Disclaimer: Everything here belongs to Joss Whedon, et al. The dreams are mine. Seinfeld reference in Part Eight.

---

Part One

Mal was on piloting duties. The rest of the crew had retired to their quarters, except for River. She was alone in the lounge, humming a tune to herself, limbs extended in an elegant, balletic dance. Lost in her own world, she didn’t notice Jayne trudge into the kitchen.

Jayne, purposely ignoring her, busied himself with finding something edible to quiet the rumble in his gut.

“Protein,” he grunted to himself, foraging through cupboards. “More protein. We just got paid, where’s the ruttin’ food?”

“I can make you something,” said River, overhearing.

“Yeah, I bet you can,” Jayne muttered to himself, snatching up a sachet and an apple. He made to leave but, upon facing the room, stopped. River had resumed dancing, her skirt swirling hypnotically about her ankles.

He watched her curiously for a moment.

“They’re dancing,” she explained, though he had not asked aloud.

“Come again?”

“Simon and Kaylee.” She turned a graceful pirouette and fell into the nearest chair.

It took a second for Jayne to decipher the metaphor.

“You don’t really think them two is dancin’ in there?” he snorted, taking a bite of the apple.

“Two bodies, moving together,” River mused, gazing across the room at him. “Same rhythm, same song.”

Jayne looked away, a strange feeling of warmth spreading through his chest. River tilted her head, waiting for a response.

“Forgive me if I ain’t appreciatin’ the poetry,” he said, grimacing. “Gorram doctor’s gettin’ more action ’round here than I ever got.”

“You asked Inara once,” River said evenly, standing up and drifting into the meals room. “She said you’d never have enough credits.”

Jayne bristled as a smirk tilted the corner of River’s mouth.

“Don’t need to pay for no whore,” he snarled, marching out of the kitchen. A giggle floated down the hall after him.

---

Part Two

Serenity seemed a lot bigger when something was lost inside of her. Jayne had searched through the ship twice but still could not find his hat. On the verge of checking the least likely places it could have been mislaid — in a kitchen compartment; somewhere in the bridge; Zoe’s bunk — Jayne suddenly saw a flash of orange wool in his peripheral vision.

Striding determinedly in pursuit, he stopped when he reached the bottom of the stairs leading to the cargo bay. He scowled, glancing towards the infirmary, then the airlock.

A giggle sounded from behind a large, beat-up container.

“Girl?” Jayne called uncertainly.

There was a muffled metallic clang. Annoyed, he marched over the grating and peered around a wall of crates.

She wasn’t there.

He swore.

Another giggle, this time from behind the door of a storage compartment. He wrenched the door open, stooped over — head jerked to one side — and sneered. River’s feet were just visible in the darkness.

“Give it,” Jayne demanded, displaying a wide, callused palm.

“I don’t know what you mean,” she said, unable to keep the laughter from her voice.

“I seen you with my gorram hat.”

“Which one?”

Irritated, Jayne grasped both of her ankles and slid her easily out of the locker. She lay at his feet, taking shallow breaths, his hat on her head making her face look fragile and tiny.

“Stealin’ my things, now?” he questioned, hovering over her.

“Just playing,” she whispered.

Jayne snatched back the hat.

“How old are you again?”

River slowly got to her feet, her hair ruffled, her skirt creased and dirty. He watched her, expressionless.

“Eighteen years, three hundred and twenty nine—”

“Quit stealin’ my things.”

River merely blinked at him.

*

“So, what did I miss?”

Inara and Mal stood on a catwalk overlooking the cargo bay. Below them, Jayne was stomping away from River, absurd orange hat in hand.

“You know us,” Mal said, watching River dust off her skirt. “A little gun fighting here, a little petty thieving there...”

“Sounds like business as usual,” Inara deadpanned, with a small smile. “Nice to know some things don’t change.”

“Don’t know about that... seems to me something radical-like’s on the horizon.”

“Oh?”

“Doctor confessed he wants to marry my mechanic.”

“Really?” Inara smiled. “I suppose you told him to go find his own mechanic?”

“It’s like you never left.”

