Disclaimer: Not mine, no pay.

Thanks: To Jacqui, Josh and to Rion, my own personal BDH. You guys are the greatest.

Rating: PG-17, graphic violence

Remarks:Kaylee's been frettin' about Jayne and Mal's job is goin' to hell in a handbasket.

Set after “Objects in Space”. Inara has departed from Serenity and things on board ship are getting more difficult. Click on my name to read the backstory. They’re all backstory.

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Leaps of Faith

Chapter Ten

Jayne’s been nailin’ away at Emerson’s gang fast as he can clear and chamber rounds, doin’ his best to give the Captain and Zoë the cover they need.

Mal’s voice over the radio jerks him out of his head, launches him into action. He slings the sniper rifle over his back, clambers over the boulders and goes sliding down the loose scree of the slope, blazin’ away with the Deckler and yelling like a banshee.

At the sight of the big merc scrambling downslope, sprayin’ lead, Emerson’s wagon driver yanks the team around and hightails it, figurin’ he’d rather survive and it’s likely his bossman won’t.

The slope’s so steep, it’s all Jayne can do to keep his feet under him. He’s just riding it down on adrenaline, wide open, scramblin’, balls to the wall.

Mal and Zoë continue to return fire, but the low pile of crates doesn’t make for much by way of cover and Zoë’s bleeding hard. Mal glances over at her and tells her “You need to get that arm tied off. Here. “ He tosses her his bandanna. “An’ Zoë, you aren’t allowed to die on me. That’s an order, you hear?”

She fumbles to bind off her arm one-handedly and grits her teeth. “Yes, Sir.”

The zip and crack of gunfire is all around. Mal peeks over the crates and fires again, trying to catch Emerson when he pops up over the dead horse to make a shot. Jayne’s hail of fire catches Emerson’s remaining shooter in the chest and head. The force of the impact knocks the man from his saddle and he’s down too fast to cry out.

Jayne slams another clip into the Deckler and rips off another burst, howling, “Hadley Emerson, you gorram mad-dog son of a whore!”

The gun runner raises up to see who's making all the rucus and Mal finally has a clear shot, hitting Emerson high in the chest and knocking him over backward. The rattle of gunfire falls silent and Mal turns to check on Zoë.

The merc carefully makes his way down to where Emerson lies behind the dead horse. He’s wary, thinkin, Even a dead snake can bite ya… The one-eyed man certainly looks dead, lies slack-faced and motionless, a flood of bright blood across his chest. Jayne edges up toward him, prepared to put a bullet in his brain just to make sure.

He crouches close, sees a faint rise and fall in Emerson’s chest, the bubbling froth in the blood indicating Mal’s bullet has pierced a lung. With a wound like that, man’s run out of time, the merc thinks. Jayne grabs the wad of cash he finds in Emerson’s pockets, then rises to go to Mal and Zoë. He’s only dropped his guard for the briefest second.

Two steps and there is the deafening crack of a pistol as white-hot agony sears through his thigh, throwing him onto his face in the dirt. Jayne rolls to look at the wound, sees the mass of ravaged flesh and pumping blood at the top of his thigh, and passes out.

++++ With the ceasing of gunfire, Mal takes a minute to be sure Zoë is okay.

“I’m holdin', Cap’n,” She grits out and nods at him.

As Mal stands, he can see Jayne bent over Hadley Emerson, going through his pockets. The big merc finishes up, takes one last look at the dying man and turns toward Mal.

Before the Captain can call warning, Emerson pulls his 45 from beneath him and fires it at Jayne. The report is deafening in the stillness and Mal watches as time slows to a crawl: the scarlet blossom of arterial blood bursting from the front of Jayne’s thigh and the shock and agony that distort Jayne’s features as the big man pitches to the ground.

++++

Mal puts a bullet through Emerson’s forehead and with a dozen long steps he kneels to assess Jayne’s injury. He’s no doc, but he knows it’s bad, real bad. As he rips Jayne’s pants leg off to clear the wound area and make a pad to apply pressure, he calls to Zoë, “Gou zao de! Dumb hundan’s gonna bleed to death if we can’t get him back to Serenity immediately. Gimme a hand here, Zoë!”

Through the years, Mal’s done a lot of field medic work by necessity and he knows the first order of business is keeping Jayne from bleeding out. He pulls Jayne’s belt free from his pant-loops and cinches it tight around the top of the merc’s thigh to help stem the pumping flow of blood from some large torn vessel. He rips a strip from the merc’s T-shirt and uses it to bind the pad of fabric tightly over the wound.

”We’ll come back for our gear later. Right now, help me get this heavy-ass tah mah de onto the shuttle.” He and Zoë grab the unconscious man under his arms and drag him the thirty-some feet to the bay of the shuttle. Every second counts.

“Zoë, can you fly this thing one-handed?” Mal’s face is grim as he holds pressure on Jayne’s wound. The merc’s still out, his skin sallow with the sheen of shock.

“I’ll manage, Sir.” She gets the shuttle airborne, headed for Serenity and then radios Wash to meet them.

“Baby, give the doc a head’s up. Incoming wounded. Jayne’s bad off.”

“Roger that. Are you okay, Zoë?” Wash’s voice is high and tight with anxiety.

“I’ll be fine. Don’t know about the big guy, though.”

(To be continued...)