She stopped coming to his bunk.

He always figured one day she’d realize he wasn't any good for her. He was just hoping it would take a while; a long while.

Five weeks since she stopped coming to see him and sleep still didn't come easy. He just ended up laying there trying not to think about all the nights they spent together, seeing that the first time he ever touched her and every other time was branded in his gorram brain and he didn’t need any encouragement to remember not one of them.

But of all the feng le things eating at him about Zoë suddenly going all cold on him, it wasn't the sexin' keeping him up tonight. He must have gotten used to falling off with her tucked against him, because that's what he wanted most now. Zoë’s arms and legs all wrapped around him and all her warm smooth skin exposed to him like some gift he wasn't suppose to have but by some mistake he got anyway.

At night in his bunk she was every thing contrary to how she treated him during the day. She was all softness with him, stroking him with long fingers that roused him and at the same time coaxed him into sleep.

Shame he never got a chance to wake up with her that way seeing that she always ran off before morning. He wouldn't have even minded that tonight, as long she was there when he fell off... but she wasn't and hadn’t been since the job on Half Moon.

He rolled over, punching his pillow into an even less comfortable bundle and sending the covers sliding to the floor.

He closed his eyes hoping for sleep only to pop them open a few seconds later, cursing and springing from his bed, he paced his small bunk to shake the feel of her against him.

He groaned.

The same ruttin' question ran through his head over and over and he couldn't come up with jack shit. What in hell did he do to make her stop coming?

He figured it had something to do with him ghosting Merrick, ‘cause Zoë’d been avoiding him since everything that went down on Half Moon. But as far as he could tell she was just as liable to shoot that hwoon dan herself, seeing that Merrick was planning on icing the lot of them.

It was just frustrating as hell not knowing what had set her off. He’d tried talking to her a few weeks back but she almost shot him for his efforts. He wasn’t planning on staring down her mare’s leg any time soon so he had to figure on something else.

But that didn’t leave him anywhere tonight other than wide awake with a hard-on like his nuts had never seen and a funny feeling in his chest that didn’t belong.

* * * *

Mal didn’t recall a time when Zoë didn’t feel free to speak her mind to him and he didn’t know what to make of her holding back now. Not between them. But here she was standing in front of him ‘Yes, Sir-ing’ him like some Alliance private.

Wash has been gone well over a year and there was a time when he saw the old Zoë, hurt and weary, but still fighting with him. But the last few weeks they’d lost her again. Damned if he could figure out what changed. The job on Half Moon was botched all to hell but they all got out, unhurt, with one less enemy on their tail. He counted that a win in his book.

“Zoë, you got something to say?”

“No, Sir.”

“You know what I always wanted?”

“What's that, Sir?”

“A crew that followed orders, no questions asked. But here's the real funny part. What I ended up with was a loudmouthed lot with a mighty powerful need to tell me what they think, especially when I don’t want to hear it. So, can you please find my first mate and get her back here cause I don’t really know what to do with yes men.”

“What exactly do you want me to say, Sir? That I think we should stick to easy, low paying runs and stay way from better paying, dangerous jobs?”

“You really think so?”

“It was a question, Sir.”

“I want you to say whatever’s running around that gorram head of yours. Damn it, Zo, are you going to tell me what the hell’s the matter with you?”

“Is that an order, Sir?”

Mal paused, “No.”

“Then no, I’m not.”

“Ai ya huai le.” Mal raked his hands through his hair taking even loud breaths. “Fine. I’m giving you a direct order.”

“The answer’s still no.”

She left him standing in the galley seriously considering whether he was still actually the Captain of his boat.

* * * *

“Hey…, girl.” Jayne’s heavy boots stomped down the catwalk to where River lay on the metal grate overlooking the cargo hold.

He knew she heard him because she couldn’t not, and she suddenly curled up in a ball, closed her eyes and covered her ears.

“What the hell are you doin’?” He stood over her, scowling.