Inara thought about it. “It doesn’t really feel like I did.”

There was an awkward beat. Mal cleared his throat rather loudly, causing River to finally notice the two figures watching her from on high. She scurried towards the passenger dorms.

“How is River?” Inara asked quickly.

“More alert nowadays,” Mal replied, “though she’s taken to following Jayne around like a duck.”

“Jayne? Isn’t that somewhat... ugh?”

“Seems a mite unnatural,” he said agreeably, “but I think she’s just amused by him.”

Inara adopted a knowing look. “Are you sure that’s all it is?”

Mal considered the empty cargo bay.

“Well, I... ugh.”

---

Part Three

It was Simon’s turn to wash the dishes. Kaylee and Mal were in the engine room, Zoe in the pilot’s seat. The coin from their last job had dwindled. To conserve fuel, Mal had turned down the heating. Everyone wore sweaters, thick socks and boots.

Simon watched furtively as River finished the last of her dinner. Jayne was having thirds, plus a hunk of stale bread. There was silence for several minutes, until Jayne felt River’s gaze upon him.

“Quit staring, moon-brain, I ain’t your friend,” he said, not looking up from his food.

River put down her fork. “Why?”

Simon stopped scrubbing a handful of cutlery to listen in.

Jayne’s eyes shifted. “Don’t like you... ain’t no secret,” he said, his mouth half-full.

“I like you,” River said coyly.

Simon dropped a plate. The dishwater splashed over the sink, onto his shoes.

“No you don’t,” Jayne said, as though trying to convince her.

She smiled. “You’re funny.”

Jayne didn’t reply. He continued to eat, very uncomfortably.

*

Rhythmic footfalls echoed through the empty cargo bay. River ran, her breathing ragged, trying to evade him, but his stride covered too much ground.

Jayne’s makeshift-gym seemed to spring up from nowhere, but she managed to dart around it. Crates appeared ahead of her, just as his hand swiped at the hem of her floating skirt. She flung herself behind them.

“The cargo bay is a common area for all crew,” she called. He was close; she could hear his fingers tracing the wall as he weaved his way between the crates.

“Wanna get away from me, girl?”

Jayne lunged around the corner and grabbed River, lifting her up. She shrieked with giddy laughter, fighting to free herself, but his hold on her was unbreakable.

“More,” she breathed, her legs flailing weakly.

Jayne smiled against her ear. Then, somehow, they were facing each other, sharing the same air. Something rigid was touching River’s belly. She looked down, her eyes widening. Jayne pushed it harder against her.

“Everybody in pairs,” she noted.

A beat, in which the ship whispered and River exhaled.

“Don’t got time for your gorram riddles,” Jayne replied.

A click, a heart-stopping bang. He pulled the gun away to reveal a hole in River’s abdomen – a clean, gaping hole that he could’ve put a fist through.

Serenity turned a prolonged revolution. There was no blood seeping from the wound, no red spray on the crates, no drips on the floor. River stared at Jayne. They were both upside down.

“Oh yeah,” he said, crouching to inspect his handiwork. “Can see inside’a you, for once.”

The dream dissolved into black, into colors and patterns. River rolled onto her side and stroked her belly. She didn’t wake up.

---

Part Four

Weeks later, docked on Beaumonde, Simon found River on the bridge after lights out. She faced the window, her hands hovering over the buttons of the dashboard.

“Couldn’t sleep,” she explained before he’d announced himself, let alone asked.

“Are you okay?” He leaned against the doorjamb.

River rolled her eyes. “I’m fine.”

“You know you can tell me if anything’s wrong,” he added cautiously, hoping he’d provoke her into talking.

“I haven’t had an episode in years,” she smiled, twisting Wash’s chair around part way to face her brother. “You worry too much, Simon.”

“I don’t just mean... medical things,” he said. “Though I’m sure you wouldn’t feel comfortable telling me...”

“About?” she said at the same time she understood his meaning. “Oh. No.”

“You could always talk to Kaylee,” Simon suggested quickly, “or Inara, if she’s around — although, upon reflection, I’d rather you didn’t ask Inara.”

River stifled a giggle with her hand.

