Resilience: Zoë Alleyne Washburne Chapter 4, a firefly fanfic

四 Sì: Gū zhǎng nán míng

Translations:

Bùkěsīyì – inconceivable

Bù zháo – no need

Wēn róu – gentle/tender

Wēn hòu – gentle/good-natured, warm

Mèi mei – little sister

Liáng hǎo – good, fine

Zá qī zá bā – a bit of everything

Gū zhǎng nán míng – (idiom) "It's hard to clap with only one hand" - It's difficult to achieve anything without support.

Zoe gazed out at the moon's dry, desert valley. The early morning light that had made it glow in warm hues of pink and orange was transitioning now. Brighter, starker. It was barren but beautiful. Sculpted by time, hardly touched by people at all. It hadn't been terraformed or meddled much with. Just a little moon, going on about its' existence long before and long after any of them.

Zoe'd found the vista after walking a while by herself and the idea to make a memorial took root, seeded by the moon's plentiful rock formations. It hadn't taken much convincing for Mal to spare Zoe, Jayne, and Inara for as long as it took to move some rocks and carve them down. In fact, all she'd said to him was I found a place.

A little attention from Kaylee and the Mule was serviceable. A little scrounging about and enough things like mallets and metal bits that could pass for chisels turned up. Add to that a little grumbling from Jayne, a little artistic direction from Inara, and a little elbow grease and you had yourself some headstones. Zoe didn't think of it as therapeutic, or cathartic, or what have you. She hadn't purged any tears, or any screams of anger. But something in her had felt just a little satisfaction in hitting things until her arms hurt.

In her peripheral vision, she caught the movements of Jayne loading things onto the Mule and Inara placing the last few rocks around the base of one of their creations. Zoe slapped the dust off of her sleeves, making a cloud that quickly dissipated in the wind, and rejoined the others. Back at the ship they went their separate ways. Back to their respective responsibilities on the long list of what it would take to get Serenity back in the sky.

There was something Zoe wanted to do. Mal or Jayne or someone else could have done it. But again, she hardly had to use any words at all and Mal had understood. No one had touched it 'cept the Feds so far – she wanted to clean up the bridge.

She gathered up what she thought the job would call for. The harpoons were out. Feds had seen to that. But there would be glass. There would be a need for soap and water.

Zoe filled a bucket, watched the soap bubbles form, watched the cloth sink itself. She fetched a towel, the broom, the dustpan, an empty box for the glass. She did these things on autopilot, finding herself standing at the bottom of the stairs to the bridge.

There was no sense avoiding it. If the plan was to stay on Serenity – and she couldn't see it any other way – she'd be going up there. She went up there all the time.

The Sun beamed down.

Red emergency lighting...

Fresh air wafted into her nostrils.

Still, stagnant air, thick with the smell of burnt wiring...

She went ahead on up, her boots crunching on shattered glass, and was overcome by a sudden wave of nausea. She doubled over, set down the bucket. It was just the dry heaves, nothing to come up. She hadn't had anything for breakfast. This had happened before. This morning when she'd awoken, alone in the bunk, and everything came rushing back into consciousness like a bucket of water about to hit you in the face. It was what had turned her off to breakfast in the first place.

Soon enough it passed.

She started by brushing all the glass off of the consoles, then methodically sweeping from one side of the room to the other. Here and there a dinosaur, picked out of the debris, placed with care back where it belonged.

T-rex though. Somehow through it all, T-rex hadn't moved.

Bùkěsīyì.

She scooted the bucket across the floor with her foot, finally turning to look, to really look, at the pilot's chair. Not just passing glances in the corner of her eye. The Feds had done a decent first pass, taken care of the lion's share – there wasn't anything too grisly about what she saw. But it was not pristine. It was not immaculately clean. They had not erased all evidence of what had happened there. And for that Zoe was grateful. It was stained. It was punctured. Needle and thread. Somewhere on this boat she knew she'd seen a needle and thread.

If that chair had looked like nothing at all had happened she would have been livid.

For some reason this is what she had needed to see. His chair.

She laid into it with the warm soapy water. She let her thoughts rewind and replay, skipping forward and back, without trying to govern them. Mal pulling her down to the floor in the nick of time. Wash at the helm, pulling Serenity out of freefall. That moment of silence – again that moment of silence just before…Signing the forms that would result in the delivery of a tidy little metal box. Answering the form-taker's question with simply bù zháo.

