In a way, with Wash gone, it was like they were back to normal.
Of course, the first time, it had been him, hanging on to the rock that was Zoe. Now it was her hanging onto him. And, he had found Serenity, had found a way to move forward in life, instead of just cling to it. He didn't know if Serenity was enough for Zoe.
He didn't know, actually, if Serenity didn't hurt Zoe, every day she stayed on her. So much of Serenity had actually been Wash. The puppet master, Wash. He was the one who had put spark and life into the way she moved, had made her the dancing creature of grace that she had been and was no longer.
Were one to have been watching Serenity from the outside, her moving, that would actually have been Wash they were lookin' at. At least 'til he'd been skewered like a dog at a Persephone food stand. Serenity shuddered now, fretting her way in and out of atmo, drank too much fuel, like a drunk hit his bottle of rotgut.
He tried. River tried. But they weren't Wash, with his gentle, coaxing, insistent hands.
He didn't like to think about it, but he wondered if Zoe missed those hands as much as Serenity did.
He lied. He didn't wonder at all. He knew. Hands that brought joy and life to something that had just been just getting along until they laid themselves upon it. Her. Upon her.
Mal knew she missed them as much as she missed his laughter, his foolishness, his profound compassion and hopefulness. His awareness that the 'Verse was an exciting, entrancing place worth engaging head on every gorram day.
But yeah. Back to normal. But now he had to be the strong one, the one who hung onto faith, that there was more to life than the next painful breath.
Yep. But he could do that. For Zoe, he could do anything. Yep. He'd even pray.