“I’m not the one who’s meant to give you the talk,” Simon said, though his mouth formed a gentle smile.

“You’re doing okay,” she said easily. “Just don’t bring out any of your anatomy books.”

“Noted,” Simon half-laughed. “So, you said you couldn’t sleep — what’s wrong?”

“Oh, just thinking.”

“About what?”

“Jayne,” she admitted, even though she knew Simon wouldn’t understand.

“Jayne,” Simon repeated, actively keeping his voice even. “What did he do?”

River pondered this. “Pretend.”

“What do you mean?”

“He always pretends,” she clarified, “that he isn’t lonely.”

“He told you this?” Simon asked, startled.

“In his way,” River said, peering at a flashing button.

Simon sighed, knowing exactly what she meant.

“River, we’ve talked about listening to people’s thoughts,” he said, crossing the room. He knelt before her, adding, “Up here” — he tapped gently against his temple — “is private.”

“What if I can’t help it?” she replied. Simon could see she looked genuinely troubled by the idea.

“You have to try,” he said softly, taking hold of her hands. He wondered if her body had finally grown used to the cocktail of drugs he’d been injecting her with. “The medicine’s been working, right? No more nightmares?”

“No nightmares,” River affirmed. Only dreams, she thought.

---

Part Five

The meals’ room rang with laughter and movement. Through the haze of his cigar, Jayne’s piercing eyes looked frequently to River. A large, protein-based cake sat half-eaten in the centre of the table, the taste now a memory.

It was River’s nineteenth birthday, and spirits were high. Inara had coerced Mal into an awkward waltz, while Simon and Kaylee looked on, chuckling.

The night wore on. Zoe left the party first, retiring to her bunk. River sat amongst her gifts, taking in the energy of the room. But even as she remained caught up by her senses — the sound of Kaylee’s off-key singing, the burn of whiskey in her own throat, the feel of Inara’s silk dress at her elbow — she couldn’t help but notice Jayne.

As he left the room — cake in hand, cherry stem poking out the corner of his mouth, eyes trained on the flower-shaped pins in River’s dark hair — she sensed from him not dislike or resentment, but something else… something she couldn’t quite discern.

Later, she found her gift from Simon to be several coats of mauve paint upon the walls of her quarters. Closing the door, she took the room in slowly, tracing the walls with her hand. The paint was fresh, dry maybe twelve hours. She could see them in her mind, draping sheets over her belongings, standing on metal stools, paintbrushes in hand; hear their voices, the three men, arguing about who would cut in, who kept stealing the paint can, how long they had before Kaylee returned from her walk off-ship with River. Simon smiled the whole time. Mal kept ordering Jayne around, the latter having been coerced into helping.

Jayne had touched almost all of her things.

She wasn’t sure why, but the idea of Jayne being in her room made her feel odd... kind of full.

*

Tiny flowers sprang up at her feet as she walked towards the cottage. Trees arched like a canopy over the house, swaying gently against the early morning sky. She didn’t know how long she’d been walking. The door, emerald green and weathered, swung open. An elderly woman, short but sturdy, appeared on the threshold. Despite being a stranger, there was a familiar quality about her.

River fell into the woman’s open arms.

“I was lost,” she said, fatigued and weepy.

“You’re home now,” the woman replied, soothingly. “We’ve been waiting for you.”

---

Part Six

Kaylee was sorting laundry, her nose wrinkled. It seemed Jayne had finally reached the end of his underwear cycle, as every single pair he owned was now being thoroughly bleached, regardless of color. Despite this, Kaylee was more unsettled by the idea that the brute was walking around with nothing but a thin layer of rayon between himself and the rest of them, than the fact that she was washing his things with huge wooden tongs.

Simon was sitting on the bench next to the sink, watching Kaylee. She could see he was lost in thought, but when she looked over at him, he smiled readily.

“River’s been doin’ great,” Kaylee said gently, knowing how Simon worried constantly about his sister.

“Yes, she seems more balanced,” Simon said. The doctor rather than the brother was present in his tone, but he spoke more hopefully than he felt.

