The Judas Kiss

“We’ll be intercepting with the Firefly in ten, Sir.”

The commander looked up at his lieutenant with cold eyes. “Run the false scanner signal. Kill all engines. Power down life support to minimal then fire up the distress wave.”

“Yes, Sir. I presume they’ll stop to scavenge what they can.”

“No, Lieutenant, that’s not the way Reynolds thinks. He’s more your hero type.”

Lieutenant Baxter looked dubious, but he obeyed the order without question. He’d worked with Wrighton since graduating from Sun Tzu Academy two years ago and he knew better than to question him however crazy his ideas might seem.

The frigate powered down its support systems and Baxter ordered his squad to suit up as warm as they could and be ready waiting for when they were boarded. There were two units of troops on the Alliance frigate, all that was ever needed for the type of small scale retrieval work they undertook, but the young lieutenant still felt apprehension building in the pit of his stomach.

Malcolm Reynolds had become a more of a folk hero than a renegade during the past few years, escaping capture by the skin of his teeth over again and always managing to outwit whoever was on his heels. Baxter had mixed feelings about being the one to finally bring him and his crew to justice and return the weapon back where she belonged. But then everyone knew it wasn’t safe having a girl with those kind of untapped powers loose in the verse.

Minutes ticked by, the air getting thinner and colder by the second, and Baxter was beginning to feel space sick and nervy, but then the commander strode past, uniformed up as normal; no protective clothing to keep out the gun fire and the cold, and that put Baxter at ease. The man really knew how to lead from the front.

***

“Captain,” said Wash into the com and when he got no reply he yelled out an insistent “Mal,” over and over again.

Ten minutes later the man appeared on the bridge, clothes all messed up, sleep still encrusted on his lashes.

“I swear you and Kaylee have a conspiracy thing going on,” he said running a hand through scruffy hair. “As soon as I close my gorram eyes then guaranteed one or other of you starts yammering away at me.”

Staring blearily at the screen for a while he jerked to attention when it finally registered that he was looking at a lifeless ship drifting in space.

“Alliance,” he said quietly, running his finger across the display. “S.O.S.?”

“Intermittent.” Wash looked concerned.

“What’s happening?” said Zoë appearing beside them all ready for action, closely followed by their on board muscle who was, as always, itching for a fight of one kind or another.

“We’ve found a bunch of Feds whose boat has broken down by the look of things. Think we should give ‘em a tow, honey?” The pilot turned and smiled at his wife.

“Run into reavers more like,” said the merc, sniffing dubiously as he peered over Wash’s shoulder. “I say let them rot.”

“You gorram guns’re all the same.” Mal frowned. “Not interested unless there’s killing or easy money to be had.”

“Yeah, downright mercenary I call it,” said Wash, doing his best to lower the tension between the two men.

“What readings are we getting off the ship?” Mal stared at the numbers scrolling past him tryig o make sense of them.

“Minimal power, a few signs of life. Air’s depleting rapidly so if we’re gonna do anything then soonest is best, Sir.” Zoë was already on her way to the exit

“Still say we should do what’s clever and ignore it,” grumbled the merc, leaning against the jamb of the hatch.

“Well clever and you ain’t exactly friends.” Mal threw him a filthy look, “And what’s more I pay your wages and I’m the gorram skipper so you do what I say. Now get kitted up ‘cause we’re going in.”

***

Baxter was finding that the lack of oxygen was causing him one hell of a problem. He breathed in hard and fast, but there was this tight feeling in his chest like he was in a crusher.

“Just relax into it, lieutenant.” Wrighton had his thumb pressed against his throat mic as he whispered to Baxter in that reassuringly deep voice of his. “Same as altitude training. You must have done some of that in that fancy academy of yours?”

Baxter nodded and tried his best to remember the drill. Sun Tzu taught them everything there was to know about all kinds of soldiering. The slight juddering and gentle thud indicated that the Firefly had docked. Rumours were apparently correct; the pilot, Wash, was indeed one of the best.

Hidden away in one of the recesses to the side of the docking bay, Baxter looked through his heat vision visor into the blackness. He was scared, but at the same time incredibly excited. Mal, Wash, Zoë – every one of them his heroes.

“Units in position?” murmured Wrighton, listening for the muted responses from his junior officers. “They’re coming, boys. On my command.”

The hatch opened with a whoosh as the air pressure evened out between the lock and the frigate and Baxter was left staring, not at mythological giants like he’d expected, but just people. People on a rescue mission.

It was damn scary watching the initial boarding party advance in full stealth mode onto the cruiser. Things were going according to plan until Regis, the youngest officer--a midshipman straight out of academy--jumped the gun, ordering his squad to advance and fire.

All hell broke loose, but, with their superior numbers of forces, Baxter assumed it would be all over in a matter of seconds. He waited for Wrighton to chew Regis’s ear off then bark out orders to take control of the Firefly, but, instead, the commander stood in the docking lobby as if he were turned to stone. The rebels were still advancing, picking off troops apparently at will. This was rapidly turning into a disaster.

“Abort,” Baxter ground out. “All units cease fire and retreat.” The soldiers backed off as ordered leaving Baxter alone to deal with Wrighton.

“Sir, we need to move, now.”

The arcing zap from an electron pistol took Wrighton in mid-chest, the big man crumpling to the floor like dust as the lieutenant raced forward to try and retrieve him.

One hand gripping Wrighton’s collar, Baxter began dragging Wrighton’s prone body back from where the man lay half in, half out of the airlock. He’d only gotten about five feet when the acid burn from a bullet hit him in the shoulder sending his gun skidding away across the floor.

The brown-coated leader stepped forward; a big man, almost as big as the commander. Mal Reynolds: it had to be. Baxter hitched in a breath of terror laced excitement. Reynolds stood over them, his gun raised and his face whitening as he stared down at Wrighton.

“Jayne Cobb, you gorram rutting hundan. I oughta space you and I most probably will after I get some answers out of that big mouth of yours,” were the last words Baxter heard as he was stunned by a blast from Reynolds’s pistol and dragged through into Serenity.

~~****~~

Mal Reynolds was confounded and silent with it, but the same couldn’t be said for Simon Tam.

“Put the Alliance prick in the airlock and open it,” said the doctor, gently cleaning the wound on Mal’s face where a bullet had grazed him during the skirmish.

“Cussing don’t sound right coming from your pretty mouth.” Mal tried out his calming voice see if that would have any effect on the doctor’s bad mood. “And anyway ain’t you supposed to be about saving life, not destroying it?”

“Life, yes, but that piece of gou shi over there counts for nothing as far as I’m concerned. You weren’t there in that hospital on Ariel. You have no idea what it was like to find out that the man who was supposed to be protecting you turned out to be your enemy.” The doctor snorted in disgust. “No. Enemy is too noble a word for it. Jayne just wanted to make some easy money out of us and if things had gone his way you’d never even have guessed, just assumed the Alliance had found River and I by pure luck.”

Mal figured his calming voice wasn’t working out so good when the doctor’s fingers grew less and less gentle by the second. He recalled the moment he’d blasted open the hospital service door and found Simon hanging onto his terrified sister who was shuddering and mumbling to herself as if the ‘verse was over.

‘Where’s Jayne?’ was the first thing he’d asked and he still could feel that revulsion deep inside him when Simon had told him in this choked up voice about how the mercenary was back amongst his Alliance friends. Revulsion, sadness, confusion -- they were all the same gorram feeling to Mal nowadays.

“I’ve been waiting six years to discover how many credits he sold you out for, and, more to the point, why he did it,” he said, “and when I get a hold of them answers then I’ll personally let you launch him out into the black.”

Simon didn’t look best pleased at the idea of waiting. “I still can’t decide whether you’re blind or stupid. Look at him.” Simon stared over at the unconscious man laid out on the bed. “Look at what he is. It was never about the money.”

The doctor spoke the last few words slowly and clearly as if he was trying to get through to an idiot, which maybe Mal was, but it didn’t mean that he weren’t gonna give Jayne the chance to explain the course of events in his own words. Mal was a fair man at heart.

Simon ranted on and on and on. “The very first Core planet we arrived at Cobb found a way to sell us out and then get back to his own people. The truth is right there in front of you. He was an Alliance traitor all along. How often did he tell you he never fought in the war? I’ll lay credits down on the fact that he fought like a beast the way he always does. But for the wrong side.”

“That all sounds good and clever but it don’t explain why Jayne was fighting by my side long before you and River came into the picture. What was an Alliance spy doing infiltrating a small and unimportant crew of smugglers? Explain me that and then I’ll start taking your espionage accusations a mite more seriously.”

Simon visibly deflated. “Maybe I am overreacting a little, but I just don’t like having the son of a bitch here on Serenity after what he put River through.”

“I’ll not let any harm come to you nor your sister,” reassured Mal, looking over toward the door as he heard footsteps approaching.

“We’ve made the burn and we’re clear of the feds, Sir,” said Zoë coming into sickbay to report the current state of play. She looked over at the unconscious man, confusion written all over her face. “I can’t believe it’s him.”

“Can’t not be him.” Mal’s eyes followed her gaze. “In fact he looks much the same as he always did, ‘cept thinner and older and shaven and he’s wearing an Alliance uniform. Hell. Now I come to think of it maybe you’re right. Maybe we’ve picked up Jayne’s evil genius brother by mistake.”

“I’ve been talking to the fed boy,” said Zoë. “He’s yelling out for some more pain killers but other than that he’s fine. Except he doesn’t like being kept in lockdown. Or being separated from his commander. I think he may be a little on the sly side,” she added speculatively.

Mal shook his head. “Tell me something that might be of use, Zoë. I really don’t need to know about the boy’s crushes.”

“His name’s Lieutenant John Baxter. He’s twenty-three and from Erdus Secondra on the Core. He graduated from Sun Tzu couple of years ago and he’s been under Jayne’s – sorry, Wrighton’s command ever since. Won’t hear a word said against the man. Or you either for that matter, Sir. Every time your name’s mentioned he blushes and starts stammering,” she said with a wicked grin.

“Enough of that, Zoë,” snapped Mal turning his attention back to the doctor. “Can you try wake our Hero of Canton look-alike up enough so as I can get some sense out of him and figure out what’s happening here?”

“Are the cuffs strong enough to hold him?” asked Simon warily.

“He’s big but last time I saw him his powers still hadn’t developed.” Mal’s sarcasm circuits were functioning well. “And anyway what do you think he might be planning on doing after he uses his super strength to break free of them chains?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe kill all of you then head for the nearest Alliance base to hand River and I over.”

“The manacles’ll hold,” said Mal sheepishly.

Simon looked unconvinced, but he unlocked his med cabinet and took out a box of ampoules, snapping the end off one of them and then fitting it into the hyperinge.

“This is a low dose neural stimulant. It should wake him slowly. If there’s any adverse reaction I can counteract the effects more easily if we use a little at a time.”

Simon positioned the instrument at the man’s temple, but before he could inject the drug Jayne’s eyes shot open wide and he looked up at them all in abject fear.

Fear? That was an unexpected reaction. Even the idea of reavers never had their Jayne looking that frightened before. Mal pushed the doctor’s hand away and rested his own on the man’s shoulder.

