TITLE: Alpha to Omega: The Beginning and the End
BOOK ONE: The Beginning
Chapter Six: F is for Fallout
AUTHOR: Mnemosyne

Disclaimer: No son mios!
SUMMARY: Immediately post-Serenity. The alphabet of hope, redemption, and loss. River/Jayne.
RATING: R for the series, PG-13 this chapter
SPOILERS: Through the film, Serenity.
NOTES:
HAH! I bet you all thought I'd forgotten this story, didn't you? ;) Trust me, it was never far from my thoughts! Everything was so crazy for the last few months of 2005 that I decided to hold off and get back into it with the New Year; so here you go! I hope you enjoy!

F is for the fallout, and there was plenty of that to go around. Seemed Jayne couldn't go anywhere over the next week without getting the hairy eyeball from someone. Simon looked ready to murder him in his sleep. Even Kaylee would bite her lip and find something to keep her busy whenever he came around. Jayne was beginning to feel like a gorram leper.

River offered to get him a bell. He didn't think that was very funny.

It was getting harder to sleep in the girl's room. BK – Before the Kiss – he'd been able to stretch out in the hammock Kaylee'd strung up for him, close his eyes, and drift off to dreamland before the count of three. Sure, sometimes he'd wake up when the girl got to muttering in her sleep, or when she'd get up to pad around at some godforsaken time of night, but he'd always be back to sleep in a matter of heartbeats. Jayne was a man who enjoyed the pleasures of life, and one of them pleasures was a good night's sleep.

That was BK. Now it was PK – Post Kiss – and the whole gorram 'verse was conspiring against him to ruin his sleep.

He could hear her breathing now. How come he'd never had to hear her breathing before? These days he tucked into bed, cozied down under the blankets, and couldn't fall asleep because she was breathing like a gorram freight train. Not even snoring; just... breathing. Soft and wispy, like bits of cloud. And that right there was disturbing, because if he'd never paid attention to her breathing before, he sure as hell hadn't ever gone and tried to describe it.

Then there was the smell. No bones about it, the girl smelled. He wouldn't have minded if she smelled normal: soap, cotton, a bit of sweat. But no, the confounded girl had to go and smell like motherhumpin' peaches. Peaches! How the hell were it possible for a girl in the Black – a former 'fugie no less – to smell like peaches? What, did she rub them behind her ears every morning? And where in the 'verse did she buy the stuff? Last Jayne had checked, the girl didn't have any cash, except what Mal and Simon gave her for pocket money, and he'd never seen her buy a gorram thing. Sure, maybe she'd snuck a crate of the things onboard without him noticing, but Kaylee had a nose for fruit that rivaled his own for guns, and he hadn't seen the chirpy engineer snacking on no peaches lately. So, no peaches. That's what the doctor'd call logic.

"Ah, go se," Jayne muttered, flipping onto his side and pounding his pillow with an angry fist before flopping back down and trying to get comfortable. He was thinking too much, and thinking too much only made it that much harder to stop thinking. A mercenary didn't have the luxury of doing a whole hell of a lot of thinking; tended to get a man killed. So all this... well, thinking was getting a mite tiresome.

The hammock swung back and forth and Jayne tried to let the motion rock him to sleep. It wasn't working. He'd always been a man who could fall asleep anywhere, anytime, but now the smell of fruit and the girl's soft breathing were keeping him wide awake. How'd that happen? Gorram the 'verse all to hell.

Hang on... Breathing.

Where the hell was the girl's breathing?

Rolling onto his back to get a better view of the bed, he nearly jumped out of his skin when he saw River standing right next to his hammock, staring down at him with dark, unblinking eyes.

"Wo de ma, girl!" he exclaimed, hand leaping up to press over his pounding heart. He glared at her. "Don't go sneakin' up on a man like that! 'Specially not when he's sleepin', and 'specially not when that man's me! Liable to put my fist through your head and no mistake!"

"You weren't sleeping."

"Don't matter none! I mighta been! Then you'd have had yourself a nice faceful o' Jayne fist." He pushed into a sitting position, which was an awkward procedure given the flimsy nature of the hammock. By the time he got his limbs straightened out he felt he'd lost most of the upperhand in the conversation, and stabbed a meaningful finger in her direction, just to make a point. "Don't do it again!" he snapped, face set in a fiercesome scowl. Not perhaps the most original advice, but it fit, so he used it.

This was one of those times when it would have been nice if she'd responded like she was supposed to. Maybe look a little scared, maybe cower back a little; something to make Jayne feel like he really was a big, bad mercenary with powerful intimidation skills. Instead, her face remained infuriatingly placid, without so much as a flinch.

Then she did something he hadn't expected at all. She raised her hand – a delicate little thing that curled like a lily – and artfully laced her fingers with his.

"They are going to take you away," she murmured.

Jayne stared in slack-jawed disbelief at their joined hands. Nobody'd held hands with him since Milly Bishop, his first real girlfriend, and that was going on twenty-five years ago now. Hand-holding had never much interested him. After all, hands could be holding more interesting things than each other when it came to a man touching a woman; rounder, softer things. The only time he ever had call to hold a whore's hand was when he was pressing her down into the mattress.

