Title: Old Warriors

Author: hisgoodgirl

Disclaimer: All belongs to Joss. His characters just come play in my head.

Rating: PG-15 for profanity

Characters: Mal, Jayne (not slash)

Timeline: Long after the Rebellion triggered by events in the BDM.

Warning: Some characters have deceased.

A/N: One look way down the road at a reunion between a couple of BDHs. Also posted on the ff_fanfic and fireflyholidays comms at LJ. Let me know what you think.

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Old Warriors

“Sonuvabitch!”

The words exploded out of Malcolm Reynolds’ mouth almost like a sneeze, as he slammed his half-full mug down on the scarred tabletop in surprise.

The hulking figure that stood in the bar’s doorway, silhouetted against the glaring midday sun, could only belong to one man. He was still massive and carried himself with an assurance born of a lifetime of brawls and battles, still as heavily armed as the day they’d parted ten years before.

Mal stood up from the table and craned his neck. Graying at the temples, but still lean and handsome, he wore his much-mended and stained brown leather duster like a second skin. He chuckled to himself. Never figured that hún dàn’d still be alive after all these years.

The big man spotted him and plowed through the crowd and over to the table. He was grinning from ear to ear, one big ham of a hand reaching to grasp the one Mal extended and the other clasping the Browncoat’s shoulder fondly.

“Can’t believe yer still wearin’ that raggedy-ass coat, Cap’n,” he laughed. “It’s gorramned good to see ya.”

“Have a seat, Jayne. Good to see you, too.” Mal waved at the waitress, then leaned closer and chuckled as he grasped the worn lapels of the duster and glanced down at them, “Yeah, I still drag it out on occasions, ‘though, if the truth be told, it’s well on the way to fallin’ apart.”

The waitress smiled at both men and asked, “What can I bring ya?”

Mal l