel better.”

“Jayne, get yer sorry ass t’that bed. Captain’s orders.”

Narrow eyes now focussed on Mal and a growl escaped his lips.

“Your captain, really, is the one who’s done this to you. If you’re to be angry at anyone, it’s him.”

“Kaylee, get out now.” Mal stepped inside, reaching for the young woman. “Come on.”

The mechanic moved towards Mal. She’d made her choice.

His was made for him.

Jayne was a man who loved women. He loved how the smelled, how they felt on his skin, under his touch. He loved how their hair whipped around their faces on a windy day or splayed out on the pillow beneath him. He loved how a look could make him feel so alive. Because of that love, he respected them. He never once did anything to a woman to hurt her or make her cry out or do anything she didn’t want.

Jayne was a man who hated Mal. He hated how the Captain always seemed to be right, always making sure that Jayne felt dumb. He hated how Mal never thought on him as anything more than a dog to be told what to do, when to do it and for how long. He hated how Mal never saw him as a man worthy of a little consideration. He hated how Ugly Man had been right; this was Mal’s fault.

The lunge was beyond the big man’s control. His body kidnapped his mind, forcing it into oblivion with only whispers of the Captain being at fault and the bringer of pain bouncing around his skull. He didn’t want to see the small person come between him and his prey. When he did, he smacked it out of the way, unaware of the consequence. His fingers reached for Mal’s neck, but never made it. His body had failed him once again.

Crying out in pain and cursing the brown clothed one, Jayne Cobb cradled his leg, pushing it to his chest. Blasts of electricity racked his body, whips flew across his back and he convulsed. Eyes that had been focussed were clouded.

A form moved, sounds were heard then the darkness came. Peace had come.

They were all there now, the crew and Inara, standing over Jayne’s prone form. The silence was overwhelming until Simon bent down and felt the pulse at Jayne’s neck. He twisted his head to look at Kaylee. “What was that?”

Kaylee was clutched close to Mal, unsure if she had a voice.

“A type of anaesthesia,” Inara answered, lightly stroking the younger woman’s hair. “A last resort for companions.”

Simon rose. “Smart thinking, Kaylee.” He eyed her and the trickle of blood at her swelling lip. “Let me have a look at that.”

She couldn’t move. Couldn’t understand how Jayne had turned like that. “Why’d it happen, Cap’n?” her small voice asked.

Mal tightened his grip around her shoulders. He had no answer. “Go let Simon tend t’ya.” He gently pushed her away. “Inara?” He nodded towards her to give Kaylee a hand.

The Companion tugged at the woman until she moved away.

Unaware of unfolding events until she had left her bunk to begin her watch, Zoe now stood next to Mal. “Any idea what just happened, Sir?”

“You got any notions on this, li’l one?” Mal continued to watch his now very dangerous mercenary.

River knelt at the doorway. Tears had stopped falling, but left their lines across her cheeks. “Wanted to find lost dragon. Found memories instead.”

Lost dragon? What in hades hell did that mean? Mal saw River’s finger point to Jayne’s exposed shoulder. How did he not know what had happened to his tattoo?

“Didn’t know it was lost until he went looking for it,” River answered. She now stood, her body shielded by the door.

Presently, the Captain was thoroughly confused a more than a mite angry. Didn’t need mercs going ape-shit and attacking him nor helpless mechanics.

“Not helpless anymore.”

Mal narrowed his eyes. No, he supposed not. That drug-injecting ring Kaylee’d picked up from the Training House had sure come in handy. He wondered what else she had learned there, but didn’t have time to dwell. Right now, he needed to find out what was not going through Jayne’s head when all this started.

The twitch of Jayne’s fingers also reminded Mal that there weren’t nearly enough drug in that tiny ring to keep him down for long. “Zoe, tie him up, but give mind to his injuries.” He didn’t have to tell her to keep watch; they’d been together too long for that. He could only hope that when Jayne woke, he would be in more of a talkin’ frame of mind than killin’.

Else he was going to have to make some hard decisions.

To be continued...

A/N 3: comments on the story?