evilmaniclaugh

As Jayne predicted no action is taken against them, however, if looks could kill then they would have been six feet under the moment they stepped outside their room. As strange as it may seem, Simon discovers that this doesn’t bother him in the slightest. In fact it’s hardly noticeable since they stay locked in their suite making the most of what time they have left, neither of them speaking about what the future might hold when they return home.

After waving Serenity to make final arrangements for pick up in twenty hours time, Simon reaches desperation point. He doesn’t want a life of pretence; he can’t live through that again.

“We don’t have to go back,” he says. “There’s a shuttle leaving today for Occident Skyplex.” Simon tips the contents of his backpack onto the bed and watches Jayne’s face as the federal bank drafts spill out all over the coverlet.

“What in the hell?” Jayne picks up one of the checks and squints at it as if he can’t believe what he’s seeing.

All of a sudden Simon knows why he was too scared to tell Jayne before now. He was frightened that the man would suggest exactly this.

“How the rut did you get your hands on these?”

“They were hidden in the Mayor’s house.”

“If they’re listed as stolen then-”

“They’re not.” Simon’s shaking and whether it’s from excitement or nerves he’s not entirely sure. Georgia Griffiths’ escape plan could turn out to be their own salvation. “Jayne, think about this. We can use them to set ourselves up somewhere. We can have everything we want.”

Jayne rests his hands on Simon’s shoulders. “I reckon everything you want is gonna be landing right here in a few hours.”

“Not everything.” Simon closes his eyes. If only he were that brave man he’s been pretending to be for the last few months.

“You ain’t ever gonna be happy just walking away from your sis like that.”

“At least River knows I’m alive now.” Simon’s tearing himself apart over this. “She’ll understand.”

Jayne shakes his head. “We tell them about us. If’n they don’t like it, well, then we can leave.”

Simon tries to imagine what it would be like to announce to everyone that he’s sleeping with Jayne Cobb, that he’s in love with Jayne Cobb and it seems as insurmountable as that grim mountain range standing between Gainsborough and Hartford. “I thought I could do it,” he mutters, shielding his words behind a hand that’s cupped over his mouth. “But I don’t know if I can.”

Jayne glares at him. “Well, I ain’t going through all this just to run off to some hidey hole for sly rich folk, that’s for gorram certain.”

“So what do we do?”

*

Nineteen hours and several desperate fucks later, they wait apprehensively at the harbour. Simon’s stretched open and aching, but apart from that he has nothing to show from this strange relationship except, maybe, a greater understanding that people are not always who they appear to be.

He’d expected Jayne to be fiercely angry with him: to run off, drink himself stupid, get involved in a brawl and end up in jail. Once again, he’s misjudged the mercenary badly.

“This is one humped up plan,” says Jayne. “Been thinking maybe we should’ve caught that earlier shuttle.”

Simon laughs loud and long and it’s a bittersweet reminder of how much he’s grown to like this man. “When we’re stuck out in the black with only Kaylee’s chocolate cake between us and starvation, you remember those words,” he says with a smile.

Their fingertips make contact and Simon pushes away the thought that it may be the last time he gets to touch Jayne in public with any show of tenderness.

“Hell, they’re coming. I know the sound of that burn off anywhere.” Jayne draws back his hand and looks up at the sky, eyes protected by a pair of night-black sunglasses.

“What do we say? What do we tell them?” hisses Simon, the underside of Serenity’s belly growing larger by the second.

“Told you already, Doc, that’s up to you.”

Further conversation becomes impossible when the engine noise reaches deafening levels and Simon feels a sense of abandonment, as if he’s leaving the most important thing in his life behind on the quayside. This is a mistake.

But when the ramp extends and the doors to the cargo bay open, Simon’s feelings alter dramatically. How could they not when he and Jayne are suddenly surrounded by family for the first time in so many months.

“River!” He swings her around. “You look wonderful.” She does: cool, collected and beautiful with just a hint of strangeness hidden behind her dark eyes.

“I knew you were alive,” she says. “It took you a long time to find us.” Is it Simon’s imagination or is she staring pointedly at Jayne?

“I…” Simon falters.

