CB: Chapter Two: Broken Pieces
Title: Broken Pieces
Characters: Mal, Zoe, Kaylee, Simon, River and of course... the star of our fic, Jayne.
Series: Cloudburst
Beta: Vaguely, Rin. Because I like to torture her.
Warnings: Violence, Nudity and Insanity
Words: 1902
Bayard came and went in an blur fogged by Anticipation, Wash's expert flying and ~amazingly~ no one was shot, poisoned, raped, eaten or murdered. Even River seemed to be pseudo-coherent. Mal considered it almost peaceful.
It was for that reason, he never saw it coming.
One second he was standing there, admiring the strips that glittered up at him, pieces of metal that whispered seductively that not only would Serenity's needs be met, but that the crew would even manage to get paid this run, and even considering giving Wash and Zoe that vacation they kept asking for.
The next, he was staring up at the lights, wondering how exactly his jaw had managed to find the deck plating and why it was that he and the floor were on such intimate terms.
Then his vision was filled with Jayne.
And more importantly, Jayne's fist.
"Ruttin' gan ni niang, wo xi wang ni man man si, dan kuai dian zia di yu!"
When he got to verbalizin', Mal knew he was in trouble, and only barely managed to roll out of the way, his progress halted by one of the benches. The only thing he could do was kick out at the larger man's leg and hope to connect. Which he did. Unfortunately, so did Jayne's knees when they landed against his stomach and drove his breath from him. Was...that a rib? He was sure he knew the sound of broken bones. Yet he didn't have time to think when two hands grabbed his collar and the forehead of granite came crashing down.
And stopped.
There were no words he could speak. Literally. Zoe's shot-gun did enough talking for the three of them when she jacked the round into the chamber.
"Jayne," her voice calm as ever danced around them in low octaves of contempt. "Kindly unhand the captain, and I won't be forced to remove them for you and in a most unpleasant way."
His response was gutteral, incomprehensible and punctuated by him dropping Mal back onto the floor and rising, whirling on her. Absurdly, it appeared that they should have been in the middle of a street, high noon shadowdancin' while fixing to duel. Mal's breath caught as Jayne's hand twitched and he expected to witness his last mistake. Jayne was fast to the draw, but Zoe had always been a little faster. If he laid a hand on her, she'd send him off to whatever special hell awaited him. Then Jayne's shoulders dropped. Shame or loss, Mal couldn't tell but either way it just didn't sit well. He never thought he'd see the day when Jayne surrendered.
"He deserved it. Din't have no right, messin' with me. Hell, woman, you'da done the same thing in my place. It weren't right."
"That ain't my problem."
"No, it ain't. It's his, only your apron strings keep gettin' in my way."
"Hey now. That's down right uncalled for." Mal managed to stammer out as he rose to his feet.
"Lotsa things is, Mal." He said and continued to stare Zoe down.
Only she wasn't the kind of woman easily cowed. Not even by Jayne. That darkness flashed in her eyes, the only warning he'd get and she kept the sawed off rifle carefully aimed at his chest. Mal flashed her a look and held up his hands. "Can't we talk like civilise....like regular folk?"
"No."
A glance was passed between Mal and Zoe before the Captain decided to take a second stab at it. "Could you explain to me what it is I done ya, and maybe we can make things solid."
"You know what you done."
"No, I rightly can't say as I do."
Jayne spat on the deck, and Mal flinched, ready to defend the old girl. One thumb wiped at the corner of his mouth, agonizing in its slowness. His breath hitched in his chest a moment, before the hard chips of blue settled on Mal's face. "Hell, I ain't stupid. Should have known when she made pancakes t'other day and ya'll was all quiet like. But for some reason, I dunno...spected ya to be...an honest bastard."
SEE! I TOLD YOU SO! Mal's brain screamed even if his face gave nothing away. Very quietly he said, "We were thinking of you, Jayne."
~*~
"And you...made him a sweater?" Simon's brow rose darkly over his eyes and he stared at Kaylee in a way that spoke that he was not quite understanding it.
"It gets cold in his bunk sometimes, and it's gonna be cold on Jericho, it bein' close to winter an' all."
"You made him a sweater." He didn't want to think of how she knew these things any more than he wanted to really know what River heard in the cascade of other people's thoughts. It would never help him as a doctor, and he was by now pretty certain he and Jayne were never going to be friends. Yes, there was a debt of gratitude owed for the rescue on Ariel, and the affection he showed Kaylee, but that didn't mean they were on good terms. Rare were the moments when the man didn't seem to be trying to personally destroy his life or sully his reputation.
He silenced the treacherous little voice that said the only thing she made him on his birthday was a cake.
A protein cake that never survived long enough to be tasted. It had broken right after the first incision.
"Yup. I only hope he don't mind none, I ran out of the brown, had to finish with the gold. He's just so big an'-"
"Tea." Simon blurted, his hands falling down onto hers, to keep her from speaking. "Would you like to get some tea with me?"
