Jayne couldn’t figure it out.

He sat on the catwalk and dangled his legs. As far as people were concerned, Serenity was silent. The occasional moan and groan as it kept its course in space made Jayne almost believe it was alive, like Kaylee imagined all the time.

He sipped at a flask he kept in his cargo pants and winced at the aftertaste. Good stuff. It kept him awake; he wanted to be awake tonight. No use tryin’ to sleep with his thoughts bangin’ a gong.

He chuckled half-crazed. The rest of the crew would have loads to say about him if they knew he wrestled with a dilemma. Jayne? Naw, he’s too pig-headed and in the gutter.

But, that’s what it was, plain an’ simple: a dilemma.

Since Canton the week before, Jayne had thought way too hard about his experience.

Let’s see, he’d had some fun pretendin’ he was a big-shot hero-- had a fine night with a pretty Mudder to boot-- but the teeny honest part of Jayne nagged at him in the morning. In the end he’d fessed up and spilled the beans: he was no hero, just a coward. Even knocked over the statue of hisself. He woulda left right then and there, but Stitch came out an’ pointed a well-intended gun at him. And that stupid kid, no older than 17, jumped in front of the bullet and died in the dust.

Jayne just couldn’t figure it out.

For almost a solid week, he hadn’t been able to sleep at peace for the thought of that kid. Lyin’ like a dog, in the street, shot by the man Jayne had wronged. Why’d the kid do that, save him, knowin’ full well that Jayne had stolen the money from Canton?

And Jayne had escaped death again. Did that mean the clock was a-tickin’ for him still? If one bullet doesn’t kill a man, another surely will, as Jayne’s ma always said. She said it was gonna come to her son sooner or later, the life he led.

Jayne wanted his ma. The tough guy he was, he had gone off as a teenager and never looked back—well, from time to time he did, only to think on his ma. Ma sent presents to him from that drafty far