“I spy with my little eye somethin' beginnin' with S.” Jayne gave Simon a little shake. “Come on, Doc, I don't got all day.”

“Hmm?” Simon raised a groggy head. “What?”

“Gorrammit, we're playin' this go se game so you'll stay awake,” Jayne griped, stumping along. Step, drag. Step, drag. The pain in Jayne's head was throbbing, made worse by the glare of the blazing sun and the constant jarring of his footsteps on the uneven ground. Having to drag the doc's sorry ass along while trying to remember how to spell were not helping matters. “How'm I s'posed to do that when you ain't payin' attention?”

“Gosh, I'm sorry,” Simon apologized sarcastically. It would have been more convincing if he hadn't sounded weak as a soda cracker. “Next time I'm dying, I'll be sure to do it when it won't inconvenience you.”

“Damn straight you will,” Jayne growled. Hefting the smaller man into a better position, he asked again, “So, what do I spy?”

“Begins with an S?”

“Yep.”

“Sand.”

Jayne smirked. “Nope.”

“Simon.”

Jayne's face fell. “Gorrammit, you ain't s'posed to get it that fast,” he groused.

“Top three percent, remember?” Simon's head lolled forward. “Besides, there's nothing else in this godforsaken place to see.”

“Coulda been stuck-up son-of-a-bitch,” Jayne muttered.

“I heard that.”

They continued on for a few minutes. Step, drag. Step, drag.

“So?” Jayne asked, when he couldn't stand the sound of the doctor's raspy breathing one second longer.

“Hmm?” Simon murmured blearily.

“Your turn, dumbass. What do you spy?”

“Mmm, dunno.”

“Then open your eyes and look!” He gave the younger man a shake, ignoring his groan of pain. “You're so damn smart, you oughta be able to see a million things 'round here I ain't never gonna guess.”

“J.”

Jayne frowned. “Huh?”

Simon sighed, head dropping onto Jayne's shoulder. “I spy with my little eye something beginning with J.”

Jayne shrugged him off. “Easy,” he grunted. “Jayne.”

“No.”

Jayne frowned. “No?”

“No.”

“Then what the hell is it?” When there was no answer, Jayne glanced down at the other man to find him passed out cold. “Gorrammit...”

There wasn't anything even resembling shelter in this arid landscape, but there was a tallish, ugly plant a few yards to the right that was casting a little shade. Jayne made his way toward it until he could drop Simon's limp body on the ground at the foot of the plant. The sudden freedom of movement that came from not having to support the doctor's weight anymore was like a breath of fresh air. Jayne indulged in a stretch, working out the kinks that had formed up and down his back during their hike. He half debated leaving Simon where he'd dumped him and taking off on his own. Without the doctor slowing him down, he had half a shot of getting out of this mess alive.

He sighed. “When the hell'd you turn soft, Cobb?” he muttered to himself, slouching down on the ground next to Simon. He gave the doctor a couple of sharp slaps on the face. “Wake up!”

“I'm awake, I'm awake,” Simon groaned, slowly opening pain-crusted eyes.

“You sure?” Jayne slapped him again.

“Yes!” Simon glared at him, hoisting himself up onto his elbows. “You can stop hitting me.”

“I know. It's just fun.” Grunting, Jayne rolled over onto his back, taking advantage of the minimal shade and trying to rest his eyes from the glaring sun. “You gotta quit passin' out,” he told Simon, throwing an arm over his eyes. “Them fella's are still trackin' us, I guarantee we didn’t get ‘em all. We can't be stoppin' every five minutes so's you can have naptime.”

He could feel Simon's eyes boring into him. That was good. If the doc stayed angry, it would keep him awake. “It's not naptime,” Simon snapped. “It's the body's natural reaction to blood loss coupled with pain.”

“I can sympathize on the blood loss, but you gotta work past the pain.”

“Work past the pain,” Simon deadpanned.