River's skin was milk white against his dark, careworn hands. It made him all manner of uncomfortable, feeling her smooth, silky palm pressed flush against his calloused one. "Uh... who?" he asked. His throat was dry; that was the only reason he sounded so husky.

"Simon," she murmured, staring at their joined hands. "Captain Mal. The others. We scare them."

"There ain't no we, Little Girl." Jayne shifted uncomfortably, but she didn't let go of his hand.

Dark brown eyes found his in the dark, and she looked immeasurably sad. "Yes," she persisted, squeezing his hand. "There is."

"Look, I'm in here cuz nobody wanted to see you rippin' yourself up, right?" he reminded her. "Ain't nothin' more'n that." With a firm shake of his hand, he freed his wrist.

Turned out that was a bad move, because with both hands free she was able to reach up and cradle his face between her palms. He could smell the scent of peaches, warm and girly, on her wrists. "You have to remember me," she pleaded, words tumbling over themselves like water off a cliff. "You cannot forget. If you forget then she will forget, and the demons will come back. They think she does not need you but she does. She still does. She will always. Distance makes the heart grow fonder but the knees go weak, and she will fall without you!"

The girl was shaking like a leaf on a tree. "Hey hey, calm it down," Jayne muttered, disconcerted, reaching up to take her wrists and tug her hands down. Blessedly he hadn't had to do much comforting during their stint together – usually his presence sufficed – but that left him woefully unprepared on how to handle her if she got into one of her fits. "Ain't no one said nothin' to me 'bout movin' outta your room, dong ma? So till they do, you can just calm down and quit gettin' yer knickers in a twist." Letting go of her hands, he settled back into his hammock. "Now shoo yourself back to bed and let a body rest. Go on, git."

He closed his eyes and refused to open them, even though he knew the girl wasn't moving. He could feel her standing there, staring down at him. Eyes all brown and wet. Mouth all chapped and pouty. Probably ringing those tiny hands of hers, toying with her own fingers, nibbling on her lower lip, getting ready to start bawling...

The edge of the hammock tilted and his eyes shot open to see River climbing on beside him. "Wo de ma, what d'ye think yer doin', Girl!" he yelped, scrambling to move away from her.

"Last nights should always be spent in a loved one's arms," she said mournfully, as if that made any damn sense. To his horror, the hammock wrapped around them, forcing the girl to crawl onto his body until she was curled up on his chest, her face tucked into his throat.

"Gorrammit, girl!" he barked, spitting out a mouthful of her hair. "Geroff me!"

"When I was sent to the Academy, I spent a week alone on a transport," she murmured against his collarbone. She obviously wasn't planning on moving anytime soon, so Jayne tried to remain stubbornly motionless. "Mother and father were engaged elsewhere, and Simon was in school. I was given two kisses – one on each cheek – and a small billfold with enough currency to last the journey. It was divided into days of the week, with a certain number of credits earmarked for food, necessities, and frivolities. The frivolities budget was very small – my parents did not believe in trinkets."

Despite his better judgment, Jayne found himself listening to her. River's voice was trancelike, which was itself hypnotic. He tried to picture what she must have looked like as a little girl; well, all right, a littler girl. All he got was an image of a pair of big brown eyes over another pair of knobbly knees, and long, unruly hair. Or no, not unruly. Her parents would've had maids and the like to keep it in line. It was probably real sleek and soft and grown-up, even for a little thing like her. She was probably a pretty girl.

A scowl rippled across his face. What kind of stupid hun dan parents let a pretty little girl go alone on a transport? Didn't they know bad stuff happened to sweet young things in the big Black?

"They would not have thought that way," she mumbled against his neck, reminding him for the millionth time that she could read his mind. "They believed that money buys security. Sometimes my parents could be right. The transport was safe. The bad things came after."

She sighed, relaxing on top of him, her slim body covering him up like a blanket. She was straddling his waist, her warm, dark hair draped across his shoulders. It wasn't entirely uncomfortable, really. The boat could get pretty chilly at night, when Kaylee spooled the engines down and they chugged through space under their own inertia. It was sorta nice having something warm to hold onto, even if it was a crazy kind of warm.

"I bought a box of maple candy." His ears perked up. She was talking again. "Processed sugar is bad for the teeth, but I was going away to school and felt rebellious. The transport was a luxury vessel; it had a little gift store. I bought a box of maple candy, and it was a big box; two layers of sugary sweetness separated by wax paper. Each one had a little sun imprinted on the top, because it was made by Blue Sun and they believed in logo endorsement. I remember the first one I ate. It tasted like winter and autumn.

"I bought a box of maple candy, and everyday I ate two pieces. One in the morning just after breakfast, and one after dinner for my dessert. I had my own cabin with my own little safe, and I kept the box there so the staff wouldn't find it. It was my first secret, my box of maple candy. Mother taught us not to keep secrets, but I was going away to school and felt rebellious. I decided I would save two pieces and send them home to Simon, so he could have a secret, too. But then I changed my mind and decided I'd eat four pieces on my last day on the transport. I'd gobble them all down like a greedy little girl, and I wouldn't brush my teeth afterwards. I was going to be a Very Naughty Girl. Mother always capitalized the words in her head whenever she had call to say them to me; I could hear it in the way she pronounced the V. Sometimes I believe she thought that was my name, and that she hadn't named me something as frivolous as River.

