Mal/Jayne Hurt Comfort

On Mal's signal, Zoë kicked in the door. The captain entered first, gun cocked. The room was empty except for a few pieces of tattered furniture and some trash scattered over the old vinyl floor. He listened for the slightest sound, but heard only what he thought was probably a sink dripping. He nodded to Zoë and she went right while he went left into the adjacent rooms.

Mal just found just an empty room. What Zoë found caused her to bite back a scream.

"Captain! In here!"

She rushed to the body, feeling for a pulse.

When Mal came to the doorway, the blood drained from his face.

"Sir, he's still alive."

"Renci de fouzu . . ."

Zoë looked up at her captain from where she was crouched next to the bleeding figure. Mal could tell by her expression that the soldier in her was fighting to stay in control of her emotions.

"Zoë, call your husband. We're getting out of here."

Mal holstered his weapon. He bent down and strained to pick up the bigger man.

* * * *

"I have him sedated now,” said Simon, voice careful and even. “There is a small amount of internal damage, but mostly . . ."

Simon looked from Kaylee, whose eyes were streaked with tears, to Zoë, whose expression was pained but controlled. Mal stood between them, looking like he was wound as tight as baling wire.

"Kaylee,” said the doctor, “I'm not sure you should hear this."

"'m not leavin'."

"Spit it out, Doc."

"He's . . . these people . . . they knew how to torture him quite effectively without doing a lot of permanent damage."

Mal winced.

"I would say, based on my examination, that he was tortured for about 10 hours, at least."

"Wo de tian a." Zoë shuddered.

The four of them stood, silently. Only Kaylee gazed through the window into the infirmary.

"Can I see 'im, Simon?"

"Yes, Kaylee, go ahead."

She turned to go in. "Ya comin', Cap’n?"

Mal shook his head, not looking at her. She looked confused and hurt, but didn’t say anything.

"I'll come with you, Kaylee." Simon looked at Mal then followed the mechanic into the infirmary, hand on the small of her back.

Zoë waited 'til they were out of earshot. "Sir, I know you probably don't want to have this conservation right now, but how do we know he didn't give them anything?"

"Because if he had, Zoë, we'd already be dead."

* * * *

"I'm not trying to 'give orders', Captain! All I'm saying is, you're the only one who hasn't seen him."

"I ain't gonna be havin' this conversation again, Doc."

"Captain -"

Mal turned. Simon's voice was strained. "He asked, today, if you were very busy."

"So? Am busy."

"Captain, you and I both know that's as close as Jayne is ever going to come to saying he needs you to visit him. For a man like him, that's practically . . ."

"I got a ship to run . . ."

"Just five minutes.”

When Mal said nothing, Simon looked disgusted. “It would help his recovery. You'd have your merc back faster. Can you think of it that way, you qingwa cao de liumang?"

“What did you say?" Mal was shouting.

"You heard me! Look, no one has the guts to say it, but everyone on this ship knows --"

"Knows what, Doc?"

Simon just shook his head.

Mal narrowed the space between them. "You better mind your own gorramn business, son, ya know what's best for ya. What I do I on my own time's got nothin' to do with you, or playin' nursemaid for that matter."

"I thought more of you, Captain." Simon wasn't backing off. "Jayne’s been through hell in the past week. He needs --"

“An' ya think I'm the one t’give it to 'im? The one who got 'im like this in the first place?"

It all clicked in Simon's brain. "This wasn't your fault, Mal."

But the captain was already gone.

* * * *

It was late in Serenity's sleep cycle. Everyone was asleep in their bunks, so no one saw the captain step silently into the infirmary. Jayne was asleep, the deep sleep of the medicated.

The only sound was the hum of the engine and the low, rhythmic beeping of the machine Simon had Jayne hooked up to. Mal took a deep breath and walked over to the bed. When he saw Jayne up close, he thought he might be sick. Carrying him out of that building had been one thing, there'd been darkness and adrenaline. Bruises hadn't had time to rise to the surface, to bloom into the deep purple they would become.