“Yep.” The heat of the sun was seeping into Jayne's muscles, making him sleepy. Despite his warning to Simon that they couldn't keep stopping, he was feeling a powerful urge to just fall asleep and let the 'verse sort itself out without him for a while. “Pain's a good thing. Reminds a body it's alive. Keeps you on your toes.”

“Keeps you on your toes.” Another deadpan.

“Yep. Just like Grandpa taught me.”

“Did your grandfather have a medical degree?”

“Nope.”

“Any kind of medical training or skill?”

“Fixed up bullet holes a treat.”

“Well then you'll excuse me if I don't choose to listen to the demented ramblings of a backcountry sawbones.”

Jayne frowned, feeling his weariness drain away. Raising his arm, he glared at Simon. “What'd you call my Grandpa?”

“What, a backcountry sawbones?” Simon asked, glaring right back. “Sorry, does that have too many syllables for you?”

Growling, Jayne rolled up onto his knees, leaning forward until he was nose to nose with the doctor. “You ever insult my Grandpa again, Doc,” he snarled, “and I'll kill you.”

Simon didn't flinch. “Wait another day or so and you won't have to bother,” he snapped. “Because working through the pain or not, that's how much time I've got left.” And just like someone blowing out a candle, the fire burnt out in his eyes and he slumped back against the plant.

Jayne glared at him. “Joshua Tree,” he growled.

“What?” Simon asked blearily.

Jayne stood up and grabbed the doctor under the arms. “What you spied with your gorram eye,” he grunted, hoisting the other man to his feet. “Joshua Tree. Starts with a J.” Step, drag. Step, drag. “Go again. And make it a hard one this time.”

His mouth was sore, and his nose was bleeding and dripping all over his best everyday shirt.

The young boy touched his mouth carefully, wincing at the split lip. He dabbed his shirt tail at it as he limped home. It wasn’t like a little bit more blood on his shirt was going to hurt it.

Jayne scowled and then winced at the pull on the corner of his mouth.

Nikolas had cheated, jumping him like that right after school. Jayne kicked at a rock on the path angrily. Nikolas had cheated, and Jayne was the one who ended up getting hit in the face.

Grandpa was going to be mad. Ma would fuss over him and give him ice to put on his face, but the truth of the matter was that he was as big as Nikolas, even though Nik was almost two years older than his ten years. He should have been able to throw him off, easy.

Mattie had run home as soon as he saw Nik start swinging, so there wasn’t any way the whole family didn’t already know.

Jayne frowned again, careful of his mouth. At least he hadn’t cried or anything, not like Cody did when Jayne accidentally on purpose hit him with a willow branch right on the ear.

Jayne almost grinned at the memory. Cody had bled a lot, and his ma had kicked up a big fuss about Jayne being a bully and picking on the others. When he hadn’t been. Cody had been calling Jayne stupid, and Jayne wasn’t and neither was Mattie. And his ma wasn’t a jianhuo , no matter what Cody said his pa said.

He had gotten in big trouble with his own ma for walloping Cody like that, but Grandpa had told Jayne later that he did good by sticking up for his kin, and as far as Jayne was concerned, that was that.

But Nikolas had come up out of nowhere and kicked Jayne hard, right in the head when Jayne was picking up his school books. And then he couldn’t see well enough to land a punch on his stupid smirking face. The ground kept moving under him funny.

There wasn’t even a reason for it. It wasn’t like Jayne had kissed Kelsey on purpose. She had kissed him. Jayne scrubbed at his cheek in irritation. Stupid girl. But Nikolas said that Kelsey was his girl, and that he needed to be keeping his stupid slow self away from her.

Jayne eyed the house coming into view unhappily. And when he saw the big, grizzled man waiting for him on the front porch, his heart sank. Looks like Mattie had made it home alright, and told everyone what had happened.

Jayne slowed his pace, mind racing as he tried to come up with something he could tell his about what happened, without bringing up the fact he lost the fight. Or at least a reason his grandpa would accept about why Jayne lost the fight. If only Nikolas hadn’t jumped him all alone. Jayne could’ve explained away getting beat by three or four of the other boys.

