Guns & Violas, Part One

--Disclaimerness: Joss Whedon owns the characters and the ship they ride around in, I'm just playing around with them for a moment :)--

-- And so it went on, and on. And on... And on after that, too. Mal started thinking of ways to stop the clamour from entering his ear sockets. There had to be something on this boat to dampen the noise besides his pillow. Cotton balls, duct tape, mayhap even marshmallows.., he went over the list in his head. Pillows were supposed to stop noises like this weren't they..? Sitting up, he looked at the wall from wence the reverberations annoyingly came. He glanced to his clock which stared back at him from the nightstand. "Alright, two more minutes, then I tell her to cut it." He bopped the clock, and watched with reddened eyes as the geisha's head bobbled. "Never gets old..." The see-sawing continued unabated. "...but that surely does." he groaned. "Why I ever let her get that gorram thing is beyond my comprehension at this juncture... First a layer-cake, now this..., at least the dress wasn't so noisesome." The geisha looked at him. Mal stared back. The geisha wouldn't blink, so Mal let her win the stare down. The noise stopped. "Oh, sheh sheh, thank you." he whispered with praying hands at the wall, then slumped back into his pillow.

-- Kaylee flipped the page to the next song in the crumpled old 'Teach yourself Viola' booklet. --

" 'sure you don't wanna tend ta that..?" Jayne sneered at Simon across the table. "Meaning.., what exactly?" Simon ventured. "Sounds like a dyin' cat." The merc winced slightly as a gratingly high note pierced the dining room. It mercifully died away, and Jayne continued cleaning his revolver's cylinder chambers. "You're a doctor, doc, maybe go make sure that fee-line gets a good injection afore she goes..." "Was there a school you went to...?!" Simon blurted, having nearly choked on his beans and rice. "There was, but not... much." Jayne stammered, then tossed the cleaning patch aside. "I can see why." Jayne flipped the cylinder closed with a snap of his wrist, and sniffed, "Didn't much need what they taught, line 'a work I'm in. How 'bout you doc..?" Simon thought for a moment, pondering which direction to take this conversation in. Jayne was glaring at him, expecting an answer. "Well, they taught me more about knives and cutting things, actually." He motioned with his chopsticks in a more-or-less precision slicy fashion. That caught Jayne's interest. His grin widened as he set the revolver down on the cloth upon the table and leaned in. "They teach ya how ta take out a man's stomach..? Or liver..?" "..Among other things..., in a manner of speaking." "Gimme the details." Jayne pressed. "What's the bloodiest organ ya ever ripped outta somebody..?" The doctor sighed, then took the cue, "It was your stomach, actually." Jayne's grin erased itself. "Yes, back when you hurt your spine." Simon continued in all seriousness. "It wasn't functioning correctly, so I had to remove it." Jayne ripped up his shirt and methodically checked himself for suture scars. Finding nothing, he leveled his gaze on Simon's straight face. "Ain't no way ya coulda done that, no scars, and asides, I've been eatin' regular enough, so where's all the food been goin' if it ain't got no stomach ta go to..?" Simon eased back in his chair, swirling his chopsticks near his throat as he finished chewing, then swallowed. "The stomach comes out quite easily through the mouth, then you just cut the esophagus. You should have seen all the bile, and stomach acid..." "And blood..?" Jayne gulped. "Oh yeah, plenty of that too. I think we ran out of buckets." "Where's all the food been goin' then?" Jayne asked, shifting uneasily in his seat, trying to adjust the protein burger he'd had for dinner. "It just goes in there, you know? Kind of drifts around." Swirling chopsticks again. "I'll crap it out though, right...?" "Well, that depends." "On what...?" Jayne anxiously awaited, wide eyed and pale. "On whether or not I sewed your colon closed..." Simon smiled wickedly.

