PART 7 – Defeating silence

Jayne coughed dryly and sat on the floor next to Zoë’s bed. It was the first time since they got there that Emily had willingly let him out of her sight, and he thought maybe he should find a toilet to take advantage of his fortune, but he didn’t have to go. Jamie had called her out and she jumped up with barely a glance back at him for permission. It was the kind of trust that flew in the face of all sense, but Jayne had had a similar relationship with one of his cousins growing up, and he was glad the years apart hadn’t broken that bond between Emily and Jamie. The floor was hard, but he was too tired to stand. Inara had taken the only stool at the foot of the bed and Mal was walking up and down the length of it, taking Zoë’s hand whenever he passed near enough.

Jayne looked at his old friend pacing restlessly. He and Mal had seen Zoë through a dozen hospitals over the years and worked over a dozen more to get the supplies they needed to keep her out of them. Jayne had gotten frustrated over the past few years with Mal watching after him and coddling him after Sky’s death. But Mal didn’t bring him here to keep an eye on him. The hospital, standing by Zoë, was where their roles reversed and Mal needed Jayne on the watch. It was like seeing Mal go back to the war – the only place he knew of with enough hurt and pain to overshadow what he was feeling. Jayne always had to pull him out of this place when the dust cleared.

“No fair dragging me out here if she’s gonna live anyway,” Jayne griped. It was the longest sentence he’d directed at anyone besides Emily in a long while and it was meant to open a conversation. Mal took the invitation and sat down on the floor as well, resting his forearms on his knees and staring reflectively at his finger tips.

“My momma always said if you want to stop the rain, carry an umbrella,” Mal said. Jayne figured he meant something by it, but Jayne had never been good with metaphors.

“Saw something the other day that I thought you’d like,” Mal said.

“Was it a gun?” When Jayne had first thrown out his guns, Mal was always trying to push the topic, but he’d eventually given up. Now, Jayne wasn’t so sure he’d mind seeing a rifle or talking about a custom pistol. So he was disappointed when Mal shook his head.

“Nope. It was a swing,” Mal said. He bobbed his head and smiled to himself. “I figure you’re always standing next to that pond, and I thought you might like to sit some time.”

“You bought me a swing?” Jayne said slowly in awkward disbelief.

“Hell, no,” Mal said and Jayne let go of a breath. “I was standing there thinking about it and I realized I’m old and I want to sit some time. So I bought me a swing.”

They both chuckled and fell silent. It had been awhile since Jayne had sat with Mal and talked about stupid things that didn’t change anything but somehow meant everything.

Inara stood and touched Mal’s head as she walked past, then she took Zoë’s hand. Jayne craned his neck, but he didn’t see anything. He stole a glance at Mal, then looked at his hands, wondering if he should broach a subject that mattered a little. So long as his tongue was loose, he may as well.

“You started gun training Emily,” he stated.

Mal’s eyes widened a little and he inhaled guiltily. “Did she tell you that?”

“Didn’t have to,” Jayne said. “I see it in the way she stands.”

Mal’s face twitched as he measured his response and he made a few croaking sounds like he was about to deny either knowledge or responsibility. He opted for the latter. “I wouldn’t say I started anything. You and Sky started gun training before toilet training.”

“Toilet training accidents are easier to clean up after,” Jayne whispered hoarsely. He and Sky had had fifty guns between them, most kept in their quarters. Teaching Emily how to handle them safely was a matter of survival.

“She remembers a good bit,” Mal said encouragingly. “She knows both you and Sky loved gun play. She just asked me for a refresher before she forgot everything. Would you have said no?”

Jayne sighed, not having an answer. He wished his daughter had asked him. It was something he loved and wanted so desperately to share with her, and he couldn’t protect her from the kinds of accidents that claimed her Momma’s life, so he may as well teach her what he knew. Choking back a sob, Jayne rubbed his face and pinched the bridge of his nose, wishing he could undo the mistakes he’d made since Sky died – the running, the hiding, the pretending.

“I threw it all away,” he whispered.

Mal said nothing, but he kept his ear turned, waiting for Jayne to say more. It was getting easier to talk. He could almost think about Sky without his heart screaming in pain. He couldn’t imagine taking everything he and Sky loved so much in their lives and keeping it from Emily. Jayne had words to say – words about Sky – and it occurred to him that this was one of those stories that Kaylee told him people wanted to hear. Pressing his lips together, Jayne forced the words.