“Easy now, we ain’t intending to hurt you.”

The terror slipped away and was replaced by this blankness as the big man tried to sit up, the cuffs restricting his movement. Mal could see the fear returning and it felt all kinds of wrong. Ignoring the looks of extreme disapproval from Simon, he unfastened one of the bracelets to allow their strange new prisoner to swing his legs around off the side of the bed.

“Okay, Jayne Cobb. Time you told us your side of the story. I don’t like to find I’ve been running with a man for years and it turns out he’s not who I thought he was. Not so much of the happy making I have to say.”

The man flinched so fiercely when he heard that name it was like he was being pistol-whipped.

“Lucas Willard Wrighton. Air Commander, 14th Brigade, Reclamation Division, Federal Alliance Corps. 11730293.”

Mal looked around at the other crew members and shrugged. “Well that’s just peachy and most informative, except for the fact that we all knew you as Jayne Cobb for eighteen long months, ‘til you disappeared on us during some business at a hospital on a pretty little core planet called Ariel six years ago.”

There was no answer. Mal couldn’t tell what, if anything, was going through the soldier’s eyes. They only thing he knew for sure was that this was Jayne Cobb. Or, leastways, the man he’d known by that name.

“Am I talking to myself?” he asked, wheeling around fast and looking Jayne in the eyes. The sudden movement didn’t cause anywhere near the same reaction as using the man’s name as a weapon against him. “I’m not asking you to spill any big Alliance secrets; I just wanna find out what’s going on inside that ugly head of yours.”

“Lucas Willard Wrighton. Air Commander, 14th Brigade Reclamation Division, Federal Alliance Corps. 11730293.”

“Name rank and number don’t cut it here. The Uni war’s over now, case you hadn’t noticed, and anyway you always told me that you’d never served in no war. Or was that another big fat lie, Jayne?”

Another use of his name. Another reflex recoil.

“Don’t like being called Jayne, do you, Jayne?” The big man looked down at the floor. “See what I don’t figure is, if you was an Alliance spy then Jayne is a mighty strange alias to pick. Or is that the usual method? If you name yourself something crazy no one ever challenges who the gorram hell you are. Jayne, huh? Jayne’s a girl’s name. Wonder what made you think of choosing that. I would never have chosen Jayne Cobb as a name myself.”

“Lucas Willard Wrighton. Air Commander, 14th Brigade, Reclamation Division, Federal Alliance Corps. 11730293.” The man looked at Mal and just for a second there was a spark of someone familiar in there. “Not Jayne Cobb,” he growled.

“You had that name at least five years back from when I knew you, Jayne,” Mal said with a heavy emphasis on the last word. “Saw a statue of you in Canton with it inscribed on this plaque at the bottom. Do you remember that? Jayne Cobb, the hero of Canton. Do you remember how you told me it made no sense that mudder boy dying for you? You were real cut up about it as I recall. Or was that just another part of the act?”

“Lucas Willard Wrighton. Air Commander, 14th Brigade, Reclamation Division, Federal Alliance Corps. 11730293.”

“I’m getting mighty bored of this now, Jayne.” Mal watched the beads of sweat break out like a rash on the man’s forehead and the gooseflesh beginning to form on his arms and he knew, from the number of times he’d suffered interrogation, that the soldier was getting real angry and might well be close to spilling some stuff.

“I’m not Jayne Cobb.”

The gravelly voice was familiar, the dialect slipping away from Federal Core and sounding more and more like the mercenary’s own speaking voice, but where in the hell was all this Wrighton shi coming from?

“Eggs can’t be unscrambled,” said River happily as she poked her head around the door of the infirmary.

“Guess that means dinner’s ready,” said Zoë with a look of resignation at the man they used to call Jayne as he sat staring into space with those cold eyes.

“Zap him with some sleep until we can get him into lockdown,” instructed Mal. “Can’t be too sure what he’ll do so it’s better we be safer than sorry.”

The syringe hissed as it fed the sedative through the pores on Jayne’s bicep. Mal could see he weren’t too happy about it but there was no alternative course of action far as he could see. Sliding the man back until he was laying down on the bed, Mal refastened the cuffs, securing the left wrist to the bar.

“Not Jayne Cobb,” murmured the soldier.

“You were once,” replied Mal, his voice breaking slightly, “Until you decided to betray me and my own.”

~~****~~

Wrighton focused his eyes on the man who was leaning over staring down at him with this undecipherable expression in his eyes. He knew Reynolds better than he knew his own family. He’d been tracking the man down for years so why the hell had he frozen up like that at first sight of him? Wasn’t right. Wasn’t the way a corpsman should behave. He’d never messed up a retrieval like that before. Never.

And why in hell’s name did Reynolds keep insisting he knew him. And by the name of Jayne Cobb too?

Sleep was pushing its way in, making Wrighton feel even more apprehensive if that were possible. This was one of the reasons that he never partnered up with anyone for more than a quick fuck. He was the only person he’d ever heard of who woke up near to committing suicide just from a ten minute nap. He remembered his mother telling him how he’d always been that way ever since he was a baby; how sleeping didn’t come easy to some people and it was just one of those things he had to learn to live with. Damn, he missed his family like this big aching hole inside him, all of them killed when the penthouse apartment they lived in on Osiris was blown sky high in a terrorist attack during the war. He’d never forgive the Browncoats for that. Rutting gou cao de hundan.

Reynolds clutched at Wrighton’s shoulder once again in an odd display of concern that seemed out of line with the things he’d been saying then he turned and walked away, leaving Wrighton to fight off the demons all by himself.

‘Stay awake, Jayne,’ whispered Mattie. ‘If you can count to past a hun’erd then the reavers won’t eat you up for supper.’

One, two, three, four, five…

He’d done wrong and he knew it. Didn’t get it ‘til he saw Simon fix up that patient who was dying in front of their eyes. Didn’t get it ‘til he saw the feng le girl lying there with all her broken brain parts on display. It shoulda been all straightened out in his head after that mudder boy bought it, but he weren’t made that way. Ma always said he weren’t to be trusted after she caught him stealing bits out of her purse. Called him a bad ‘un from then onwards. She still loved him though.

Give him fair dues he tried, gorramit, hurrying the Tams along and then doing his best to hustle them out and away from danger, but it were too late. They were caught and he was as guilty as the blackest sin. No point in saying it weren’t about the money ‘cause that was the whole gorram truth of it. He knew there was credits on offer, more’n enough to satisfy his dirtiest of day dreams, and after the moon brain had cut him he couldn’t think of a better money making scheme, more satisfying still when there was revenge tacked alongside it. Both sat so pretty next to each other in his head. ‘Cept now he seemed to have found out what a conscience was all about and he weren’t liking it one bit.

He did what he was best at and killed to get ‘em away, second guessing how Mal’d think under the circumstances and sending the Tams off in the direction of the service area, while he stayed behind like a gorram bug shit crazy hero, trying to fend off an army of Feds with a malfunctioning gou shi buru Alliance weapon.

Holding off the first dribs and drabs of attack forces Jayne waited for the big push forward, but, as it turned out, it weren’t an army of Feds that was coming at him. Electric pain seared through the inside of his head before he had time to react. His eyes were burning and blistering as blood gushed out of both nostrils. Two by two. Hands of Blue.

Two by Two, Jayne Cobb.

Hands of Blue, Jayne Cobb.

The piercing scream sliced inside Wrighton like a knife and he needed to shut it out now, covering his ears with cupped palms that were wet, hot, sticky.

“Sedate him, gorramit.”

“Can’t do that unless you want him dead. He’s suffering from terrors and they’re more severe than a simple nightmare. He needs to wake up fully.”

Wrighton knew then it was him making that noise. Thought he’d got over that crap years ago.

“Jayne, it’s okay. You’re safe here, dong ma?”

There were horror stories going ‘round when he was in military academy. Only thing worse than a reaver was the boogeyman coming to get you. The name you never said out loud.

“Time to wake up, soldier.”

“I’ve got to treat those wounds in his arms before he bleeds out. I’m gonna use a stimulant.”

Just the feel of that syringe touching his skin was enough to force Wrighton back to a fully awakened state.

“I’m- I’m okay,” he grunted, staring around at the faces that felt uncomfortable; too familiar for his liking. “Don’t need nothing.”

He fought with the hand that pressed the syringe against his skin. “No meds.”

“I have to sew you up,” said the doctor, “And, believe me, as much as I enjoy the idea of inflicting pain, I have no real desire to hear you yelling again.”

Doctor Tam? Bringing people back from the dead.

Wrighton remained huddled in the corner, but held out his bloodied arms like an offering as the doctor knelt next to him to tend to the gouged flesh. “Stitch away.” He didn’t need drugs the way he didn’t need sleep. Both of them were as dangerous as each other.

“You musta been mighty scared to tear yourself free from them bars,” said Reynolds looking at the broken sides of the bed then crouching down, leaving just enough room for the doctor to do his work. “Care to tell me what that was all about?”

“Care to take me back to my squadron and I’ll think about it,” said Wrighton defiantly.

“Far as I can see it, you ain’t in much of a position for bargaining.” Reynolds smiled prettily at him, but underneath the surface Wrighton knew the man was as deadly serious as they come.

“I got you and I got your boy. Baxter, I think is his name.”

“Gorram moon brain,” muttered Wrighton. That kid of a lieutenant never did have the good sense to keep himself clear of trouble.

“He is that.” Mal was smiling again, but in a consternated kind of a way that had Wrighton all at space. “Loyal little corpsman you built there, Jayne. Seeing as you’re not in a co-operating mood maybe he’ll tell me the truth about you. With a little persuasion, that is.”

Blood flowed heavy and thick as Wrighton fought to get free from Reynolds and Tam. Gorram murdering Browncoat bastards weren’t gonna threaten one of his men.

“Hell, Jayne. Quit rutting around on us.”

Wrighton tried to form an answer but everything was slipping away from him as the ‘verse faded out to black.

~~****~~

“Gorramit, he may look thinner but he still weighs near a ton,” complained Mal as they lifted the unconscious man up onto the bed and the doctor finished off stitching up the wounds in his arms.

“I need to get him out of this uniform so I can check for any other sign of injuries,” said Simon, cutting away the blood soaked tunic and undershirt.

“Well, if we were in need of proof that he’s our man we have it right here,” said Mal running his finger over the tattoo and then the silvery scar in his chest where River had cut into Jayne all those years ago.

Simon flinched. “Help me roll him onto his side so I can get these clothes off and clean him up.”

It was the look on the doctor’s face that alerted Mal to something being wrong. Sickened, angry, confused - emotions waged war as Simon stared down at Jayne’s back.

“Problem?” asked Mal, walking round to the other side of the table to see what was distressing the doctor so much.

Suddenly there didn’t seem to be enough air in the medical bay. Mal drew in a deep breath as he stared at the damaged skin on Jayne’s back. “Looks like our Commander Wrighton has seen some action since we last saw him,” he muttered fighting to keep control of his rage. Who in the gorram hell had done this to the man and why?

Simon was examining the scarification carefully. He pointed out the injuries one by one and explained them to Mal in such a clinical way it made the captain feel sick to his stomach.