But Mattie had seen the whole thing start before he had taken off running.

Jayne scowled at the ground, kicking another rock, as he went to go face his grandfather.

An hour later, Jayne was hiding out in the upper branches of the tree by the farmhouse. His grandpa had been real mad about Jayne fighting and losing. He had yelled, told Jayne that he wasn’t ever going to be a real man if he couldn’t even take care of himself in a fight against one other.

Jayne’s ma had tried to butt in, finally just throwing Adam out of her house completely until he calmed down.

But when she turned to start fussing over his black eye and split lip, Jayne had run off.

He rested his chin on a branch, wincing a little at the bruise on the bottom. Janna didn’t see anything wrong with losing a fight sometimes, she said it happened to everyone, even Pa, sometimes. She had tried to wipe the blood off of his face, but he had shrugged her off and pushed little Mattie out of his way on his way out.

He wished Pa was home. But Pa was out on a job, and wouldn’t be back for at least another month.

Jayne swung his legs from his branch, kicking the leaves in front of him. “Gotta stand up for yourself, boy,” he muttered, trying to pitch his voice low and gruff like his grandfather’s. “Ain’t no sissies in the Cobb family!”

He scowled. He was gonna get Nikolas next time. Beat him bloody. He’d show his Grandpa that he wasn’t a sissy.

Step, drag. Step, drag.

The sun was about halfway down the sky; Jayne figured they had two, maybe three hours before sunset. He had no ruttin' idea how long they had before Simon gave out, and Jayne's own head was spinning something fierce. Course, he could take it; he'd been in worse situations than this: wandering through a scorching desert, no food, no water, head wound, lugging a half-dead doctor along like rag doll...

“I am so humped,” he grumbled.

“We both are,” Simon muttered, reminding the mercenary he wasn't alone.

The doctor was slipping downwards, useless leg acting like an anchor. Growling, Jayne hefted him up again. “So, Doc,” he grunted as he got the younger man repositioned. “How'm I s'posed to keep you 'wake if yer gonna sulk and ain't gonna play the game?”

“I'm not sulking,” Simon argued. “I'm conserving water. Talking uses up valuable fluids.” He fought vaguely to stand on his own, then gave up and collapsed against Jayne's side again. “And it's a stupid game anyway. There are only a limited number of words for sand.”

Jayne snorted. “All righty then, Mr. Top Three Percent, whaddaya wanna do instead?”

“Take a vacation somewhere cool, with someone less smelly.”

“Oh hardy-har-har. I'm doin' you a gorram favor here.”

Simon gave a humorless laugh. “Oh please. You're only trying to help so my little sister doesn't kill you for letting me die.” He put an emphasis on little.

Jayne glowered straight ahead. “Ain't scared o' yer sister,” he griped. “Little tiny thing...” An image of her with a butcher knife flashed past his eyes, and he quickly blinked it away. “'Sides, I'm more worried 'bout Kaylee. Girl knows how to handle a wrench.”

“She'd have to, if she wanted to get through that thick skull of yours.”

“Can't say the girl hasn't had practice trying to get through yours.”

“What's that supposed to mean?” Simon demanded.

Jayne rolled his eyes. “Someday, Doc,” he grumbled as they struggled over a particularly rocky rise in the landscape, “yer gonna get outta bed in the mornin', blink yer eyes a few times, look around, and get yerself a gorram clue. But I ain't gonna be the one who gives it to ya.”

“I will have you know,” Simon protested, wincing as he tried to raise his injured leg, “that the relationship I share with Kaylee is not now, nor has it ever been, any of your business. Besides, it's... complicated.”

“How so?” Jayne asked, not really caring all that much but at least it kept his mind occupied.

“It just is.”

“Don't see how. She likes you, you like her.” Jayne shrugged. “Take her to bed, have yerself some kids. Havin' a few fat little babies runnin' round the ship'd just about blow Mal's top.” He smirked, baring his teeth in a gleeful rictus at the thought. “I'd pay good money to see that.”