“More’n that,” Kaylee insisted, elbow deep in whites. “She’s happier, at least more’n I ever seen her.”

Simon sighed, unwilling to keep up the pretense in front of Kaylee.

“She hasn’t been sleeping very well of late.” He rubbed the creases out of his forehead, adding, “I fear she’s assimilated to the medicine.”

Kaylee stopped scrubbing one of Zoe’s shirts. “Could be she’s just bored. Ship starts to feel small when you can’t get out, stretch your legs... see new folk.”

“I don’t know,” he said, leaning against the cool wall behind him. “She has responsibilities now—”

“She loves flying, honey.”

“I know,” Simon conceded. “And the Captain’s been patient with her — Zoe too, considering...”

They both left that one hanging in the air. Kaylee saw a flash of Hawaiian shirt in the still water that disappeared when she blinked.

“But this thing with Jayne...” Simon’s voice had become hard, and Kaylee glanced over to find that his jaw was set in a similar way.

“I known Jayne a while,” she said quickly, trying to reassure him. “He keeps to himself, mostly... River’s just intrigued by him.”

She was about to add “It’ll pass”, when Simon countered, “I heard her say his name — in her sleep.”

Kaylee’s expression changed from adorably puzzled to mortified.

“That don’t sound... are you sure?”

“I... well, I was worried. I checked on her one night.”

Trying to consider things logically, Kaylee said, “Maybe she knows another Jayne? A girl Jayne?”

“From where? You said yourself, we barely talk to strangers,” Simon responded. “...unless she knew one at the Academy.”

“She—” Kaylee stopped as the significance of his final words struck her. “Is she remembering things? Like Miranda?”

“If she is, she hasn’t told me,” Simon said, looking troubled.

Kaylee touched his arm gently. “I know she’s been better,” she reassured him. “Since Miranda, she’s been stronger, happier.”

“I want that to be true... but I can’t lose sight of the fact that she’s been hurt. It hasn’t been that long since I discovered exactly how much.”

They were quiet as Kaylee returned to laundry duties. All Simon could think about was the clarity he had seen in River’s eyes once they all knew, they understood what Miranda meant.

“I saw her, Kaylee,” he said now, over the sound of trickling water. “I saw my sister, for the first time in years.”

There was a thoughtful pause, then Kaylee asked, “And now?”

Simon sighed. “Now I don’t know what I see.”

Kaylee abandoned the clothes at once, not bothering to dry her hands. Simon, looking helpless where moments before he seemed strong, gladly fell into her embrace.

“It kills me that she might be drifting back,” he said into her shoulder. “I just... I don’t want her to be scared anymore.”

Kaylee held him for some time; Simon hung on to her tightly, afraid of the things he’d have to face once he let go.

---

Part Seven

River knew it was her bedroom, even though she had not seen it in years. From the window she could see the security fences light up the yard. Her parents had purposely left everything untouched, like she’d never gone to the Academy.

Helen sat amongst the toys and pillows on the window seat, looking like a freakishly large doll. Her dress glittered in the dim light emanating from the bedside lamp. She wore a knowing smirk, her lips perfectly painted bright pink.

“D’you think you’re ready?” she asked.

River, sitting at the foot of her childhood bed, didn't reply.

“This ain’t no boy, you know.”

“I know.”

“Seen the universe,” Helen added, her tone forthright, “...knows it well.”

“I know.”

“Are you afraid?”

River looked at the floor. “A little.”

Helen smiled. “So is he.”

---

Part Eight

They were on Constance, after a successful heist. Kaylee and River had decided to spend the evening perusing the markets, while the others entertained themselves. Zoe stayed back to look after the ship, which she had taken to doing a lot since Miranda.

“Your hair looks real pretty,” Kaylee said, during a lull in the conversation.

River smiled. Detangled and shiny, it hung to her waist in a braid, like a sturdy rope.

The two girls wandered through a stall selling games, crafts and collectables. While River inspected puzzle boxes, ribbons and flowers, Kaylee recounted Simon’s recent proposal.

“I never thought I’d get married,” she smiled. “Don’t really happen much, livin’ like we do.”