He stared. Jayne was covered in just a sheet, his chest bare. There were at least a dozen bandages visible, most with blood seeped through. He had stitches on his cheek, his forehead, and a long line of forty or more crept down from his shoulder, diagonally across his chest.

As quietly as he could, Mal brought a chair up next to the bed, resting his head in his hands.

After awhile, Jayne stirred and Mal hurried out.

* * * *

“He doesn't need to stay in the infirmary any longer. In fact, I think it would be ill-advised if he did. He's restless, and – a place like this is bit depressing for most people anyhow."

Mal nodded seriously. He wasn’t sure why Zoë had inexplicably appeared for this conversation. "I reckon that sounds like progress. Ya gonna help 'im to his bunk then? Won't be easy t’get down the ladder and such."

The doctor looked at him, incredulous.

"I was thinking you would help him. And I wasn't thinking of sending him back to his bunk. Zoë and I talked about it, and we were thinking of your bunk.”

"Oh, so Zoë’s in on this? Well that explains …"

"Please, just listen. I've been checking up on him a couple times during the night, which probably isn't strictly necessary now, but I'd still feel better if he wasn't alone. You could get me on the comm if anything goes wrong."

Mal's jaw tightened, but he said nothing.

"Sir, I know you feel bad about what happened." Zoë’s voice was always so calm, so nonjudgmental, even when she disagreed with her captain. "But it wasn't your fault. I know you’re probably feeling differently about what happened because it’s Jayne, and I know you don't want to hear this, but you're punishing Jayne because of how you feel and it's not fair . . ."

"'m not listening t’this." He stormed off before they could get in another word.

* * * *

Later, Mal overheard Wash and Zoë making plans to put Jayne in their bunk and his guilt got the better of him.

He found Simon alone in the galley.

"Ya can put 'im my bunk, Doc."

Simon nodded. "Good. Thank you."

Simon stopped him when he turned to go.

"Captain, I'm sure this goes without saying, but just so you know, it's going to be awhile before he can . . ."

Mal looked at him, confused.

"It wouldn't be good for him to . . ."

Suddenly, understanding registered on the captain’s face. "What kind of liumang do you take me for?"

"Of course not. I'm sorry."

* * * *

It was almost midnight and Mal knew he couldn't put it off any longer. He thought back on all the times his body had ached with anticipation, knowing that Jayne was waiting for him in his bunk. Hell, past few months it’s been more like ‘our’ bunk. Jayne had still liked having his own space, and Mal had entertained fantasies of keeping up appearances, but the way the man fell dead asleep as soon as he’d come, it was damn near impossible to extricate him before morning. Mal had prevailed on him to keep a change of clothes in the bunk, but only after much grumbling and mockery ain’t settin’ up housekeepin’, ya wantin’ a diamond too, ya big girl? had Jayne relented moonbrain don’t need t’be seein’ my man parts – might give ‘er more knife-relatin’ ideas. A second toothbrush had appeared later, when Jayne finally figured out that he was more likely to get a second round in the morning if he took certain measures. Mal had thrown it out the night he carried Jayne back to Serenity, pushing it to the bottom of the wastebasket like it might have eyes.

It seemed like a long walk from the bridge to his bunk as he steeled himself for Jayne’s anger.

He was surprised, when he opened the hatch, to find the lights on.

He climbed down the ladder and saw Jayne had been dozing, but now he was coming awake.

“Mal?”

“Jayne.”

Mal crossed his arms, waiting for Jayne’s anger, for his criticism of the plan, maybe - it twisted his stomach, but he wouldn’t blame him - maybe even for Jayne saying he’s leaving Serenity.

Jayne was silent for a moment, his face pained. When the words came, they were fast and earnest. “Mal, I reckon’ ya got no cause t’believe me, or listen t’me at all, really, but I figured ya weren’t gonna let the doc sew me up if’n yer jus’ wantin’ t’throw me out the airlock. So I gotta tell ya . . . it weren’t like on Ariel, Mal. I didn’t give nuthin’ up. Didn’t betray you an’ Zoë. I didn’t, dong ma?”

Mal realized he hadn’t been breathing, that his whole body was tensed. Here he’d been expecting Jayne to be furious with him over letting this happen, and rightly so, and here Jayne had been seeing it the other way around.