“Sky had this semi-automatic,” he began, holding out his hands as if he could still see the gun sitting in them. “Damn thing was pink. I don’t even know where to get pink guns, but Sky had a dozen of them. She liked to match her outfits.”

Mal laughed and nodded, remembering as well.

“Now I see Emily wanting to learn, and I can’t even give her her Momma’s gun,” Jayne said guiltily. “I don’t have anything…”

That was it – Jayne’s regret. It was his fault that Sky was more lost than she needed to be. It was his fault that Emily had nothing but her memory to hold on to her Momma by. At the time, it made so much sense to purge his world of that hurt, but now, it seemed like the cruelest curse he could’ve laid on his daughter.

Mal was smiling reminiscently and that only made it hurt more.

“You’re forgetting a simple truth,” Mal said softly, “that when you were there throwing everything away, there was a little ray of sunshine named Kaylee keeping you company.”

Jayne’s jaw dropped, not daring to hope. Mal nodded and smirked.

“She and Genny spent three hours rooting through that trash bin making sure they recovered every keepsake. And Kaylee held onto every bit until she and Simon moved to their little shack on the beach. Then she made me take it all, because I have that big garage.”

Jayne’s mouth flapped, trying to process the notion and cursing himself for keeping his guilt a secret for so long. His heart skipped beats left and right. “You’re telling me that you have all my guns?”

“Not all of ‘em. Not anymore,” Mal shrugged, and Jayne’s heart faltered. “When Michael left last year, he took everything that wasn’t pink. Emily started coming by once a week to maintain the rest. So you can stop wishing. She has her Momma’s gun.”

Jayne’s head hurt. His brain hurt. He was sad, happy, angry, overjoyed, and had a sudden urge to reclaim all that was his. “Michael took all my guns?”

“He had to,” Mal said. “No one hires a merc that don’t come with his own fire power and Zoë cleaned me out years ago. I had nothing else to give him.”

“Cole?” Jayne checked, wanting to make sure nothing got lost.

“He’s just got the one,” Mal said. “Doesn’t like to use it. Hasn’t made a kill with it yet, though I can’t say I’m sorry for that.”

Cole had always liked guns for shooting skeet and hated them for killing. He preferred blades for fighting and was zhen de shi scary. It was strange facing off with a man like Cole, because you knew he could kill and you knew he would, but you never wanted him to prove it. He got that look in his eyes, like he’d bring you back from the dead and kill you all over again just so you knew he meant it. But only if you pushed him. Cole had more mercy than a passhold full of Shepherds.

“Do you know he can speak ten languages now?” Mal said proudly. “He can talk his way out of anything. He’s probably the only man in the ‘verse who can win an argument with his wife.”

Jayne grunted in amusement. “Genny don’t use words. She fights like her Aunt River. I told Cole that if he ever wants kids, it’s best just to let her win.”

“When did you say that?” Mal asked, sounding jealous that he hadn’t been privy to it.

“At his wedding,” Jayne said. “Can’t let a man step into manhood without some man-to-man advice.”

“You didn’t offer him a threesome did you?”

Jayne laughed from his belly like he hadn’t done in ages. “Ain’t one of them has enough experience to make that fun for me.”

Jayne had conceded many things over the years, but having scruples was not among them. Still, Mal had both scruples and guns and he used the latter to impose the former. It was amazing how much self-preservation could look like scruples. Jayne would never have offered, though – not to Genny and Cole. Finding the one love of his life had changed Jayne immeasurably, and Cole was lucky to have found his love so early.

“It’s crazy,” Mal said. “Him working for the Guild.”

“He’s doing what?!” Jayne cried.

“That’s what I said when ‘Nara told me,” Mal laughed.

Jayne stared at him a moment longer, slack jawed, waiting for the punch line, but this didn’t seem to be a joke. His back started to hurt and he realized it was stupid sitting on the floor here, or standing by a window with his back turned when he could be seeing all his kids and sharing their lives. They were all his, every one, and he wanted to know what was going on. He shifted and stretched, testing his joints before trying to stand.

“I think it’s time I got on my feet again,” he said, and he meant it more than just literally, though that’s what he did first.

