Sorry I didn't put an authors note before. I'm stil trying to get the hang of this. This is my first fan-fic, but I've read more than my share. Please let me know how you think the story's going, feedback will help me make it better. Thanks to my wonderful Beta amhistfan. Oh, and of course, I do not own Firefly, Serenity, any of the characters, or Joss Whedons odd sense of humor. :)
The gentle hum of the engines thrummed through the ship. Serenity was sailing smooth, for once. Zoë almost didn't know what to make of the ship when it wasn't complaining about a compressor coil going out or low fuel. But then Zoë didn't know what to do with most of what went on around the ship lately. She'd been in the game long enough to be able to go through the motions with out thinking, but she was beginning to lose sight of why she was in the game to begin with.
She stared at the black vastness that loomed above her as she sat in her Wash's pilot seat. The black and stars disappeared as her memory flashed back to that awful day.
Wash sat there completely in shock. He'd made it; he'd landed them safely. Serenity would need some fixing, but he'd made it. They had to leave, but he needed a moment, just a moment to gather himself. Zoë loved that look on his face, the look of total accomplishment. She opened her mouth to remind him that they were in a hurry when he started to speak. "I am a leaf on the wind, watch how I…" Zoë knew the rest of it, but she never got to hear him finish. His chest sprouted a crude Reaver spear. Time slowed to a standstill. "Wash…" If she could get to him, move him, the doc could fix it, it's missed him, it was shallow…a hundred different excuses ran through her mind in the second and a half it took for her to cross the bridge.
"Wash, baby, please…" She pleaded. He was playing again; she'd kill him when he grabbed her arm to startle her. There was no time to play, they had to leave, he had to get up. He had to come with her…
Her had hands ran along the blood stained fabric of the seat. She'd left him. Run away and left him there unprotected. By the time they'd finished all that unpleasantness and returned he was gone. The bridge had been demolished, tears in the metal, splashes of red paint, and the stench of burnt skin was all that remained of the Reaver invasion. Zoë's breath hitched slightly as she remembered staring at the empty pilots seat where she had left the body of her beloved. The captain had tried to support her as she realized that his body had been taken. She'd collapsed to her knees despite Mal's best efforts, and stayed there until Simon had Jayne and Mal carry her to the infirmary. Even during those four days lying on her stomach staring at the white walls she couldn't stop seeing the shocked look frozen on Wash's face as she fled.
Legs propped up on the instrument panel she felt a single tear run down her cheek. They always came one at a time now. She'd cried so many in the first couple of months that there weren't any more tears for the following days, although never in front of the rest of crew. As far as most of them knew she was coping with it insanely well, not letting it affect her work at all.
Mal knew better. He was used to working with her when she was at her very best. The past three and a half months had been her own personal hell, during which Zoë had been distracted, and definitely not her best. She couldn't help it though. Despite her best efforts to release him and move on, she remained scattered as the ship oozed with him. Every time she walked into the mess there was a flash of tacky Hawaiian shirt in the corner of her eye. The bridge and their room were the worst. Despite the time, the sheets still smelled of his stale cologne and the bridge was still littered with plastic dinosaurs.
There was the metal creak of a door from the crew quarters, followed by the sure even tread of the Captain's footsteps. Zoë didn't so much as blink when Mal entered the bridge and took a seat in the co-pilots chair, adopting a position that mirrored her own. They sat in silence for a time, staring at the twinkle and blink that were the faraway stars.
"I always thought the stars shone better when there weren't planet lights to clog up the sky." he commented nonchalantly. Zoë didn't reply, just continued to stare at the stars, that were light years away, as if she were right next to them. Mal didn't expect her to look at him. She hadn't met anyone's eye since Miranda if she could avoid it; as if she didn't want them to see how bad she'd been hurt. But that was Zoë for you, she'd walk a whole planet on a broken leg before she let on there was any sort of discomfort.
Clearing his throat Mal tried again. "Zoë, I ain't never been to fancy 'bout words. Tryin' to pretty 'em up only does 'nough good to confuse a person 'til they can't remember what they set out to say in the first place." He glanced over at his second in command before continuing. "You ain't the kinda gal needs pretty talk anyhow so I'm going to be straight forward honest with you…"
"Is that going to be anytime this week Cap'n?" Zoë asked without looking at him.
There it was, Mal thought, the Zoë he'd known since training, the Zoe he'd rarely seen lately. Terse was the way Wash had liked to describe her. With small shake of his head Mal stopped that train of thought in its tracks.
"Absolutely. Zoë, when's the last time you slept?"
There were a few moments of heavy silence before Zoë answered. "Night 'fore last."
"Hmm, and when'd you last put some food in your belly?" Mal probed, though he already knew the answer.
"I'm not hungry." Came the emotionless reply.
"S'not what I asked."
"But it's the answer you got."
Mal was beginning to lose his good naturedness over this whole matter. "Zoë, I'm your Captain, but more than that I liek to consider myself your friend. A friend who's stood behind you on plenty of occasion. We been through more'n our share of sticky situations. I seen all kinds of you and your moods, I seen the color of your blood all over so I couldn't but barely tell the color of your skin, but I don't reckon I ever seen you worse than I seen you these past months." Swiveling to face her he continued.
"You don't hardly eat save what Kaylee forces on you, last time you slept was 'cause the good doc slipped sleepy meds in your drink. I know this is tearin' you up, and you're doing a fine job, flyin' true, but even Jayne's startin' to worry 'bout you. And that's quite an achievement there, seein' as Jayne only worries if he's gonna be paid to eat, sleep, shoot and mess around with the finer half of the species."
Zoë blinked, the only indication she'd head any of what he'd said. Seeing that he'd made an impression he continued on that thread.
"Inara's been settin' up some sort of howdy-do ritual grief ceremony that s'pposed to cleanse your soul of it's sorrow. 'Cept your not to know 'till time comes to do it, so act impressed" He chuckled silently. "Inara always does come up with some complicated way to fix just near everything. Not near as complicated as the good doc though. I never could understand when he goes sciencey smart talk. Not that he does much of such lately. He and Kaylee have been playing newlyweds more than helping crew." Realizing he'd gotten off track he cleared his throat and went back to his original statement.
"Simon and Kaylee talk 'bout you 'n Wash more than anything else. Talk 'bout how you were happy, tryin' to hide how happy they are in light of you not having it no more."
He stopped abruptly as a slight shudder went through Zoë. Hell, 'Nara's right I got the tact of Jayne. He thought to himself. He wanted to apologize but he didn't know how to deal with this new Zoë. This quiet, reserved shadow of what had once been Zoë Washburne.
"Gorram it Zoë," He appealed. "You're worrin' my own self, and I don't take too kindly to bein' worried. 'Least let the Doc give you somethin' so you won't get sick no more. The pain's gotta be somethin' terrible, but nuthin' to be losin' your supper over." The concern in his voice finally reached something in Zoë.
"Ain't greif's 'causin' me to be sick." She intoned, her eyes still glued to twinkles above.
Mal paused. "You got some sorta sick bug? Doc needs to take care of that 'fore the rest of the crew comes down…"
"Ain't that either Cap'n"
Mal froze as Zoë turned to look at him for the first time since he'd talked to her in the cargo hold on Mr. Universes moon. He'd never seen that glowing look in her eyes before, the look that spoke of grief, loss, and somehow a glimmer of hope.
"Then, what in the sphincter hell is makin' you sick?" He managed to ask.
Her eyes were hard as rock as she answered. "I'm pregnant."