"Aiya, I'm a chunren," said Mal, rubbing the bridge of his nose.

Jayne looked at him, confused.

“Yesu, Jayne, I know better’n t’think this was your fault. I never thought that. I . . . here I was thinkin’ --”

He looked at Jayne helplessly. Jayne was looking at him in that way that gave Mal the impression that the merc could see right through him.

The silence was heavy, but eventually Jayne said, “S’nuthin’ you an’ Wash ain’t been through. C’mon. ‘m tired.”

Mal couldn’t come up with anything to add; he didn’t want to push his luck. So he took off his clothes, quietly, folded them, and changed into his sleep pants, slipping into bed next to Jayne’s heavy figure.

He didn’t move to turn the light off, though. He longed to look at Jayne, even though what he saw pained him. He wanted the reassurance that Jayne was really here, really not dead, really not mad at him. So he lay on his side, taking in the sight of his merc. Jayne seemed to tolerate it well enough.

Mal remembered how he’d felt the first night back in his bed after his little adventure with Niska, how desperately alone and afraid he’d felt. In their line of work, they had to be comfortable with knowing that any job could be their last. You can only have so many bullets dug out of you before you accepted your own mortality. But pain’s another thing all together. For men like Mal and Jayne, who made their living being fearless, it was no small thing to confront the kind of torture Jayne had suffered. Living through something like that was more frightening than death, in some ways.

Mal was torn. He wanted desperately to touch Jayne, to comfort him the way he knew words wouldn’t, the way he’d desperately needed, but not gotten, after he’d been with Niska. On the other hand, Jayne had just been through hell, and it would be understandable if he didn’t want to be touched at all for awhile. Besides, as relieved as Mal was to hear that Jayne didn’t seem to blame him, he wasn’t quite sure he completely believed it.

Tentatively, he reached out and touched one of the bandages. “You need me t’put any of that cream Doc gave you on these?”

“Nah, Doc fixed me up. Helped me shower n’all.”

Mal looked at him, a little surprised. “Simon – helped you shower?”

“Said he didn’t want me reopenin’ nuthin’ with the strain. Said if I was in a hospital, nurse’d do fer me, but since we weren’t he was gonna.”

Jayne did smell like soap and shampoo, come to think of it.

“Well, jus’ don’t get used to it,” said Mal. He smiled at him, affectionately, making a mental note to corner Jayne in the shower sometime after he’d recovered.

Mal looked into Jayne’s eyes, unsure. Jayne answered the question that Mal hadn’t verbally asked. “S’alright.”

Mal found a piece of shoulder between bruises and brought his lips to the warm skin. He kissed it, gently, tracing the spray of freckles with his tongue. Jayne’s neck seemed clear enough too, so he kissed his way across it, carefully avoiding his bruised jawline. Mal wanted to kiss Jayne’s mouth, to feel that warm tongue against his own, but Jayne’s lip was cut pretty bad. His whole face, actually, might be out of the question. Mal found a place above the stitches on the merc’s cheek, but Jayne cringed when he brought his mouth to it, so he found an ear to suckle on instead. Jayne always gave him the best reactions to that, to his tongue and teeth on the sensitive skin, his breath on the merc’s neck.

Mal desperately wanted to press their bodies together, to wrap his arms around Jayne and give him the comfort that he thought more contact would bring. But there just wasn’t a way to do that without causing Jayne more discomfort. Mal hoped his lover would enjoy this just as much. He took hold of a hand, examining the bruised, cut knuckles, the evidence of how hard Jayne had fought his captors. He kissed a fingertip then took the finger into his mouth shallowly, carefully not going as far as the bruise. He heard Jayne suck in a strained breath.

It felt strange, at first, for their touching to be so one-sided. When they usually grappled, it was fast and urgent, hands and mouths and cocks pressing together ‘til you couldn’t rightly tell one from the other. But Mal decided he was grateful for the chance to tell Jayne how sorry he was about all this, for letting things go wrong in the first place, for the days of acting like a fool and not coming to see him.

