First up, apologies to all the non-Firefly people on my flist. Three challenges due over the next three days, and all in the same fandom. I'll get back to something else soon - I'm all Jossed out now!

This is for moonanstars's Firefly Ficathon Challenge. I drew budclare's choices. At least half the story had to take place in Badger's closet on Persephone, involve any members of Serenity's crew whose presence there can be justified, but not to include Badger himself if possible. There also had to be some kind of reference to some kind of animal, either one actually in the story (dead or alive), or a passing reference, like Wash's juggling geese comment.

budclare, you're a nutcase ;) Hope this is okay, luv!

Firefly:Waking the World Away
Slight Simon/Jayne



(There once was a boy…)

There's blood on his hands.

He can't see it anymore, not since the lamp that was sending weak light under the door towards them guttered and died and left them in the dark. Jayne rubs his hands up and down the rough fabric of his pants, trying to get rid of the heavy-sticky feel of the blood, but it's stuck there in the lines and creases and between his fingers. Gritty and dusty from the filth of Persephone's market place, and Jayne feels like he'll never be clean again. Beside him, Simon lets out a soft, keening sound, breath harsh and sharp, and Jayne reaches out blindly, finds the bundle of rags pressed against Simon's side. They're soaked through, and Jayne's fingers are coated over again with blood.

It feels like it'll never come off.

~~

(No. It shouldn't start like that. Not with the boy. There once was an entire world…)

The market was achingly hot, the press of too many bodies in too small a space, making the air thick and damp and hard to breath. Far too much movement and solidity, and Jayne has to keep yanking the small luggage carrier out from the snarls of people's clothing and stall coverings, pulling it viciously away every time the wheels trap themselves against crates and cages and tables. He doesn't like being here, away from Serenity and babysitting the goddamned doctor while he wanders around, restocking the infirmary and finding bits and pieces for the various crew members. Inara had dropped the two of them off at the port with an admonishment to not get into any trouble, and a promise that Wash would be by in a few hours to pick them up. Jayne would really have preferred staying on the ship, but he'd lost the last hand of poker the night before and ended up as chaperone. The look on Simon's face as he wandered into the kitchen and saw what Jayne, Book and Zoe were playing for, was almost enough to make up for it, though. Almost.

Jayne pushes his hat further back on his head, letting the brim fall over the back of his neck. The sun is high over head, beating down on them, bright and unbearably hot, and Jayne's skin feels burned and tight, chafing sore where it leaves the small shelter of his shirt.

"Ain't we done yet?"

"Just about," Simon replies absently, skimming through the paper list in his hand. "That last batch of meds cost less than I thought; we could get some fresh fruit for dinner."

"Mal ain't gonna like you spending coin we can save."

"Yes, well, doctor's orders," Simon squints at the market around him, trying to get his bearings in the glare of the sun. "Fresh fruit any time we can get it. I think I saw a stall behind the dog seller."

Jayne frowns, thinking. "Live dogs, or dead dogs?"

"Dead and barbequeued."

"Back this way," Jayne growls and tugs the carrier back the way they have just come, Simon dodging around people to keep up with him. "I really hate shopping with you, you know that?"

"No, you don't," Simon says cheerfully. "You love it. You tell everyone I'm your boywhore, and then I buy you things to shut you up."

"Okay, well, I like that bit," Jayne looks down at Simon. The boy is smiling, practically vibrating with energy, and Jayne can't remember the last time Mal had let the doctor wander freely planetside, where there were so many people about. Thinks it has to be an awful long time ago for Simon to get so heated up over a stinking marketplace where there aren't even any good skin shows to duck into.

~~

(The world was dying and burning, and the people were so scared…)

"Jayne?"

"I'm here."

"I don't like the dark."

Jayne thinks of stars and bright suns and the fire-white metal of a ship entering atmo. Can see them clearly in his mind, and his words come out wrong. "It ain't dark if you close your eyes."

Simon believes him anyway.

~~

(They made ships, hundreds of ships to take the people out to the stars and beyond, but there wasn't enough space. Not enough for all the mothers and fathers and doctors and governments, and they had to leave people behind.)

The noise of the market rises suddenly, shouts out of nowhere, and the steady flow of people around them slows, uneasy, looking for the source of the disturbance. Simon frowns, leaning up on his toes, hand on Jayne's shoulder to balance him. Their skin is hot, sticky where it touches, and Jayne feels like they're burning, fusing together and melting.

"I wonder what's going on?" Simon waves back and forth, trying to see between the bodies pressed around them. "Can you see anything?"

The air moves around them, a sudden gust of hot, heavy air carrying the smell of blood. Tang and heat and -

-Copper for a kiss? -

-and Jayne grabs Simon's arm, begins pulling him back through the crowd.

