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still_grrrTitle: Shipsong
Author: biggrstaffbunch
Rating: G
Word Count: 893
Prompt: 017, Make-up for Bring Out Your Dead: Book
Characters/Pairing (if any): Jayne, Kaylee, Book
AN: This is a sequel to a Singing on a Spaceship, but you don’t need to read that first to understand this.
~*~
Jayne ain't never been the touchy-feely sort of type. Goes without saying when one's a mercenary by trade and a gun-lover by nature. Only sort of touching he sees fit to do outside a whorehouse is when he cleans his other girls--shiny metal cool under his palm, holster curving like it was made to fit his hip. It's a bit of a love affair, he'd wager, or as close to love as he's ever gonna get. So whenever he gets to feeling a mite off, he beats it back to his bunk and stares at Betty or Vera or Anna-Lin for a while. Only things in the world that ain't letting him down, that he understands. Usually does the trick.
Only right now, ain't none of his girls gonna help him any. 'Cause lil' Kaylee's on the bridge, crying her eyes out, and all he's got are all the gorram guns in the world.
He's doing the night-watch tonight, prowling the ship and making sure no one's trying to set nothing on fire, as just 'cause that feng le girl ain't got Miranda spinning 'round in her head don't mean she's exactly sane. And now that he's crossing the bridge, he can hear Kaylee's cries as plain as day, and damned if something don't twinge in his chest somewhere.
He thinks a moment, wondering whether it's a smart idea to go to Kaylee now or send someone else to help her. Maybe the doc, or the Cap'n? Then he thinks of how everyone's gotta have someone, times like they are, and that the Cap'n's probably with his first mate, and the doc with his little sister, and Inara--well, hell if he understands anything about her.
So it's just Jayne who can help Kaylee now, and damned if he won't. Before the doc came aboard, he reckons he and Kaylee were something of friends, if only 'cause it'd be impossible for Kaylee not to be friends with anybody. Jayne can't help it none if the things he says make Kaylee mad now, 'stead of making her laugh. He suspects they all take changes out here in the black, one way or another, and just 'cause he ain't Kaylee's very best buddy don't mean he's quite right with leaving her on her lonesome, night like this.
Her cries are getting louder and Jayne looks around nervously, hefting the weight of his new firearm Nan against his shoulders. The last thing he needs is Kaylee raising a ruckus on the bridge, where the memories are too fresh for most anyone to come in and take care of her.
It’s eerie, the silence on the ship. Usually, he and the Shepard would be liftin’, or talkin’ over some Tall Cards and chow. But Shepard is just as dead as the little man, now, six feet deep into rock-hard soil. Ain’t no one around to give him counsel, to tell him what to do.
Book once told him he wasn’t all that bad. Told him that he had a chance to be a better man, if’n he tried harder to appreciate what he had, rather than work so much to cheat the whole ‘verse outta theirs. Jayne laughed then, called the preacher man a dreamer.
Maybe he weren’t all wrong, though.
Maybe it's what they all deserve, all these deaths and the spectacularly unneeded violence (and hell, he likes violence).
Maybe it's what they all deserve for taking Shepard Book's God for granted.
It still ain't right.
Jayne heaves a big sigh and takes a step towards the bridge. His ears prick up for a second though, and he furrows his brow as he realizes that Kaylee ain't crying. Not exactly. She's...she's singing in between great big trembly breaths and gasps.
And Jayne recognizes the song, too. Somethin' his Ma used to sing to him, way back when he was knee high to a grasshopper. Ships and flyin' and leaving the world behind. His kinda song, Jayne's. His Ma knew back then that Jayne weren't gonna stay home, not for long. He liked money too much, liked to earn his keep doin' dangerous things. Roughin' people up and goin' on adventures. Takin' part in some heroics here and there, and Jayne's gut clenches as he thinks 'bout Canton for a second.
Point is, that song brings things back, memories and stuff. Makes him ache, sorta. And without really even thinkin' too hard about it, 'cause Jayne's never got it in his head to be embarrassed about much, he steps up onto the bridge and joins Kaylee.
Touches her shoulder, and even though her breath catches in surprise, she continues to sing, clutchin' one of the pilot's dumbass dinosaurs in her tiny hands. And in his low, rumbly baritone, hesitantly 'cause some of the song is a mite fuzzy now, Jayne's voice hums right along with Kaylee's.
He ain't touchy-feely none, but he thinks Shepard woulda liked him to honor the dead somehow. And right there on the bridge, with little Kaylee tucked next to his one side and his gun on the other, Jayne feels like he's honoring Serenity's lost crewmates the only way he knows how.
