Jayne stared into nothing, his rifle perched against the weights bench he was sitting on. He didn’t need to clean it, had done so the day before after he’d shot the deer, after he’d run through the long grasses to try and save Hank’s life.

But the pilot wasn’t the person on his mind. She was. His wife. His moonbrain. The mother of his child. His River.

It wasn’t what she’d done, at least not in the most part. If she’d told him what she’d planned, she could probably have persuaded him it was a good idea, or if she couldn’t, at least he could have gone with her. Protected her. Not that she needed it, being a weapon herself, but he’d never be able to get past the times when she had a bad day, and he was all that stood between her and a spell in the infirmary, juiced up to the gills and strapped to the medbed.

It was the fact that she’d not trusted him. No. Not even that. That she hadn’t even thought to tell him. Like he meant nothing. Like his opinions meant nothing. She was a genius, that was undeniable, but sometimes she was more stupid than ... than the most stupid person he’d ever met. And considering the circles he used to travel in, that was pretty stupid.

His stomach grumbled but he ignored it. Food, whilst normally a very important part of his life, wasn’t an issue right now.

She’d been gone a while. He didn’t have a timepiece on him, but his internal clock told him it had been longer than a few minutes. Maybe Mal had torn her off a strip, or maybe she’d done the puppy dog eyes on him and he’d relented. Somehow, Jayne wished it was the former.

A sound to his left made him sit still, even more so than before. It sounded like ... rain.

“She’s sorry.”

He turned his head slowly, the bones in his neck seeming to grind so loud he was sure she could hear them.

She stood in the common area doorway, his rainstick in her small hands, moving it slowly backwards and forwards, making it sing.

“Are yah?”

“Yes.” River stepped over the lip, the sound of rain on Serenity’s roof following her. “And it was not her Jayne’s fault. He is important. More important than anything in her life.”

“Really.” He dropped his gaze back to his hands. “So important you can’t even talk properly to me.”

“She’s ... I’m sorry.”

He knew she was next to him, could smell her perfume, feel her heartbeat pulsing through the small amount of air between them. “Mal tell you to tell me that?”

“No.” She dropped to her knees into his line of sight. “I made you angry. Hurt you. Sorry.”

“You didn’t think about me at all, did you?”

“Yes. But I wanted to do something by myself. Prove myself.”

He gazed at her. “To who? Me? Mal? ‘Cause we know what you can do. Don’t have to prove a rutting thing.”

“Sometimes I think I don’t exist.” She stopped rolling the stick, and the cargo bay became silent again.

“You’re River. A’course you exist.”

“Too many other things, and all of them broken.”

He shook his head. “Riv, if you’re trying to get round me –”

“No. Just explain. There were too many reasons as to why I wanted to do this on my own. To prove that I could. To be me. To not have to ask permission. To ...” She stopped.

“Go on, moonbrain,” he urged, knowing they were getting to the nub of the matter.

“To win praise.” Her face took on an aspect of youth, and his heart jerked painfully in his chest when he realised this must have been how she looked when she left to go to the Academy, before they took away her childhood. “To have someone say ‘well done’.”

“You mean Mal.”

“No. Yes. Everyone. You.” The words fell over each other.

He gazed at her, her fragility, her steel, and realised there was no point in being mad. River was who she was, and what she was ... was with him. “You gonna do it again?”

She shrugged delicately. “I’ll try not to.”

She was a gift, and she’d given herself to him. There was the distinct possibility that one day she’d take it into her mind to gut him, to cut his heart out with a spoon. but he wasn’t about to do it to himself. “Okay.” He swept her into his arms, bruising her lips with his. After what seemed like forever, he pulled himself away to ask her a question that seemed necessary. “Why the stick, Riv? Maybe you were thinking of hitting me with it if I didn’t accept your apology?”

She snuggled against him. “Rain.”

“Yeah, that’s what it sounds like.”

“No. Rayne. River and Jayne. Rain/Rayne. Together. Forever.”

“That was it is?”

“Mmn.” She hummed, the slight vibration transferring from her to him, then suddenly she stilled.

“Riv?”

Her head snapped around and she stared towards the infirmary.

---

Zoe found Mal on the bridge, staring out at Cason’s Point. She slid into the other seat, her back ramrod straight as always.

“Busy, sir?” she asked.

“Not so’s you’d notice.” He glanced at her. “How’s Hank?”

“Simon says he’s stable.”

“Any sign of him waking up?”

“Not so far.”

“Won’t be long, I'm sure.”

“No, sir.” She paused for a long moment. “Things don’t change much, do they, sir?” she went on.

“Depends on the things.” If she’d sought him out she wanted to talk, and he was going to give her every opportunity.

“People getting shot. Places like this ...” She nodded towards the windows. “Looking pretty on the outside but only floating on an ocean of poison.”

“You been spending time with River again?” His lips curved, just a little.

“She just told me what she did. And why.”

“Ah.”

River had splashed water on her face then had explained about Medea, about the information she’d got from the old woman.