“La la la la la la la—”

“Hey, cut that out, I got something to ask ya.” He checked that no one was around before crouching down on the floor.

“La la la laaa la la la laaaa.”

“Ai ya tian a.” He should have talked himself out of this last night.

Hell, maybe I’m as feng le as the girl.

“Stop calling me that.” She glared at him, her hands still covering her ears like warmers.

“What’d I tell ya about staying outta my gorram head.”

“Double edged swords cut both ways.”

Whatever that meant, he didn’t care. River was the only one who could help him and he was gonna play nice till he got what he wanted.

“Yeh, whatever... I gotta talk to you.”

“I haven’t the right to meddle like you want me to.” Her hands dropped from her ears and took to twisting the hell out of the hem of her dress.

“Ain't askin' you to meddle. Just... do whatever... head readin' thing you do and tell me what's the matter with Zo—”

She began shaking her head before he could even finish.

“Well, why the hell not?" He demanded.

"Meddling."

"It ain't meddling... 'sides, ain’t like this is the first time you went pokin’ bout somebody’s head and I ain’t never asked ya before...” He hesitated. “Can ya just tell me if I done something?”

The big man’s normal reserve was slipping in degrees but she couldn’t help that.

“Can’t,” she said, still shaking her head, “Simon says—”

“I don’t give a good gorram what the Doc says. I gotta know, else—” Or else what? He would have to figure out how to be without her? Not talk to her, not touch her, not kiss her. “I just gotta know… What’d I do?”

She made a face, wincing as his agitation screamed in her already aching head.

“You’re asking the wrong question.” River finally said, snapping Jayne’s wandering attention back to her.

“Well, that’s the gorram one I want answered.”

She shrugged. “Fine. You didn’t do anything,” she said, then went back to lying on the metal floor, her forehead furrowed with discomfort.

With calm he didn't know he had in him, Jayne said through his clenched teeth, “Awright, what question am I suppose to be askin’?”

She eyed him quietly then sat up, “What did Merrick do?”

“Merrick’s dead.”

“He wasn’t always dead, big man."

"Fine, what did Merrick do?"

"Ask Zoë."

"I'm askin' you." He practically shouted.

"Then you're asking the wrong person."

* * * *

Jayne barreled into the bridge, slamming the hatch shut behind him.

Startled, Zoë faced the angry merc, immediately wishing she had her mare’s leg. He was clearly pissed about something. What? She had no idea, but she had a bad feeling.

The space suddenly seemed a lot smaller with the fuming merc blocking the door. She crossed her arms and leaned against the console, her flat expression masking her discomfort.

“Something I can do for you?”

“What the hell did Merrick do, Zo?” A vein throbbed in his clenched jaws.

She didn’t answer right away, contemplating exactly how much he knew. It was clear he knew enough to ask; just as clear that he had been talking to River.

She turned back to the charts she had been studying, dismissing him. Her spine was rigid. All too aware of how close he was, she desperately tried to ignore the tightness in her chest, how hard it had become to breathe. The sudden chill that raced down her spine was all fear and instinct, although she knew that Jayne wasn't Merrick and that she was safe. “Don’t concern you,” she gritted out.

“The hell it don’t.” he shouted, grabbing her by the shoulders.

She rounded on him with her fist cocked. He barely ducked the first punch, but her second connected squarely with his jaw.

He staggered back but caught his footing in time to block her next swing.

Jayne swore. Damn woman hit like any man!.

He was gonna feel that one for a few days.

He tried to grab her arms but ran into a sharp elbow that knocked the wind out of him. He regained his breath to back her up a few steps but a well-aimed knee grazed his boys sending spots swimming before his eyes. He tried to blink them away, barely side stepping another swing.

He had the advantage, seeing that she was in a corner and he was bigger, but it still took his whole weight to back her up against the console and pin her arms. He took another few more seconds to trap her knees with his legs.

“Gorramit woman, what the hell’s the matter with you?” He hissed.