"What…"

"We need to go. Now." Jayne is too hardened, too quick to think that the sudden smell of blood could mean anything but bad happenings, and he yanks the carrier and the doctor forward, just as someone near them screams. The crowd surges forward and Jayne feels Simon tripping, falling away from him, and the blood-wind presses against him like something solid, something alive and horribly, awfully wrong.

~~

(…waiting for the earth to burn up…)

"Jayne? Are you awake?"

"Ain't gonna be anything else right now."

Soft sigh. "It's so dark."

Can't think of anything to say but, "Sorry," and Simon shifts against him, skin cool against Jayne's sunburned shoulder, and it shouldn't feel like that. Shouldn't feel like death already, and Jayne pulls Simon closer and tries to keep him warm. Tries to keep him alive.

~~

(There was nowhere for them to go.)

Jayne lets go of the carrier, not caring when the crowd carries it away between bodies and panic, and he pushes against them, forcing his way through and following Simon's path. Almost trips over the boy, and Simon is hunched over on the ground beside a large pile of rusting scrap metal, caught between legs and feet and fright. Jayne reaches down, hauls Simon to his feet and begins pushing them both back through the crowd, away from the market and towards the side streets that spread out away through the city. Simon walks bent over, hand against his side as he twists through the crowd, and Jayne wonders if he'd been kicked while he was down on the ground.

Alliance shuttles are speeding towards the market, the air filled with the high whine of their engines, and Jayne knows he has to find somewhere to hide, somewhere away from the crowd, because even in a sea of faces, he doesn't want to risk the chance of getting humped by the Feds. Knows there won't be any miracle rescue a second time around. The sun glints off armoured bodies in the crowd, helmets and guns and danger, and Jayne reaches the edge of the crowd, pushes his way out of the people still standing quiet and stunned, and joining the ones who are melting away into the cool, quiet streets. Hears the sudden loud snap of booted feet behind him, hears Simon's gasp of dismay, and then they are running.

~~

(And then there was the boy.)

"Did your brother get better?"

Jayne frowns in the darkness, then realises Simon can't see him. "How did you know about that?"

"River said you got a letter, right before we picked up Tracey. She said he was sick."

Jayne is quiet, remembering the warmth of the hat his mother sent him, and how it couldn't keep out the chill any time he thought of his brother.

"He died."

"I'm sorry." Simon's hand seeks out Jayne's, clenches it tightly. Neither of them says anything for the longest time.

~~

(…there was…)

Jayne knows the side streets well, and he winds his way in and around buildings and alleys and corners, dragging Simon behind him, until the sound of boots fades enough that they can duck into a doorway and catch their breath. Simon slumps against the door, doubled over and breathing harshly. His face is horribly pale in the half-light and Jayne feels a cold thrill snake down his back. Grabs at Simon's hands, pressed over his side, and there is something under there he doesn't want to see.

"Let me look."

"I'm okay," Simon pulls away from Jayne's hands, shaking his head. "I just scraped myself on something." He coughs, trying to get his breath back, and winces. "Who the hell sells scrap metal at a market, anyway?"

"People who ain't expecting a riot, that's for sure." Jayne's head snaps up as the pounding steps edge closer, out of sight but not far away. "We got to hide. I know a place."

"Is it far?"

"Three minutes, if we run," Jayne eyes Simon, and wonders if they would make it. "Badger's place. He'll hide us."

"Are you sure?" Simon's only impression of Badger is a short, loud man with a really strange hat and lots of guns. He doesn't think Badger is the kind of man to just hide two fugitives running from a marketplace riot.

"You got the rest of Mal's coin?"

Oh. "Yes."

"That'll do." They take off again at a run, Jayne pulling Simon along again, and the scent of blood is stronger. Different and closer, and there is something under Simon's hands Jayne doesn't want to see.

~~

(When the ships left, he wandered through the world.)

"I robbed you. When I thought you weren't coming back."

Simon shrugs against him, the movement stiff and pained. "I keep drugging you. I think we're even."

Jayne thinks of stitches and gentle hands, stolen Christmases and screams. They're nowhere near even.

~~

(He watched the burning and the dying and the emptiness…)

Badger's office is empty, the building deserted, and Jayne lets out a frustrated snarl.

"Hwoon dahn probably took off as soon as he heard them Alliance shuttles."

"Well, now what do we do?" Simon's voice is tight, pain-tinged. He's having trouble breathing, and people keep telling him that he ain't weak, but he's not that much good at running, either. Jayne strides towards the next room, pushing aside thick hanging curtains in the doorway.