“A smuggling ship housing wanted fugitives is no place to raise children,” Simon argued wearily. He was starting to sag again.

Jayne gave him a shake to wake him up. “Yeah?” He had to keep Simon talking or the doctor was going to fall asleep, and judging by how pale he was... Well, it was hard to tell how much blood he'd lost, 'cause the doctor was always too damn pale anyway. “S'pose you think the only place to raise children is in some big ole palace with gates and tea gardens, where a kid ain't even gonna give himself a papercut; and if he does, he's got fifty servants 'round to patch 'im up.”

“I come from money, not royalty. And when precisely did you become an expert on childrearing?”

“Come from good stock,” Jayne said with a shrug. “Mama raised me right.” He glared at the doctor as Simon began to laugh. “What?”

“You kill men for a living!” Simon said with giddy amazement. “And you think that's right?”

“I don't kill men for a livin'!” Jayne snapped. “I kill 'em when I have to.”

“It's the same thing!”

“Yeah? You think? And when you kill a guy under the knife, what's that?”

“That's completely different.” The outburst had obviously sapped Simon's strength; he was leaning even more heavily on Jayne's shoulder now. “I don't do it deliberately. I don't like doing it!”

Jayne squinted into the near distance as they picked their way down the opposite side of the rise. “We all gotta make a livin', Doc,” he muttered. “Your way, my way, don't matter. We both put men in the ground.”

That shut him up, which gave Jayne tremendous satisfaction. His mouth was starting to feel mighty parched, and he didn't fancy wasting spit yammering away with the doctor. Glancing at the sun again, he cursed silently that it had barely moved since the last time he checked. Felt like they'd been walking for hours.

“Twenty questions.”

“Huh?” Jayne asked irritably, turning his eyes downward again to focus on the rocky hillocks they were treading across.

“Takes more brainpower than I Spy,” Simon explained drowsily. “Keep our brains working.”

“My brain's workin' just fine,” Jayne muttered.

“Jayne...”

The mercenary rolled his eyes. “Fine, gorrammit,” he grumbled. “Animal?”

“No.”

“Veg?”

“No.”

“Makes it mineral.”

“Uh-huh.”

They walked a few seconds in silence.

“It's sand again, ain't it?”

“I see you've played this game before.”

Patience hadn’t expected them to fly a shuttle right through her warehouse. She’d thought Mal would be too busy trying to find the bodies of his men, but obviously, she’d underestimated him again.

She smirked at him when he leveled a very large automatic rifle at her head. “Go ahead and kill me. You won’t make it off this planet alive if you do.”

“We will if no one knows you’re dead,” Mal gritted back. “’Sides, you're missing the point here, Patience. I’m not interested in killing you. Never have been. All I want to know is where my men are.”

“I’ll kill you, though.”

Patience almost laughed at the little girl that suddenly appeared beside Mal, carrying a pistol as thick as her wrist. “Recoil on that thing would break your arm, girl. You picking up strays now, Mal? Take that gun away from her before she hurts herself.”

“I wouldn’t laugh if I were you,” Mal replied grimly. “This little girl is a crack shot. She looks frail, but she could kill you before you could blink.”

“I’ll kill your men first, though,” River interrupted. Patience jumped when the girl spun gracefully and shot of two quick rounds, hitting both the men who had been trying to sneak around the side of the shuttle. “Where did you leave them?”

Patience shrugged and tried not to look shocked. “Mal knows where they are. If he thinks about it. Now, either kill me or get out. I don’t have time for this. Seems I have men of my own to bury.”

“If either of them are really dead, you won’t live through the rest of the day.” The girl's voice was calm and deadly. She casually pointed the gun she was holding back at Patience, sighting down the barrel at her head.

“Might want to get your affairs in order, Patience. She don’t make idle threats.” Mal offered quietly as he reached out and grabbed the girls' elbow, pulling her gently back into the shuttle. “If I were you, I’d be praying right about now that your men have been their normally incompetent selves.”

Continue to part three