“Let go of me, Jayne.”

She remained tense in his grip, ready to strike if she got an opening.

Jayne didn’t give her one.

“Not till you tell me what the hell happened. What did Merrick do?”

She turned her head to stare at the darkness outside the window, “I’m fine."

"Ain't what I asked you. And I ain't lettin' you go till I get an answer."

"... doesn't matter. I'm all healed now."

“What?” He let her go so suddenly she had to grab onto the edge of the console to stay upright.

He stared at her with thunder in his eyes, barely able to breathe. “What the fuck d’you mean, you’re all healed. What’s all healed?” Jayne yelled.

“Not looking to announce it to the whole ship right now, so I’d appreciate you keeping your voice down.”

“I don’t give a shit who hears me. What the hell did he do to you?" Confusion faded into murderous fury, "Did he—”

“He didn’t… River got there before… he could get that far.”

His relief was physical, like a knife being pulled from a wound, but it left a gaping hole in him.

“He hurt you." He could barely get the words out through the tightness in his throat.

Zoë didn’t answer, but her silence said enough.

Enough to break the rhythm in his chest and squeeze the breathe from him.

"Aghhhh" he rounded on the bulkhead and pounded it like a caged animal, until Zoë put herself between the unforgiving metal and his bloody fists.

“He’s dead, Jayne. You can’t kill him again.”

He stared at her for a minute, his breathing ragged, his shoulders hunched, his knuckles dripping blood on the floor, fighting the thought that he knew was gonna haunt him.

"I shoulda been there." It was barely a whisper, but she heard him.

Saying it tore at him cause he knew it was true. He knew something wasn’t right with Merrick and he left her with him anyway.

“You ain’t my keeper, Jayne.”

"That what you think?" His eyes refocused on her. Searching her face, her body, as if he could see what Merrick had done just by looking at her. No wonder she couldn’t look him in the eyes all this time, kept far away from him like he was Merrick himself.

Zo reached overhead and grabbed the med kit, ignoring the question.

“Simon's gonna need to take a look at that."

He watched her, not trusting himself to say anything, wanting to kill something but unwilling to move away from her. He wanted to wrap his arms around her, to comfort and shelter her, but she didn’t seem to want that. Was it because she blamed him? Did Merrick hurt her so bad she didn’t want any man?

Zoë cleaned his bleeding knuckles and wrapped his right hand. "Left ain't too bad, it'll heal fine... "

Unwilling to meet his eyes, she followed his hands, still folded into fists, as they fell to his sides. Her voice barely rose above a whisper. "Only soul on this boat knows what Merrick did is River, and I want to keep it that way.”

“Look at me, Zo.”

Last time he said that to her they had been in his bunk tangled around each other and she couldn’t help the warm flush from the memory. He had said it the first time she went to him and each time after that until she gave it willingly. And she had learned to, had wanted to, knowing how it increased his pleasure and amplified her own, just seeing what she felt when he was inside her. The memory stole her breath.

“Bao bei, look at me.”

His familiar voice rumbled through her like something she hadn’t realized was missing. The shiver down her spine awakened reluctant feelings she had buried for the past five weeks. Focusing on the metal grating on the floor kept her standing on her own two feet and maintained the space between her and Jayne.

She wasn't ready to look at him, fearing she’d do something she’d regret, like burying herself in him and sobbing the way she’d wanted to since ripping that dress to shreds. But she hadn’t allowed herself that. Merrick, she had promised herself, wouldn’t get one more tear for what he took.

The bruises were healed and the teeth marks had faded, but she still bore invisible wounds. Merrick had taken her faith in herself. Even dead, he was still in her head, making her wary and uncertain.

She counted herself lucky. He would have done far worse if River hadn’t shown up. But he had done enough, enough to make her doubt herself, question her perception, her judgment. She’d been wrong about him – perhaps she was wrong about everything. Nights alone were long and yet she still couldn’t answer the question that haunted her through the long hours she laid awake every night. How could she trust herself with anything, with anyone else, when she had been so unable to see Merrick for the monster he was?

