There aren't enough hours in the day for grief. Mal's motto has always been "Keep flyin'" and in the whirlwind of days after Miranda it becomes Zoe's battle cry.
I just need to patch this hole in the hull.
I just need to talk to Mal about this wiring change.
I just need to sleep a little.
Shock and autopilot go hand in hand.
If Zoe would stop for a second she'd remember the time after the war, after interrogation, internment, starvation and disease – those breakneck and breathless months before Mal and Serenity. She'd remember how she could never stop moving or doing, how the five minutes before she fell asleep at night were the longest time of her day. If she'd stop for a second she'd realize that she's been here before.
Well, almost.
She watches Mal sit in Wash's chair and she watches Mal watch River. Mal knows she watches and Zoe knows he knows. No one mentions any part of it. Mal won't and the rest of the crew is afraid.
Even Zoe is a little afraid of who she's become. The anger rises faster than before. She stares out into space, but where before it was full of stars and possibilities now it's just empty, vast blackness. Wash gave everything cohesion and balance. Without him everything is dark and heavy.
Zoe eats. Zoe stares. Zoe does her job and does it well. Zoe does more than her share. Mal knows how little she sleeps but he doesn't mention it. She knows he's trying to give her space, trying to trust her judgment, like he did after the war. Mal saw her come back to herself, trusts that she'll do it again given time and space and tasks.
For once, Mal doesn't know what's going on.
Kaylee's too busy discovering Simon and Inara's too busy pining over Mal to guess. They think Zoe doesn't see these things, that she doesn't notice. River might be psychic but if she knows she's keeping it from everyone – even Zoe.
Zoe doesn't do anything until she can feel her body slowing down, redirecting energy, changing. Then she goes to see Simon. Not because she wants to, but because it's what Wash would have wanted and because it's what's best. She hates the thought -- it doesn't make the going any easier.
Zoe sits patiently while Simon checks the scar running up her spine. He tells her it looks terrible and Zoe's grateful that at least he feels able to be honest with her. Simon also says that despite how it looks she's in excellent medical shape.
"No," Zoe says. "Actually I'm not." Simon looks at her askance and Zoe turns to face him. "Fairly sure, leastways. But you're the doctor. You tell me. I think I've got a hitchhiker." She smiles, like it's going to distract anyone from the one tear that slips down her cheek.
Simon gawps and gawks for a second and Zoe actually feels rather sorry for him. Poor boy can't even control his emotions. Yet after that brief break his medical training takes over and Simon is all business. He draws blood and runs tests. He says nothing, touches her only when necessary and offers no advice. Yet he's comforting by the virtue of his silent and calm presence – something Zoe is inexplicably thankful for.
The answer is definitive.
Oh captain, my captain.
Mal is on the bridge staring out into the black. Zoe comes up behind him and tentatively puts her hands on Wash's chair – a chair that from now on she's going to have to think of as the pilot's chair. It can't be Wash's any more.
"Cap'n."
"Zoe."