Title: Black Days: Jayne (6/7) Author: CharlieBZ Summary: Jayne accompanies Mal and Zoe to a potential job. Rating: PG for language Characters: Jayne, Crew Pairing: Canon, if any Spoilers/Timeline: post BDM Disclaimer: No money is being made from by me and I certainly don’t own Firefly/Serenity. Author's Note: This fic takes is part of a continuing series. If you’re a little lost see my blog entry here. Many thanks to gilliebeans at LiveJournal for all her help. ___________________________________________________________________________

Black Days: Jayne

Jayne looked in the mirror examining the stubble on his face. He wondered if he should shave the lower portion of his goatee and grow out an impressive mustache. Mustaches were tough, weren’t they? And they tickled women in all the right places, too. Squinting his eyes and furrowing his brow, he adopted his most lethal look and tried to imagine how thuggish he would appear with a handlebar.

Taking a couple of steps back so he could see his entire body in the mirror, Jayne quickly lost interest in the mustache question. Clad only in a pair of tight, red, and very small underpants, he grinned at his reflection. Damn, he looked good! As he flexed his arms, he marveled at how well the veins in his biceps showed. Turning to the side, he flexed again imagining he was Mr. Universe. Well, not the dead Mr. Universe, but the Mr. Universe with the body of shredded steel.

A knock sounded and he grunted loudly - it was his way of giving whoever was there knowledge that he wasn’t averse to someone entering his quarters.

“You’re due for your inoculation,” Simon called down.

Jayne rolled his eyes. “I’m busy!”

“I’m really trying to not to imagine what you’re busy doing, but, we’re due to land soon and I’m concerned about a viral strain on Three Hills. I checked your chart---“

“So come down and inoc me and stop blathering about it!”

While Jayne waited for Simon to come down, he took the opportunity to study his most thuggish expression. He, Mal, and Zoë were meeting with a new guy and Jayne wanted to project the right image. "Hey! You still there?" He called up when he realized Simon still hadn’t come down.

“Can’t you come up?” Simon asked, sounding like the stuck-up prissy pants he was.

“Ain’t naked if that’s what you’re worried about!” Jayne hollered. “Besides, thought you doctors liked naked people.”

Jayne heard a murmured, “Not all of them” and a loud sigh before Simon descended the ladder. “Nakedness wasn’t my worry,” he told Jayne as he looked around the room. A pinched look appeared on his face. “Yes. It smells pretty much like I expected.”

Simon finally looked at Jayne and his eyes blinked in shock. A grin played about his mouth before he let out a laugh.

“What?” Jayne asked before pulling on his olive-green cargo pants. “I’m dressed.”

“Yes. And may I compliment you on your choice of underwear?”

“Women love these. And these are the only kind that I’ll allow to cover my parts. As a doc you should know you gotta keep your boys close.”

“Well, actually…”

“It’s what my mama always said," Jayne interrupted. He didn't want to hear Simon's fancible thoughts on proper masculine care. "And she had four boys so I guess she knows what she’s talkin’ ‘bout.” He glared at Simon daring him to contradict the wisdom of his mother.

Simon just shrugged and opened his medical case. “It’s better you not procreate anyway.”

“Huh?”

“That’s quite a collection.” Simon said, nodding toward the bulkhead near Jayne's bed.

“The babes or the guns?”

“Both, I guess.”

Even if it was Simon paying the compliment, Jayne was inordinately pleased that the doctor noticed. Jayne didn't have many visitors to his quarters so it wasn't often he could show off some of his most prized possessions.

“This here’s the best of the lot.” Jayne reached up and took a framed picture down from his wall. It was of a woman, mostly naked, holding a mammoth gun over her mammoth breasts. Jayne pushed a button and she aimed the weapon and dropped her drawers. As the weapon raised and her drawers dropped repeatedly, Jayne grinned watching her antics. He looked up and wasn’t surprised to find that Simon's face appeared as if he’d been sucking on a lemon.

“And you think I don’t have taste.” Jayne smirked at Simon, enjoying his unease.

“Your mother give that to you?” Simon asked.

Jayne’s grin faded as he heard something in Simon’s tone that he disliked even more than the question. As if Simon was trying to make a point. He didn’t like Simon making points he couldn’t comprehend.