“She has this dichotomy over her sons,” the psychic had said. “Wes and Brad. She loves them because they’re blood of her blood, but despises them for being weak at the same time. Her mind is full of her other son, Troy.”

“The dead one,” Mal put in.

“Yes. He was the apple of her eye, the sunshine in her day, the moonlight in her ...” She coughed, probably at the look on Mal’s face, then went on quickly, “Her mental walls are strong, quite naturally, because she doesn’t trust anyone at all, but I think she knows about most of her sons’ activities, perhaps even directs them, and thereby profits by them.”

“Sounds like a peach.”

River put her head slightly onto one side. “Peaches have a stone hard centre, so yes, I think perhaps that would describe her very well.” She slid the hundred platinum coin carefully across the old wood of the kitchen table. “Here.”

“What’s that?”

“Blood money. Medea gave it to me.”

“You don’t want it?”

“It screams.”

“You want I should put it in Ben’s bag?” He was referring to the small sacks in the safe, one for each of the children, an extra coin added whenever they had a good payday.

“No. Too ...” She stopped.

He’d looked at her, studied the lines of her face, her dark chocolate eyes, and understood without her having to finish. “I’ll use it to pay for our docking fees.”

She’d nodded, happy enough not to have it in her possession any longer.

Now, though, Mal said to Zoe, “I’m guessing she told you I was mad.”

“Yes, sir.” She swivelled the seat so she could look him fully in the face. “We don’t have to stay. Not for me. Hank’s alive, and with Simon’s help he’s going to keep on living, at least until I decide I’m tired of him.” Her own lips ghosted a smile, but it was gone as soon as it arrived. “Jayne might not be happy, but we can leave.”

“My life don’t revolve around keeping Jayne happy, Zo.” He gazed at her. “Someone shot Hank.”

“That they did, sir.”

"So is this what you want? Us to run, leave whoever did it to get away with it?”

“What I want is to rip the man who shot him into pieces. And I know you know exactly what I mean, Mal.”

His first name. As always, only used when she was making a definite point. “Yeah, Zoe,” he said quietly. “I do.” Too many days – and nights – sitting by Freya’s side, praying that Xavier Wing hadn’t succeeded in his attempt to kill her in the worst imaginable way. No. That was a lie. He could imagine worse, but that was real, had happened, her body broken in almost every way possible, and he could still feel the hard deck beneath his knees as he prayed to a God he wasn’t sure was listening that she’d not leave him. “So you think I’m making a mistake?”

He knew she’d tell him, like all the other times she’d disagreed in the past few years. Oddly enough, though, more since he’d been with Freya, so maybe it was a sign he’d mellowed.

For a long moment she didn’t answer, her eyes on him, barely even blinking. Then, just as he was starting to get uncomfortable ...

“Injustice.”

“I guess.”

“We don’t need to start another war, sir.”

“Don't recall starting it the first time. ‘Less my memory’s getting really bad.”

“You forgot where you left Ethan.”

“That was Jayne’s fault!” Going to a store with the ex-merc a few years back, his baby son in the sling across his chest, he’d been persuaded to hand him to the shop owner’s wife to bill and coo over while he haggled about prices. Then Jayne had started an argument concerning their potential purchases, and they’d still been disagreeing as they walked out, parcels in their arms. It took Mal half the street to realise something was missing, then another ten yards to figure out what.

“She forgave you.”

“Eventually.” He sighed. “Zoe, to tell the honest, I don’t know what to do. Someone attacked a member of my crew, my family ... coulda left Ben without a father and you without a husband.” Again, he added mentally, but she knew him well enough to be able to tell what was going through his mind.

“It’s not the same,” she said quietly but firmly. “Wash was doing what he thought was right. And you gave him the choice, just like the rest of us. He chose to fly.”

“Only because he knew what would happen to us if I did in his stead.”

“That’s it?” She smiled ruefully. “Why you’ve held onto the guilt for so long? ‘Cause you think he did it out of some sense of obligation?”

“Well, didn't he?”

Zoe shook her head. “Mal, I could just as well say he went because I did. And that’s the truth too. But it’s still not all the truth.” She turned away to stare back out at the town again. “He did what he did for a whole host of reasons, including the fact that he saw the recording just like the rest of us, and it made him want to do something about it. Your way was the only way, so he followed. I know for a fact that he’d rather’ve not ended up going out like that, but ... you need to let go of the guilt.” She glanced at him. “’Cause, frankly, it’s getting old.”

He laughed, surprised by her yet again. “Zoe, you make me feel ashamed.”

“Not my plan, sir.” She stood up. “Just letting you know you have other options.” She walked off the bridge, every bit the Amazon warrior Wash had always said she was.

He waited, and it was only a minute before he heard another voice behind him.

“Is that what you’re going to do?” Freya leaned over him, her arms wrapped around his upper chest.

“I figured you might be peeking.” He put his hand on hers.

“It’s become somewhat habit forming,” she admitted, her breath making the small hairs at the nape of his neck stand on end. “Well?”

“Us flyin’ out of here?”

“Mmn.”

