Jayne Cobb was smarter than most people gave him credit for. Come to think of it, he was more anything than most people gave him credit for. Except strong. Turns out, he wasn’t as strong as he, or they, had always thought. Always thought, that is, until Miranda.

Everything had changed since Miranda.

Jayne had seen things he had never thought he’d see. Things he had never wanted to see. He still carried images of River, shin-deep in Reavers and covered in blood as she stared down an Alliance contingent. He had seen a funeral, three good men gone forever. He had seen Zoe develop a different kind of strength. She seemed to have at least accepted Wash’s death. He knew that she still mourned, but it was a different kind of mourning. One that rose above weeping and wailing and wishing for something different. There was a peace around her he hadn’t seen in a long time. That was strength, too. Whereas Jayne… the hero of Canton, thug, mercenary, walking armory, bare-knuckle brawler… Jayne couldn’t get rid of one gorram dream.

It wasn’t that he hadn’t had the dream before. But since Miranda, it had gotten progressively worse, until Jayne dreaded sleeping as much as he dreaded being the only one awake in the silent, sleep-heavy Firefly.

He wandered silently through the corridors and rooms of Serenity, his feet making no noise on the steel of the floors. Walking through the galley, he trailed his fingers along the table, feeling the rough-hewn planks that held so many memories. Sensing a presence behind him, he spoke without turning.

“Ain’t you supposed to be asleep?”

River padded down the remaining stairs into the room. “Overrated,” she said. “I’ve done enough sleeping for a lifetime. I’d rather be awake.” She looked at Jayne, narrowing her eyes. “You shouldn’t be afraid, you know. Nothing to be afraid of. Just neurons firing during the body’s natural rejuvenation process. Your brain’s just… bored.” She shrugged elegantly. “It happens to everyone.”

“Uh huh. Bored.”

She nodded. “There’s a place on Osiris – a natural canyon. It’s one of the only natural places left. You have to walk. Hike. No technology allowed.” She sat on the edge of the table, her legs swinging. Jayne stared at her, a bit perplexed by the sudden change in conversation. She gave him a let’s-be-patient look and went on. “It’s a brutal hike. At the end, it opens to a vista. You’re so high up you feel as though you can touch the sky, see the world at your feet… Higher even than the Parliament building.” She focused on him. “Ninety-five point five six eight three percent of the people on Osiris have never seen the planet like that. They can’t make it. They won’t ride through to the end. And they miss things. They’ll never see the end.” She smiled and hopped off the table. “Trajectory check. Good night, Jayne.”

Jayne stared after her for a minute, then shrugged. He couldn’t ever figure out when she was being crazy or not. He went back to his bunk and began cleaning his weapons. It wasn’t quite ship’s dawn when he finished, so he sighed, picked up Vera, and started all over.

***

By the time they hit Borealis three days later, even Mal had noticed that there was something wrong with his merc. The job had gone smoothly for once, and after dividing the take, the crew had gone their separate ways. Exhausted, Jayne had found some rooms near the edge of town. Hoping that the combination of a scenery change, sheer exhaustion and a soft bed would prevent the dream from recurring, he finally allowed himself to sleep.

It didn’t help.

The dream started as it always did. This was the part of the dream he loved. He stood in a sun-drenched field on Icarus, surrounded by waving golden grasses. He knew without looking that it was early spring, that behind his left shoulder stood his family’s house, and that off to his right was a series of outbuildings. Though he knew he should be a little younger, he felt and looked the same as he did now. Over one shoulder he held a pick and shovel, and he strolled a few hundred meters nearer to the edge of the field. He knew from previous dreams that his dream-self had marked out a well to be dug here, as the old one was going dry. With a familiarity born of experience, he began clearing and digging.

What seemed like hours passed, and the well grew steadily deeper as the sun climbed in the sky. He had found his rhythm, bending, scooping, tossing, repeating. Jayne found himself working with bated breath, waiting for the rest of the dream to start. He was unsurprised, then, when a cooling shadow fell across him. Wiping the sweat from his eyes, he looked up out of the well to see her.

This was the best part of the dream, for it was more memory than anything else. Jayne never tired of the first sight of Felicity standing at the edge of the well. She was a few years younger than he, with long silky reddish-brown hair that caught the sunlight like nothing he’d ever seen. It was constantly escaping the braid into which she forced it every day, but not that Jayne minded in the least. She was wearing what he thought of as the uniform on Icarus – battered work pants and boots, and a plain cotton shirt. He knew for a fact that the shirt had been her older brother’s, but that was just the way of things on Icarus. She wore a dark green pea coat against the breeze that tangled her hair.

Felicity smiled down at him, so pure and pretty and genuine that it nearly broke his heart every time he saw her again. She offered him her hand, helping to pull him out of the well, though they both knew it was more a gesture than anything else. He could just have easily climbed out himself, or flexed just right and pulled her down in with him. She absently brushed some dust off his shoulder as she spoke.

“Your ma’s gone to town to get some supplies and medicine. She said she’d be back by nightfall. She also said that you’d forget all about eating or drinking or anything else until the gorram well was done, and that I should make sure to remind you that the old one’s got enough for one more day.” She laughed slightly. “Her words, not mine.” She picked up a bulky pack on the ground that made a gentle sloshing noise as she strung it across her chest and shoulders, and smacked him gently in the stomach with the back of her hand. “So let’s go forget the well for a while.”

Jayne let the way down the familiar path leading to the river’s edge. They had found the spot a couple of years before, with trees sweeping down to a small tributary of the Blackhoof River. Felicity shrugged off the pack, rolling her shoulders as she dropped it gently on the ground. Jayne knew better than to offer to carry the pack; he had asked once a long time ago, only to find that Felicity would be willing to chew off her own fingers before letting that bag be carried by another. She opened the pack, producing a large, flat, sealed container, laying it in arm’s reach. She then proceeded to pull out lunch. Jayne noticed with some embarrassment that the meal contained most of his favorites. He knew some of the stuff hadn’t come cheap, but he also knew better than to say anything about that, either. He thanked her, and they started eating.

After the meal, Jayne stretched out under one of the trees as Felicity sat next to him and pulled the sealed package closer, taking off her jacket and rolling up her sleeves. Pressing the button on the side and popping the seal, she extracted a sketchpad, some pencils, charcoal and pastels. She had scrimped and saved for years to have it, and once she had been able to order it from a shop on Osiris, she had made Jayne come with her every day to the docks to see if it had arrived. In the dream, Jayne remembered the day it had finally arrived – a body would have thought it was Christmas the way she tore into the package and laughed with delight, hugging Jayne and nearly every other gorram soul on the pier. Half-asleep, he smiled at the memory.

(Continued in next post)