“This,” said Simon, indicating a series of long puckered scars, “looks like deliberate electrical burning, and here,” he stroked a finger over a square of pinkish skin a hand span in size, “the skin has been flayed away completely and quite deeply.”

Mal looked away for second, placing a palm on Jayne’s hip to ground himself enough to try and make sense of this. “Laotien ye,” he murmured.

“This here is the most severe area of injury,” said Simon wiping the sweat away from his brow then pointing to a small and seemingly insignificant wound site that was only distinctive because of the strange yellow discolouration surrounding it. “I’ve only ever read about this. They manufactured these microscopic arthrobots during the war that were coded to seek out human nerve tissue and destroy it. They were banned almost immediately under the Caucasus Convention for inflicting pain beyond the boundaries of human tolerance.”

“They being who?” asked Mal.

“They being the Alliance Counter Espionage Agency,” said Simon.

“Well, don’t it just keep getting curiouser?” said Mal looking down at the evidence spread out before him and trying to keep his voice light and unemotional. “So, Wrighton here, big shot Air Commander for the Feds, looks to have been tortured by his own team.”

“Unless some cruel bastard like Niska got his hands on the arthrobots.” Simon had no idea how just the mention of that gan ni niang made Mal’s stomach curl up in revulsion. “But an educated guess tells me that this was carried out by Alliance intelligence officers. It has all their hallmarks.”

Mal pulled the gore-covered clothing away from Jayne’s body, unwilling even to touch the disfigured skin in case it caused remnants of pain. It sure looked as if it should hurt and made his own torture scars at Niska’s hand seem less agonising.

Rolling the unconscious man from side to back, Mal looked expectantly over at Simon. “Well, are you going to check what harm’s been done or are we just gonna admire him all night?”

Simon ran a scanner over Jayne’s body and then hooked him up to a drip to feed in some synthblood.

“Sorry to walk in on you folks, but I heard the talk and had to see if this really was our old friend Jayne,” said Book approaching the table.

“Seems that way, Shepherd, even though he’s going by the name of Wrighton nowadays,” replied Mal. “He’s not said much more to me than rank and military number. Maybe he’ll talk to you when he wakes up. You being a preacher an’ all.”

“That is about the first time I’ve ever heard you merit my work as being worthy of anything, Captain,” said Book with a smile, “I shall mark it down as a red letter day.”

“Just ‘cause I find it meaningless don’t mean Wrighton will,” replied Mal with a cynic’s grin.

“So are we calling him that, even though we know he’s Jayne?” asked Simon.

“Whatever we think to the contrary, this man believes he’s Lucas Wrighton and if we wanna help him back that has to be our starting point,” replied Mal.

“They take the Tallcards out and shuffle them around then put them in all jumbled up.” River was standing in the doorway looking into sickbay with an inquisitive look on her face. She darted forward and pressed the tips of her fingers to each side of Jayne’s head. “Not quiescent, never quiescent.” She focused on Simon. “You can’t bring him back and you can’t right a wrong.”

“River, you’re not helping,” said Simon impatiently, pushing his sister away from the man on the table.

“Nor are you,” she snapped, leaning forward and staring defiantly at her brother, almost forehead to forehead with him. “Two by two hands of blue. Two wrongs don’t make a right.”

“The blue hands did this to him?” Simon examined Jayne’s skull, carefully feeling for any obvious signs of intrusion.

Mal could see exactly when the doctor had found the evidence he was looking for. “Question is why?” he said slowly. “Man sells out his crew and gets rewarded by being opened up and messed around with.”

This was one humped up ‘verse they were living in and it was getting more confusing by the day.

“Don’t make no sense,” he muttered echoing Jayne’s words on Canton after the boy had died. “Don’t make no gorram sense.”

***

Jayne’d never prayed for death in his entire life, but now he wanted everything to be over. The pain in his head was so bad that he knew he was going to gorram explode if they didn’t stop what they were doing to him. He’d beg soon if that’s what they wanted. He was already kneeling.

Then it ended as abruptly as it started and he looked up at his captors, two ordinary little men with suits and them blue hands the moon brain had been on about. One of ‘em was holding onto some sorta rod like he was a magic man.

“We don’t understand you, Mr Cobb. You wave us with information to assist in our retrieval of the girl and then help her to get away. Explain.”

How could Jayne answer when he didn’t rightly know himself? He never had a brain that functioned much. Well not above eating, sleeping, rutting and boosting stuff anyhow.

On his knees staring downwards, he watched as drops spilled from his nostrils adding to the pool that was spreading across the floor and tried to think up something clever to say. He was gorram sure that ‘Blood pretty,’ weren’t gonna cut it right now.

Something flashed inside his head and he looked up slowly to see one of the Blue Hands holding a small instrument out in front of him

“Average bordering on low level IQ. No need to waste our time with him. Pass him over to Samuels to retrieve information. It shouldn’t take Intelligence long to find out what we need to know.”

***

“His neural readout is spiking,” said Simon, hovering over Jayne with a syringe, ready to sedate the man if it became necessary.

“Thought you said smoothing him’d be dangerous.” Mal didn’t like any of this one bit. Torture. Messing with people’s minds. First they’d taken River apart and now they’d done it to one of his own crew. And even if Jayne was a rutting unreliable untrustworthy sumbitch, he was still Mal’s and someone was gonna pay.

“Well, we can’t cuff him,” said Simon looking at the soldier’s bandaged forearms. “So we have no other option if he reacts like he did last time.”

“All surgical beds are fitted with straps aren’t they, Doctor?” asked Book feeling down the underside of the cot and pulling out several sets of restraints. Mal followed his lead and found the ones on his side, fastening the leather around Jayne’s upper body and legs. It didn’t please him to have to do it but he couldn’t see any other choice.

All of a sudden Jayne’s eyes snapped open and Mal could tell he weren’t seeing anything that was going on around him. This time there was no screaming but Jayne was thrashing and fighting against the restraints and they weren’t gonna hold much longer.

“Do it, Simon,” said Mal as he looked at the syringe that was poised over Jayne’s neck. There was the usual hiss and then Jayne slumped back onto the bed.

They needed to make a decision about what to do and quick. Right now they weren’t helping Jayne in the slightest.

“Take him to lockdown,” ordered Mal.

“But if he needs treatment-”

“You can deal with him there,” Mal answered. “A while ago you wanted him thrown out into space like lese.”

“And I’m not saying I still don’t, but right now he’s my patient and-”

“And this way we’ll be in a position to keep him awake and the crew safe at the same time.” Mal smiled, but he had a feeling that it never showed up in his eyes. “A win/win situation. Now ain’t that always the best?”

~~****~~

“What is Malcolm Reynolds’ destination?”

The cell was white, snowstorm white, even the wipe-clean plastic covering of the bed he was strapped to had no colour. Was there a psy-co-logical reason for that, Jayne wondered. Good word that. Mebbe all the torture was making his brain think better. Shame it hadn’t happened earlier ‘cause maybe then he might not have chosen to behave like a gorram fool and sent that wave message to the Feds.

‘You reap what you sow, son,’ his mother used to say to him when he’d been a bad ‘un and gotten his ass whupped for it.

Felt much like those days were back seeing as he was laid out on his stomach, nekkid as the day he was born. If that weren’t humiliating enough, his legs were spread wide, feet clamped down onto the bars with his ankles twisted outwards. Still, inside he was laughing ‘cause he didn’t know the answers to their rutting questions so this time he couldn’t be a betrayer even if he wanted to be. They could bring it on much as they wanted, but they weren’t never gonna break him.

“What is Malcolm Reynolds’ destination?”

Whatever was laying across his back felt like stripes of cold and he reckoned that maybe he was wrong and that if they put one of them gorram monster sand-snakes he’d seen on Altrus on his bare skin he’d cry like a baby.

He cried anyways. The pain and the sparks and the smell of burning flesh alone was bad enough to make him whimper and want to spill secrets and when it happened again and again and again he found himself praying for Blue Hands or snakes -- anything rather than this.

“What is Malcolm Reynolds’ destination?”

They filled his head full of this gorram hissing noise and while he was going bug shit insane from that they began taking him apart layer by layer. A blade like one of the ones the doc had in his kit was waved in front of his face for him to examine and he vomited as it was used to pare away the soles of his feet. Once the crazy-making sound was switched off, they talked in easy-to-hear whispers about removing his organs one by one as they made incisions in his back.

But he didn’t know what pain really was until the bad thing happened.

When it ended he was broken into tiny pieces. That was the day he told them everything he knew in the whole ‘verse. That was the day they believed he was telling them the truth.

“What is Malcolm Reynolds’ destination?”

“I don’t gorram know. I never cared much ‘bout the details. Just wanted the ten percent. Please.” Tears ran down his face and he couldn’t stop them no matter how hard he tried. He’d not cried like this since he was a young ‘un.

“What is Malcolm Reynolds’ destination?”

“I don’t know.” Mal Reynolds didn’t leave crew behind. “But they’ll come for me. They will, they’ll come for me. They’ll come for me.”

The White Suit replaced the vials containing arthrobots and neutraliser inside a metal case then scrubbed the blood off his hands in the porcelain trough at the far end of the cell. Once he was cleaned up to his satisfaction he looked at Jayne through the visor and spoke in that digitally altered voice.

“That’s what we’re counting on next, Mr Cobb. Your location will not remain a secret.”

***

“All this yelling is getting mighty painful on the eardrums,” said Mal as he looked up from his book. “I’m beginning to wish they’d fitted you with a volume control.”

The big man stared at him, his eyes glazed over, but he did as he was told and quietened down some, still fighting against the restraints like a wild thing.

Mal stood up, hands reaching downwards, firstly to check he was armed and second to make sure he had the syringe handy that Simon had instructed to keep with him at all times while he was on babysitting duty. The man may well be Jayne Cobb, but at times he was deranged beyond reason. Not dissimilar to River when she’d first arrived on Serenity and that thought alone was enough to chill Mal bone deep.

He’d volunteered to take first shift after the doctor had told him that Jayne was likely to wake soon. There were answers to be had inside that feng le head of his former merc and Mal needed to find them out as soon as gorram possible.

Jayne’s expression was bordering on deep set terror again, a look that sent the frighteners racing through Mal, and he decided that if anyone was gonna play hunches and take a risk it should be him. Unfastening the straps from around the soldier’s body he could almost feel the relief oozing out.

“You stay calm now or I’ll be forced to use some of them drugs you dislike so strongly.” Mal didn’t miss Jayne’s slight glance in the direction of the cell door. “And don’t be thinking there’s anywhere to run because I’ve set up a field which’ll set your hair on end if you so much as go near it. But by all means try; it has to be more entertaining than this gorram ‘classic’ book I’m wading through that the shepherd gave me for my birthday last month.”

Mal quit yapping for a second and gave his tongue a well deserved rest. Wasn’t it Jayne who was supposed to be doing all the talking?

“Where’s my uniform?” asked Jayne, looking down at the loose fitting pyjama pants in disgust. It was a comfortingly familiar reaction and Mal couldn’t help smiling.