Jayne seemed to be relaxing a bit under him. His shoulders seemed less tight; his breathing had slowed. His hands rested on Mal’s hips, which hovered above his own, but he didn’t have the range of motion to do much more than that.

When the captain moved down to Jayne’s chest, things got more difficult. This was where most of the damage had been done. He found a few places his mouth could go, swathsof skin shaved for Simon to stitch something up or cut something out. The last thing that Mal wanted to do was examine those injuries closely. It made him sick thinking of those things being done to Jayne, and it made him seethe to think that the men who had done it were still out there. But he pushed it out of his mind for Jayne’s sake, focusing on what he could do now, in this very moment, for Jayne.

Working his way down to the merc’s stomach, Mal felt abs tighten beneath him and looked up at Jayne, who watched him intently.

“Cut it out, Mal. Don’t feel right, doin’ nuthin’ fer you.”

“Bi zui, Jayne. This is what I wanna do and you ain’t stoppin’ me. I wanna make ya feel good, dong ma? After all ya been through, can ya let me do that?”

Having been over the top half of Jayne’s body, Mal moved to the end of the bed. One ankle was blue and swollen, but Mal could massage the other one, running his fingers over the bones. Both Jayne’s feet were unharmed, so he could bring them gently onto his lap and stroke the bottoms with his palms. He’d never really examined them before. Jayne was looking at him quizzically, but he sighed audibly when Mal started using his thumbs to rub circles on the calloused skin. Never having done this before, Mal felt a little self-conscious. He tried to read Jayne’s reactions to different speeds and pressures. Under different circumstances, Jayne probably would have laughed at him, but now, he just lay back and closed his eyes. Something like a moan crossed his lips and Mal couldn’t help but feel like he was on to something. He looked at those feet and thought of all the miles Jayne had come.

On impulse, he gently kissed the arch of Jayne’s foot. Jayne’s eyes flew open, but Mal was sure he saw pleasure there as well as surprise, so he tongued his way up to a toe, drawing gasps from the merc the entire way. He kissed the bottom of Jayne’s big toe, hoping he wasn’t ticklish, then swirled his tongue over it, taking it into his mouth. Jayne groaned, arching upward on the bed – a little painfully, from what Mal could tell. But when Jayne looked at him through those hooded eyes, Mal couldn’t help himself – he gave each toe the same treatment, massaging the rest of Jayne’s foot the entire time. By the time he was done, Jayne was gripping the sheets and murmuring incoherently.

“Aw, Jayne, I shouldn’t o' got ya all worked up. Doc said we shouldn't.”

“Goramnit, Mal . . .”

“Maybe if we didn’t fuck, maybe if we jus' . . .”

Mal hooked his fingers in the top of Jayne’s sleep pants, looking to him for permission. Normally, he wouldn’t have thought twice and neither would Jayne, but tonight had to be completely on Jayne’s terms. The merc nodded his assent.

Mal gently lowered the fabric, lifting it to keep it away from any sensitive skin. He’d started the night with every intention of keeping this chaste, but he’d given up, wanting to see more of Jayne. He was on a mission now, hoping to replace the memory of pain with pleasure. When he pulled back the fabric, he saw how naïve he’d been about keeping this strictly non-sexual. Jayne hadn’t said anything, but he was clearly aroused.

The captain knew better than to tease his merc any longer. Bringing his head down to Jayne’s ji ba, he covered its length with long, wet strokes and swirled his tongue over Jayne’s balls. Sucking the crown into his mouth, Mal focused his entire energy on Jayne’s pleasure, not letting up ‘til the merc cried out as he spilled into Mal’s throat.

Mal waited a long time for Jayne to soften in his mouth before cleaning Jayne off and licking his lips. “Wo de ma, Jayne,” he said going up for kiss. “Don’t scare me like this again, getting’ so hurt. Ya hear?”

Jayne looked at him, eyes glazed with sleepiness. He murmured something incoherent as Mal turned out the light and wrapped an arm around him protectively, pressing the length of their bodies together as gently as he could. Jayne eased himself backward into Mal’s arms, sighing with contentment.

The captain figured that was answer enough.