Lost for words, he’s once again filled with that stupid need to retreat when Kaylee throws herself on him, kissing his cheeks. “Your hair! It’s so short.” She rubs her palms over his shorn scalp and Simon wishes he’d not kept it clipped. His discomfort grows in leaps and bounds when she bubbles over with enthusiasm. “Can’t say how happy I am to have you back,” she continues, unabashed joy spilling over from every pore.

“We waited for you.” Mal tugs at the bridge of his nose. “After Jayne went back to get you the Reavers hit us hard. We tried to fight our way through ‘em, but it was impossible.” He pauses. “We should’ve waited longer.”

“If’n you’d tried to get to us you’d only’ve got ripped to pieces,” says Jayne matter-of-factly.

“That maybe so.” Mal claps a hand on Jayne’s shoulder. “That maybe so, Jayne, but it don’t alter the fact that we should’ve come back.”

Simon can’t decide which one of the two men standing together has the bigger issue with guilt. “You wouldn’t have found us,” he says, feeling a need to comfort the captain. “We were hiding out in the mines.”

He has no regrets. If Serenity had been waiting for them when they exited the pit then he and Jayne would never have shared more than a single, waterlogged kiss.

Stepping inside the ship, Simon is slapped in the face by an onslaught of mixed emotions. It’s exactly the same as he remembers: the smells, the sights, the sounds. He has to try and slot back into the role of brother, doctor, crew member... but it’s not going to be easy.

When he’d first bought passage on the Firefly--smuggling his sister on board inside a cryogenic crate--he’d never have believed that such dregs of society could one day become his family. He was a frightened criminal. River was suffering from dementia, her brain stripped free of all its in built protection, and yet, despite everything, they were accepted by these people.

*

That evening Kaylee plans a celebratory meal to mark their return from the dead. Whilst the rest of the crew make excited noises over the fresh food she’s picked up from the market in Augustine City, Simon makes eye contact with Jayne. The look may be short lived but it’s telling -- his lover has no great expectations of him.

“How did you survive down there?” Zoë’s as forthright as always, asking the question that everyone else has been silently wondering.

As the mercenary recounts the story of their year together, telling everything except for the most important truth of all, Simon grows increasingly claustrophobic from the pressure of Kaylee’s infatuation. She doesn’t say a word; she’s just there -- all the time.

“Do either of you need medical attention?” asks Book. “You both look a mite emaciated.” The shepherd stares fixedly at Simon. “And weary.”

“’S what happens when you been living the way we have.” Jayne looks up from his food, eyes brim full of memories and Simon knows that he’s the only one who can see them.

He remembers everything too: the horrors of that mine, the filth, the squalor, the times when he thought they were both going to die. He remembers the way they kept each other going and the way Jayne called him xin gan exactly when he needed it. He remembers the sex: quick urgent ruts, slow heaving fucks, the games, the kinks, the love. Oh god, he thinks of all this and he doesn’t get hard because he’s a coward who’s never going to have the courage to own up to his feelings.

Kaylee attaches herself to him like a limpet. She can’t stop beaming, rosy cheeked and filled with delight, and if only Simon could want her instead. He’d give up everything…

“Cap’n, do we got the cashy money for a stop over at Persephone?” she says. “Reckon we could all do with some vacation time.” She sparkles with excitement and Simon feels dull in comparison.

Mal’s fork remains poised an inch away from his lips as he looks around the table at everyone. “I could maybe pick up a job or two there. Need to if we’re to keep going much longer.”

“Business that bad?” Jayne looks up from his plate.

“Slow and not so steady. Same as always.” Mal shrugs.

“I boosted a pile of coin back in Hartford.” Jayne digs deep into the pockets of his army jacket and heaps platinum onto the table. “Might help a ways.”

It’s more than simple generosity; it’s a commitment to stay with Serenity and Simon knows it. The challenge is laid down in front of him. He may as well have been slapped around the face with one of those leather sniper gloves.

“You feeling alright, Jayne?” Mal smirks.

“Mal!” Inara’s dainty palm descends down upon the captain’s weather-beaten hand and he looks suitably chastised.

“Not that we ain’t grateful.”

“Reckon we owe you for picking us up,” says the big man tersely.

“Well then, way I figure it seems only fair we have a few days stopover on Persephone.” Mal claps a hand down on Jayne’s shoulders and the longer it stays there the more Simon’s guts churn with jealousy. “While you’re there, see to getting yourselves fixed up at the medical centre. Shepherd’s right; you both look done in.”

