|Compromising Positions | Into the Black | Contact|
Crash LandingNotes: This was supposed to be for llaras’ drabble challenge on LJ using the line “Right under my ribs, let's start there”, but I couldn’t work the damn line in and since my Firefly muse seems to have flown the coop for the most part, I decided to take what I could get. Hope you like it, sweetie. Thanks to skrippy for going over it and helping me figure out how to end it.
Swearing steadily, Jayne releases the harness on the pilot’s chair and gets up. He turns and sees Simon – unconscious on the floor, squashed up against a bulkhead, his left arm at an unnatural angle, and blood from a split lip staining his mouth red.
“Fuck!” Jayne exclaims and quickly makes his way over to Simon; but when he reaches him, he’s unsure what to do. He kneels beside Simon and stares at him for a few moments before touching him on the shoulder – the right shoulder. Jayne shakes him gently.
“Simon? Simon? Wake up.”
Surprisingly, this tactic seems to work, and Simon’s eyes open. He looks at Jayne blearily and then gasps loudly in pain when he tries to move. And then he starts to cough. Simon spits out a mouthful of blood and then wipes his lips with the back of his hand.
“Help me up,” Simon says in a voice roughened by pain.
Jayne slips an arm behind him and helps him sit up. Simon hisses, but settles against the bulkhead. “What happened?”
“Engine stalled and we crashed. You weren’t buckled in like I told ya,” Jayne ignores the glare sent in his direction, and continues speaking, “and you went flyin’ into the wall. Is your arm broke?”
“Shoulder’s dislocated,” Simon grits out from between clenched teeth. “You’re going to have to help me pop it back in.”
“What?” Jayne says, pulling away, his eyes wide with trepidation. “I ain’t no doctor.”
“I know that, Jayne,” Simon says harshly, “but I can’t do this for myself, and it needs to be done as soon as possible. Just do what I tell you to do.”
“Can’t it wait til we get back to the ship?” Jayne asks gruffly, looking away from Simon, his anxiety obvious in the way he starts to fiddle with the leg strap on his holster.
“No, it can’t. Jayne, you’re just going to have to do this. Stop being a,” Simon pauses imperceptibly and then says, “pussy.”
Jayne’s head snaps up. “Fucking uptight bastard,” he growls. “Sometimes I really hate you.”
“I hate you, too, Jayne,” Simon says, his attempt at a smile turned into a grimace. “I know you don’t want to do this, but it has to be done. Don’t worry. It’ll be okay.”
Jayne looks skeptical.
“Just help me lie down…”
“I just helped you sit up,” Jayne starts.
“Jayne, please, stop interrupting!” Simon snaps. “You’re going to have to hold me down and pull on my arm to get it to pop back into place.”
“You got any drugs left in that bag of yours?” Jayne asks. “’Cause that sounds like it’s gonna hurt.”
“Believe me, it will,” Simon says, running a shaking hand over his face. “There’s nothing left, I used all the tranquilizers and painkillers at the clinic.”
Jayne doesn’t want to do this. He really, really doesn’t want to do this. But he knows he has to – there’s no one else. Gently, he lays Simon back down against the cold deck plates and winces when Simon hisses in pain. “I’m sorry,” he says automatically. Simon pats his thigh in acceptance of the apology.
“All right,” Simon says, all business. “You’re going to have to hold me down, keep my shoulder steady, and pull my arm forward. You’ll know you’ve got it when you feel a pop. It might take a couple of tries.”
“What? Simon, I don’t think…”
“Damnit, Jayne! Just do it. Don’t think about it.”
Jayne knows he’s in trouble when Simon starts swearing at him, so he steels himself to get it over with. He does as Simon instructed him to do, holding his shoulder to keep him steady and giving his arm a good, steady pull outward. It pops into place on the first try and Jayne thanks every single god he can think of while Simon’s scream is still echoing around the tiny shuttle. Simon goes limp against the deck plates and gasps as he tries to catch his breath. Jayne brings up a shaky hand and strokes Simon’s sweat-dampened hair off his forehead.
“You okay?” he asks, and then feels like an idiot for asking, because it’s obvious that Simon is not okay – his body is trembling and he can’t quite seem to catch his breath.
Simon’s face is even whiter than usual. The lip he’d split when he hit the bulkhead is open and bleeding freely once again. Jayne reaches out and brushes the blood away with his thumb. Simon takes a shuddery breath and opens his eyes, which are still glazed with pain. “Not really. That hurt more than getting shot. But the pain is easing a bit. Just give me a few minutes and then help me sit up.” Simon uses his uninjured arm to hold his left arm across his chest.
“Are you nuts?” Jayne asks. “You ain’t gettin’ up anytime soon.”
“I have to, you have to immobilize my arm, or it might pop out again. So while I lie here and try not to pass out, could you go find something that can be used for a sling?”
Jayne gets up and starts searching the jumbled contents of the shuttle. He finds a blanket in one of the compartments and brings it back to Simon. “This okay?”
“Cut it in half and then fold it into a triangle,” Simon replies.
Jayne pulls out his knife and quickly slices the blanket and then deftly folds it. After that, it’s only a matter of moments for him to help Simon into a sitting position once again. Following Simon’s instructions, Jayne slips Simon’s injured arm into the makeshift sling without causing him too much pain and ties it around his neck.
“How long before Serenity gets here?” Simon asks, as Jayne helps him stand. There’s dead quiet for a moment, and then Simon looks hard at Jayne. “You have called for assistance, haven’t you?”
“You were hurt,” is Jayne’s simple reply.
“Jayne,” Simon begins.
“I ain’t fightin’ about this, Simon. You were hurt. I took care of you first. Ain’t like we’re in enemy territory or nothin’. The stupid go se ship just crashed is all,” Jayne growls out, his hands on Simon remaining gentle, as he helps him into the pilot’s seat. Jayne settles into the copilot’s seat and calls Serenity.
After a brief argument with Mal over whether or not it was possible for their shuttle to have just crashed for no reason, they’re informed that Serenity will be there in fifteen minutes.
It gets very quiet in the shuttle as they wait. As usual, Jayne feels the need to fill the silence with the first thing that pops into his head.
“Guess this means you’ll be going back to your own bunk for a while, huh?” Jayne asks.
“Well, the bunks are pretty small, and I can’t risk getting jostled,” Simon replies.
“I could sleep on the floor.”
“You’d do that?” Simon asks, looking over at Jayne.
“Yeah.” Jayne can feel the blush creeping up his cheeks as he confesses, “I don’t sleep too good when you’re not around no more.”
“Really?” Simon asks, a small grin tugging at his lips.
“Yeah. Now shut up about it, or I’m gonna start hating you again.”
Simon reaches over with his good arm and puts his hand over Jayne’s. “That’s really….”
Jayne turns his hand over and curls his fingers around Simon’s. “I swear, Simon, if you say sweet, I’m gonna punch you.”
“You’d hit an injured man?”
Instead of answering, Jayne leans over the small divide and kisses Simon softly on the lips. “I’m glad you’re okay. I was…,” Jayne refuses to say scared, but he knows Simon knows that’s what he means when he finishes with, “…worried.”
Simon smiles wearily at him and he touches Jayne’s face lightly. “I know.”
“How about you try and rest. I’ll keep an eye out for the others.”
“’kay,” Simon murmurs. A few moments later, he’s asleep. Jayne gets up carefully and fetches the rest of the blanket and tucks it carefully around Simon. He brushes the hair off Simon’s forehead and then settles back into his seat. He takes Simon’s hand once again, and waits for Mal to find them.