“You managed to rip yourself up good and proper. Everything got soaked in blood and pretty much destroyed so Kaylee trashed them. She says she’s going shopping for clothes for you soon as we hit rock so if I were you I’d live in fear knowing her fondness for pink.”

He was hoping for some sort of emotion on Jayne’s face at the mention of the girl’s name but all he got was a slight hint of nausea at the colour.

“Where you from originally, Wrighton?”

There was no answer but Jayne looked askance slightly at him then got unsteadily to his feet, most likely needing to test out his legs since he’d been laid up for a while.

Mal nodded and then sat back down in his chair wanting to offer up a show of trust.

“It ain’t as if telling me that itty bitty thing about yourself is going to cause any harm. After all I’m quite well aware of your name and rank by now and I think I’ve just about learned your enlistment number off by heart so I was thinking we could quit boring each other to death and try for a little friendly communication to pass the time.” Mal stopped for a moment to catch his breath then continued on. “I’ll go first, shall I? I’m from Shadow, grew up on a ranch there.”

“Osiris,” muttered Jayne in a distracted manner looking out into the corridor.

Kaylee was approaching the opening to the cell carrying a tray of food.

“Been checking on the monitor to see when you was awake enough for dinner,” she said with her biggest smile.

“Kaylee this is Commander Wrighton,” said Mal tapping in the code on his handset and taking the tray from the girl. “Kaylee’s our mechanic. She’s talented enough to wire up a tea kettle and make it fly, aren’t ya, little Kaylee?”

“And my captain is a born flatter. Y’ll have to watch out or he’ll be telling you what pretty blue eyes you’ve got.”

Mal put the tray down on the table and swatted the girl away. “Go clean engine parts before I make your hair stand on end.”

She laughed merrily. “I ain’t got time to stop and chatter anyhow. I gotta take some food to Baxter. He seems real nice.” She left the cell and by the time Mal had keyed in the code to reset the field, Wrighton was shovelling stew down his throat like it was in short supply -- the way Jayne had always done.

“’M hungry,” he said apologetically through a mouthful of reconstituted meat.

Mal resisted the temptation to tell him he always was.

“Doctor Tam and his sister were born on Osiris,” he said, “But then I guess you know that.”

Wrighton nodded, swilling down some coffee and pushing his plate aside then moving on to dessert.

“Family?” asked Mal.

“All dead.” Jayne was looking at him like it was his fault and Mal wondered what kind of switches were clicking inside that head.

“Mine too,” answered Mal. “I guess there’s no point in asking you if you’re married ‘cause you wouldn’t be doing missions out in the deep black if you were.”

There was just silence but Mal figured it was better than screaming and reckoned it was safe to continue. “So you were born on Osiris and went to military academy there I presume?”

Jayne nodded, his mouth too full of what went by the name of chocolate pudding to answer.

“After that you musta fought in the war then carried on in the corps and ended up here.”

“That about sums it up,” said Jayne, finishing off his coffee and looking at Mal quizzically, most probably wondering what the next line of questioning was going to be.

Mal decided to go for a biggie. “So how come you ended up with all of them scars on your back?”

“Dunno what you’re gorram talking about,” said Jayne looking at him like he was crazy.

“The scars, Wrighton. The scars that’re all over your back. How did you come by them?”

“Ain’t got no scars.”

Mal was feeling somewhat dumbfounded.

“You know they’re there,” he said in disbelief, “Who was it done this to you, Jayne?”

The man got up and began pacing the room. “Lucas Willard Wrighton. Air Commander, 14th Brigade, Reclamation Division, Federal Alliance Corps. 11730293.”

“Who was it who tortured you? Who was it put them scars on your back, Jayne?”

“Ain’t got no scars. Ain’t. Jayne. Cobb.”

With hindsight Mal decided to change dumbfounded to just plain old dumb. It wasn’t easy fending off an attack from a six foot four soldier who was insane with rage and whose favourite pastime was killing the people who riled him up most.

The first hit of sedative missed entirely and Mal was truly beginning to fear for his life until he managed to reset the syringe and was plenty thankful when it made contact and hissed out a quieter message to say it had entered skin.

Mal was more than relieved when he managed to drag the big man close enough to the bed to ensure that no carrying was required when he passed out cold. With any luck no one would be the wiser ‘bout his stupidity ‘cept for the obvious split lip and choke marks. And the fact that everything in here was supposed to be monitored.

The somewhat delayed sound of racing footsteps proved that point for definite.

“I’m sorry, Sir. Are you okay?” said Zoë. “Wash and I were busy-“

“I’m sure I don’t need to be told what you and Wash were busy doing while I was being beaten to within an inch of my life.”

“We were discussing the situation.” Zoë frowned. “And we’d like to call a meeting. None of us think it’s the best idea having Jayne and his little Alliance friend here on Serenity.”

“Ain’t. Jayne,” said a doped up voice.

Mal dabbed at his lip with a handkerchief. “I recall a lot of you saying the same thing about the Tams when we first picked ‘em up. Shall I dump them off at the same time as well?”

“With respect, Sir, it’s not the same thing at all.”

Mal felt all too much like Captain Bligh in that book he was reading. “I’ll go to your meeting and I’ll listen to your opinions, but, at the end of the day, I'm the captain of this boat and what I say goes, dong ma?”

“Understood, Sir.”

***

Wrighton felt rather than heard them leave, his mind a confused jumble as he tried to stay focused on what was happening in the verse. If Reynolds could be persuaded to go along with the rest of his crew then maybe he and Baxter would be able to make it back to Corps HQ. But, then again, the crew might well have other plans, ones which wouldn’t have such a positive outcome.

“Jayne, you been a bad bad boy again. Come here and be a man and own up to that whupping you deserve.”

Wrighton winced at the clarity of the voice in his head.

“Jayne, come back here right now.”

No, I don’t want to, Ma. I don’t wanna go back.

Was he screaming this time before sleep had even dragged him under? He forced his eyelids open by sheer willpower, but the sedatives were too powerful an opponent in his weakened state. The dreams were getting clearer, but none of it made any sense. No one had tortured him. He didn’t have scars. He wasn’t Jayne Cobb.

“Jayne Cobb, prisoner number 11730293 transfer from Federal Intelligence sector 5,” said the electronic voice as his palm was pressed against the scanner and the ident chip spelled out the latest details.

“This place is soft compared to most,” said the guard as he shoved Jayne through the doors. “You’re privileged to be here so you’ll be expected to work hard or you and your block won’t be getting no rations. We let the inmates deal with slackers. It’s best all ways.”

Time was muddled in his head but from the agony he felt when trying to walk a single step, Jayne reckoned it hadn’t been long since they’d stripped layer after layer of skin off his feet.

He looked uncertainly down at the bunk with its stained mattress and pile of dirty sheets but was about to collapse onto the bed regardless of its state when an arm reached out and grabbed him.

“Ain’ts no eatin’ nor sleepin’ ‘til work is done. Best gits used to that.”

Jayne looked blearily at his cell mate, the agonizing pain making everything sparkle with coloured lights like one of them kaleidoscopes he’d looked through when he was a kid. He’d never forgotten the prettiness found inside them toys.

“Name’s Truck and I’s the big man in charge of Gamma Block. New inmates comes to me first to they can gits broke in.”

The albino wasn’t as tall as Jayne but he was a huge barrel of a gan ni niang. His shaved head shone like it was oiled and it was marked with intricate ink work down one side. Rutting hell, a Gardolin fighter. They were chosen at birth and entered training school at four years old to learn how to beat a man into pulp with their bare hands. Jayne’d taken on a couple in his time and just about won out. He’d also lost badly on one occasion and ended up in one of them meat factory med aid centres with near every bone in his gorram body crushed. And that was when he was himself and not some mangled broke-down version.

“Stands up straight, Cobb. You gits to listen now while I tells you how things work round here. Five morning ‘til seven night we works the mine. ‘F you don’t digs up ‘nough ore when they measures then we’s all the ones t’ suffer. F’ that happens then yous’ll learn ‘bout suffering by my hand. Get it?”

Jayne nodded. How in the hell was he gonna work when he couldn’t even bear a foot to touch the gorram ground? He could feel that suffering looming close by already.

He’d wanted Mal to keep away. Wanted it with all of his insides - his heart maybe. But now he was scared like he’d never been scared before, and scared and broke made him crave rescue more’n anything.

Mal Reynolds would come for him.

The prisoners were transported to the pit, shackled together so close it were near impossible for ‘em to be able to find breathing space. Only good thing was the nearness of them stinking bodies provided Jayne with a prop. Once he was sent down into the mine shaft that was gone.

Caged into position at the face and grasping hold of a rock hammer that was chained to a loop in the wall to prevent any ‘accidents,’ Jayne managed the first couple of hours good enough, but then rough prison clothes rubbed away at the partially healed wounds on his back and both feet felt like fire incinerating him from the bottom up. Add to that the crawling itching sickness inside his organs from the bad thing and he was trapped in a place worse than any hell.

There was no food for the inmates on Gamma Block that night and as Jayne was left face down on the mattress, pus from his wounds seeping into the overalls, semen and blood from his torn hole oozing out between his legs and down onto the mattress he wondered how long it’d take Mal to come get him.

“Ain’ts no sickness yous can have that I ain’t already got,” laughed Truck as he wiped himself down with a dirty hand and clambered up into the overhead bunk. “Believes me.”

Jayne believed.

Wrighton staggered out of bed and made it to the near privacy of the three walls of the john before he vomited.

“I need to see a doctor. I need to see a gorram rutting doctor,” he yelled up at the cam link. “I need a gorram doctor. I need to see the gorram rutting hun dan doctor. Can you hear me? Listen, you pieces of gou shi buru, I need to see the rutting doctor. I need…”

Eventually Wrighton gave up. Slumping down onto his bunk, he sucked in a controlled breath then bent his elbow and hooked his arm up behind him, running a palm over the skin. Screwing up his face in disgust, he felt the ridges and dips of the severe scarification that covered his back like it was the first time. It was the first time. How could that be?

“Lucas Willard Wrighton. Air Commander, 14th Brigade, Reclamation Division, Federal Alliance Corps. 11730293. Lucas Willard Wrighton. Air Commander, 14th Brigade, Reclamation Division, Federal Alliance Corps. 11730293. “Lucas Willard Wrighton. Air Commander, 14th Brigade, Reclamation Division, Federal Alliance Corps. 11730293…”

~~****~~

“Well,” said Mal in full on petulant mood still tinged with a hint of Captain Bligh. “You called this meeting, Zoë. I‘d say that means you should be the one to speak up.”

“I’ll speak up fer the lot of us,” said Soo-Yeung, the new muscle, who Mal had hired on in Persephone six months ago. They weren’t no funny stories involving Soo like there were with Jayne. He missed the rutting funny stories more than anything.

“Far as I can recall, I weren’t asking you,” said Mal, fixing the soldier with a dirty look. The guy was as good at killing as Jayne had ever been but he made their previous merc seem like Mary gorram Poppins crossed over with Albert Einstein. It was fair to say Mal hadn’t taken to the man.

“Ain’t right having no rutting ‘lliance hundan shipping out with us,” muttered Soo.