*

During sleep cycles Simon thrashes fitfully in bed, battling insomnia as he lies awake and wonders if Jayne will come to him. Of course, the mercenary never does. He’s made it perfectly clear that a decision is needed and it’s not his to make.

It should be easy. It’s not as if Simon is ashamed of being sly. He’s never been happier than when he had the opportunity to revel openly in his sexuality, even in Augustine City where bigotry was rife. The problem seems to be the weight of expectation on Simon’s narrow shoulders. All his life he’s struggled to be a good doctor, a good son, a good brother, a good man -- the kind of man everyone thinks he should be.

Depression creeping ever nearer, Simon longs for some privacy. There’s no ounce of it to be had living within Serenity’s thin walls and he’s left with this constant, griping pain that neither drugs nor masturbation will cure.

Meal times are the worst of all. It’s then that Simon is forced to sit opposite Jayne and not talk to him and not touch him and try not to think of how much they’ve lost. No one can ever understand.

He spends his days organising the infirmary, sterilising his instruments with the autoclave then placing them in orderly lines in the equipment drawers. Sometimes he comes across Jayne cleaning and arranging his weapons in similar compulsive fashion. They both need the distraction.

“Ain’t you happy to be back, Simon?” asks Kaylee curiously one day when they’re busy sorting containers in the cargo bay. “You don’t seem so in my eyes.”

“Of course I’m happy,” lies Simon. “It’s just that while I was away I was used to having more space.”

“We’ll be docking at Persephone soon,” says Kaylee brightly. “There’s a whole planetful of space there.”

And a whole planetful of people too, broods Simon. He steals a moment to watch Jayne who’s stacking crates at the far end of the hold, sweat glistening on his skin, St Christopher medal swinging on its chain and mesmerizing Simon as it catches the light.

“They have this fancy casino in the city,” says Kaylee. “We could dress up fine and go gambling and dancing.”

“Simon doesn’t gamble.” River looks down at them from the overhead walkway. “Simon doesn’t take risks.” Using the gantry she swings upward then perches on the guard rail, walking along the narrow steel bar without even a wobble.

Sometimes Simon wishes his sister would come out and say what she’s thinking. He’s positive that she knows about him, about him and Jayne, but it’s as if she enjoys tormenting him with this silent knowledge.

“It ain’t a risk to get gussied up and go have some fun,” says Kaylee her lips forming into a moue.

Simon remembers a conversation in that cave a lifetime ago which turned out to be the beginning of something special. He denied then that he was guilty of leading the girl on and, yet, here he is doing exactly that.

“I’m sorry, Kaylee, I can’t.”

“Oh.” The girl wilts. “Oh, but there’s plenty of other things to do. We can choose when we get there.”

Just say it, he tells himself. Say that you can’t spend time with her. Say that you can’t be her lover. Explain why you can’t be her lover. “Maybe,” he mumbles, hating that word, hating himself even more for saying it.

The sound of smashing wood followed by a loud “tamade,” causes them both to look around.

“Y’okay, Jayne?” says Kaylee, hurrying over to the mercenary who’s squatting on the floor surrounded by broken planks.

“’S nothing. Just a gorram splinter.” Jayne sucks at his thumb.

Simon kneels next to him taking hold of the man’s right hand, as he examines the wound. “Come to the infirmary,” he says, squeezing Jayne’s fingers. “I’ll need surgical tweezers to get this out.”

They walk through the ship in studied silence. That single touch has electrified Simon and his stomach churns with excitement at the idea of them finally snatching a moment alone.

Jayne sits on the bed, shoulders hunched over, his wounded hand outstretched and Simon is reminded of a large, hurt puppy. Sterilising the skin, he prizes the splinter from the ball of Jayne’s thumb then, doctoring over, he leans in, breath coming heavy and fast as his lips crush against Jayne’s. Mouths open wide, they kiss fiercely and having insinuated himself between Jayne’s thighs, Simon wraps his arms around Jayne’s neck, pulling him closer. He’s hard, so unbelievably hard and he’s on the point of pushing Jayne back onto the bed when the sound of footsteps echoing along the passageway acts as a sudden wake up call.