If you would like to see him…?

There was no need. She had seen him. She may have been frantic, in a panic that had threatened her hold on reality– but she had seen plenty. Enough to stay crystal clear in memory forever after. There was no need to go sit with an empty vessel. It wasn't him anymore.

Furthermore she didn't like the connotation – to see him, see him off, say your goodbyes… There hadn't been any warning, any time to say goodbye to each other. And she didn't want to say it now. Least of all say it in some soulless Alliance infirmary, while some purple-belly waited impatiently outside.

No, she and the crew would have a send-off in their own way. Together they would have their ritual and their rock monuments. And then later, alone, she would mark the occasion – not of goodbye exactly, but of letting go. Not of shutting him out of mind, but of going on without him. She had the makings of a plan as to what to do with the little metal box when it came.

Movement at the bottom of the stairs got Zoe's attention, interrupting her meandering train of thought. It was time for a change of water anyhow. She rallied, summoning up the energy for interacting with other people, for talking. It required of her a different kind of energy than the physicality of chiseling, sweeping, and scrubbing. She dropped the cloth back into the water as River entered, nonchalant and carrying a bag of tools, followed by Kaylee, arms full of gear and much more apprehensive.

Kaylee set her armload down next to the co-pilot's console. River added to Kaylee's pile and started to slowly run her hand along the console, her eyes darting over the controls, her mouth moving as she silently spoke to herself. Zoe wiped her hands with a towel and picked up the bucket, careful not to cause the dirty, sudsy water to slosh about.

She watched Kaylee do a brief assessment comparing the pilot and co-pilot's chairs. The difference between them now was plain to see.

"May as well do th'other one now. I'd bet my share of our next job they ain't seen soap nor water since the day this boat left the shipyard," said Zoe, straight-faced.

She saw Kaylee's eyes alight on the bucket for a brief moment. Zoe knew the dirty water had a reddish tint to it.

The mechanic swallowed, "I'll side with you on that one."

Wēn róu, wēn hòu mèi mei, I know all this is hard for you.

Zoe smiled at her just a little, "Just gonna go change this water." She paused, "I was thinkin'…We finished the monuments this morning. Doctor's supposed to be out today?"

"I think so," Kaylee nodded.

"Liáng hǎo. We can all go."

Click, click, click.

The two women turned their heads at the familiar sound of three switches being flicked. River was sitting in Wash's chair. Her hand floated down from the switches above, her mouth slightly open in fascination as she looked over the now lit-up controls.

"Uh, River, maybe you should'n…" Kaylee bit her lip and looked from Zoe to River and back again.

Zoe shifted her grip on the bucket, "…It's alright. She's not doin' any harm."

River swiveled the chair in their direction, picking up Wash's plastic T-rex on the way, "She's walking on eggshells."

River certainly wasn't talking about herself. Kaylee was looking at the floor. Zoe knew everyone was being cautious around her these past few days. And while she appreciated being given space, she wasn't going to fly into fits just because someone did or said something to remind her of Wash. Being reminded of Wash was a constant, a given.

"There's no need," Zoe said, glancing at Kaylee. She set down the bucket and crossed to River, holding out her hand for the dinosaur, "But why don't we just leave these be."

River met Zoe's steady gaze and placed the T-rex into her waiting hand, willingly with no resistance. Zoe put it back on the console and offered River the towel, "Sit on this if you're gonna sit. Chair still needs to dry."

River took the towel and stood up suddenly, leaping into a run towards the portal.

"Simon!" they heard her exclaim as she ran past the crew bunks. Kaylee's eyes widened a little and she started after River, not quite running but not quite walking either.

Zoe let out a quiet sigh, a release after the effort of being sociable. As she switched out the old water for new, she mulled over her feelings at River sitting in Wash's chair. Irreverent, but from the girl who so often pushed the limits of social norms, Zoe knew River hadn't meant any disrespect. She believed what she'd said – there was no harm done. River was clearly curious about ships. Zoe was vaguely aware of Inara giving River a lesson on the shuttle's ignition sequence. Was that just yesterday? Seems she was cultivating an interest in flying.

No one had sat there since it happened. Was there some amount of time, some arbitrary amount of time that should pass before someone sat there again? She dismissed these thoughts as irrational. Others would sit there. It wasn't Wash's chair. But it had been Wash's place. It was imbued with him, with the echo of him, and she would have the dinosaurs stay there as a testament.