“Captain was married,” River said, though she had thought of Zoe first.

“That turned out to be a big mistake,” Kaylee noted, wryly.

“Not this time.”

Kaylee grinned. “I’m gettin’ a sister outta this too – got me a good deal!”

River laughed shyly but didn’t reply. Just above her head, there was a shelf boasting dozens of glinting flasks. Jayne sprung to mind at once.

“Hey,” Kaylee said, unaware River was distracted, “Zoe tells me you been talkin’ to Yves.”

Yves was a passenger the crew had flown between systems a couple of times. He had been quite taken by River, but she avoided discussing their budding friendship with anybody aboard Serenity.

“We’re heading to St. Albans in five days,” Kaylee pointed out, without subtlety.

River was barely listening, her fingertips caressing a lacquered wooden puzzle. The pieces were locked in a frame and needed to be slid into position to reveal an image. She wondered if Jayne was just like a puzzle – that if she could just work out how to piece it together, the answer would be revealed to her.

“How do I get his attention?” River asked aloud, though she hadn’t meant to. It didn’t matter; Kaylee thought they were still talking about Yves.

“That’s easy!” she chirped. “Do somethin’ different, see if he notices.”

They moved out of the stall and back onto the gravel path. River mulled this over. Jayne had known her as so many things: vulnerable, crazy, psychic, a weapon... she needed to find the part of herself he would respond to.

“Can’t figure what to do?” Kaylee asked, playfully flicking the end of River’s braid.

“No… I have to think about it.”

*

“Shower?” Mal asked of Jayne.

“Haircut,” the mercenary grunted, brushing vainly at his sideburns.

“She did a better job this time,” Mal noted. He was referring to Kaylee, the only person aboard the ship whom Jayne trusted near him with a pair of scissors.

“Yeah, well, she’s had more practice,” Jayne said unwillingly.

They were in one of the nicer taverns in the city, at the bar. Jayne’s hand hovered over a bowl of pretzels while he surveyed the room, eyes moving restlessly.

“You ’right there, Jayne? You’re lookin’ a mite twitchy.”

“Well, I’m runnin’ outta time,” Jayne muttered, mostly to himself.

Being on the ship too long had a tendency to make people edgy. Jayne felt especially desperate for contact with other people; seeing a flash of skin nearly sent him over the edge these days. Inara’s belly button; the inch of cleavage above Kaylee’s tank top; Zoe’s killer legs... even River’s ankle. Clearly he had been cooped up for far too long. He was thinking on this when a pair of women caught his eye.

One was tall and blonde, and wore a garish spangled dress. The other had her back to him, dark hair woven in a long, glossy braid. The first nodded in Jayne’s direction; the second turned to consider him through almond-shaped eyes.

Jayne stood up. Draining his glass, he asked Mal under his breath, “You plannin’ to partake?”

Mal barely looked at the women. “Thinkin’ I’ll give it a miss.”

“You ever gonna admit you’re sly?”

“Won’t matter, Jayne — you’re still not my type.”

Jayne snorted and walked away. Minutes later, on his second drink, Mal watched idly as Jayne left the tavern with the brunette. Whatever Mal’s type was, Jayne’s seemed to have changed.

---

Part Nine

Jayne descended into his bunk, clutching a dish cloth from the kitchen. Whitefall had been as dusty and muddy as ever; he intended to wash up before going to sleep. The hatch slid shut automatically, the only light in the room flickering on.

Dumping several guns, a belt full of ammunition and his shirt onto the unmade bed, he pulled the sink from its keep in the wall. Silently, he began filling the basin with whatever was left of the hot water in reserve and soaked in it what minutes earlier had been used to dry their dinner plates. He scrubbed at his neck and underarms, murky trails of water dripping off him. Tugging open his fly, he was about to cast his pants aside too when a barely audible rustle stole his attention away from the task.

He turned the tap off sharply, fly still open, casting a look about the room. His expression shifted from expectant to furious when he realized, sitting in the furthest, darkest corner on the cold floor, was River.

“You missed a spot,” she said, her eyes mere specks in the dark.

“Nobody’s allowed in my bunk,” Jayne said through his teeth.

