Prompt#5- Light

If she stared at the black for long enough she could forget that there wasn't anyone in her bunk. She could ignore the fine film of dust on the dinosaurs in front of her and she could pretend, for just one minute that when she turned around there would be someone in the chair.

But, as always, the blackness managed to permeate every corner of her heart and Zoë felt it swamp over her, removing every vestige of hope and happiness.

He wasn't coming back.

A breath caught in Zoë's throat like she was choking on her heart and she dug her fingernails into her palms, trying to push the tears back.

With an almost savage intensity she dragged herself out of the bridge and stomped her way into the kitchen, using every stomp to push bricks into her chest to wall up the pain.

"That was the torture talking, remember the torture?"

She paused in the doorway to get her emotions under control and peered in, wondering who she'd have to fool, who she'd have to fake that she was okay for, who she'd hate for being alive when Wash wasn't.

Jayne was an easy target as he cleaned the guns that weren't fast enough and filed the knives that weren't sharp enough. His muscular frame occupied most of the table, his health an affront and his weapons a joke.

River was another easy target; her brain enough to hear the screams of three million strangers but not enough to hear the cry of one man. Her crazy words locked away like she had been. Like she should have been.

"Can I make a suggestion that doesn't involve violence, or is this the wrong crowd for that?"

Zoë tightened her jaw. It was mean, but was true. If that gorram girl hadn't come on board then Wash would be alive now.

"Or killed much earlier. It's a hazard of flying in a death trap—the inevitable death."

He'd been her conscience and without him she was adrift in a sea of black; all she had to remember him by were words he had said, words that were as lost as she was.

Then she looked at River—really looked at her. Her hands were holding tightly onto the afghan she had wrapped around her and her little shoulders were shaking, her face pale and wretched.

Zoë's heart turned over as the obvious pain the girl was in and she felt petty and mean for her thoughts.

Thoughts that the girl had probably heard.

Wash would have been so ashamed of her.

"You're pretty much down to ritual suicide, lambie-toes."

"Hey, girl, you okay?" Jayne's voice was nowhere near the harsh grunt Zoë had expected and she stepped back into the shadows.

"Serenity's crying," River said softly, tears evident in her voice.

Jayne put down his gun. "You can hear her?"

"I can hear everything and I'm sorry. I'm sorry I didn't die instead."

"Hey now, no one is saying that."

"No one except Jayne is saying that."

"It's true. Friends and teachers, guides and love. She isn't either—has no place. Don't belong, dangerous. Should've just gorram left when I had the chance. She makes a mess."

There was something unsettling about hearing those words from River's mouth.

"The Alliance made the mess!" Jayne spat. "You were just clearing up and they had to go one making more to cover their ass. Ain't your fault."

"Should have seen—"

"Nothin'," Jayne insisted and Zoë froze as she listened to him. "Girl yer age shoulda been reading books, not people. No way you coulda or shoulda read them Reavers. No way they shoulda cut into yer head or made yer into some kind of gorram weapon. I ain't saying that yer knowing don't make you all kinds of useful, but it ain't somethin' you should be wanting or even expecting and there were nothin' about this that was yer fault, dong ma?"

"How did your brain ever learn human speech?"

"I want them back. Serenity's not full and she hurts."

"Takes time to heal and all," Jayne offered. "Reckon she'd be mad if you left too. This family is small enough now without getting smaller. Jus' gotta move ahead and think of them things that they woulda wanted. Like the Shepherd said, best way ta keep a man alive is to keep him around."

"Like in a box?"

Zoë found her lips curving at that and making a mental note to tell. . .

"I figure he meant his words and what he did. Like Shepherd was a good man. Wash was funny man. So we be good and laugh and I guess that makes us remember 'em."

"Jayne—profound, that's all manner of scary. Has hell frozen over, are your feet cold?"

"Thank you, Jayne," said River softly and the room turned silent again.

Zoë had always been heavy and dark, Wash was light. Best way to keep him around was to keep things light. Maybe the light would push away the black.

Zoë took a deep breath and walked into the room, looking over at a nervous River and giving her a nod.

"Cap says you are gonna be flying the boat."

River nodded hesitantly and Zoë took a deep breath. "Just remember to dust the dinosaurs, okay?"