CHAPTER 7

Jayne collected three pistols, his knife, and a stack of rounds before climbing out of his bunk the next morning. He and Kaylee had stayed up half the night casting rounds with a blow torch. He didn’t figure Mattie would let him stock up on ammo and even so, didn’t trust her to know where all his metal was strapped. It was the kind of distrust Jayne was accustomed to giving and receiving from everyone in the ‘verse – except the crew of Serenity. Still, it was hard to feel like crap about the gou cao de situation with Kaylee sittin’ across from him all night, firing a blow torch, joking about a time she singed off her own eyebrows. Jayne felt sorry for Kaylee as she slept soundly, curled up in his chair, keeping quiet vigil lest the grief overtake him again.

Carefully, he slid the bowie knife out of Kaylee’s protective hands and into the sheath tucked in his boot. He could still see the fading cuts on his hand, though Kaylee’s loving bandage had long since fallen off. She didn’t care that he slept next to the guns, but she didn’t trust him with the knife. Not in the evenings.

Kaylee stirred when she felt him take the knife, her hazel eyes opening, her hand quickly reaching to still his arm.

“It’s morning,” Jayne assured quietly, pulling a blanket over her as she relaxed again and closed her eyes. He didn’t need her there helpin’ him through the nights no more, coating his blankets with the smell of peach-scented lotion. Tonight, he’d tell her to sleep in her own bunk. Tonight.

Jayne found Mattie in the galley, preparing breakfast as had become her habit, though today the food was quick and practical, her eyes constantly and nervously jumping about the room. Finding some bowls, Jayne took a helping of the tasteless gruel, giving only half-thought to the worry that this unsavory meal might be his last.

“You don’t have to do this,” Jayne said quietly as she picked at the meal.

Mattie’s soft blue eyes suddenly locked on his, hardening to steel, and she sneered. “Are you getting cold feet?”