Mal looked up at him from the floor. “I’d join you, but my leg’s gone numb.”

“The one that was shot?” Jayne asked.

“Shot which time?”

“The last time,” Jayne said critically. “The time that forced you to retire.”

“Oh…” Mal said dumbly, then he considered both legs. “Which leg was that?”

Jayne shook his head and hauled up his old friend, feeling like he’d climbed out of a well and was seeing sunlight for the first time in ages. He smiled at Mal, then Inara, then Little Zoë. She was awake, but weary, blinking slowly, her hand loosely set in Inara’s.

“How long have you been awake?” Mal asked his daughter, smiling warmly and caressing her cheek.

“Not long,” Inara said. “Zoë was enjoying the sound of you two talking too much to interrupt.”

Zoë smiled softly, then her head lolled against the pillow, and she fell asleep again. A tap sounded at the door and Jayne looked up. All the kids were crowded around the window, waiting for their chance to come inside.

*~*

Simon couldn’t believe it. He had the blood test; he heard the heartbeat; and still he was blown away. His sister’s pregnancy wasn’t just against the odds, it was a flat out defiance of the physiological damage that had occurred to her at the Academy. Simon had seen a lot of miracles since coming on Serenity, but this was the most amazing, logic-defying – even faith-defying – in scope. This was ‘mother of Isaac’ huge. He couldn’t even quantify the risks, because there was no fathomable way she should still be carrying the child into the eighth week, given the meds she’d been on.

River was upset and feverish, and Simon knew it would only get worse as her system detoxed and the nightmares of what had happened at the Academy returned. Kaylee bit her lip and watched sympathetically as Simon absorbed the wonder and horror of it. He sat next to his sister on the cold, hard floor, and rocked her, whispering soothes.

“Hey,” Jamie greeted, entering quietly and closing the door behind him. He didn’t seem surprised to find River and Simon sitting on the floor. “I brought you some lunch.”

Simon looked at the sandwich appreciatively, and reached out for it while keeping one arm around River. He’d learned long ago not to wait until River calmed down because some days, that just didn’t happen.

“Give me the hemoxalin,” River whimpered miserably. “I can’t do this, Simon. I can’t.”

“River,” Simon said gently, cradling her face and wiping the tears from her eyes. “Hemoxalin will kill the baby. Do you understand?”

“She’s having a baby?” Jamie asked, as excited and intrigued by the medical anomaly as Simon had been.

“Oh, no,” River begged. “No, don’t kill her. Don’t.”

“Her?” Simon repeated with a smile, wondering if River was intuitive enough to know that as a fact.

River screeched and buried her face in Simon’s shoulder. “He left us. Left us to die.”

“Well, I’m not leaving you,” Simon assured. “We’ll do what we can.”

He turned back to his sandwich, smiling to himself when he noticed Jamie examining River discreetly. Being on the floor made it easier to manage eating, and the sandwich tasted like a piece of heaven – egg salad with spicy mustard and no disgusting chunks of relish mixed in.

“It may be too late already,” Jamie murmured. “The drug withdrawal on top of –”

“Jamie,” Kaylee warned sharply. Jamie flinched and bit back his doubt.

“Anticipate and facilitate,” he said mechanically, sighing at the mantra Kaylee had practically beaten into him. He looked at the ceiling, then crossed his arms. “Try dubrycylin. It’s like spitting on a wildfire, but it won’t hurt the baby.”

Simon looked up in surprise and appreciation. He’d dismissed dubrycylin for River years ago as too weak to be effective, but Jamie had a point. Something weak was better than nothing at all. All his life, he’d been waiting for this day – someone to talk to about River.

“River, why don’t we get you off the floor,” Simon suggested. He was so excited to talk to Jamie he was liable to dance across the room with glee. Disentangling himself from his sister, he grabbed his cane and levered himself into a squat, prompting her to move with a hand on her elbow.

“Feels better here,” River said simply, her voice suddenly calm and plaintive. “I like the cold.”

“Poor thing,” Kaylee said sympathetically. “She’s gotta go through withdrawal, morning sickness, and those damn pregnancy cramps all at once.”

“You’ll feel more comfortable on the bed,” Simon said, trying again to get River to move. River lolled her head and looked at him like he was an idiot for suggesting she move.

