A.N.: This can be a companion prelude to Three Strand Cord, but is able to stand alone. With thanks to Chris Rice for the inspiring lyric. ------

It only took a split second between the time he conceived the plan and the time he reacted, but Jayne had never had so many different thoughts filling the same moment in time. He and Mal crouched behind the line of boulders which were becoming steadily smaller due to enemy fire. Shattered rock choked the air at their heads, blinding their eyes. Not that seeing would have helped as they only had about six rounds left between the two of ‘em. Nowhere to retreat. No way out. No back up plan. Jayne cast a sidelong glance at Mal and the split second began. One of them would die in this moment, and in all of Jayne’s history of these kinds of situations, it was his partner who did the dying. He could see in Mal’s eyes the same realization that they wouldn’t both walk out of this; but he could also see Mal was ready to lay down his life to protect him – to protect his crew. Jayne’s life flashed before his eyes. His Ma, his family, the string of partners he had betrayed. He thought of River who had forgiven his betrayal, dancing as he played the guitar in the lounge, laughing at his queasiness when she turned the ship in circles; how Simon looked out for her even as she fought for independence now. And Simon, sewing up his wounds so perfectly that even the deep cuts didn’t leave a scar, fawning over Kaylee, rutting like newly weds even though they wouldn’t be married for another six months. Kaylee smiling like sunshine, smudging fresh grease on her face as she brushed the hair from her cheek, cooking a cake for his birthday or for any excuse if they had enough flour and chocolate. And he thought of Zoë, now five months pregnant. This was the first job she’d sat out and he saw how it pained her to stay behind. How much greater would that pain be if Mal didn’t return on this job? Maybe if it were the second or third job she didn’t go out on, but not the first. She would never forgive herself. Those two were like trigger and hammer – the gun don’t fire if one’s missing. Without Mal, Zoë would unhinge. The crew would fall apart. Lose their center. Lose each other. Finally, Jayne thought of Shepherd Book. Every time the two of them would spot each other on weights, Book would spill some bit of wisdom. Jayne never figured he was listening at the time, but every now and then a scrap of the Shepherd’s words would come back and hit him with blinding relevance. The words that came to him in this split second were ones that had never made sense at the time. He remembered because he’d asked Book to repeat the phrase three times before giving up on understanding altogether. ‘Sometimes love has to drive a nail into its own hand.’ What was confounding nonsense then, made sense in this moment. He saw the crew that had taken him in and called him family, who had looked on him with love even when he plotted to betray them, who seemed to forgive his every vice. He always figured in a tough spot, he’d protect himself first and the crew second; but he realized if Mal died, the crew died… and he’d die too. The only way to save them all… The split second was up. Mal was ready to spring into action, create a diversion, and allow Jayne to escape. But in that same split second, Jayne tackled Mal to safety, throwing himself into the line of fire instead. With only a fraction of a moment after that to escape, Mal could waste no words; he could hardly spare a glance. As the bullets ripped through Jayne’s body, he held that last glance from his Captain in his mind, and all it had meant. The surprise, the sadness, the horror. Mal escaped, shocked. But Jayne died in peace knowing that the crew would survive. They’d get through this moment. And unlike the time on Ariel when he was nearly spaced, Jayne didn’t need to ask Mal to make up any heroic tale about why he was dead. Because love had driven a nail into its own hand.

*~*

Per your requests, the crews reactions to the news: When I First Heard