Disclaimer: Firefly is the property of Joss Whedon (YAY!) and FOX (BOO!). Me no own.
She is the emblem of control, danger nestled in an unassuming package, a goddess of war. And when she hurts, you only find a blank, default look.
She wears the leather wrist cuff for a reason. Control. To forget. To stop feeling numb. To punish herself. To mask. It's the one chink in her armor that could make everything else crumble. Her one link to herself.
--Control
She slipped out of bed, not disturbing her husband's snoring frame. He rolled over, and she froze, praying he hadn't woken up.
"Zoe."
She answered softly. "Yes, dear?"
"Did you let the purple penguins out of the zoo on purpose? Cuz I think the money was on the Oliphant, but you never know with Badger."
She grinned. Just sleep talkin' was all. Always in his deepest stage of sleep, so she was safe. She continued across their bunk to a secret space in the wall. Without ceremony she pushed in a small flip switch in the wall which released a small drawer.
She took a deep breath and removed what was in the drawer, then sat in a corner of the room. Silently she undid the leather wrist cuff on her right arm.
In the soft glow of the room, several scars were visible on that wrist. Never more than an eighth of an inch deep and all an inch to an inch and a quarter in length. She raised the knife she had retrieved from that drawer and made three more slashes identical to the ones before.
With the cuts, a feeling of euphoria raced up her arm and into her brain. She sat back and sighed in relief. Finally. Control.
Every day, Mal tells her what do to, and she does it. Wash asks her to do something, and she complies. Her life is on a constant roller coaster of unmanageable events. Living and dying are unpredictable, and in many cases, probable.
So this is her little bit of control. Her small island of euphoria where everything is perfect. Everything as it should be.
She sighed again. The euphoria was wearing off, and she was tempted to one more cut. But she knew if she gave in, nothing would stop her. She had control over it, no? One slip and it would all be lost. So she squeezed antiseptic on the cuts and fastened the leather wrist cuff over them again. The knife went back in the wall, and she went back to bed. Her eyes closed, knowing that in 24 hours she would be awake and again in a state of contemplation.