For Keeps

An old man lays on an old worn matteress, with stuffing coming out, he lungs heaving with pain. His grey hair, platted with sweat. He can hardly breath. His black face, old from hard life, but his eyes, had a depth that few men could see or measure.

The wooden shack isn't much bigger than a shed, the planks of wood, let shafts of light through. The mud on the floor is wet, and slushy

He puts his hand down on the small blonde head that weeps into belly, ands strokes, his head. The pain is too great, he keeps passing out, he can't remember, how long he has been there, but he knows he hasn't got long to live, minutes rather than hours, he can feel the rupture in his stomach, and the bleeding from chest from the blast he took. He has only time left to give Jayne some comfort.

All Sam remembers what getting his gun to protect the little rubbish he been able to scavenge from the rubbish tip, that day. But the other person, was too quick. If only... now things were so complicated now, if only he hadn't taken charge of Jayne, this wouldn't be so painful.

That little rat-boy, whose eyes ran wild, feeding off garbage, and who fought the birds, for the thier crumbs. That, was now four years ago, and now Jayne must be eight, and what would he do? A spasm shot through his body, his teeth grinds.

Jayne when he had got him was wild and from the scars on his head, it was apparent, he had some brain damage, probably people had hit with a spade or a brick for some garbage on the tip they felt they deserved more. But for all, the roughness, there was still that sweetness that survived.

"Jayne, Jayne... he whimpers. You must be brave, and strong. You are a man now".

"Cough, Cough!"

"I want you to never be afraid of running away when you have to! Or fighting when you have to! But, if you can't be smart, do it right Jayne!", he smiles.

Sam coughs, blood trickling down his throat.

"Now, I am going to give you a present."

"Have I been good Uncle Sam?"

"Yes, Jayne, you h