"Mal said one time that Badger had a secret closet somewhere here. Keeps a load of contraband and fancy stuff in there." Jayne starts looking about the room, searching for trapdoors or false walls or anything that shouldn't be there. "We can hide, lie low for a few hours."

"And he knows this… how?" Simon's tired, hurting, and everything seems to be getting a little ridiculous. A little far away, and he just wants to lean against the wall and not worry about having to hold himself up any more.

"It's Mal," Jayne grunts, and Simon just nods. Watches Jayne push at wall fixings and hangings, scraping his fingers along cracks in the floor, and Simon leans tiredly against a large tapestry on the wall. Frowns as something hard and round digs into his back and he turns around with an effort, lifting the edge of the material back and blinking in surprise.

"Jayne, I found a door."

There's a shout in the next room, and Simon knows they've been found.

~~

(…and inside him…)

"Will you take care of River for me?"

"You mean until you get better?"

"Yes." Simon whispers to him then, about medications and soft words and secret meanings. It sounds like someone reciting their last wishes, and Jayne doesn't understand most of it. Says nothing and lets Simon whisper River's secrets.

~~

(…until he stood at the very end of the world…)

Jayne bundles the both of them into the closet, pushing Simon to the floor and hauling the door closed behind them. Registers too late the snick of a lock pressing home, and then the heavy tapestry is falling back against the door with a dull thud. Simon's breath is loud and horribly laboured in the tiny, dark space and Jayne kneels, claps his hand over the boy's face to muffle him just as the room outside is filled with the heavy thump of running boots. Angry shouts and voices and Simon's body is heaving against him, twisting and crying for more air, and if he makes a sound, they're both dead. Keeps his hand bruisingly tight over Simon's mouth, presses down, and Simon's hand grips his wrist hard, fingers biting against pain and suffocation, and then the footsteps are running by, the room is empty, and Jayne lets go. Simon rolls to the side and Jayne loses him in the dark.

"I think I'm going to be sick."

"Don't you dare!" Jayne snaps, feeling through his pockets for matches or a lighter, and he doesn't like the way Simon's voice sounds faded. "Ain't no way out of here for a while, and I don't want you messing up the place with your breakfast." Doesn't get the breath of laughter he hoped for, just a soft moan of pain, and Jayne's fingers close on a lighter in his pocket. Flicks it open and wishes he hadn't, because there's suddenly an awful lot of blood in front of him, gleaming slickly in the light from the small flame, and Simon is staring up at him, eyes wide and glassy and shocked. Hands pressed against his side, blood seeping between his fingers, and Jayne freezes. Doesn't know what to do, can't do anything, and he stares in horror at the blood pooling on the floor.

"Bandages," Simon grits out between clenched teeth, and it's like he's reading Jayne's frozen thoughts. "Check behind you."

Jayne turns, numb and automatic, and the wall behind him is filled with shelves of small crates, burned and marked with owners definitely not Badger. Red Chinese script smeared in the corners, and there's a box stamped 'linen' halfway up the wall. He stands and holds the lighter in his teeth, the flame hot and bent towards his face; he tugs the box out, dropping it to the floor at his feet, and there's a burn across his cheek. Kneels and pulls the crate open, nails catching and ripping against the stiff wood. There's soft white sheets inside, cotton and cool, and they tear easily into smaller squares. Jayne presses them to Simon's side, feels the flesh under his hands convulse, and Simon's cry is sharp and awful.

"Tianna! Please…"

"I got to," Jayne's voice is hushed, apologetic, and it does nothing to calm Simon's half-sobbing breath. Reminds him in a nasty way of Kaylee lying on Serenity's decking, bullet hole in her stomach, and Jayne has to know. "How bad is it?"

"I can't… I don't know…"

"Well, take a gorram guess, doc! I'm more used to putting holes into people, not fixing them up after." Simon's biting his lip, eyes squeezing closed, and Jayne forces himself to be sharp. "Hey! Look at me. Simon!" Eyes open again, and Simon's fingers probe at the edges of the wound, breath hissing at the contact. Looks down at his torso, and tries to think clinically. Analyse and diagnose and treat, and he can't do this.

"I don't think it hit anything vital," Simon's voice is dull, and Jayne can't tell if he's lying or not. "It's just bleeding an awful lot."

"Are you sure?"

"No," It comes out as a huff of laughter, bitter and scared. Jayne doesn't like the way it sounds, and he presses the cloth closer over the wound. The white begins to bleed red and beside him, the lighter gutters and dies.

~~

(…at the very end of the world…)

"Simon?"

"Yes?"

"Are you dying?"

"Yes."

~~

(…the very end…)

"Simon?"

