Disclaimer: It ain't mine. No need to sue me, nekkid people have no pockets. But I'll share my typos with you.

The Plotbunny Made Me Do It.

Warning for Sadness.

Big, fat Thanks to BYTEMITE for having a look at it and giving me the Green Light for posting and for fixing where I fudged up the formatting. And for speculating with me about Jayne's Rule.

Buried his past

Jayne couldn’t wait to get back home.

The job was easy, most of the time all he had to do was stand around, bristling with weapons and look tough. He often wondered if Mr. Halliwell really needed a bodyguard. Man seemed to have no enemies at all, possessing of a personality that drew people in at the first smile. Still, bodyguards were expected if one was a public figure and the old man played along.

Jayne had no problem with looking decorative, since it brought him a big paycheck every month. And Jayne loved money. Lots of it. Came from growing up poor on the rim.

But Jayne also loved coming home, more than the paycheck.

Home was Lottie, with her smiles and warm body and good food waiting for him, romps between the sheets that left him so wore out, he didn’t want to move for a year.

Home was sitting in a hot bath with Lottie on his lap, surrounded by bubbles that smelled of roses and made Skip tease him unmercifully for at least a week.

And home was his little baby-girl come running up on short, stubby legs, squealing with joy when she saw her daddy, when he swung her up high and around, planted loud, smacking kisses on her face or blew a raspberry on her fat little tummy.

Home was cuddling her till she fell asleep on his shoulder, listening to Lottie read a bedtime story or him playing a lullaby on his old battered guitar.

Home was waking up to her calling “Dada!’ over and over again, till he dragged himself out of bed and picked her up, fixing her breakfast and playing in the little sitting room, giving Lottie a badly needed extra hour of sleep.

Jayne hated being gone. It never was for lon