-- "Well, that 'un didn't sound too shiny." Kaylee pouted. Next page was titled 'The Hills of Ezra'. She readied her bow. --

"...And you will die as well for your unfathomable blasphemies! Now DIE!" The note hit unattainable heights at that moment, and unfathomable blasphemies. Wash ground his dinosaurs together as his shoulders hunched. "Dear Lord, make it go away..." he breathed, then worked his jaw to alleviate recurring thoughts of that dreadful dentist's chair. He could call everybody up to the bridge, that'd give him a moments peace. But then everybody'd be going, "Wash, why'd you call us up to the bridge?!" And then he'd have to lie. "I could always say it was REEEEEE-" Another shrill crescendo found its way into his molar. "vers." he finished. "But that wouldn't be nice, now would it?" His dinos answered no. "Okay, hmm. Yes, blasphemies... Now DIE!!" ; "But, ahhh, you've forgotten about my strategic dorsal plating!" ; "Noo! Your defense is too unyielding, my teeth are..., my theeth..." The scream that echoed up the hall, through both closed hatches, onto the bridge and into the pilot, was indeed the epitomy of how Not to play a stringed instrument. Dinos haphazardly spewed forth across the land. "Ahhhg, MY TEETH!!" Wash stood, cradling his jaw. "Ah, Ta Ma Duh," he moaned. "Maybe Simon can dope me and sit me back in my chair here and nobody'd be any wiser. That'd be a plan. But then who'd be flying?" he visualized this for a moment through the throbbing pain, then whispered, "Would it matter?" He gathered up his dinosaurs and replaced them on the console, although the stego had taken a leap down the ladder into Gwuandwanaland. He'd come back for her later, plenty of forage down there anyway. Right now his mind was focused on some pain relief, he had to find Simon and his stash of anelgesic wonders! "But first, I have to get past those cursed sound patterns." Wash plotted his course, a straight shot past all the bunks, with a final leap for cover through the dining room bulkhead. "I must be swift, like that very fast cat!" Of course, the first blast sounded when he was damn near on top of Kaylee's bunk. He doubled over a bit, shoving a palm beneath his jaw to keep the daggers from boring out through the underside. But onward to aspirin he aspired, a seeming blur of palm leaves and white, leaping with wild abandon into the dining room and slamming the doors immediately behind him before another sonic grenade detonated. The dining room was crewless and tidy, save for a cloth upon the table with a few cleaning brushes spread across it, and a half eaten bowl of beans and rice with chopsticks protruding.

-- "Well, no, see... ya gotta push this here little catch." The cylinder rocked out on its arm, and a few very large caliber bullets slid out due to the jarring motion and clattered to the floor of the cargo bay. Simon took a half step back and inspected his delayed reaction clumsiness. Jayne inspected the doctor from beneath heavy brows. "Ya shot a gun before, right...?" asked Jayne, retrieving the stray cartridges. "Uh.., yes. Yes I did." Simon replied, scratching his wrist, unwittingly emptying the remaining bullets. "Oh, uh.., It wasn't quite like this one, this type, though..." "From what I recall, Book said ya didn't hit gos se." chuckled Jayne, sliding the bullets back into the cylinders as Simon tried to hold the massive revolver steady. The merc snapped the cylinder closed, along with the tip of Simon's inadvertently positioned thumb. "FFFFwwwahhhh!" "Sorry Doc. First lesson's: Watch your FIE-lanjies." "Ape." Simon retorted, shaking the numbing thumb back to life. "Why don't you just show me how to do it, and I'll observe. From a safe distance." He pushed the gun back into Jayne's hands. "No-can-do. You said 'hands-on', and that's what yer gonna get! Now remember what I said about aimin'..." Jayne continued intently. "Look at the front sight. There, cocked and ready." Jayne grabbed the doctor's wrist and wedged the behemoth back into his uncalloused hand. Simon couldn't believe what he'd gotten himself into. He couldn't believe he was going to 'squeeze off' a few rounds of.., what was it..? ..470 caliber high yield tungsten core ammunition?, from this chrome double-anodized hand cannon! What was even more mind boggling was the fact that Jayne was teaching him how to fire said howitzer, and Jayne was, suprisingly, a pretty good teacher! Who'd have thought? But then again, this was Jayne's specialty, so... "Now point 'er downrange..." Jayne continued. "Her...?" Simon interrupted. "Yeah..., Esmerelda. Point 'er down at the barrels there." "Okay, yes, pointing Esmerelda at the barrels now." huffed Simon, doing his best to level the revolver on the target, a small packet of Blue Sun oatmeal taped up on the foremost of an arrangement of wooden barrels packed with Grade A Beaumonde manure. "Now pull the trigger, right?" "Are ya lookin' at the front sight..?" Jayne whispered, as if the tension of the moment was paramount. "Now what does that mean exactly?" asked Simon. "How can I see what I'm shooting at if I'm looking at the front sight?" "Yer target's gonna be blurry, don't worry over-much about that. Keep the front sight in focus, plant it over the blurry target, and everything else'll just line up." Simon was admittedly a bit amazed, giving Jayne a quick glance before focusing back on the task. "Alright.., front sight, target blurry.., now pull the trigger, right?" "Squeeeeeeze the trigger, doc." Jayne pleaded. "If the gun goes off, 'n ya know about it, yer gonna miss, guaranteed." "Wait.., so it should go off, and I don't know about it...? How is that possible? I've heard your guns before." Jayne remained focused on his impromptu instructional demonstration. "Just squeeze that there trigger, give 'er a bit 'a love, keep the sight on your blurry target." "Alright, here goes..." Simon concentrated intently, shoulders hunched, readying himself for the mule-kick called Esmerelda. Jayne waited patiently, his hands on his knees, attention glued to the cowering stir-and-serve oatmeal pack on the barrel of shit. Simon took up the tension on the trigger... "Now this is okay with the Captain, right...?" Jayne cocked an eyebrow. The hammer snapped down.