“Just cause Kaylee's oilin' yer tube with her tw --" He was rudely interrupted by Simon’s fist connecting with his ear.

Jayne briefly contemplated how much damage he could inflict on that pretty face before he decided against responding to Simon's less than impressive punch. He did have standards when it came to fisticuffs and Simon wasn’t up to his. Jayne was a little surprised, however, that the punch carried slightly more heft than he had imagined Simon capable of. The force of the punch almost matched that of his sister, Bobbie.

“What the hell is that? You hit my gorramn ear!”

Simon shook out his fist glaring at Jayne. “Sorry. I wasn’t aiming for your ear. You’re just very tall.”

Rubbing his ear, Jayne said, “Can’t believe you knocked the Cap’n over with that swat of yers. My great grannie got a better punch’n that. And she’s bedridden, too.”

“I don’t like you talking about Kaylee like that.” There wasn’t a speck of hesitation or fear in Simon’s voice.

Jayne turned around to hang his beloved picture back on the bulkhead. He felt slightly shamed about his comment and blamed Simon’s mentioning of his mother who would have most definitely knocked him flat on his ass if she ever heard such a thing come out of his mouth. He looked at the woman in the capture and his enjoyment of her dimmed a little.

“The things you say…” Simon continued. “It's not respectful. I thought you considered her a friend.”

“May be a friend but I ain’t ignorant about her…ways.” Jayne sat down on his bunk wanting Simon to leave. “You inoccing me or what?”

Simon remained silent as he administered the shot then repacked his case. Before ascending the ladder, he said, “Don’t talk like that about her. Please.”

Jayne watched Simon climb up the ladder hating him a little less. He glanced around his quarters trying to recapture his good mood but the distant sense of shame still hovered over him. Couldn’t even muster an anger toward Simon and that itself was distressing to him.

He slid on his new favorite t-shirt - a black shirt that bore the emblem of the Hangzhou Hammers. Just last week, the Hammers had a surprising victory over the Bantam Roosters out of Londinium. Jayne’s sour mood began to lift as he thought about how his Hammers had tromped on the Core team. No one, except him, had expected the scrappy team from the Rim to prevail over the more experienced Roosters.

Feeling better, he turned his attention to the other thing in his bunk that made him most happy - his gun collection. Scratching his head, he thought about which would be the best one to take with him. He was wearing his green cargos and usually liked wearing his usual gettup with an ensemble such as this. It was a classic look and let everyone know what kind of man he was. His eye fell on an Instigator30 that he hadn't worn in months. He didn’t like neglecting any of his guns and today felt like a special occasion. Pulling it down off its hook behind his bed, he lovingly cleaned and loaded the gun looking forward to finally getting a job.

***

Jayne sat in the backseat of the mule idly looking out at the landscape. Mal drove the mule down a narrow dirt road thronged by rows and rows of lush vegetation. He could see miles of soy and corn and thanked whoever was in charge up there that he wasn't a farmer.

There wasn’t much in the way of conversation which bothered Jayne as his good mood had returned in full force. Mal concentrated on the road – although there wasn’t much to concentrate about. Zoë, wearing a pair of Wash’s sunglasses, sat in her seat nursing a hangover.

"Where is this place?" Jayne finally asked. He had grown tired of looking at nothing but greenery.

“Off a ways, got maybe another half hour,” Mal said.

"Why'nt we just park closer? Seems an awful bother."

"Ships landing at a farm draws attention, Jayne," Zoë reminded him, rubbing her temples as she spoke.

"Feelin' poorly are you?" Jayne asked. "You are Inara seemed to be havin' quite the time of it last night."

Mal darted a quick glance at Zoë making Jayne grin. "What she need that bottle for anyway?" Jayne asked.

She glanced at Mal who suddenly appeared not to be paying attention to their conversation. "Nothin' for you to worry about," she said. "Your yappin' ain't helpin' my head." She began stretching her neck slowly, tilting her head side to side trying to work out a kink.

Jayne wanted to talk more about Inara just to rile Mal but he had enormous respect for the post-binge head pains. He contented himself with watching the scenery and thinking about the next match between the Hammers and Dogs. But he couldn’t stay silent for too long.

“What are we tillin’ or something?” Jayne asked. He was going to be awful mad if they were out here for farm work. No one bothered to answer him but he hadn’t really expected them to.

