It wasn't the pain that finally woke Zoe up. Quite the opposite really. The hours of pain — intense and unrestricted — seemed to become infinite to her. Worlds and societies and humanity were burned out by it, searing and grotesque. But now, only a numb throbbing remained, the footprint of what had once been her everything.
Slowly, Zoe let her eyes adjust and her mind followed suit, albeit a couple seconds behind. Pale blue lighting. Sterile. Infirmary. Serenity's. Zoe's stiff neck rose despite fatigue and her eyes were drawn to the expanding of her own swollen stomach. But why? Was it the blood? Should've been, there was just so much of it. Dried up and a deep maroon now, splatters all the way to where her feet made little hills in the blankets. It was concentrated around her mid-section, her bloated belly. But no, it wasn't the blood. It was the swollen bit. Not swollen enough. She could see her feet.
Oh god.
Memories flooded back then — no, not flooded. They drowned. The overwhelming recollection knocked Zoe's head back into the hard pillow. She'd— She'd had the child? Her little baby girl. Where was she? The emptiness of the infirmary, which hadn't been important before, suddenly screamed in Zoe's mind. So did the blood. Something was wrong and a horrible dread pounded in Zoe's every inch of being.
Ignoring the stiff numbness of her muscles, Zoe struggled to her feet, determination outweighing the woozy. Bare feet stumbled across the icy metallic floors. Felt like she was walking on death. There was no longer thoughts in her mind, just wild pangs of desperation. Her hands fumbled against the com.
Hello?!
No response. Seconds ticked by, but Zoe stood frozen in the chill of her own darkness. The click, when it finally came, didn't help the way she thought it would.
"Zoe…" For a moment, Zoe's mind lost its footing and fell back into the folds as a name formed — solid and heavy — in the very back of Zoe's throat. The longing to say it, prove it overpowered even her steely rational. But then the voice came again and Zoe's mistake was realized and tormented and shoved aside. Mal. 'Course it was Mal. "Stay put. I'm coming down." Zoe didn't respond, just let her hand fall limp against her side. There was an unmistakeable death in Mal's voice, resolve that came from denial. She knew it well, heard it too many times before.
Later, Zoe, later—he's already dead!
Wash…
I know, Zoe, I know. I need you focused, Zoe
Zoe knew and she was afraid.