Jayne made the choice for her, pulling her into a vice-like hug. Later she would be grateful he did, but when he reached across the inches between them, her immediate instinct was to fight.

“No—”

“I ain’t here to fight you Zo. But I ain’t gonna let you push me away neither. I ain’t him Zo. I ain’t him… I know I shoulda been there.” His voice broke over the admission, but he kept going. “Won’t happen again… I’ll kill any man who tries to lay a hand on you. Hear?”

“Let me go.” She whispered so softly he wouldn’t have heard her but for holding her against him.

“I can’t.”

“I’m okay,” she managed.

“I know, bao bei. I know.”

He held her tighter and what was left of her defenses dissolved. “I’m okay.” She whispered again as if the sound of the words was the thread holding her unraveling seams together.

She didn’t seem okay to him, but maybe she needed to somehow convince herself. She said it over and over, not bothering to fight the tears she knew were already streaming down her face.

With their bodied pressed so tightly, Jayne heard and felt every sob, every twist inside her like it was his own. It occurred to him that this was the second time he’d seen Zoë cry and he already knew he hated it and it wasn’t getting any easier; still felt like a knife twisting in his gut.

“I’m okay.” She said it again, this time with more conviction, and the steel in his gut bit a little deeper.

Jayne held onto her until he felt her go still. She stopped shaking, and her tears slowed.

He lifted her chin, ignoring what the sight of her tears did to his insides, and used his sleeve to dry her face. Even tear stained she was beautiful.

“Come on.” He led her a few steps toward the door. “We oughta get you somewhere’s quiet.”

“Where?”

“My bunk.” When she stopped walking, he scowled at her, “Quit lookin’ at me like that -- I ain’t some horny teenager. Besides, you really wanna stay here?”

He was right. The last thing she wanted was the Captain walking into the bridge, which he was likely to do any minute, to find her crying on Jayne's shoulder. That would take too much explaining and she wasn’t up for any of it. And despite what she had convinced herself of, she wanted Jayne near right now.

* * * *

I ain’t afraid.

He’d keep sayin’ it until he ruttin’ believed it.

I ain’t afraid.

But he was.

Jayne slumped in the chair to relieve the tightness in his chest. It didn’t help.

He looked across the dark bunk at Zoë curled up in sweats and his t-shirt on his bed, rubbing absently at the tightness in his chest.

He groaned and dropped his head in his hands, finally letting it sink in that he was shit outta luck when it came to untangling himself from Zoë because, God help him, he didn’t want to.

There was no way around it and wasn’t any use fighting it anyhow. Every time he touched her, something inside him gave. Something she took, maybe without knowing it, but it was something he wasn’t willing to do without yet. But there it was missing anyways. The problem was he was beginning to mind less and less.

Jesus, when the hell did I become such a woman? Getting all twisted up and emotional like the Doc.

He didn’t even know what Zoë wanted from him. It wasn’t like he had anything to give her. Just as well that she hadn’t asked for more than sex and not even that in five weeks, so what the hell did he know.

He swore under his breath.

Zoë stirred across the room.

“Jayne?”

“Right here, bao-bei.

“Something wrong?”

“Naw.”

“Then come to bed.”

Wuo de ma. He was glad she couldn’t see his face in the low light and didn’t know how ruttin’ weak she made him feel when she said shit like that. Made him feel like he belonged to her, and this wasn’t just a casual rut for her ‘cause it long since stop being that for him.

He slid in next to her, gently settling her warm body against the length of his, allowing himself to believe for a little while that she belonged to him and he belonged to her. For now, that was enough.

- End -

Translations : feng le - crazy hwoon dan - son of a bitch Ai ya huai le - Shit on my head bao bei - darling Ai ya tian a - Merciless hell Wuo de ma - Mother of God