After what felt like hours, Zoë finally said, “There’s the turnoff.”

Mal slowed the mule and they turned down a road that looked identical to the one they just left. Only five minutes on this road and they appeared at a clearing. Jayne rose in his seat a little to get a better look at the farm that lay ahead. It looked like a picture from one of those advertisements that beckoned people from overcrowded cities to relocate to the Rim.

Jayne frowned as Mal stopped the mule in front of a freshly painted, white farmhouse. A neat picket fence surrounded the yard.

“This can’t be the place, can it?” It looked homey and nice; a place where regular people lived.

“Directions says it is,” Mal said.

An old man approached them. "Welcome!" He called out. His white hair and beard were a stark contrast to his deep, black skin. Jayne's sense of trepidation increased as the man walked closer and Jayne beheld the old geezer that was their contact. This grampa had the look of Methuselah and not at all like someone who had a need of their services.

"Mr. Burnside," Mal said, reaching out to shake his hand. "I'm Malcolm Reynolds."

"Call me Oklahoma. My father is Mr. Burnside," he said taking Mal's hand and nodding toward an even older man napping on a rocker near the barn.

"That there's Zoë and the big guy's Jayne."

After shaking hands with Zoë, Oklahoma looked up at Jayne. "Your mama sure fed you good, didn't she?" He laughed good naturedly before saying, "Follow me back this way. We can sit in the shade.”

They walked around to the rear of the house. “So, ya’ll know Stanislaus?”

“Uh, that’s right, Oklahoma,” Mal said, glancing back at Jayne and Zoë.

"Well any friend of Stanny is a friend of mine!"

Jayne fought not to roll his eyes. These war buddies found kinship where, to his mind, none was. Just because two people fought the same battle didn't mean they were aligned in all other things. Yet, that dude they met back on Liann Juin and talked to for all of five minutes was vouching for them as if they'd known him from birth.

“Stanny says you two are Independents.”

“That’s right,” Mal said. “How do you know him?”

"Let's see…" Oklahoma said, "Stanny is my mother's sister's husband's great grand son or some such. I can’t keep it straight. Let's just say we're distantly related.

"Quite a farm you have here, sir," Zoë said.

"Farm's my wife's. Got no mind for soil and shit - I'm just a wheeler dealer myself." He gestured toward a table and chairs under a huge elm tree indicating they should sit. " 'Preciate you keepin' low key 'bout comin' in. Authorities come callin' here and my wife'll skin me - and not in the good way neither! I usually conduct my affairs in town but my dad's been poorly and I like to stick close to keep an eye on him while Lina's tending to her business."

Jayne sat down in the cushioned lawn chair irritated that it was so comfortable. He felt funny about this. It was the prettiest place Jayne had ever conducted business and it made him nervous. Old people, farms, dads, shade trees and comfortable chairs weren't part of his ideal criminal environment.

Oklahoma went over to a pump and pumped water into a tin pitcher. He poured them a glass of clear, cool water and sat back in his chair with a sigh.

"Yeah, I got somethin’ for you. Got a big problem gettin' some stuff out of Deadwood."

"What's the problem?" Mal asked, leaning forward causing his chair to rock a little.

“It’s a tedious situation. Gotta buy cargo on Deadwood.”

“How’s that get tedious?” Jayne asked, earning him a glare from both Mal and Zoë.

“Bit of local trouble. The seller’s been having the devil’s own time getting his stuff off world. On account of another outfit making trouble. I think ya’ll do well with this job." Oklahoma looked meaningfully at Jayne. "It’s not just about smuggling but got to make sure the goods actually get to your ship. And that is where the trouble is.”

“Who’s the seller?”

“Feller by the name of Gordon Cato. He’s not a nice man by any stretch of the imagination but, believe me, he’s anxious to do business.”

“Sounds like a job we can handle,” Mal said.

"Yeah, you look the part. Danger is there, I’ll be up front about that. Got to make certain that you do nothin' that will tip off the other party that a deal’s being done. I'm serious, we've been tryin' to get that stuff outta there for months."

He took another drink of his water and looked at toward the direction of his father. “This buyer is willing to overpay and I’m willing to oversell. Deal goes the way it ought, you stand to clear at least nine.”

