All characters are property of Joss Whedon and FOX. I own nothing, just playin’!

Don’t Fret by Nina Clark

Kaylee awoke gently, as one still dreaming. In the darkness of her bunk a faint sound pulled at her senses, beckoning. Teasing her eyes open, the woody strains of a guitar became apparent, though a moment passed before she realised this. Half-formed ideas of nature, earth and air, and a melancholic whisper of… What was that?

Sitting up to rest on her elbow, Kaylee quirked her head towards the hatchway. It was coming from across the hall. Jayne’s bunk? Hypnotised by the resonance, she swung her legs over the bed, feet finding slippers. The stillness of the room was like a blanket and the air warmed around her as she moved quietly to the foot of the ladder.

A melody was now discernable, playing a counterpoint over the soothing drone of Serenity’s engine. Yearning to hear more clearly this sweet lullaby, her hand rose to open the hatch before catching itself. Should she open it? She didn’t want to interrupt the moment. Intrigue overwhelming caution, she eased the latch free, an innate familiarity with the ship aiding her clandestine movements. Grateful to have recently oiled all the dormitory door-hinges, she climbed slowly up the rungs until her head peeked over the threshold.

The door to Jayne’s bunk was evidently open, as the more subtle nuances of his playing could now be perceived. It was a lilting slip of a tune, heartbreakingly raw and tender, and Kaylee found her chest tighten to think it was Jayne making these sounds. Music had always transported her, particularly in childhood when she would sit on her Pa’s knee at their ancient piano. Joining the Frye household as payment for a job, the instrument had brought many happy hours to their evenings in times gone by. A pang of homesickness hit her, the tightness reaching her throat.

A change in the melody tugged her from her reverie, and her gaze re-focused upon the opposite doorway. A new line, lower than before began to weave its way