“Doc, you got a minute?” Mal appears in the open doorway, hand resting against the jamb. His eyes flicker between Jayne and Simon, a measure of intrigue present. “Don’t mean to interrupt.”

“You’re not,” says Simon carefully. “Jayne got a splinter from breaking up those old boxes and I was just removing it.” He can’t help thinking back to their first shared bath and the way they laughed off this very situation. He longs, with all his heart, to be back at the farmhouse.

“Done now,” says Jayne, hopping off the bed. “I’ll leave you folks to it.” His face is a mask.

“You and him got a problem?” asks Mal after Jayne’s boots diminish to a faint echoing thud.

“No. Why should we?” Simon’s hackles rise. “We managed well enough for a year.”

“And I gotta say that’s a shocker to me. Reckoned you would’ve killed one another within a week.”

Simon rubs a hand across his head impatiently. “Sorry to disappoint.”

“Hey now.” Mal perches on the edge of the bed. “Just keeping an eye on the well-being of my crew.”

“Duibuqi,” says Simon. “Coming back is overwhelming… for both of us.” More than anyone could ever guess.

“Understood.” Mal nods. “’Though if you ever need to talk you know where I am.”

Simon’s shocked. Malcolm Reynolds is more closed off than anyone he’s ever met in his life and the idea of sharing personal talk with the man is bizarre to say the least. “I’ll bear that in mind,” he says with what he hopes is a grateful smile.

“Now, about what I came here for.” Mal slaps both hands down on his thighs. “River’s been a sight more busy while you were absent. Been using her as my gunhand and I’m gonna be carrying on doing exactly that. Two good shots may gonna keep us on the winning side for a while longer.”

Simon’s jaw drops. Arguments against this ridiculous plan are ready to launch from the tip of his tongue when he remembers how great it feels to be useful. River may be his baby sister, but her mind is slowly repairing itself. She’s a competent adult with a right to make her own choices in life. “If that’s what she wants then it’s fine by me,” he says with absolute sincerity.

*

The moment Serenity touches down on Persephone it becomes a race to be first off the ship and onto the quayside. Simon is most surprised by Mal who’s more intent on spending time with Inara than he is at trying to forge new deals.

“Remember how I almost laid down my life for you here?” the captain teases his Companion.

“I remember a reckless idiot ruining one of my contracts and not knowing which end of a sword to hold,” she answers with a smile that’s filled with warmth and something much more intense.

The captain’s a different man since he and Inara stopped fighting and Simon envies them their closeness. Jayne used to look at him like that, eyes full of need, full of love.

“I bought my dress here.” Kaylee smiles with delight and Simon succeeds in repressing a shudder at the memory of that horrible pink gown.

“I wonder if they got anything else as pretty in that store. I need something fancy for tonight,” she continues.

Jayne doesn’t linger around for long. Simon watches the big man stride away, head and shoulders above the crowd that mills around the dockside.

“Simon, what do you reckon?” Kaylee’s looking askance at him, those big eyes unknowingly exerting endless pressure on him.

“A dress, yes,” he stammers, tracking the conversation back to its origin. “You choose a dress. I have some medical supplies to buy.”

Turning tail Simon runs away, ignoring the whores and rent boys who are soliciting work on the streets. Eavesdown is twice as seedy as he remembered it -- he’s grown used to a quieter style of debauchery of recent times. His first port of call is Badger’s place where he offloads a couple of the banker’s drafts for a reasonable price. Business concluded, he’s walking back through the market when he hears an angry voice coming from a run down weapons merchant and stops dead in his tracks.

“I laid down thirty credits on this forty-four sniper rifle a year or so back and you’re telling me you’ve gone and sold it?”

Stepping inside the doorway Simon peers around. Eyes finally adjusting to the gloom, he makes out a familiar hulking figure leaning against the counter.

The person Jayne is addressing makes Badger look like a high class banker from Capital City. “Didn’t think you was coming back for it,” the man says, scratching his head persistently. Simon strongly suspects lice. “Things happen. People die.”

“Double crossing hundan like you die, that’s for gorram sure.” Jayne stands, arms folded, legs apart, his fingers beating a silent tattoo against his right hip.