"My last day on the transport, I gorged myself on maple candy. I made myself sick, but I didn't care. I made myself sick. I was a little guerrilla rebel and my mode of attack was tooth decay. As we were unloading into the spaceport, I had call to walk past the gift store.

"So I bought a box of maple candy."

The girl's voice was still soft and dreamlike, but Jayne wasn't feeling so hypnotized anymore. There was a faint tension building in her body, as if they were drifting down a lazy stream, steadily approaching a hundred foot waterfall with no tributaries and no shore in sight.

"I was going to keep it a secret, too," she murmured, utterly motionless but for her mouth. "I thought it would be fun, a secret at school. It would give me a little danger, a little mystique. I wouldn't be the genius at the Academy, because all the children at the Academy were geniuses. But I could be the Girl with the Secret, and that was something special. I'd always been something special to someone; I didn't see reason to change.

"My dormitory room was small, clean, and concise, and I unpacked quickly. A place for each and every thing and everything in its place. I made sure to tuck my maple candy under my pillow where it would be safe. Then it was time for roll call, and greetings, and long, lofty speeches by men with lined faces and wet, rubbery lips. We played games at our tables and I made friends that day: Geminine, Adrian, Paul. They were all smart, but I was smarter. I won at every game, and I didn't even cheat." She sighed, and Jayne felt something warm and wet pool in the hollow of his throat.

She was crying.

"When dinner was over we all raced back to our rooms, because classes started up the next day and everyone was excited to learn. It was like Christmas, but with textbooks. And I remember scurrying into my room and locking the door, and jumping on my bed because there was no one there to stop me. And I remember sitting down and looking around and feeling like I belonged. And I remember giggling and being covert and tucking my hand up under my pillow for a piece of maple candy."

She turned her head then, pressing her face into his throat, her lips against his jugular, and he could feel her smaller body quivering.

"They took it," she whimpered, shaking her head faintly. "They took her box of maple candy, and left a note of Warning. They said she was on probation, and that outside food was only allowed after passing through the proper channels."

Now she was shaking, honestly shaking, and her ribs were expanding and compressing with each desperate breath. "Probation! She had never been on probation! She was terrified they would send her home, tail between her legs and shamed for life! She could not sleep that night. She did not know how they had known; she did not care to ask. She was first at class the very next day, because isn't River a proper student? She was first at class everyday, because River was not a Very Naughty Girl; not really. She was the best pupil, the brightest mind. She would make them understand that she should stay; that they must not send her home. It had been a temporary lapse of judgment; she wouldn't have more secrets. She belonged! She didn't want to go home, she wanted to stay! And she worked and worked and excelled at everything, and she became their model student. They said she was their best ever.

"She wrote a letter to Simon, telling him that. It was the last letter she wrote where she meant every word."

A shudder worked down her spine as her small hands clutched the fabric of his t-shirt. Jayne didn't know what to do or say, so he didn't do or say anything. He didn't think she was done anyway.

"She was damned by maple candy," she whispered, voice thick with tears. "It made her want to be the best." A soft moan of fear ebbed past her lips. "I wish she'd bought two boxes. Then they might have sent her home."

Silence fell between them, and Jayne realized he hadn't said a word this entire time. The girl'd been spilling her guts out to him, and normally that didn't sit well on his mind, but he didn't have the gumption to make her stop. Not this time. It sounded like she'd been wanting to tell all that to someone for a mighty long time; sort of like how she'd wanted to tell the 'verse about Miranda but hadn't been able to. Maybe she'd be even less crazy now.

"Don't think they'd have sent you home, Girl," he murmured into her hair. "The way they been lookin' for you since you run off, think they had their eye on you all along."

River shook her head faintly against his neck. "She does not know," she murmured. "And it is the not knowing that is worse than the knowing everything."

Silence fell again, and this time Jayne didn't feel inclined to break it. River seemed calmer now that she'd told her story, and judging by her breathing, she was close to drifting off. "Girl?" he whispered, wincing at how loud his voice sounded in the quiet room.

"Jayne?" she mumbled.

"Why'd you tell me all that?"

River sighed and snuggled down on top of him. "Because I would have been less scared that night if I'd had someone to hug," she murmured.

"Oh." Seemed like an awful lot to go through, just to make a point. But then the girl's brain wasn't wired like a normal person's. Girl's brain wasn't wired, period; that was part of the problem.

"Jayne?"

"Huh? What?" Her sleepy voice was distracting.

"I will miss you when you go."

Jayne sighed. "Girl-"

"Goodnight, Jayne."

Well, that was finality if ever he heard it. "Night, Girl," he muttered, closing his eyes. The scent of peaches was strong and sweet, and he wondered if it was deliberate. Maple candy may have tasted like autumn and winter, but when it came to tasting summertime, you couldn't beat a peach.

TBC...