“We put it to the vote, Sir, and most of us agree with him,” said Zoë, her eyes remaining respectfully downcast in contrast to her verbal disloyalty.

“Show me then,” said Mal, getting up and prowling round the mess room like it was his lair. Matter of fact Serenity was his lair and people ought to remember that. “Show me them arms. All those in favour of dropping Jayne and Baxter off on the nearest piece of rock?”

Soo, Wash and Zoë were the first to raise hands. Mal couldn’t say he was surprised to see Simon’s arm go up. More surprising was the half-hearted manner in which the doc went about it.

“All those against.”

Kaylee, Book and Inara stood up to be counted. Mal nodded his thanks to the companion. He knew she was only doing it for his sake--Inara had never displayed any particular fondness for Jayne in the past--but it meant a lot to have her support. Maybe someday they’d be able to narrow that gulf between them. The surprise factor in the ‘no’ camp was River who waved her arm insistently.

“Looks like that’s a negatory then folks,” said Mal. “‘ppears you tallied it up wrong first time round, Zo.”

“You can’t count River’s vote.” Simon stood up and approached Mal, halting the relentless wandering with a palm to his chest. “She has no idea what she’s talking about.”

“Blue hands. Three keys to unlock the door,” said River insistently. “I know. I see.”

“But River counts well enough when there’s a share of the coin up for grabs, don’t she?” Mal shrugged. “Way I see it, girl makes more sense than you most of the time, Doctor Tam.”

“We ain’t really dumping Jayne off on no rim ‘toid are we, Cap’n?” asked Kaylee with sad eyes, “Not when we only just got him back.”

“Way you describe him sounds like he’s a pound puppy.” Wash forced a grin, looking pretty gorram unhappy with the situation.

“Instead of an Alliance traitor.” Simon still looked as confused as he was angry.

“Look here, folks,” said Book standing up and leaning over the table. “Let’s not rush into any hasty decision making. The sensible thing would be to talk to the young lieutenant and see if he has any information to offer up. Then, if we do decide to send them on their way, least we can do is make sure that Jayne is fit and well enough before we do so. It’s the humane thing to do.” The preacher fixed brown eyes on Simon Tam who looked away and studied the wall as if it were far more interesting to him than anything else in the room.

Something weren’t right with Tam and Mal was determined to find out what was going on inside that pretty head. The man was more mood swingy than a teenage girl.

“Meanwhile we wait for the Feds to track ‘em down and pick us up.” Soo glared at everyone. “I didn’t sign on this crew to earn myself some prison time.”

“He’s right again, Sir.” Zoë frowned. “We’ve spent years keeping River away from the Feds and now we could be walking straight into their latest trap.”

“Or not.” Mal was fast losing the small amount of patience he had left in reserve the longer theykept on travelling 'round in this same old circle. “Are you and Soo planning on keeping this love-in between the two of you going, '‘cause if that’s the case I may well need a sick bag soon?”

“Hey!” retorted Wash indignantly.

“Sorry,” said Mal with a twisted smirk, “I meant to say the three of you.”

Wash exchanged an uncertain glance with his wife as Mal looked up at the monitor that was fixed to a steel girder and took a swig of his coffee.

“I give up,” he said resignedly, “If it comes down to a case of you or them then I’ll not split my crew up over this. We’ll put Jayne and Baxter ashore when we re-supply next.”

It wasn’t quite deliberate his activating the sound so the rest of the crew could hear the mumbled confusion coming from Jayne’s cell. Not quite deliberate but it had the desired result.

They stared up at the screen; at the man huddled over on his side, arms wrapped tight around himself, evidence of the torture he’d suffered visible for them all to see.

Cruel but effective.

There was no more talk of marooning.

***

“I think it’s about time you and I had a little talk, Baxter,” said Mal carrying the tray of rations into the cell. He was beginning to feel more like a waitress than skipper of a Firefly.

“I’ve been asking to speak to you since I was imprisoned.”

The lieutenant was pacing backward and forwards across the room, running a hand through buzz cut hair that was so fair it was almost transparent. Then he stopped suddenly and looked up at Mal like he was God and it made the captain somewhat nervous. It was beginning to seem as if Zoë was right about him being as sly as they come, but the boy’s next words made Mal do a swift rethink.

“I demand to see my commander,” he said in an officious voice.

Baxter had reverted instantly to corpsman like a switch had been flicked on inside him.

“Problem is you ain’t exactly in a demanding position. I had to explain this earlier to Wrighton as you call him- ‘Cept he isn’t Wrighton, is he, Baxter?”

“You have no idea what you’re dealing with, Reynolds. If I don’t get to see Wrighton soon then you’ll all regret it.”

The increasing pitch of Baxter’s voice was sounding distinctly like panic to Mal’s ears.

“Why, son?” he asked, laying a hand on the boy’s shoulder to calm him. Last time he used that voice was on Tracey and that whole mess hadn’t turned out too well. Jayne was already missing by then. They coulda done with him that day.

For some reason all Mal could do was wonder what happened to that package he’d picked up for Jayne from the post master same time as they’d taken delivery of Tracey’s ‘dead’ body.

Baxter fished in his pocket and held out a scrunched up piece of paper covered in tiny blue dots.

“If he doesn’t get one of these tabs a day he’ll revert. I know that because I’m his trainer.”

***

All it took was some simple manoeuvring; Reynolds was such an easy mark. A little soft soaping and some chat and Wrighton was able to catch the man off guard with an elbow crooked around his throat.

“Not gonna hurt you,” he said throwing the syringe across the room and disarming the captain all too quickly. Easy mark wasn’t the word for him. A corpsman would've been ashamed to get taken down that way.

“Never thought you were,” hissed Reynolds and that threw Wrighton enough for him to slacken his grip.

“What is it you want?”

The man didn’t even try and fight to get to his weapon and Wrighton was becoming more confused by the minute. Did these people think he was some kind of helpless idiot? He was their rutting enemy: trained to track ‘em down; intercept then kill ‘em.

“Need to see the doctor. It’s personal like,” he said releasing Reynolds and stepping back. “Don’t want it broadcast around the boat.”

“I’ll arrange it.” The captain’s voice was gritty and sore-sounding and he caught Wrighton in one of them stares that left him reeling from the familiarity.

“And, Wrighton? Next time try asking first,” Reynolds said rubbing at his throat, “It’s easier on my neck and unless you’re asking for something real dumb, I guarantee it’ll have the same result.”

Wrighton was taken down to the infirmary almost immediately and, once Tam assured him that the Hippocratic oath applied regardless of the situation, Wrighton stared at the floor and tried to explain in as few words as possible why he was there.

“I need to be checked out for S.T.D’s.”

There were no awkward questions and, to be truthful, Wrighton couldn’t have wished for a better doctor. It was crazy getting tested because of a dream. But what if- When the shudder hit him he tried his best to suppress it.

It took no time at all to draw the necessary samples.

“I’ll screen these and then get back to you with the results as soon as possible,” said Tam then added in a quieter tone of voice. “Does this have anything to do with the damage to your back?”

Wrighton shrugged. What else could he do when he didn’t know any of the answers?

Back safe inside his cell, he stared at the walls blankly. He was stuck faster than a rat in a trap. The thought of rodents pushed pictures into his mind of a ramshackle home and being swung up into the arms of a huge overall clad man, all blackened and sweaty from work. Welder? That was a job that didn’t slot into life on Osiris. Everything was pleasant and clean on his home planet. Hard goods were never manufactured; they were imported along with everything else. It was a world of high finance, judiciary and legislature.

But how did the dreams fit in? They’d haunted him forever and before they’d always stayed on the furthest side of his subconscious. Now they were solidifying, whittling away at him the same way those scars on his back did. He remembered the terror of being eaten alive. He remembered White Suits. If things weren’t what they seemed then who the hell was he?

Breathing in deeply to control his fear, Wrighton lay down on the bunk and closed his eyes. He had to know.

In too much pain to fight back, Jayne gave in night after night. It was exponential; the hungrier the men were, the more brutal they became, with more and more of the Gamma Block inmates becoming involved as time wore on.

Finally, when his wounds began to heal, Jayne managed to scrape enough product to get a nod from the measurer and he had the beginnings of a reprieve. A whole week’s reprieve until infection set in and he became too sick to lift a hammer.

The sex didn’t register anymore. He’d switched off sometime during week two.

“Yous forgotten how to scream?” said Truck, pulling him into a headlock. “The screamin’s what makes this good, dong ma. Scream, you bitch. Scream. Scream. Scream. Scream.”

“Scream. Scream. Scream…”

It was easy to ignore the chant from the men. One day he’d be back to his real self and then they’d know suffering. Soon, Mal’d come for him and he’d be fixed up and then he’d rip them to shreds. Soon.

But not soon enough for the Blue Hands.

They came for him with straightjackets and drugs, taking him away from hell in an unmarked matt-black shuttle craft.

“Apparently you’re not as valuable to Malcolm Reynolds as you believed.”

Jayne blinked, looking around him at grey men in a snow white world that he remembered all too clearly.

“Phase three is somewhat experimental and rather interesting. We’re going to make a new man of you, Mr Cobb.”

Now he was ready to scream, scream loud and scream long.

This time when Wrighton woke up he knew the truth.

***

“I’m Jayne Cobb. Lucas Wrighton don’t exist.”

Mal looked for some hint of relief on the man’s face, but he was as expressionless as ever. “I know,” he said, “Baxter went partway to explaining some of this mess. Been waiting for the memories to kick in before I spoke to you about it.”

“I don’t know what I am.”

It was as if Jayne hadn’t heard a thing.

‘What I am,’ didn’t sound right to Mal’s ears. “Simon wants to see you,” he said, words spilling out his mouth in a rush to stop him thinking about how someone’d go about stealing a man away from himself. “Maybe you should talk to him.”

“They took me and they broke me into pieces and then they took everything that was me out and they made me into someone else.” Jayne was sitting on his bunk staring at the opposite wall. “You shouldn’a brung me back. You shouldn’a done it, you rutting Browncoat. Shouldna-”

Mal felt sick inside. “We could’ve left you, Jayne. We could’ve killed you or dumped you off on the nearest planet. But we didn’t, dong ma?”

But how was Jayne gonna understand when Mal himself didn’t get anything that was going on. Certainly not the look that was being levelled his way by the mercenary.

“Look it’s a free ‘verse, or so they say, Jayne. We’ll be planetside in a day and a half. It’s rim so it’ll take you a while to get anywhere but I don’t intend to keep you prisoner here ‘gainst your will.”

Punching in the code to disarm the cell security as proof of his good intentions Mal waved an arm in the direction of the door. “See? You’re free to go, Jayne.” He was overusing the man’s name and he knew it, but he had this crazy notion that if he didn’t keep saying it Wrighton would re-emerge. “Ain’t saying no one’s gonna be keeping an eye on you but your old bunk’s still there if you want it.”

“No!”

Mal weren’t expecting that.

“Only fair I stay locked up if you’re intending to keep my lieutenant in the cells.”

Baxter wasn’t ever Jayne’s lieutenant though, was he? By his own admission he was there to hold Jayne’s reins.