“Captain’s allowed,” River said reflexively, her tone detached.

“Yeah, but Mal ain’t dumb enough to come down here!”

“You’re the only one.” She near-breathed the words.

“Gorram straight,” Jayne said firmly, not realizing what she actually meant. He crossed the room, unsealing the bunk door with the press of a button. “Now get. Go.”

River stood but remained stationary. She wore a shapeless blue shift and no shoes. She looked kind of pathetic.

“Ain’t playin’ with you, girl,” Jayne persisted, without sympathy. He strode over, grabbed her arm roughly and pulled her towards the door but, as he pushed her ahead of him, she struck him in the face with her free hand.

Shocked, he let go of her arm, eyes blazing as she spun around and attempted a right hook, which he successfully blocked. She ducked beneath his forearm, however, elbowing him in the gut. Groaning, he pushed forcefully at her, throwing her off balance, but before she could retaliate, he spun her around by the shoulders, pinning her arms behind her, forcing her to face back into the room. It all happened in a matter of seconds.

“I know the safe word,” he muttered into her hair.

He didn’t know the safe word, and he knew that she knew this.

“You’re not in danger,” she replied.

They stood that way for several seconds, River’s breathing uneven. Jayne released her and shoved her forward. She turned to face him, backing away a few paces, rubbing her wrist.

“What d’you want?” he barked, clean out of patience.

“There’s a pebble in my shoe,” she said, her voice pained.

Jayne looked at her bare feet, then muttered something unpleasant in Mandarin and reached for a towel. He wiped at his chest and neck; he was far from clean but he’d grown weary in River’s presence. She still hadn’t budged.

“You need to leave,” he said, his head bowed as he drew his fly closed.

River let out a sudden nervous laugh. Jayne’s eyes flicked up to her face; she was watching his fingers close the button at his waistband with avid interest.

“Warm,” she said suddenly, her eyes slowly closing.

Jayne was mystified. “What now?”

The cabin light illuminated her hand as she gestured just below her pelvis.

“Here,” she said, without shame, eyes now gently opening. “Contracts.”

There was a moment of silence that seemed to last an eternity.

“Wo de ma,” Jayne murmured, not blinking.

“Really want me to leave?” she asked, after a pause.

Jayne stared at her for a long time, processing all this. It was a lot. “Yes,” he said finally.

“You don’t mean it,” she said at once.

Anger exploded in Jayne’s chest. “Not this again—!”

“You’re lying, Jayne. I have ways of knowing, but you still lie.”

Jayne hated all this mind-reading; it made him look stupid.

“You listen to me,” he growled, “my head ain’t no place for a little girl, and neither is this room—”

“I’m not a girl anymore, Jayne—”

“You need to leave,” he repeated.

His voice echoed around the bunk for a second. River, undeterred, inched imperceptibly toward him, a foot away and closing. Her eyes were trained on the scar she’d bestowed upon him before Ariel.

Jayne stiffened as she reached him, but did not move. He had never run away from anything, and he wasn’t about to start now. River was looking at him strangely — through his eyes, as though trying to read something beyond them.

Jayne shook his head.

“This is wrong.”

River traced the curve of his shoulder with curious fingers, taking in the startling effect this sensation was having on him: Jayne had quit breathing. Without thinking about it, she pressed her free hand into his chest hair, soft as down, and stood on her toes, leaning into him. He was paralyzed, watching her inhale the musk of his sweat as she leaned closer...

“Best think ’bout what you’re doin’,” Jayne managed, finding his voice. Any conviction he said this with, however, dissipated at once when River’s lips met the left corner of his mouth in a clumsy, wet kiss that dragged onto the stubble of his cheek as she pulled away.

Both feet back on the floor, River studied him for half a minute, though it felt like much longer to Jayne. Before he could do anything — speak or breathe — she’d slipped past him, climbed the ladder and disappeared.

*

Dreams were a non-issue that night for River, who slept contentedly, buoyed by the answers she’d found in Jayne’s bunk.

Jayne, however, endured the restless sleep of somebody with questions — that is to say, he didn’t sleep at all.