Post-"Serenity" movie
Characters belong to Joss Whedon, the idiots at Fox, and the angels at Universal.
Sometimes she goes to the bridge, when they're out on the edge of space, and there's nobody but her and the stars. She'll touch his dinosaurs and his palm trees, run her fingers over the consoles, sit down in his chair. It'll always be his chair, in her mind, no matter who else sits in it over the years, it'll always be his.
And sometimes she'll lay back and close her eyes. Sometimes it's just her and the stars and the whir of Serenity living, working, keeping them safe. Sometimes he's there too.
He'll be leaning over her shoulder, his warmth bathing her worn body. His voice will be in her ear, whispering nonsense—or nonsense far as she can make out.
Sometimes he'll be in the other chair, deftly controlling the ship with little effort. He had always been a leaf on the wind in this ship, always made her do things few people thought possible. List of recommendations as long as his leg, Mal had said. She thinks he should have had more.
And then she'll open her eyes, and it'll just be her and the stars and the sounds of Serenity.