~~****~~

Mal didn’t want to be in charge of Serenity no more. He’d never in his life known a crew more out of sorts than this lot, Jayne more than any of ‘em. The man had agreed to be released from his cell, but insisted on being locked in his bunk at night and, most of the time, kept himself much to himself, especially as far as the girls were concerned. Kaylee was hurt and confused. Mal could see it written all over her face. She’d been fond of the big mercenary and had been the one to take it the hardest when he’d apparently turned coat. She’d been so excited coming back to Serenity with a whole bundle of Jayne-like clothes and when he couldn’t even raise a smile of gratitude, Mal was mad at him and miserable for her. He’d had tried to explain things to the girl, but how could he do that satisfactorily when he didn’t know anything.

“You and I’re gonna have us a talk,” said Mal soon as Jayne had finished in sickbay with Simon. “I can’t have my crew falling apart over this. We got a job to do tomorrow.”

They had a heist planned that would pay out big as long as they could manage to work together. Problem was Zoë and Soo still didn’t wanna have anything to do with Jayne. Wash was torn in two, Mal was nervy, Book was reading the Bible a lot and Jayne- Well, Jayne was acting like he was on a different planet and Mal was beginning to wish he was. The rest of ‘em were just plain old moody.

The man followed him reluctantly down to his cabin, the only place they could talk without threat of being overheard. For a biggish ship with a tiny crew, Serenity afforded them a dismally small amount of privacy.

Mal pushed the only seat Jayne’s way and then poured them both a shot of whiskey in the hope it would loosen tongues. Handing over a glass, Mal sat down on his bed wondering how to start off this long awaited conversation.

“So you sold out the Tams on Ariel?” he said eventually watching Jayne’s face for a reaction. Was he wanting him to deny it?

Jayne nodded slowly.

“But I tried to make right on what I done. Tried to hold ‘em off long enough for ‘em to get away.”

“Guess you managed that at least.”

This made more sense to Mal than Simon’s explanation. If Jayne had been fighting off the Feds then they would have had reason to take him prisoner and do whatever they did. His head was spinning from all the half truths. If people would just tell him the facts then he might stand a chance of getting this all figured out.

“I reckon I’da been able to fight off them soldier boys, but it weren’t them was the problem. Just two of them there were. Always just the two.”

Jayne was drifting off inside his head so Mal leaned over and woke him up a little with a couple of fingers more whiskey. “Two what, Jayne?”

“Blue Hands,” he said, turning not so blank eyes to look Mal’s way. The coldness was preferable.

“What happened?” Mal wasn’t sure if he wanted to know.

The truth came out. Calm and controlled as if Jayne was reporting back to H.Q.. The sparse documentary of torture and imprisonment didn’t match the fear in those eyes. He talked of going to sleep one man and waking up another without expressing one single feeling on the matter. It was eerie.

“They said I was an experiment,” said Jayne thoughtfully in a voice that wasn’t his, “I been wondering if I was a success.”

After he’d finished with Jayne, Mal moved on to the infirmary.

“What you treating him for, Simon?”

The doctor looked down at his dirty set of instruments. “You know I can’t tell you that. Not under any circumstances.”

“Jayne admits to turning you in on Ariel, but says he had a change of heart and was trying to hold off the Feds long enough so’s you and River could escape.”

“And you believe him?” Simon stacked instruments into the autoclave in neat rows.

“For what it’s worth, yes I do,” said Mal, watching the doctor’s body language carefully. “I can’t see any reason for him to lie. It’s not as if he’s trying to win any of us over with his new charming self. The old Jayne was actually more personable, though I would have sincerely doubted that were possible before I saw it with my own true eyes. Plus, Simon, his story makes sense whereas yours don’t.”

“Maybe, but it doesn’t alter the fact that he was willing to sell us out.”

“See, by my reckoning it goes like this. You found out what Jayne had done when you were in that hospital, but you also knew he’d had a change of heart. ‘M I right so far?”

There was no vehement denial coming so Mal carried on with his on the spot hypothesising.

“The way you looked at it things’d be safer for you and River with Jayne out of the way so you told me fifty percent of the truth and let me make the decision to leave him and go.”

“Don’t you think I haven’t suffered enough over that since he came back?”

“As much as Jayne did?”

“Did he think about River when he accepted those pieces of silver?”

Mal rubbed at his temples.

“Headache?” asked Simon with a concerned look on his face.

“Always.” Mal jumped slightly as the hit of medication entered his skin. “What I want to know is how do we find our Jayne?”

“If I knew that, do you not think I’d have my sister back whole again?”

Silence surrounded them, heavy and thick like Higgins’s Moon mud.

Baxter’s cell was the next port of call on Mal’s expedition of discovery.

“You can’t keep me here indefinitely,” said the young lieutenant looking up at Mal with despondent blue eyes.

“Says who?” Mal grinned. “I’m not aware there’s a thieves’ rule book, but if I ever find one I’ll let you know how long I’m allowed to hang on to naughty Fed boys for.”

The kid almost smiled.

“Course maybe if you’d be a little more helpful I might think again and decide I need my cell for more important and nefarious smuggling purposes.”

The kid almost smiled again.

“All I want to know is how do I get Jayne Cobb back?”

The smile fizzled out like a damp squib.

“Believe me, you don’t want to,” said Baxter grimly.

***

“There, that should fix you up,” said Simon, clamping an arm around Jayne’s wrist to hold him in place for the final needle-full of antibiotics. “You’re lucky the disease didn’t do more harm being in your system for so long.”

“Yeah, thanks,” said Jayne looking at the ground like always.

“Anything you want to talk about?” asked Simon.

For once Jayne looked up. “Does River dream?”

“Yes, she does, quite badly at times,” answered the doctor, cocking his head speculatively on one side. “Are your nightmares getting worse?”

Jayne inclined his head slightly. The truth and the lies were so mixed up in his mind that couldn’t tell which way was up anymore. “Can you give me something to stop ‘em?”

“I could probably synthesize a drug, but I won’t do it. Dreams are a way of working through your problems. If you repress them then the body’ll only find another way of telling you something’s wrong.”

“That’s a no then?”

“I’m afraid so,” said Simon with a sympathetic shrug.

Jayne got up to leave. Gorram doctor was no help at all. Reliving the things that they’d done to him was agonizing. The hands drilling inside his skull. Drugs and pain and needles and them glass rods digging into the dark parts of his brain. The flashing lights telling him who he was and who he wasn’t. Making him think better, harder, quicker. Fed by drips. Drained by catheters. Bombarded by constant questions, electricity arcing into him when he got the answers wrong.

Most frightening of all was that those were the easy memories to deal with.

~~****~~

Jayne knew he must be needed today otherwise they wouldn’t have bothered with him. He was a Jonah skulking around the edge of Serenity. A bad penny who’d returned unwanted to the fold.

Staying out on the fringes of the conversation, he listened to Mal spelling out the details, all the time watching the effect he had on others. Zoë’s distrust, Soo’s dislike, a disappointment to everyone else. Only Kaylee, Book and the captain ever looked at him like he was worth something, and they were so very wrong.

“You’re a real boy, Jayne Cobb,” said a voice and Jayne looked down at the feng le girl who wasn’t as feng le as him. Now he knew about the White Suits and the Blue Hands he was ripped apart by even more guilt. Whoever he was.

River’s fingers dusted over him like she was brushing off tiny particles and for once he didn’t shy away.

“Real man is here,” she said touching his chest. “Not here.” She reached upwards to his head. “It can be quiet when you learn not to listen too much.”

“You got them idents you made up for us, Jayne?” said Mal waking him up a little out of his self reflection.

That was still something he could do. They used to laugh at him once. Whoever he was. Laugh because some dumb as they come mercenary with big clumsy hands shouldn’t be able to fake up cards the way he could. Hooking them out of the back pocket of his pants, he passed them over to Mal.

Maybe if he could get through today he’d feel more like that real boy River was talking about.

***

The plan was all about swiping this brain-as-big-as-a-planet computer from under the noses of a faction of the local mob. The machine was s’posed to be able to predict winners of the Federation Raftball Premiership eighty eight point five percent of the time and was a bookmaker’s nightmare and a gambler’s dream. Mal had a string of buyers fighting to take it off his hands throughout the ‘verse.

Once the hover was hijacked successfully and the sentry accepted the mocked up passes and let them through into the compound, Jayne relaxed. All was going great until the guard who was helping them load the crates into the cargo bins looked closely at Mal’s ID tag.

“Gral Shaprath? My brother Maloya worked with you over in Sinkreeth Base.”

“Yeah? How is he?” answered Mal as pleasantly as he could manage.

“You oughta know, you gou cao de son of a whore, seeing as you’s the one that kill’d him.”

“Ah well. He was most probably an ignorant sumbitch like you,” said Mal as Soo snapped the guard’s neck and threw the body in a dumpster.

Unfortunately the raised voices had alerted the rest of the compound to something being wrong and Redden gang members were crawling out of the woodwork like termites.

“Time to make a swift exit, I reckon,” said Mal, backing into the shuttle as Jayne, Soo and Zoë covered him, clipping off shots with pinpoint accuracy.

“Shift it, Wash,” yelled Mal, securing the hatch. “Right now I’m sincerely wishing Kaylee had had time to soup this little baby up like she wanted.”

The biggest problem was that the micro-hovers following them were far newer and quicker machines. Wash managed to dodge rounds fired off at them from the onboard laser cannons but they still had a pack of hounds on their tail.

“S’gonna be a case of load up and run as fast as our little legs’ll carry us,” said Mal with a grimace. “Jayne, you and Soo do what you do best and keep the rest us from being dead while we carry all the parts of this pretty little box of tricks on board. Don’t wanna leave no vital bits behind.”

If the look Soo was throwing Jayne’s way was anything to go by, the new merc weren’t best pleased about Mal aiming directions at him, but right now Jayne didn’t much care. This was something he could do on instinct. Didn’t need to think about crap, just had to react and shoot. Keep his people safe. Whoever he was.

Wash spun the hover around at the last second almost crashing into Serenity’s port side and Soo and Jayne raced out, fast as greased lightning, taking up position and gunning down the gangsters as they came hard at ‘em.

“Move your asses and let’s get us out of here,” yelled Mal from the loading ramp once everything was stowed away, but there were too many shots firing off for the mercs to make it back to the ship without being as full of holes as one o’ them paper doilies Jayne’s ma used to put out to cover up the cracks in the plates when company was coming over. Some of the memories that kept popping up in his head were weird to say the least. Still, they stopped him from thinking too much about the other stuff.

Wash and Book took up position on the far side of the hover with Zoë and Mal creeping round and sniping the enemy one by one. Jayne could feel them at his back where they belonged and just for a second all was right with the ‘verse again. Then he took aim and picked off his nearest target and as the hat flew off and the body fell backwards with a gaping hole in its chest, Jayne found himself looking down at a kid who could’na been more than fourteen years if he were a day.

The few gang members that were left backed off from the intense fire, taking cover in a sparse thicket of trees.

Dropping his stance Jayne walked forward zombie-like, staring down at the boy he’d killed. Everything was dreamy silent, but when he looked around Soo’s mouth was moving and his weapon was lifting upwards.

“You’s nothing but a rutting hindrance you crazy ass piece of shit.”