-- Mal's eyes snapped open. The sound of the viola still lacerated his eardrums, though he'd gotten slightly used to it over the last half-hour, enough to allow sleep to creep up on him. His short dreams had included all manner of strangeness. Visions of geishas and their long flowing black hair with bows, playing beautifully, though the music they played was anything but. And then one of them shot him with an arrow right in the center of his chest as a kettle drum sounded distantly behind the curtains of their little parlor. "Hmmm...?" Mal sat up, rubbing a palm, in turn, into each of his clouded eyes. The melody, or lack thereof, continued in the next room... *Vee-da-deeeeee-dee-de-da, Vwee-da-da-deeeeshreik-ee-de-da, Vee-deee-deeeeeeshrunk* *BOOM..., BOOM, BOOM!* "Huh. I guess the drums are a nice touch." he chuckled to himself. *Vee-deee* "whoops, sonofa--." *da-deeeeeee-de-de-da...* *BOOM..., BOOM, BOOM, BOOM* "One too many there." Mal sighed and checked the time. "Whatinthe..? Now who brought kettle drums aboard my gorram boat?!" The Captain swung his legs out of bed and listened intently, filtering past the viola scrapings and mechanic's swearing, until what he'd thought he'd heard came again. *BOOM, BOOM* "Cargo Bay!" Mal shot out of bed and up his ladder. "Gorramit, Jayne!, Esmerelda!, the both 'a you!!"

-- "Mal! Captain! Doer of Good Deeds, and my humble liege..." Wash pleaded, as Mal nearly stumbled over him in the front hallway. "Wash, I ain't got time fer this right now. Jayne's busy tryin' ta get us all vaccuum packed at the moment!" "This won't take but a second, I ssSWeaR..." Wash blurted through obvious pain. "Neither will this." Mal stated, matter of factly, and proceeded to the head of the stairs around the corner. "JAYNE! KNOCK! IT!! OFF!!! I got a wrench with your name on it RIGHT HERE!!" He extended an open hand, "Wash, Wrench me. If I hear one more shot..!!" "I almost thought that was just the pain poundin' in my head..." mumbled Wash, leaning raggedly against the wall. "Simon's doin' the shootin' though, Mal." came Jayne's distant plea. "Gee thanks." accompanying shortly after. "We're done!" Jayne took Esmerelda from Simon and emptied the spent casings with ease. "Well Doc," he sighed, brows lifted and concentrating on the shells in his hand, "It's official..." Simon looked at him, awaiting the inevitable. "Ya can't even hit shit." "And you won't be able to take one, until those stitches are removed..." Simon replied, unphased. Jayne jingled the ammo casings in his hand, before leveling his glare on the doctor's smug expression. "That was a good one, I'll give ya that." he grinned. The two strode out of the cargo bay side by side, teacher and pupil, though in reverse this time. "So.., I just need more practice then, yes?" offered Simon, smiling. Jayne shoved the gun into Simon's gut, producing an audible exhalation of breath from the doc. "Yeah, sure, whatever. You fired 'er, now you get to clean 'er." --

(to be continued...)