Jayne held on to the banister with his left hand with such a grip that his knuckles whitened. He was trying to find out where he was hit, where it hurt, when he, frowning in confusion, saw how a cloud of blood came bursting out of his shooter's forehead like a fountain, and even after that it still took him a few seconds to realize that he wasn't hit at all. The miscreant had never fired his gun and now as he dropped to the floor like an empty sack, it was pretty clear that he wouldn't get a chance to – ever again.

Still a little shocked and confused, Jayne tore his eyes away from the body and looked up.

And found River.

She was hanging by her feet, dangling from a pipe above the catwalk a couple of yards behind the spot where the would-be cargo thief had been standing, upside down and with a smoking gun in her hand, and for a very long moment the two of them just looked at each other, both a little warily.

Then she swung herself upwards and jumped down in front of him, before she quickly put the weapon down by his feet. "No touching guns," she said, looking almost ashamed and embarrassed.

He was suddenly aware that his body was sagging, and with a grunt he grabbed the railings with his right hand as well and pulled himself up, still holding her gaze. "Well," he exhaled, "I won't tell if you don't."

She gave him a smile that he didn't return; flicking his fingers, he only gestured to his crutch still lying there a little out of his reach. "Now gimme a hand, will ya?"

***

Wash could only guess whether the shuttle's thrusters were above water or not. The only way for him to find out was to turn the engines on. Or to try to turn the engines on, because if the thrusters happened to be below the surface then the engines probably wouldn't work, and neither would his plan. And whatever the case, he would only get one chance and one chance only. With the thrusters on, the shuttle would move – which of course was the whole idea