“Leaver her there if she says she wants it,” Kaylee said, sitting on the floor across from them. “Ain’t no getting comfortable with some cramps. You just … sit there and you’re miserable.”

Simon sat back on his heels, then lost balance and toppled onto his rear, landing hard next to Kaylee.

“Hundreds of years of medicine – you’d think someone would’ve found a cure,” Kaylee said in mock annoyance, looking squarely at Jamie.

“Inciting orgasm works every time,” Jamie replied nonchalantly.

Simon winced and ducked his head. Despite his best efforts, his children had no sense of propriety.

“Sexual activity dissipates vascular congestion and increases blood flow to the uterus,” River told Simon seriously, twirling her hair around her finger.

“Thank you. I did go to medical school,” Simon said sarcastically. “I’m going out on a limb and saying it’s not appropriate in this setting.”

“Always doing what’s appropriate,” Kaylee teased, crawling her fingers up his calf.

Rolling his eyes, Simon pushed her hand away. “Twenty-some years and you still won’t let that go.”

Kaylee was not so easily deterred. Pulling herself onto hands and knees, she straddled his lap, wrapped her arms around his neck, and nibbled his ear. Her hands slid over his chest and he smiled, falling into kissing her, forgetting briefly that there was anything else in the ‘verse that needed doing.

“You do plenty that’s inappropriate,” Kaylee said coyly.

“Hey!” Jamie snapped. “No cramps, no inappropriate sex in a public hospital. Get a room.”

Kaylee sat back laughing, but Simon chased her and held her close. He knew River fed off their intimacy and Jamie could handle a little public display. All the weariness that had threatened to overwhelm him was suddenly fading away.

“Fine,” Simon conceded, kissing his wife playfully. “No sex.”

Jamie grunted and sat on the bed, ignoring them and kicking his feet at the air. “It’s best to minimize the time she’s off her meds,” Jamie said, thinking out loud. “We can induce delivery at twenty-eight weeks and maybe keep the baby in NICU until her weight gets up.”

Simon stopped kissing and tried to think. Kaylee very graciously stopped nipping at his collar bone, but she didn’t get off his lap.

“Maybe push it to thirty-two weeks,” Simon suggested. “It will be difficult finding a hospital with proper facilities that won’t take one look at River …”

He trailed off, looking worriedly at his sister. Assuming she carried the baby to any reasonable term, there was no telling what her mental state would be when she delivered. Any respectable facility would call child services for sure. No one would let someone in River’s condition care for an infant.

But Simon had seen her with all of Serenity’s babies, and never once been afraid for them. Something about the children calmed her. He had a hope that in the later stages of the pregnancy, River’s connection to her unborn child would calm her.

“If you want to have the baby at home …” Jamie started, but trailed off. He scratched his head and then his nose, then he tugged his ear. “There’s an older hospital on Osiris that’s closing down. They’re auctioning medical equipment. A lot of rim buyers are coming. If we can raise the money –”

“Or if we knew any petty thieves –”

“Hey!” Kaylee warned, swatting Simon this time. “We agreed. No stealing from places Jamie is working.”

“I’m not working there,” Jamie said dismissively. The wheels in his head were turning. “There was a fire recently and they lost some things. As I hear, they’re still doing inventory. It’s possible we can move what we need and they won’t even know it’s gone.”

Simon’s eyes misted as he looked from his son to his sister. Another miracle was happening.

*~*

The others cleared out of the recovery room, making space for Michael, Genny, and Cole to come in and see Zoë. This space was big and filled with post-op patients still needing close monitoring. They wouldn’t move Zoë to a private room for another few hours. The air was cold, dry, and smelled funny with a hint of mint. A nurse kept looking at Michael disapprovingly because he still had that dusty, fresh-from-the-rim aura about him, despite the fact that he’d showered and shaved since lunch.

Cole’s feet stopped when he was half-way to the bed. His father had touched his shoulder when they crossed paths and Cole could still feel the weight of that connection. It was hard to finish the journey to Zoë’s side. Being this close sent his thoughts into turmoil. Zoë had been begging him for months to join her. She’d been touring the core worlds, scoping out locations of this Ward that performed dangerous experiments on unsuspecting patients, and she’d been slowly gathering support and awareness for her cause. If he’d been there with her, would he have noticed her sick? Would he have been able to protect her from her attacker?