This is a dangerous situation. Simon had forgotten how easily the mercenary manages to fall into these. “It was a long time ago,” he says, trying to ease the tension down a notch.

Jayne wheels around to look at him, a smile momentarily erasing the scowl. “Don’t matter shit to me,” he says. “A contract is a contract and I ain’t gonna quit until I get my hands on that gun that I’m owed.”

“Pick another,” suggests Simon. “I’ll buy it for you.”

“Don’t want another piece. I want my forty-four,” says Jayne stubbornly.

“Listen to your friend.” The man’s right hand slips below the counter and Simon’s not sure whether he’s about to draw or reach for a panic button. Either way it’s not good.

“Jayne.” Simon tries to convey the worry that he’s feeling.

“You and me done good business in the past so I reckon I can refund your credits,” the store owner eventually concedes, won over by Jayne’s size and general demeanor.

“Take the money then come and have a drink with me.” Simon resorts to cajoling. If the mercenary gets any more worked up he’ll be spending the whole of his downtime in the cells. Or somewhere far worse.

Jayne’s face relaxes into a grin. “Kay, Doc. Sounds good to me.”

Once the store owner has written out a credit note for the full amount of the deposit, Simon and Jayne take a taxi to the City Park area, which is about as far removed from the squalor of the docks as anyone could imagine. Choosing the biggest hotel on the strip, they hunt out the bar then sink into a deep comfortable couch with a bottle of New Canaan brandy and a pack of cigars in front of them on the marble topped table.

The prices here are very expensive and, because of this, the hotel is deserted, with the exception of a few members of staff who lurk discreetly, waiting to serve. Talk flows as easily as the drink and Simon plays pretend, convincing himself that things are normal between them -- the way it was before they made the mistake of coming back.

With several of glasses of fortifying liquor inside him, Simon informs Jayne he’s going to the bathroom but, instead, heads for the front desk where he books a suite for the night. When he comes back the mercenary is sucking on one of his stogies, long legs sprawled decadently across the table and Simon feels that inevitable fist of desire clenching at his belly.

“Fuck, Jayne,” he murmurs, toppling back beside the man. “I’ve missed you. I want you.” His arm slinks out along the back of the couch, fingers rubbing at Jayne’s neck.

“You want this?” Jayne reaches down to his crotch and adjusts himself.

Simon’s shaking with need. Half-drunk and far too eager, he hooks a leg around Jayne’s shin, then grabs a handful of his hair and pulls him closer, his fingers inching up Jayne’s thigh until he cups that bulge, kneading at it possessively.

“Ain’t you worried someone might see us?” Jayne’s still smoking that cigar and maybe it’s this that makes him seem different, cold, detached. Jayne Cobb is rarely detached.

“It’s okay; I’ve booked a room,” Simon says, stumbling over the words as he tries to find where his feet have gone.

“Hah.”

It’s almost a laugh and yet it sounds so far removed from anything humorous that Simon blinks owlishly.

“You got us a room to fuck in.” Jayne stubs out his stogie then barks out another laugh and it’s just as bitter, just as aggressive. “How considerate of you, Doc.”

“I… I thought-”

“You thought we’d have a quick rut then you can go back to pretending that you ain’t sly. That you don’t like to hump fellers.”

“It’s not like that.” Simon’s confused. “It’s… I don’t know why it’s… Fuck!”

“You were gonna stick it to me and then go meet up with Kaylee and take her out on the town.”

Simon says nothing.

“Weren’t you?” Jayne’s voice is getting louder by the second.

“Yes,” he admits. “But not because I wanted to.”

“You’re a liar,” says Jayne. “Worse still, you’re lying to yourownself.” He pours them both another glass of brandy. “I’m gonna make this easy for you. I’m gonna take a few of those checks you got stashed away in your pocket and I’m gonna walk away from here because, honest to rutting god, I can’t take any more of this gou shi any longer.”

Both men are on their feet now and Simon swings a fist which connects feebly with the side of Jayne’s jaw. “You’re not going anywhere,” he yells and, even now, Jayne can’t seem to bring himself to punch Simon back.

Incensed by the situation, his world tinted by expensive brandy, it’s as if Simon’s seeing clearly for the first time in years. “I’m going back to Serenity and I’m telling everyone the truth,” he says making a grab for Jayne’s shirt.