There's no answer, and Jayne pushes at Simon, jolting him hard enough to surprise a grunt out of the doctor. "Simon, stay awake."

"I can't," Simon's tired, more exhausted than he's even been in his life, even when he was downing pills and coffee in MedAcad just to stay awake enough to get through the next day. Not even that first night on Serenity when he sat up all night watching over River and Kaylee, and expecting any moment for Mal to come into the infirmary with a gun and an execution in mind.

"Simon, you go to sleep, you'll die," And the words are out there, the truth before Jayne realises what they are, and he wishes he could take them back. Take back what they mean, and it's all too late. "Tell me a story."

The confusion is evident in Simon's voice, muffled and dazed. "What?"

"Keep talking. Tell me a story. One of them fancy ones you learned as a kid." Still a kid, a boy, and Jayne doesn't want to think about that. Simon leans against Jayne in the darkness, sliding down and seeking heat, and there are tremors running through him.

"I can't think of any right now. Jayne, please…"

"I ain't holding up in here with a corpse for company, dong-ma?" Jayne says fiercely, and thinks suddenly, awfully, of bodies in vacuum, and space trash. "You tell me a story, and you keep talking, and don't you dare stop."

Soft sigh, and Simon sounds faded. Melting into the darkness, and he's just cooling heat and copper scent. "There once was a boy… No. It shouldn't start like that. Not with the boy…"

Voice in the dark, talking on and on, and Jayne thinks over and over, don't stop, don't stop, don't…

~~

There once was a boy… No. It shouldn't start like that. Not with the boy. There once was an entire world. The world was dying and burning, and the people were so scared. They made ships, hundreds of ships to take the people out to the stars and beyond, but there wasn't enough space. Not enough for all the mothers and fathers and doctors and governments, and they had to leave people behind. They left the old and the sick and the dying. Useless people, and people that were loved, and people that couldn't bear to leave them behind. Huddled together in empty cities, waiting for the earth to burn up. There was nowhere for them to go. And then there was the boy. The boy had a terrible wasting disease, a cancer eating him up from the inside, and he was in such terrible pain. His family left him on the planet, because they couldn't bear to see him die, and the thought of him alive, and so far away, was more bearable than the thought of him dead. When the ships left, he wandered through the world. He watched the burning and the dying and the emptiness, and inside him, the cancer ate a little bit more each day, feeling like glass grinding under his skin, until he stood at the very end of the world where a great ocean used to be, surrounded by the bright bleached bones of animals he couldn't name. He screamed at the sky, at the place where he knew there used to be stars, crying and begging for the pain to stop. When he couldn't scream any more, he lay down among the dead monsters and waited to die.

What happened then?

There was a rainstorm. A great rainstorm, like the planet hadn't seen for years and years, full of great clouds and lightning and thunder that shattered the tops of mountains. The boy lay there and let the rain wash into his eyes and under his skin, until he melted away, and he was only made of water. There was no more pain, and he got up and danced; he was filled with rainbows and bright, bold lights, and he was so, so beautiful.

~~

(…he lay down among the dead monsters…)

The bright light suddenly flooding the closet blinds Jayne for a moment and he rears up, grabbing for Simon and hunching over him, defensive, blinking until his eyes adjust. Can't quite comprehend that the figure in the doorway is Mal, staring down at them in shock, and the captain calls out over his shoulder,

"Book! They're in here!"

The preacher is there in a second, kneeling down next to Simon and feeling at the wrists, at the throat, for anything like life. Bites out "He's alive," but it sounds like a death call, and Jayne knows Simon stopped talking hours ago.

~~

(…until he melted away…)

"Are you awake?"

There's no answer, and Jayne turns his head, presses a kiss against a cold temple. There's salt and ash on his tongue, and everything is quiet.

~~

(There once was a boy…)

Inara has her shuttle parked in a nearby square, and the rush to get there is a blur in Jayne's mind. His legs won't quite work right and he has to lean against Mal, feeling body heat that isn't cooling, and it burns Jayne's skin. Simon is limp in Book's arms, unresponsive as he is gently placed on Inara's bed and stripped. The shuttle takes off, flying towards Serenity, and Book is gathering needles and liquids and silver medical packs that Inara has laid out for him. There was a boy, and then there wasn't, because that wasn't how it started. Jayne watches and takes the story back to the beginning, and there was a world and there was a boy. Book slides a needle into Simon's arm, presses clear liquid into a vein, and it looks like a vial of raindrops. The shuttle speeds across the planet, dipping and twisting, and this time no one is left behind. Simon opens his eyes, sleepy and breathing and dazed, and he sees Jayne watching. Vague, exhausted smile, and behind Simon's eyes there is light.