Genny squeezed his hand and nudged him encouragingly. She knew more of his secrets than he had the courage to tell. As much as she wanted to be by Zoë’s side speaking her peace, she would let him go first – not crowd him by going together. Even Michael walked right past the bed, as though he were setting up a flank on the opposite side, so that he and Genny created a hedge of protection and privacy in the open space. Taking one breath to calm himself, Cole willed his feet to move again and came to Zoë’s bedside.

Zoë’s face was splotchy and bruised, and her lips were dry and cracked. She had a pile of bandages around her neck, some already spotted with blood where the wound had drained. When he took her hand, it was warmer than he thought it should be. Pressing Zoë’s knuckles under his nose, he could smell the scented moisturizer their Mama always used, that had been transferred skin to skin when Mama had held Zoë’s hand.

Bending at the hip, Cole rested his elbows on the side of the bed and leaned his face close to Zoë’s.

“Hey, sis,” he said softly, wondering if it was silly to talk. It wasn’t like she was in a coma or dying. She’d wake up soon, and he’d say hello all over again. Still, he needed to continue, because she might be better and shipped off before they got a moment with just the two of them. “I finally get to see you.”

He touched her face, ghosting over the bruises, wondering if she could have been spared any of them, if he’d come when she called.

“I know you’ve been wanting me to join you on your little campaign for awhile now, but you should know, this isn’t really selling me on the idea,” he joked. “We’ll work on your P.R. skills. I think the letter writing was safer anyway.”

He pressed her hand over his heart, wishing his family had one home to go to and not the four worlds and three vessels they’d been spread between. “Baba will want to take you home with him, but you can always … if you want … Sihnon has better hospitals.”

Zoë would make a joke now. As prolific and poetic as her writing was, her conversations were always terse, her humor dry, and her sarcasm perfect. Now that some hun dan had slashed through her vocal cords, she’d have an excuse to be laconic, but she was stubborn enough to talk anyway. God had been trying to kill her since before Cole was born, but she put up a fight. Every time, every relapse, every gunshot or knife wound, she cheated death, and made everyone look the fool for worrying so hard.

“When you wake up, I owe you a smack upside the head,” he told her, and he couldn’t stop the tears spilling down his cheeks. “Don’t ever ask Michael to say good-bye for you. Don’t ever. That’s how you close a will; not how you talk to your baby brother who’s crossed half the galaxy to hear what could be your dying words.”

Zoë’s heart rate changed and a nurse came to check, intruding on the hot, grief and guilt-filled space that Cole was standing in. Cole backed away, letting the nurse work, and when he felt Genny’s hand on his back, he turned to embrace her.

“She’s waking,” Michael said, his voice soft and happy. Smiling, Michael came next to the nurse and watched as Zoë blinked her eyes and turned her head. Genny let go of Cole and stepped closer too, but Cole held back. The nurse was working furtively and Zoë’s chest heaved as she tried to force air past her vocal cords.

“Co –”

“Don’t speak,” Michael whispered soothingly.

Zoë’s fingers moved, but didn’t form any recognizable sign.

“Not Sunday yet. It’s Thursday,” Michael said. “How are you feeling?”

“Co – ” Zoë gasped again.

“You’re cold?” the Genny asked, reaching for the blanket at the foot of the bed and spreading it over Zoë.

Zoë shook her head and groaned. “Di di. Cole.”

Cole’s eyes went wide. Had she heard him talking?

“Cole, she’s asking for you,” Genny said, making a space for him by the bed.

Cole came quickly and took Zoë’s hand. “Jie jie, if you keep talking, they’ll sedate you,” he warned.

Zoë tried to squeeze his hand, but her fingers barely twitched. “Sent you a box.”

“I know,” Cole said with a soft smile. Of all the things she could have said first, she’d said his name and asked about a yu ben de wedding present. “I’ve kinda been on my honeymoon. I’ll open it when I get back to Sihnon.”

Zoë’s eyes scrunched shut and she looked pained, like she was swallowing her stitches. The nurse prepared a sedative, and Cole figured he should say something more to keep Zoë from talking, but Zoë spoke on top of him.

“Documents … it’s why I was attacked… speak for me.”

Cole’s jaw dropped. “I don’t know –”

“Sunday,” she said insistently, crying from the pain. “Speak for me.”

*~*

Part 8