The big man shoves him away. “And if’n I believed you meant it then maybe I’d go with you,” he says dismissively, but his hands still reach for Simon, pinching, grabbing, intent on hurting, full of pain.

Simon lashes out again and Jayne catches hold of his fist, dragging him closer until all their combined frustration gives way to bout after bout of helpless kissing.

“I’ll tell them,” Simon breathes. “I’ll tell them. I swear.”

*

They return to a ghost ship, the rest of the crew out making the most of this short-lived spell of freedom.

Simon’s sobering up fast, but he’s also pumped high on adrenaline and more than ready to run for the hills. Jayne’s as bad, watching warily and prowling the living area like a caged animal waiting to pounce.

“You’re making me more nervous.” Simon chews at his lip.

“’M sorry.” Wandering off, the mercenary returns a moment later and sits at the table, laying out a range of knives and different grade whetstones in front of him. Slowly he cleans and sharpens each bade and Simon watches, wishing he was sharing the task, the way he did back home in Gainsborough.

One by one, couple by couple, everyone returns, waiting impatiently to find out why they’ve been summoned back to the ship via the comm.

“So then, what’s all this about?” snaps Mal once everyone’s seated around the table. “It ain’t often I give folks, myself included, some vacation time. Can’t tell you how much I’d appreciate the chance to enjoy it.”

To begin with Simon doesn’t answer. More panicked that he’s ever been in his life, he counts out the drafts into two separate piles and then hands the final one to the captain for examination. “This is part of the reason,” he says eventually.

“Is it real?” questions Mal, turning the piece of paper over in his hand.

“Genuine and unlisted by the Alliance,” says Simon.

“Wo de tian a!” Wash’s eyes glaze over at the bottomless pit of money on the table. “You? You robbed a federal bank?”

“No.” Simon manages a watery smile. “But the money isn’t important.”

“Aiya. Not important? This is a small fortune. No, wait, this is a big fortune.” Wash sounds stunned.

“Bi zui, honey” says Zoë.

Nervousness evolving into full blown fear, Simon opens his mouth then swiftly closes it again. This is by far, the hardest, most personal thing he’s ever had to do. Taking a deep breath he blurts out, “Jayne and I are together. We have been for months.”

The profound silence that follows is broken only by the grind of steel against stone as Jayne hones the blade of his best hunting knife.

“You mean you was together.” Kaylee looks up. “Folks get sexed where they can. I know that.”

Simon blushes red and hot, the burn reaching his hairline within seconds.

“It ain’t like that, Kaylee,” says Jayne, laying down his knife. “The doc and I have a mind to stick with each other.”

“We do,” agrees Simon.

The mechanic’s eyes flood with tears and Simon wishes he could find a hole to crawl away and hide in.

“But you ain’t sly,” she says. “I’d’ve known if you was sly.”

“I’m sorry, Kaylee, but I am. I should have explained this a long time ago. I behaved badly.”

“It ain’t your fault.” Her voice is barely audible above the constant hum that’s coming from the bulkhead lights.

Simon knows it’s not a failing to be tongzhi, however this doesn’t curtail the immense guilt he’s feeling from not owning up sooner. He reaches for Kaylee’s hand but she curls her fingers over defensively, her broken heart an impenetrable wall between them. He never knew how much it would hurt him to hurt a friend this badly.

“We’ll go,” he says decisively, turning his attention to the pile of money on the table. “This is making you all uncomfortable so Jayne and I will leave as soon as possible.” Simon pushes a pile of checks towards the captain. “I’ve split these,” he says. “One half for us and one half for you.” He looks at his sister. “River, you’ll always have a home with us.”

The girl smiles that strange, ethereal smile which always makes her seem so much older than she is. “Simon,” she says. “You should learn to listen to the silence in between the words.”

When she was young River spoke with a vocabulary way beyond her years, but Simon was always able to understand her. He wishes he could go back to those days.

“Something here is bugging the hell outta me.” Mal looks accusingly from Simon to Jayne and back again. “And that’s why you two’d ever have a notion that any of us would be uncomfortable with this. Do I seem like a prejudiced kind of a feller? Long as my boat runs true then I’m the happiest man in the verse.”