He pulled her around so she could sit in his lap, and gazed into her hazel eyes. “Not sure. There’s pros and cons.”

“Not really.”

“You think?”

“I know you, Mal.” She ran her fingers down his cheek, feeling his beard beginning to press through the skin. “If you leave this and run away ... it will eat at you. And you’ll always wonder if there wasn’t something more at work here.”

He had to smile slightly. “I know I call you a witch sometimes, but ... damn, it fits.”

“Not that my spells or potions are working,” she said, her lips thinning as her eyebrows drew down, looking as frustrated as her daughter did sometimes. “I still can’t see who did this.”

He put his hand under her chin. “Frey. This talk you’re going to give Bethie and Ethan – it goes double for you.”

“But I –”

“No, you don’t. If we stay – and I ain’t decided yet – well, then I’ve got an idea who’s responsible, so you just stop.”

She glared at him, then deflated. “Nothing’s working anyway. Not about that, anyway.”

“So what do you see?”

“Cason’s Point is sick,” she said bluntly.

“Sick?” Zoe had said pretty much the same thing.

“It’s like ...” She was trying to think of the words to describe a feeling, an impression, like attempting to explain a 3D image to a man born blind.

“Can you ... show me?” Something they’d done in the past, although mostly when apart, and for other more pleasurable reasons.

She gazed into his blue eyes, her own full of indecision, then nodded. “Okay.”

“Shiny. Do you need me to lie down or something?”

A soft smile gathered on her lips. “That won’t be necessary.”

“Pity.”

Pushing very gently at his shoulder, she said, “You do realise you’re incorrigible, don’t you?”

“One of my more lovable traits.”

“You carry on believing that.”

He chuckled, the resonance running up his chest and through her as well. “So what do I do?”

“Nothing. Although closing your eyes might help.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Promise you’re not going to do anything to me whilst I can’t see.”

It was obvious she was trying not to laugh. “Mal, I sleep next to you. I could do anything I want.”

He shivered in anticipated pleasure. “That sounds ... intriguing.”

“And a conversation for another day.”

“I’ll be holding you to that.” He grinned. “Okay.” Closing his eyes he added, somewhat unnecessarily, “Ready.”

Gazing at his long eyelashes fluttering slightly against his cheeks, she let her walls drop, her mind open.

Mal could feel her presence, always there inside him (unless she was really mad at him and the couch was in his immediate future), and his breath hitched as it became more tangible, almost physical. An image began to form of the town, just as he had seen it a few moments ago through Serenity’s windows, but then the viewpoint shifted, moving higher, until the entire vista of Cason’s Point was laid out in front of him like a map. If he concentrated he was sure he’d be able to see the people, little sparks of life moving through the streets and houses, but that wasn’t what he was here for. Still, there were glows, brighter in some places like Addie’s saloon, less in the outskirts.

A glow over the cemetery gave him momentary pause, and he wondered if Frey was picking up on the ghostly inhabitants six feet deep in their graves, and was about to ask, but his view moved higher still, taking in the foothills surrounding much of the town. He was, as always, amazed at her talents, and felt her presence warm as she picked up on his thoughts. He hoped that, if he opened his eyes, she’d be smiling, her cheeks touched with pink, but he didn’t want to break what she’d created.

Instead he just whispered, “Witch.”

Concentrate, she murmured in his mind, but it was a loving caress, not an order, that stirred other things. Mal.

He smiled, but the picture was changing anyway. He only had time to register a tiny glow of life where Mallory’s place must be, and another not far from it in the hills overlooking the town before a grey cloud, shot through with red and black, made everything monochrome and indistinct, spreading across the town from the Tanner residence until there was nothing but thunderheads.

“Well, that’s pretty conclusive,” Mal muttered, feeling the need to clear his throat first. “Looks like it does boil down to Medea and her brood.” He opened his eyes, then lifted his hand to stroke at the taut little lines between Freya’s brows. “Enough now, ai ren.”

She came back, recognition blooming again. “Did you see?”

“Yeah. I saw.” The arm around her waist tightened. “That what you see? All the time?”

“Not all the time. But if I don’t keep my walls up ... occasionally,” she finally admitted.

“Then what I said before, about your talk to the kids going double for you ... make that triple. Quadruple. More.”

She smiled, the tension in her shoulders evaporating. “I love you.”

“Yeah?” He pulled her down towards him. “That’s good. ‘Cause I kinda feel the same.”

“Only kinda?”

His lips worked at her neckline, pushing at the soft cotton of her shirt, and she sighed against him. He prayed it was always going to be like this. Her love had made him whole, in more ways than one, and he hoped he had repaid the favour. They were two halves of the same coin, soulmates as River claimed. Finding each other in every one of their lifetimes until –

“Do you want me to come back?”

Mal didn't move, just saying, “Yes.”

“Then you don’t want to know that Hank’s waking up?”

Both Mal and Freya whipped their heads around to stare at River, standing in the bridge doorway, her dark eyes huge. Her hands were clasped behind her back, but her foot was tapping very pointedly.

to be continued