Jayne tried to repressing his grin but failed. He caught Zoë’s eye and could see her relief.

“And, it’ll only cost you three. Not many opportunities to treble your money.”

Jayne’s grin disappeared.

“Three what?” Mal asked, sitting up straighter.

“You front the cash. You get your money back, get your fee, and a portion of the profit. Deal is good. I know you’re takin’ the brunt of the risk but payoff will be worth it.”

Dammit. Jayne swore inwardly and sprang forward in his chair. Ain’t no way Captain had three thousand to front on this job.

Mal stared at Oklahoma his jaw tightening. “We got us a problem, Mr. Burnside.”

Oklahoma’s genial look faded and his eyes turned to steel.

“Well, there’s the rub," Oklahoma said. The atmosphere chilled considerably. "I ain’t inclined to hand over three biggies to you.”

“You sayin’ you don’t trust us?”

“I hate to put it that way.” The man didn’t look as old as he had ten minutes ago. He was aged, yes, but Jayne swiftly caught the scent of power. He had underestimated this guy by a mile.

“I get that.” Mal cast a brief look to Zoë conveying his worry. “Think we could work somethin’ out? I got a couple of crew I could leave as collateral if that’ll make you feel better.”

Oklahoma smiled, amused at Mal’s offer. “Nah. But the trust thing’s tough, ain’t it. I know Stanny said ya'll friends and all but I also know he's got a sentimental hole in his heart to his fellow Browncoats. Clouds his judgment.” He looked between Mal and Zoë. “Now, we gotta figure us a way of getting that coin and gettin’ them goods to my most anxious buyer.”

"Tell us where's there coin and ---" Jayne began.

"Zhù zuǐ!" Mal snapped, fixing a stern look to Jayne before turning a cold gaze to Oklahoma. "Information like that may have been better up front."

"Never entered my mind you'd expect me to hand over my money and kiss you goodbye. Look, son, I been in this business since long before your daddy was birthed. And see that old man there?” He pointed to the man still sleeping in the rocking chair. “We got us almost two hundred years of rabblerousin' 'tween us. First thing he taught me was watch your money. Now, how can I be watching my money if it sails off with you?"

As if on cue, two men and a woman materialized from the house and barn. They didn’t approach but their presence was signal enough.

"I am sorry ‘bout the misunderstanding," Oklahoma said.

“Forget about it,” Mal replied rising from his chair. His voice was beyond cold - utterly lacking any kind of emotion at all. As if he wasn’t surprised at all by this disastrous turn of events.

***

The ride back to Serenity was long and tense. Jayne felt sick. This deal was it; supposed to be the one to get them back in business.

“Zoë, you still know how to contact Tito?” Mal asked, looking straight ahead.

She looked at him for a few moments before speaking. “I do.”

“Wave him.”

“Sir,” Zoë began. Jayne realized that it was the first time since he couldn’t remember when that he had heard her address the Captain thus. “Ain’t thinkin’ that’s the best course.”

Mal stopped the mule and sat quietly. The sun had set but there was light enough that Jayne could still make out the rows of soy. He thought about his earlier feelings about farming and decided he’d rather be behind a plow than embark on the kind of work he suspected Mal was contemplating. He never would have figured Mal for going dirty, neither. Should have. He remembered Mal ordering them to strap the folks at Haven to Serenity. Jayne didn’t want to think about the lengths Mal would go to keep flying. But for once, he knew to keep his mouth shut. Zoë would talk some sense into Mal. She had to.

“You got any ideas, Zoë?” Mal finally asked. ‘Cause I am goddamned out of ‘em. We got enough fuel to take us maybe one more place if it’s not too far.”

“We wanna go down that road?” She asked. “Once there it’s awful difficult gettin’ off it.”

There were two ways to descend further into the damned business that was theirs: drugs and slaves. Jayne knew Mal would never go into slaving so that left one option.

“Maybe you’re wantin’ yer old job back at the factory.” He stared at her until she looked away.

Jayne didn’t know what that meant but he could see that it upset Zoë. Zoë looked back at Mal and they stared at each other for almost a full minute. There was a conversation being had between them that he couldn’t decipher.

“I’ll wave him,” she said still looking at Mal. “Tomorrow.”

“That’ll work, then.” Mal started up the mule and raced down the road.

