“Well, if this don’t beat all,” he thought as he watched the girl descend the ladder into his quarters. She turned to look at him when she got to the bottom and they stayed like that for what seemed, to him, forever: She in the hatch, him on his bunk, each appraising the other. He noticed her moon-brained look was gone. In fact, he hadn’t seen her look so lucid since Miranda when the blast doors had opened and she stood, living, among all the fallen Reavers. The sudden recalling of that moment sent a frisson of pleasure up his spine and she smiled at him. It was a predatory smile and he gripped the edge of his bunk hard, suddenly afraid and, for the first time in his life, unsure as to whether he was the hunter or the game.

Enough, he’d had enough.

“Listen, Crazy,” he said, his voice coming out weaker than it had any right to “I ain’t the one to be playin’ games with. I suggest you turn back around afore we got a problem.”

She took a graceful step towards him and he thought of Miranda again. Imagining what she must have looked like on the other side of that door. All lithe lines and murderous intents. She chuckled softly and he snapped back to reality.

“She looks so pretty when you think of her like that,” she said “She wears the blood like rubies. Think on her some more, Jayne.”

“Alright, Moony, that’s it,” he growled “You git yourself back to wherever it was you came from. I don’t know what it is you’re about, but I ain’t interested.”

To emphasize his point, he pulled down the blanket that concealed his arsenal and laid one hand on Vera. River continued across the room.

“I think you are,” she said “Interested.”

“I-“ he started, but was cut short as she grabbed the hem of her dress and lifted it over her head with one swift movement. She smiled at his dumbstruck look.

“Not a stitch,” he muttered “Not a gorram stitch. I…. Ah, hell.”

He put his head in his hands and tried to simultaneously ignore her and make his pants a little roomier. They had suddenly gotten tight and he wasn’t ready to think about what that meant.

“Maybe if I don’t look at her,” he thought “She’ll just go away.”

“Look at me, Jayne”

“Shit. Ta me de.”

“Are ya tryin’ to kill me, River?” he asked softly. “Cos if’n that’s what you’re after, just shoot me. Don’t look at me like that cos I’ll keel over….or I won’t…. and the Cap’n will kill me later.”

“Captain Daddy’s asleep,” she said “And if I wanted you dead, you’d be dead already. “

And, with that, she sat on his lap. Jayne stood up like a shot, dumping her on the floor and started pacing.

“Woman,” he said “I will put you under my arm and carry you to the bridge in your altogether. Then I’ll lock myself in, and I- I mean, what the hell’re you thinking?”

“You make me real,” she said quietly. He continued pacing, not looking at her.

“I make you….real. Real?! Well you’re makin’ me…. Real. What do you mean by that?”

He looked down at her and saw that she had pulled her knees to her chest and was rocking slightly. Her hair covered her face like a curtain. He went down on his knees and made her look at him.

“Whatever notion you’ve got about real, there’s a better way than this,” he told her sternly.

“Everyone else left me on Miranda,” she said “Kaylee is frightened of me. Even Simon’s a little scared, but all he thinks about is fixing me, so he never really sees me. Zoe thinks it’s my fault and Captain Daddy doesn’t think about me at all, not even when we’re in the same room. All he thinks about is Wash and Wash doesn’t see anyone except Zoe. Well, he sees the Captain, but only when he’s sitting in his chair. Wash doesn’t like it when Captain Daddy sits in his chair.”

“Wash is dead, bao bei.”

River gave him her “you’re stupid” look and stood up.

“He’s still here,” she said “You just can’t hear him.”

She held out her hand and helped Jayne to his feet. Then, before he could get away, she stepped into him, fitting her body against his and placed his hand against the small of her back.

“You see me,” she whispered “To you, I’m still real.”

“Real crazy,” he said under his breath.

She looked up at him and his mouth went dry. He brought his other hand up and cradled her head with it, brushing her lips with his thumb. She closed her eyes and he thought about how delicate she looked. She was so tiny, but not fragile. He had a scar across his chest as proof for that.

“You sure about this?” he asked.

River didn’t answer, but stood on her toes and captured his mouth in a kiss. He pulled away.

“Hey now, I don’t-“

“You will,” she interrupted and then she kissed him again.

His thoughts kept coming back to her on Miranda. The way she looked, standing there, armed, deadly, beautiful. He gave up his reservations, gathered her in his arms and kissed her back, more with violence than with passion.

He dropped her on his bunk, none too gently, and rid himself of his clothes as quick as his hands would allow. The whole time, she stared at him, encouraging him with her lipid brown eyes and soft sighs that came as more of him was revealed. When he’d finished, he stretched out on top of her, gathered her two hands in one of his and pressed her to the bunk.

“Feelin’ real?” he asked her, a smirk on his face.

“You’re the mountain and I’m the fog,” she said and ground her hips up against his.

“Whatever that means,” he muttered and let her hands go, reaching in between them and finding her core. She made an animal sound as his fingers brushed over her clit and clutched his back. She was wet with need and ready for him. He positioned himself over her and paused.

“If you wanted someone gentle,” he warned “You came to the wrong man.”

She dug her nails into his back, by way of an answer, tearing his skin from the middle of his back to the base of his neck.

He growled and pushed into her with one thrust, not caring if he hurt her, not caring if she was innocent, just wanting to be inside of her, to own her. She let out a soft cry, but met him thrust for thrust and soon they were fighting for dominance. He tried to punish her, but she’d punish him right back. He bit her lip until he tasted blood, she dug her fingers into the wounds on his back. Back and forth, giving and taking, they growled and nipped and carried on and Jayne found himself thinking the same thing over and over as he drove into her. He continued thinking it until a white hot flash took it all away and he emptied himself in her.

Later, panting and slick with sweat, she gently, tenderly, kissed his shoulder and turned to look him in the eyes.

“Say it,” she commanded.

“Say what?”

“What you were thinking.”

“Stay out of my head, little witch,” he warned, but he was smiling.

“Say it.”

He sighed.

“I always name my favorite weapons,” he said “But someone’s already done gone and named this one River."

The End