There was a soft confusion in her eyes and her brows knitted above them for a moment, an aching expression that made him think she knew why he cut her off so abruptly. But then she smiled. "Why Doctor, I thought you'd never ask."
She slipped off his bunk and carefully stowed away the colourfully handpainted present under his bed. He had thought to ask her why she wanted to hide it here, but the question answered itself as he recalled what Jayne had done to the medbay when he was looking for tape while breaking everything he could, and River had hinted about his inability to wait for Christmas morning before searching for presents. If he so much as suspected Kaylee had something planned, he'd give her no peace. Yet there was some sense in him not to invade Simon's quarters.
Her small fingers touched his arm, the white shirt now bearing a smudge of grease which he valiantly did not recoil from, bringing him out of his thoughts once more. "I'm still amazed that you got the Captain to agree to do this. I've never even heard of Jericho."
Her laughter trickled over him. "It weren't hard, ya just gotta know where ya stand with Mal."
~*~
They stood toe to toe, so close that one's breath became the other's but somehow Mal didn't flinch, didn't even blink an eyelash. The Captain had probably been hit by a dozen men his size, but Jayne intended to make this one hurt, Kaylee could see it in his eyes, and was unable to stop him. So he hit Mal one last time in his most vulnerables. "You're my Cap'n and my boss. That don' make you my friend. Stay out of my life, and my way, Reynolds, less'n you got my cut."
He turned on his heel, the look of revulsion deeply etched in the little lines around his eyes, his mouth. There was hatred in every breath that left him, the way he stalked across the galley. She could hardly make a sound when he collided with her, the brush of his arm and chest against her shoulder all but knocking her into Simon's slender frame just behind her, a good few inches. The Doc was kind enough to steady her, shooting the Merc a glare of pure malevolence.
"Happy birthday, Jayne." She whispered brokenly when she was sure he was out of hearing range, and felt Simon's hand brush her shoulder. Uncharacteristically, she shrugged her shoulders, still somewhat surprised that Jayne'd be so... mad. Then her eyes fell on Zoe and Mal. "What...who told him?"
"It weren't none of us, I swear," Mal replied but his gaze didn't meet her eyes. Zoe said nothing at all, only eased her gun back into its holster at her hip just as easily as a woman checked and shined her manicure.
Kaylee, however, didn't understand. "Then...?"
"Must be quiet as a mouse, cause there are secrets in the doll house. Hides his face from the light, afraid you'll see the scars. And every one you find, a hundred more. A locked door, shut to you and never letting that light break through."
"Shu muh?"
"Mei-mei?"
Unfurling from the shadows, River glided through the galley and stopped only to touch Kaylee's shoulder briefly before fleeing to haunt the metal pathways of Serenity.
The remaining four had never known she was there, and in her wake, they could only shuffle and avoid the glances of the others, none of them comfortable one bit with her softly whispered words.
~*~
Metal grinding on metal, a chorus symphony of muscle memory. Shy eyes and a reddened face, dirty below the skin. He lay supine on the grey neoprene, unable to feel the cold kiss of it pressed against his back, or the worn padding beneath. Feet pressed firmly on the floor, head and ass firmly positioned. Shoulders rolling back and down just so. Fingers curled tightly against the bar with only the canvas half-gloves seperating his palm from it. In his mouth he could taste the anger and the betrayal mixed with saliva, a rusty taste. Smooth, his arms pushed ever harder, pumping for what he was worth.
Which weren't much.
Shadows slid across the bare flesh, every inch of him slick with sweat. His body grinding out the rhythm: hard and fast and filled with fury, then slow like breath held too long. He didn't need Book there to spot him, even though he could feel each inch of meat scream when he refused to quit. It was better than stopping on account that it meant he wasn't thinking. Thinking about the look in Mal's eyes, thinking about the way Kaylee gasped when he all but runned her over, the triumph on Simon's lips as he caught her, one strand of cinnamon hair falling across his cheek. Why'd they have to go and do some gorram foolish thing? And how did they find out, anyhow?
Like as not it was Moon Brain, her and her gorram mouth. Never shut when it was needed to be, and never open when ya wanted her to. It didn't make no difference that she couldn't even remember her brother's birthday.
Birthdays. Huh. Just meant he was gettin' a year older. A year closer to the grave. Though Pa'd given the family some hope, Cobb men tended ta die young. No shame in that. Usually at the business end of the shovel or the shotgun. He hadn't asked them to make a big deal about it, not never. Plum like to forget, him.
A groan from belly deep as his stomach tightened, his thighs clenched. He thrust upward one last time, and then everything dropped away. The bar crashed back into its place with a resounding clamour that drownt his grunt. A breath he hadn't realised he was holding escaped him in an almost satisfied purr. He fell back with muscles sprawled and aching from their release. Then weariness assailed him as he closed his eyes.
Jericho.
There were only two things he left behind on Jericho, and none of them he wanted to share with the crew.
Two things belonged to him.
No matter how far in the black he got.