Jayne’s gun was hanging lifeless in his hands and, as he watched Soo’s finger twitch on the trigger, he left himself open. Wanting an end to it.

A shot fired off and he waited for his chest to implode making a matching set with the caved in mess lying on the ground next to him, but there was no burn and no blood - no nothing. Instead it was Soo that yelped out and then gurgled and Zoë was just standing there, rifle smoking in her hands with this intense look on her face.

“You don’t take down one of your own,” she said simply then re-loaded and aimed at the back end of one of the retreating hovers. Seemed like the Reddens had had enough of Serenity’s madness for one day.

Jayne could hear stuff going on around him like he was underwater.

The doc’s voice. “Soo’s dead.”

Mal’s voice. “And rightly so.”

But none of it meant a whole lot until he bent down and picked up the dripping wet body of the boy. Mudder boy? No.

No!

Staggering back as if he was the one’d been ripped apart by gunfire, the body fell from Jayne’s arms as images hit him right between the eyes like bullets.

“Jayne. Jayne. Jayne!”

“What is up with the moonbrain bastard?”

***

“Help me get him onto Serenity so we can get the hell out of here,” snapped Mal, slipping an arm around the stricken mercenary.

It was all going to hell and once again Mal had no idea why. Why did people keep turning the rutting lights off and leaving him floundering around in the dark?

Zoë took Jayne’s left side and together they dragged the blood-covered man up the ramp and into the loading bay.

“What do we do about Soo-Yeung?” asked Book, looking over at the body of their fallen crew mate.

“We haven’t time for him.” Mal didn’t give a damn if he was honest with himself. “And truth be told he don’t deserve any of your kind words, preacher.”

“I know, but still…”

Book was a man with a damn big heart and Mal respected him for it, but right now wasn’t the time. “I’m sure you can think up a few long distance prayers that’ll get him off to a good start, wherever he’s going.”

Mal and Zoë let Jayne down as easy as they could manage, propping him against the wall of the hold.

“Can’t get him up them steps ‘til he snaps out of this whatever the gorram hell it is, he’s in.” Mal looked helplessly at the living areas of the ship but they may as well be the summit of a mountain.

He relaxed a little once he felt the distinctive judder of the burn and knew they were clear away from the atmo. The job had gone as good as they could wish for - apart from being one and a half guns down.

“Jayne? You okay?” Kaylee came hurtling across the walkway and down the series of ladders. “Has he been shot up bad?” she asked hand over her mouth as she looked at all the blood.

“No. Ain’t nothing like that far as I can tell,” said Mal. “He was alright… and then he weren’t.”

Kaylee crouched down next to the big mercenary, resting her hand on his arm and all of a sudden he came back to life, flat palms pushing at Kaylee as he shifted back as far away as he could get into the corner.

“No. Not safe.” The words were nothing more than soft mumbling but they were determined.

“It’s okay,” Kaylee said soothingly like she was talking to a child. “You’re safe now, Jayne. Not gonna let them Feds get a hold of you nor River again, I promise,” said Kaylee leaning closer and once again getting pushed away.

“No. I know. I know all of it. I can see all of it.”

It was like Mal was stuck with his feet in cement and his head in cotton wool. He had no idea what to do for the best and all he could do was stand and watch things play out. When Kaylee tried to push forward again Simon was there, restraining the girl with an arm.

“Tell us,” he said quietly in that calm practitioner’s voice of his.

“Ain’t no one safe from him. From me,” Jayne said, full of too much feeling this time, enough to make Mal shiver. The man was choked up on unshed tears and self-hatred as he curled up in the corner like a wounded animal. “I can see it all. Lining them kids up in my sights, shooting at them like they was ducks in a fairground. Laughing as their heads exploded. Girls, scared girls, younger’n River. Pushing into ‘em. Not caring when they cried. Not just not caring. Liking it more. Ain’t no right to be in this world when I done them things.”

“When did you do those things, Jayne?” asked Simon.

“All the time. Always. Don’t wanna have done ‘em but I did.”

“Ain’t true,” said Kaylee. “It ain’t true, Jayne, none of it.”

“Is,” he said. “I don’t just see it, I can feel it. And that ain’t the worst neither. I got my filthy hands all over them. Ma and me sisters, taking ‘em, raping ‘em, killing ‘em when I was no more’n a boy myownself. Strangling Pa, taking the gun off of Mattie when he tried to stop me and turning it on him laughing as his chest opened up. Who else done it if it weren’t me?”

Kaylee backed away eyes wide and horror stricken and as she ran off, Jayne let out this low moan and wove his fingers together ‘round the back of his neck, resting his forehead against his knees and hiding away from everyone.

“They put the lies in peoples’ heads and then they tinker and tinker and tinker.” River sat down cross-legged in front of Jayne. “I can see the real and the not real.”

“Is that what they did to you, River?” asked Simon his face paler than cemetery stone. “Is this what they do to everyone?”

“Playing God,” said Book, older and angrier than Mal had ever seen him.

“Playing monsters more like.” Zoë looked as sick as Mal felt.

Her rage at the situation was so fierce, Mal could almost feel it smothering them all and he understood totally when she stormed out of the loading bay - off to calm down and most probably explain to Wash what was happening. Least killing Soo would have assuaged her guilt some.

“Jayne, sweetie, look,” called Kaylee, almost tripping over herself to get back down the steps to the hold as quickly as possible.

Mal winced. The girl was as kind as they come, but she didn’t have a whole lot of tact about her. She pushed her way through, sitting down next to River with this package on her knee.

“Listen up.” She opened the box and took out a folded piece of paper then began reading.

“My dear boy. I hope you are well and that you get this soon in your travels. Thank you for the credits you forwarded, they have helped, as Mattie is still sick with the Damplung. He waves hello, and so does your father. He is in good spirits and there was layoffs but the foreman said no one can weld like a Cobb so he has employment still. I made you the enclosed.”

Kaylee waved an orange knitted hat at Jayne, touching it against his face then leaving it on the floor next to him.

“See, Jayne, your mama made you a hat. We got this when we picked up mail after you’d gone and I kep’ it safe for you and didn’t open it. But then you were gone for so long and I wanted to see what was in it.” She chewed at her lip and waited like she was wanting Jayne to yell at her for nosing around in his personal business. Instead he remained silent and so Kaylee looked back down at the paper. “Lemme see what else she says. ‘I made you the enclosed to keep you warm on your travels. Hope to hear from you soon, love, Mother.’ Well that’s it but see, you couldn’ta done those bad things, could you? Not if your family’s still alive and writing to you and making you presents. Jayne, listen to me. None of that stuff in your head is true.”

***

None of it was true? Something must be true. Something inside that mess of kills and blood and dust and dirt and love and hate and fear and family. If none of it was true then what was left?

He could hear Wrighton’s wounded animal moan coming from somewhere and it filled up the spaces inside his head enough to stop the thinking for a while, but then there was another softer sweeter voice for him to listen to.

“Hush, Jayne, you gotta be quiet now.”

Then his hands were full of orange and he gripped a tight hold of it and buried his face into the scratchy wool until he could smell mustiness and laundry detergent and meat roasting.

He didn’t know how long he’d spent almost crying into the material but when he looked up faces were still surrounding him.

“I waited for you to come for me,” he said, not like he was accusing them but more ‘cause it was plain fact, and when Kaylee’s arms slipped around him and he felt shudders like she was sobbing he thought he should push her away, but he didn’t want to.

“Jayne, I- There’s a whole lotta talking needs be done.” Mal’s voice was all hollowed out like he was speaking from inside a cave.

“Not the time for that, Cap’n.”

The words sure sounded like Kaylee but they couldn’t’ve been ‘cause she never went against Mal.

Led blindly up the stairs by hands which were smaller but stronger than his, the next Jayne knew he was in his bed being soothed and looked after by the two young ‘uns of the crew - Kaylee who didn’t have it in her heart to give up hope and River who could see inside his head and make sense of the mess.

She could see inside his head and she weren’t afraid of him.

~~****~~

Mal rubbed his eyes. He’d slept restlessly, plagued by dreams of torture only instead of Jayne being the one strapped to the bed in that white room he’d described, it was him. “River, I need you to come with me and get involved in a little interrogating of our prisoner. Reckon you can do that?”

“Can I kill him with my brain?” River danced with pleasure at the idea and Mal had to smile. Seven years on from when he’d met her and she was more like a kid then ever at times. A scary, dangerous, highly intelligent and confusing one, but still a kid.

“Nope, no killing, Missy. Fact is I want you to show him your sweetest side and, while you’re doing that, if you can have a root around inside his brain it would be most useful. I’d like to know how much the boy really knows.”

“River and nice and purple belly are not a happy mix.”

“True but if you do this for me then next time we meet up with some maybe I’ll let you play proper.”

Just the thought of that made Mal nervous. None of them actually had any idea of River’s true capabilities yet. They knew she could fight better’n most, but Simon was still so protective of her and truth was she was still a mite too unpredictable to be allowed access to the weapons locker.

River smiled serenely, spat on her hand and held it out to Mal in a gesture would have seemed more appropriate coming from a rancher on Shadow than a dainty thing like her.

“It’s a deal,” she said in a gravely serious voice when he shook on it.

As they made their across catwalks and down the ladders heading for the brig, Mal looked over his shoulder at River.

“How’s Jayne this morning?” he asked.

“Trying to pull the wrong shaped pieces out and fit in the right ones,” she said, “And he’s so miserable it hurts me here,” she punched a fist into her guts. “Kaylee tries to make him smile but it’s lost; she can’t find it anywhere.”

Well now Mal felt a whole lot worse. He’d avoided Jayne’s bunk deliberately to allow the man time to settle some. It wasn’t an excuse he told himself. Once they’d off loaded the super computer to Davian Mer, governor of the inner rim planet Xentrus, who had topped the bidding stakes at an eye rolling amount of credits, then he could think about how to deal with the Jayne situation. How come everything to do with his crew was always a gorram situation?

Tapping in the code to disable the iso-field, Mal slid the fingers of his right hand over the holster at his hip as he and River entered the cell.

“Hey, Lieutenant. How are you doing this fine day?” His tone was amicable. He reckoned friendly probably worked best with the young soldier.

“I need to get access to Wrighton. I explained the situation to you last time we talked.” Baxter began pacing the cell in that annoying manner of his, hands behind his back relentlessly retracing his steps.

Mal tried his best to damp down the fury that was building. “Can’t do that I’m afraid seeing as Commander Wrighton doesn’t exist. We’re back to plain old Jayne Cobb again now.”

“You gorram idiot.” Baxter looked at him aghast. “You have no idea what you’ve done.”

“No lies coming from him,” said River quietly, “He believes in the stories.”

Baxter stared at the girl who was sitting perched on the edge of the table smiling prettily at him.

“Sorry to have to be the one to tell you this, Baxter, but your Jayne and my Jayne are very different and as it happens it’s the stories about your man that are a pile of gou shi.” Mal leant casually against the wall. “See, he ain’t the most pleasant son of a bitch you’ll ever meet by any stretch. In fact first time we met he had a gun pointing my way and it was only money made him turn coat and come join my crew, but he sure ain’t the gan ni niang rapist you reckon he is.”