- - -
Author: biggrstaffbunch
Rating: G
Word Count: 893
Prompt: 017, Make-up for Bring Out Your Dead: Book
Characters/Pairing (if any): Jayne, Kaylee, Book
AN: This is a sequel to a Singing on a Spaceship, but you don’t need to read that first to understand this.
~*~
Jayne ain't never been the touchy-feely sort of type. Goes without saying when one's a mercenary by trade and a gun-lover by nature. Only sort of touching he sees fit to do outside a whorehouse is when he cleans his other girls--shiny metal cool under his palm, holster curving like it was made to fit his hip. It's a bit of a love affair, he'd wager, or as close to love as he's ever gonna get. So whenever he gets to feeling a mite off, he beats it back to his bunk and stares at Betty or Vera or Anna-Lin for a while. Only things in the world that ain't letting him down, that he understands. Usually does the trick.
Only right now, ain't none of his girls gonna help him any. 'Cause lil' Kaylee's on the bridge, crying her eyes out, and all he's got are all the gorram guns in the world.
He's doing the night-watch tonight, prowling the ship and making sure no one's trying to set nothing on fire, as just 'cause that feng le girl ain't got Miranda spinning 'round in her head don't mean she's exactly sane. And now that he's crossing the bridge, he can hear Kaylee's cries as plain as day, and damned if something don't twinge in his chest somewhere.
He thinks a moment, wondering whether it's a smart idea to go to Kaylee now or send someone else to help her. Maybe the doc, or the Cap'n? Then he thinks of how everyone's gotta have someone, times like they are, and that the Cap'n's probably with his first mate, and the doc with his little sister, and Inara--well, hell if he understands anything about her.
So it's just Jayne who can help Kaylee now, and damned if he won't. Before the doc came aboard, he reckons he and Kaylee were something of friends, if only 'cause it'd be impossible for Kaylee not to be friends with anybody. Jayne can't help it none if the things he says make Kaylee mad now, 'stead of making her laugh. He suspects they all take changes out here in the black, one way or another, and just 'cause he ain't Kaylee's very best buddy don't mean he's quite right with leaving her on her lonesome, night like this.
Her cries are getting louder and Jayne looks around nervously, hefting the weight of his new firearm Nan against his shoulders. The last thing he needs is Kaylee raising a ruckus on the bridge, where the memories are too fresh for most anyone to come in and take care of her.
It’s eerie, the silence on the ship. Usually, he and the Shepard would be liftin’, or talkin’ over some Tall Cards and chow. But Shepard is just as dead as the little man, now, six feet deep into rock-hard soil. Ain’t no one around to give him counsel, to tell him what to do.
Book once told him he wasn’t all that bad. Told him that he had a chance to be a better man, if’n he tried harder to appreciate what he had, rather than work so much to cheat the whole ‘verse outta theirs. Jayne laughed then, called the preacher man a dreamer.
Maybe he weren’t all wrong, though.
Maybe it's what they all deserve, all these deaths and the spectacularly unneeded violence (and hell, he likes violence).
Maybe it's what they all deserve for taking Shepard Book's God for granted.
It still ain't right.
Jayne heaves a big sigh and takes a step towards the bridge. His ears prick up for a second though, and he furrows his brow as he realizes that Kaylee ain't crying. Not exactly. She's...she's singing in between great big trembly breaths and gasps.
And Jayne recognizes the song, too. Somethin' his Ma used to sing to him, way back when he was knee high to a grasshopper. Ships and flyin' and leaving the world behind. His kinda song, Jayne's. His Ma knew back then that Jayne weren't gonna stay home, not for long. He liked money too much, liked to earn his keep doin' dangerous things. Roughin' people up and goin' on adventures. Takin' part in some heroics here and there, and Jayne's gut clenches as he thinks 'bout Canton for a second.
Point is, that song brings things back, memories and stuff. Makes him ache, sorta. And without really even thinkin' too hard about it, 'cause Jayne's never got it in his head to be embarrassed about much, he steps up onto the bridge and joins Kaylee.
Touches her shoulder, and even though her breath catches in surprise, she continues to sing, clutchin' one of the pilot's dumbass dinosaurs in her tiny hands. And in his low, rumbly baritone, hesitantly 'cause some of the song is a mite fuzzy now, Jayne's voice hums right along with Kaylee's.
He ain't touchy-feely none, but he thinks Shepard woulda liked him to honor the dead somehow. And right there on the bridge, with little Kaylee tucked next to his one side and his gun on the other, Jayne feels like he's honoring Serenity's lost crewmates the only way he knows how.
- - -
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