Posting this for oldfan45 : I may not have anything new to offer, but there are still some stories in the old archive I can post here.

I should have presented this one sooner--my very first "Firefly" story, a response to the last moments of "Ariel." It's been revised very slightly from the version that was on my web page.

The usual disclaimers apply.

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"Things Not Smooth"

(c) HawkMoth, 11/19/2002

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"It's a pity Bilbo didn't kill him when he had the chance."

"It was pity that stayed Bilbo's hand."

--Frodo and Gandalf, "The Fellowship of the Ring" 2001

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It was time to be gone, to be done with the whole sorry mess.

Except it wasn't entirely over.

"What're you gonna tell the others?"

The plaintive question halted his next footfall. Reluctantly, Mal brought the radio up to his mouth. "About what?"

"About why I'm dead."

"Hadn't thought about it." No, not one gorram bit. But there'd be questions, and what answers could he give? Not that it mattered--he was the captain, and that should be more than enough sufficient answer.

Jayne's face was a contorted blur through the bay window. "Make something up. Don't tell 'em what I did."

Was that guilt in his voice? Remorse? Or just the same cold self-centeredness that always motivated Jayne? A person like that never had a conscience, would never grow one.

Right?

And what could he make up that any of his crew would believe?

The sound of Serenity trying to break atmo with an open air lock grew louder. It hurt. Mal reached down and shut the hatch, letting her fly free.

He strode back to the window and glared in, ignoring the relief on Jayne's face. "The next time you decide to stab me in the back, have the guts to do it to my face." He dropped the radio and walked away, wondering if he'd accomplished anything at all.

Jayne called something out, but Mal was too far up the stairs to hear it clearly. He didn't care. Let the bastard sweat some more. Let him stay there a