“Jayne Cobb was one of the most vile men this verse has ever had to deal with. Putting an end to his killing ways was our duty as human beings.”

“And had you heard of his name before you ‘worked’ with him?”

To give him some due Baxter thought long and hard and then looked up slightly puzzled. “I heard he’d fooled you into letting him become part of your crew.”

“No. What you heard was that Jayne Cobb was one of mine. The rest of that crap came after. I should feel sorry for you, boy,' cause you’ve almost been treated as bad as Jayne has. Except for the torturing of course. They didn’t torture you in Sun Tzu did they?” Mal cracked his knuckles, enjoying the look of discomfort he was getting.

“What makes you so convinced that your version is the true one?” snapped Baxter.

“Oh, look at me forgetting my manners,” said Mal shaking his head, “I forgot to introduce you to my friend here. She’s a very bright young thing, genius one might say. Can even read people’s minds and that has come in very useful recently.”

Mal took River by the hand and she hopped off the table still smiling pleasantly at the lieutenant.

“Baxter, I’d like you to meet River Tam. She probably ain’t quite as fearsome as you’ve been taught to believe neither.”

The look on the man’s face was priceless.

***

Jayne weren’t coming back from this. He knew it more with every day that passed. Soon as they got to a rock that was quiet and civilised enough he could find simple work to earn him a living he’d leave. He’d be a welder like his pa, mebbe.

Angry at the pictures which pushed a path into his head, he smashed out at the pile of boxes he was meant to be shifting around the hold. He knew they only give him job to keep his head occupied but it stopped the thoughts for a while.

“You can give in or you can use what they did.”

He looked up and saw River eying him thoughtfully from the overhead gangway. Stepping barefoot down the stairs, she approached him balanced like a bird on a wire.

“They make us better.”

“I don’t feel better, girl.”

“They take and twist and break. But they fix the parts like Kaylee does with Serenity. They make us fly quicker.”

She lashed out at him with a vicious roundhouse kick and it was all he could do to even see her as her toes landed like an iron punch to his guts.

“Use the new parts.”

He stood back up to his full height with a groan of pain and as a leg hooked behind his, he wound up looking up at the girl from the deck. She was poised ready to take him down again.

“I ain’t like you.”

“The other one is. Find him.”

He climbed to his feet only to be taken down by a fist to the chest.

“Find him!”

This time Jayne was warier. Closing his eyes, he relaxed, switching on the parts he’d been trying to suppress. He didn’t want to be that sick hundan who’d been haunting him for the past few weeks.

“Not him!”

“Girl, you’re more than a mite disturbing.” Jayne focused, getting to his feet and allowing his instincts to take over.

Watching as she circled him like he was prey he countered her moves, whipping forward and taking her down with a series of swift attacks.

“Again.”

Gorramit, Jayne was exhausted. To win out once was enough for him today.

He shook his head and walked toward the stairs only to be floored by a powerful kick to the back of his legs.

Crawling to sit on the bottom step, he took off his boots and tee shirt and left them in a pile on the floor. He had the feeling that he was gonna have to earn his right to leave here.

***

“You made a promise!”

Mal scrubbed his hands through his hair feeling the urge to scream. This was the fifth time River had confronted him since they’d been formulating a plan to deliver the computer to Mer.

“I said I’d let you have a swing at some purple bellies some time, is all little one.”

River folded her arms. “And there'll be some on Xentrus.”

“I think she should be a part of this. Can’t wrap her up in blankets forever, Sir.” Zoe shrugged.

“Absolutely not!” Simon folded his arms in a mirror image of his sister.

Mal was irked. After all he was captain of Serenity and that meant he got to do the decision making around here. “The girl’s right. I did say she could show off her skills. She’s going.”

Simon gave him a withering look. “You’d put my sister in harm’s way just to be contrary?”

Mal shrugged. Maybe the doctor weren’t too far off the mark.

“I'll be fine, Simon.” River smiled. “I will have Jayne there to look after me.”

Jayne looked as startled as Mal felt.

Wash looked around at the crew in amazement. “Guys, we’re in orbit. Maybe we should be figuring out the best way to get out of Xentrus with all them credits in stead of arguing ‘bout who’s going to the party?”

“My plan was to grab the money and run like lightning.” Mal always went for simple. Less room for humping things up.

“Sounds good to me.” Zoë nodded her approval.

“So you know you’re walking into a trap and you still want to take my sister along for the ride?”

Mal wondered if Simon was ever going to give up on throwing those patented looks of incredulity at them. Surely he should have a clue how things worked round here after this length of time?

“And Jayne too.” River nodded insistently.

And so that was the plan. They would keep Serenity at a safe distance and take a shuttle to the less secured half of the planet where they would carry an extremely valuable computer into the well-guarded Governor’s mansion. They would then make off with a vast amount of credits, all the while hoping that the two insane crew members wouldn’t freak out and kill them all by accident.

It was bearing up to be an average day for them.

***

That averageness continued to the point where they were surrounded by a platoon of Alliance troops the moment they set foot inside the mansion.

“Sorry about that, Mr Reynolds.” Mer sat complacently at his desk looking at them through heavy-lidded eyes. This way I get this little sweetheart.” He patted the computer. “And I get a substantial reward for bringing home the government’s very own baby girl.”

“How did you know River’d be here?” snarled Mal as he was forcibly restrained by two soldiers.

“Let’s just say I had some inside information.” The governor smirked. “And enough time to alert my friends here to the situation.”

Mal had that itching feeling of betrayal crawl up his spine once again. He hadn’t got over it from the last time.

Davian Mer turned to address the platoon leader. “You can hold them in cells on the compound. I’ll keep the girl here for now. I’d like to make sure my investment is safe. Pretty little ‘fugee seems to mean a lot to the government.”

Mal seethed as he, Zoë and Jayne were frog marched out of the office, down passageways that were covered in ornate gold mirrors and fancy artwork. The service area was much more utilitarian and after being bundled into an elevator they weaved their way through an underground network of corridors until they reached the prison section.

“Least they don’t appear to know anything about River except that she’s on the wanted list.” Zoë sat on the bunk disconsolately.

“Jayne, I-” Mal wasn’t certain what he was going to say to the merc, but whatever it might have been vanished as soon as the big man kicked at the bars and started up almighty loud ruckus.

Guards came running from all directions and Jayne continued to yell out as if he’d had his balls ripped off. Mal was considering doing just that procedure when the cell door opened and a uniformed Alliance doctor entered.

The man didn’t have time to zap Jayne and drag him off to the hospital wing. Fact is, they didn’t even have time to close the cell door. Before Mal could blink, the doctor was down and unconscious and, in a short space of time after that, so were two of the guards. Jayne stopped just long enough to pass weapons behind him and then he was off down the corridor, with Zoë and Mal racing after him.

No alert had been sounded; Jayne was too quick to allow the guards any time to think let alone react. Mal was all manner of bemused as they snuck through the compound on the way to the main body of the mansion. It was hellish sickening watching the way Jayne snapped necks so casually, disposing of the evidence best he could manage. Mal still weren’t certain that he wasn’t going to be next on Jayne’s execution list.

By the time they reached the governor’s office, they had a collection of useful weapons and a blood spattered mercenary who opened the door and entered like he was a trained operative. The light dawned a little and Mal wasn’t fond of the harshness as reality seeped in. Was there anyone the Alliance didn’t mess around with?

Davian Mer was dead, blue-tinged face looking up at the ceiling from a head that was twisted at an unnatural angle to his body.

“Took your time.” River sat at the desk, spinning from side to side in the leather chair.

“Got here, didn’t we?”

“What the gorram hell are you two on about?” Zoë looked from Jayne to River and then down at the body of the governor. “More I think about it, right now ain’t the time for explanations.”

Mal frowned at the computer still in its lock box on the desk. It weren’t worth trying to take the piece of shit space lese with them. They needed all hands free to get the hell outta this place.

“Credits are where they belong,” said River blithely, tapping the screen in front of her.

“Huh?” This day was chock full of confusion as far as Mal was concerned.

“I put his money in a safe place,” she explained patiently. Sometimes Mal had the feeling River thought he was retarded.

“Well now, ain’t you a useful little songbird?” He threw her a weapon and a grin. “Now let’s be going ‘fore someone discovers that trail of purple crumbs Jayne left behind him. "

Thankfully, this far out from the Core, Alliance tended to post the least competent troops. They’d all but made their way to the exit of the mansion before guards at the gates spotted them and the gun fight began in earnest. The truck full of replacement soldiers turned out to be a godsend. Jayne, Zoe and River picked em off one by one while Mal crept closer and snuck around the side of the small transporter, making off with it from under angry Fed noses.

He slowed down just enough for the others to throw themselves inside the craft, Jayne and River hauling Zoë aboard at the last second as she stopped to lug a grenade at the security gates.

“If you can embezzle the way you say you can, why are we even bothering with the physical stuff?” Mal reached out and ruffled the girl’s hair then gripped onto the back of her dress as she leaned out to shoot at another flurry of purple bellies who’d appeared at the gates. Wasn’t much needed though when the counter on the grenade ticked around to zero and the building exploded in a burst of white fire.

“Need numbers to move the money.”

“And how did you get them numbers from Mer?” asked Mal.

River smiled serenely and Mal felt a chill pass over him like someone’d walked over his own grave. Then he remembered Jayne and evidence of yet another betrayal and went even colder.

The shuttle was still safe hidden in a valley between the hills; not one of the idiots had discovered it.

“They will be coming,” said River in that little girl voice that no longer matched her age. Sometimes she creeped Mal out so much.

“Who’s coming, darling?” he asked, buckling himself into the cockpit.

“Blue hands.”

As soon as they’d broke atmo Mal set the return co-ords for Serenity and opened a channel on the com.

“Wash? Is everything okay up there?”

“Right now I’d say yes, but-”

“Cap’n, I’m sorry I didn’t mean nothing.” Kaylee’s unhappy voice peeled out interrupting the pilot. “He seemed so nice.”

“Who seemed nice?”

“John.” There was a gulped in breath. “Lieutenant Baxter, I mean. I’d just been talking to him about things when I’d taken him food. He was so interested in knowing all about you. About how Jayne used to be.”

“Kaylee!” Mal needed the facts not the excuses. “Tell me what happened.”

“I’d told him where you were going. He took me by surprise and locked me in the cell then he sent waves out to the Feds. I’m sorry, Cap'n.”

“Simon and I stopped him.” Wash’s voice came over loud again. “But we checked the comm records and he’d already sent a load of data out to secure networks. Best hurry back quick.”

“Don’t worry. I intend on doing just that. Out.”

As the com light blinked off, Mal unbuckled the harness and looked around at the others, feeling a sense of low level relief in amongst the anxiety. He couldn’t take no more betrayal from Jayne Cobb, 'though this version of the man was a complete stranger to him. Gone was the big brute of a mercenary and now even the broken down wreck seemed to have vanished. The man who sat behind him shone bright with potential energy as if the power had suddenly been switched back on. Then Mal remembered snapped necks and body parts.

The power was on alright and was as unquantifiable in Jayne as it was in River Tam.

TBC