Jayne’s still busy sharpening his knives, but the expression on his face tells Simon what an idiot he’s been, full of self-importance and unjustified propriety. He slides his hand towards the big mercenary and their fingertips make the briefest of contact.

Mal continues speaking. “Can understand why li’l Kaylee here might have an uncomfortableness seeing as how you led her on for so long but-”

“I’m fine, Cap’n,” Kaylee interrupts, forcing a smile onto her face as she turns to look at Simon through eyes that are wet and achingly sad. “I’m happy for you both. I am for real. Don’t go. None of us want you to do that.” Shuddering in a deep breath of recycled air she adds, “I havta go check on the new coil injectors. Seems like they were running a mite shaky when we touched down.”

The girl gets up from the table, escaping as quickly as she can through the hatchway and Simon goes to follow her but is pushed gently back into his seat by fingers that clamp fiercely down upon his shoulder. A cup of tea is forced into his hand then Shepherd Book occupies the empty seat next to him.

“Leave her be a while, Simon. Kaylee is one of the strongest, most compassionate young women I’ve ever met, but she needs a little space to come to terms with things.”

There’s no one here with a greater understanding of this than Simon, but empathy doesn’t assuage his guilt or suppress the overwhelming urge to take the blame for everything. “I should have said something before.”

Jayne’s only two feet from him across the table but he may as well be half way across the verse. Simon wishes everyone would disappear just for an hour so they can talk things through. He’s grown to rely on this over the course of the past year.

“And I agree with you, son, but what’s done is done.” Book takes a sip of his drink. “What I’m most concerned about is whether you and Jayne are entering into this relationship of yours a little too hastily. Being stranded together for a length of time can cause feelings to exist that aren’t always true to a person’s soul.”

“It ain’t a case of rushing things, preacher,” says Jayne. “Doc and I know what we want.”

Book nods. “I’m glad to hear it.”

“Probably not all you’ll be hearing neither.” Jayne flashes that set of white teeth.

Once upon a time, Simon would have curled up with shame at the mercenary’s customary display of crudeness but not anymore. Instead he smiles back at Jayne, emotionally drained but relieved that the truth is finally out in the open.

“Now that’s just… No. I’m not even thinking about that.” Wash looks more started than ever. “I do not want to know what you sound like when you-”

“Wash.” Zoë looks at her husband.

“I know. I need to shut up.”

“You do, dear.”

“There’s one thing left confounding me a ways.” Mal’s still frowning. “You could’ve taken off with this.” He points at the piles of blank federal checks. “Been set forever. Mind explaining to me why you didn’t you do that, Jayne? All this sudden display of generosity ain’t exactly your style.”

The mercenary grins. “Case of coulda, woulda, shoulda,” he says. “But the chun ren here said we was to bring ‘em back and share ‘em out.”

“Damn glad of it too,” says Mal, his eyes glued to the stacks of paper that are piled on the table. “This’ll keep us flying for a sight longer than expected.”

*

“Which fool was it who said we had to bring those drafts home to Serenity?” Simon straddles Jayne then leans over to nibble at his lower lip. “I forget now.”

It’s late; people have migrated off to make the most of Persephone’s nightlife and Simon finally has Jayne where he wants him, naked in his bunk.

Jayne kisses back, long and deep. “Thought foolishness was to do with telling folks we’re fucking?”

“That wasn’t foolishness,” says Simon. “That was an act of bravery.”

“Yep. You’re a brave man with a big mouth.” Jayne tucks both hands behind his head. “Now go put that big mouth to good use, will you.”

As Simon kisses a lazy path down Jayne’s body he wonders how comfortable it will turn out to be living in such close confinement on the ship.

“Besides,” adds Jayne, “you talk in your sleep and I know how much family means to you. Couldn’t’ve let you go through with that moonbrained plan of yours knowing how rutting miserable you’d be for the rest of your days.”

Taking Jayne’s cock between his lips, Simon rests his cheek on a muscled belly and sucks languorously, lavishing slow attention to every inch of that ji ba whilst he contemplates how this new phase of their life is going to turn out.

A long time ago he’d believed that the Firefly could never belong to anyone but Mal Reynolds, but he was wrong. Papers may state that Serenity is the property of the captain, but she’s home to nine people--a closer knit family it’d be hard to find anywhere in the verse.


Epilogue