Shaking his head, Jayne wanted to hop off the mule and head straight into the rows of corn. Drugs. There was coin in that to be sure but the risk was more than Jayne liked. Wasn’t the risk of life and limb that scared him neither. If they got caught that would be it for them. Prison forever. Jayne didn’t mind brief stints in jail that he had experienced over the course of his years but the thought of looking at the same four walls for the rest of his days scared him. He tried to determine if he would prefer getting eaten by Reavers or going to prison for life. Both were equally horrible to his way of thinking and he couldn’t decide between the two.

***

Kaylee, Simon, and Inara were sitting on folding chairs outside of Serenity waiting for their return. They were expecting good news and their faces showed it.

Mal drove into the bay and hopped out of the mule as soon as it powered off. He walked straight to a pile of old crates and kicked them. The loud crash echoed through the hold. He stalked up the stairs and disappeared from view.

Kaylee and Inara looked worried. “What happened?” Kaylee asked. “Thought this was a sure thing.”

“Would be if we had three thousand.” Zoë said.

“Three thousand! For what?”

“Front money.”

“What’s that?” Inara asked looking worriedly between Jayne and Zoë.

“We put up the three thousand and buy the goods. Then, we make the sale, get back our investment plus our fee plus a percentage of the proceeds from the sale. Would’ve been a good deal, too,” Zoë said.

“Well that’s all kind of dumb!” Kaylee exclaimed.

“Can’t expect a stranger to give us that kind of money and then hope we make good on it.”

“It would have been nice to know that before we came out this way,” Simon said.

That was exactly what Jayne thought but he didn’t like Simon saying something he was thinking. “This here’s a face to face business. You should know that by now, dummy.”

“What happens now?” Inara asked.

“Nothin’,” Jayne responded. “Not a gorramn thing. Ain’t got fuel. Ain’t got jobs. All we got is a crazy Captain and big pile of shitty nothin’.”

“What’s the Captain gonna do?” Kaylee asked.

Zoë gave her a sad look but didn’t answer her. She turned and went up the stairs.

“Jayne?” Kaylee looked at him as if he had any answers.

Jayne looked at Kaylee. How could she fit into the life the Captain was thinking? Sweet girl like her had no place on this cursed boat. He shook his head and went up to his bunk.

***

Jayne shifted again trying to find a comfortable position. He couldn’t sleep. Things were bad on Serenity and bad for him and they were set to get worse. The prospects for semi-honest coin were bleak but the possibility of earning money with what the Captain had in mind worried him mercilessly. He’d done fairly well for himself in his life of crime; always kept his nose out of the serious stuff with the seriously scary people. The kind of people who’d slit your throat for their own amusement. People who’d sell a kid to earn a bit. Soulless people…

Sighing, he considered his options. Stay or go. It was that simple, really.

“Jayne.” Inara’s voice came through his com.

“’Nara?”

“Meet me in the cargo bay in ten minutes. Wear your best clothes. You know your striped shirt. It is clean, isn’t it?”

Only because he hadn’t worn it in months. Had no occasion for such finery but never mind that what was she after?

“What are you talkin’ about?”

“Ten minutes in the cargo bay. Oh, and bring your secret stash of money.”

How’d she know about that? “Hey, I’m tryin’ to sleep here.”

No answer.

“’Nara?”

She had commed out.

Five minutes later Jayne was in the cargo bay. Four minutes after that Inara appeared wearing the outfit she had worn when she left the Training House. It had been quite some time since Jayne had seen Inara dolled up and seeing her as she was brought memories of happier times on Serenity. Then he noticed her carrying her bow.

“What’s that for?”

“We’re going to earn some money.”

“Uh, ‘Nara, we got us a mess of guns which is a far sight more useful when robbin’ folk.”

“We’re not going to rob anyone.”

Jayne started to get a bad feeling about her plan. “Don’t think the Captain would ‘preciate you whorin’ to get money. ‘Specially the kind of whorin’ that necessitates a bow.”

“How much money did you bring?” Inara asked as she opened the airlock.

“All I have is about 150 bì.”

“Ok, that’ll have to do.”

“Do for what?”

“Just come on.”

She walked outside into the night. Jayne followed. After all, he did get dressed up and if there was going to be any kind of whoring he should attract a good one looking as he did. Maybe the evening would turn out alright after all.