It was soon into her scrubbing of the co-pilot's chair that River returned. With hardly a sound she carefully laid the towel over the damp seat cushion and sat down again. She sat on her hands, intently looking at every switch and button, eyes bright like a child scanning the jars in the candy store, wanting and waiting to touch.

"River…" Zoe started. She had forged an idea, but she wasn't sure she could pull it off on her own. At the same time, she didn't want everybody and their sister involved. Just the sister who was a master at physics. If she could figure a way to enlist River's help without letting her fully in on the plan…It was a plan for Zoe alone.

River looked up from the console, silent, expectant. Zoe didn't like to read too much into the expression on her face, but it seemed River was humoring her, waiting to hear the words out loud that she'd already "heard" forming in Zoe's mind. That she was a reader was no longer speculation. But knowing that didn't just make for smooth sailing. It would take some getting used to the notion that what you generally considered to be the most private things belonging to you – your thoughts – were not as private as you once fancied.

"She understands," River said, all graciousness, "No one else is invited."

Zoe let her cleaning cloth drape over the rim of the bucket.

"Hypothetically speaking…" she began, "…I was thinkin' it ain't unfeasible, if you worked the math, to make a shooting star appear at a particular time and place…"

River drew her knees up and wrapped her arms around them, "Start with time and place, work it backwards. Initial mass, atmospheric density, aerodynamic drag, gravitational forces. The solar X-ray flux and particle precipitation from the magnetosphere…current space weather conditions…Gives you velocity, angle of entry, orbital mechanics…Hypothetically speaking."

Zoe folded her arms, not in annoyance but in satisfaction.

"You want me to create a controlled EDL failure," River said matter-of-factly.

"I don't know what that means but I'm thinking yes."

"The overshoot trajectory has the highest thermal load. I can make a long tail. Many seconds," she let one foot down again, swiveling the chair back and forth with the strength of just her toes.

Zoe turned away, gathering up the bucket, an almost-smile flirting with the corner of her mouth. She might've figured out the calculations on her own eventually, but asking River was so much faster. And much more elegant. River had gotten the idea. It would be the loveliest and longest meteor Zoe would ever lay eyes on.

River suddenly stood, looking down the stairs as if someone was about to enter. Zoe's face instantly wiped itself of any expression, steeling again.

"They're all going there," River said softly.

Zoe relaxed. There was not here. "Where?"

"Simon was impressed with how clean it was," River smiled.

The infirmary. "You go on ahead," Zoe told her. They would all be gathered together once today. She wasn't sure she was up for twice.

River looked right at her. It was a look that Zoe was becoming more familiar with lately. The one that signaled she'd picked up on some thought or feeling strong enough to really get her attention. Zoe's inclination was to look away but she held her ground, on guard. She was used to defending herself against physical attacks. But unsolicited insights that made you confront your own innermost self were a different kind of attack. River didn't intend to be confrontational. She just didn't have any boundaries.

Zoe was surprised at what followed. River spoke with unusual coherence. And rather than speaking of Zoe, she spoke of herself.

"My brother told me something, a technique," she started, "He tries everything he knows, and it still isn't working, so he does his research. Psychology, psychiatry, therapy, zá qī zá bā. He wants her to try this when the…when it gets too overwhelming. The memories, mine and not mine. Develop a positive cognition to associate with the negative one, that you desire in its' place. To interrupt, to re-frame."

Zoe, genuinely curious and definitely cautious, rested the bucket on the co-pilot's armrest.

"Didn't think it worked, 'til now," River looked down the stairs again, as if she could see right through the decking, the frame of the ship, right into the infirmary where their crew was convening, "The memory is still dark. But not completely. There is light in it. The day we landed here. The Reavers were coming and coming. It would have been easy to give up, to think there was no hope. But still they didn't give up hope. Still they were together, taking care of each other. Gū zhǎng nán míng…"

Zoe swallowed, fighting to quell the lump in her throat.

Sneaky, that one.

River made a judicious exit, leaving the psychology bomb she'd dropped by disguising it as her own 'else it never would have flown.

It did its' work though, Zoe had to admit. She found that, at least in this moment, she wanted to give in to the urge to join the others in the infirmary. In this moment she allowed her feet to carry her, following after River, grateful that she was not alone.