"She's locked up, Cap." Jayne stated as he plodded into the bridge after finishing his nightly rounds. "By the way, we was talkin' yesterday, and she got to mentionin' the job. It's solid, Mal. She's got proof an' everything." He pulled out a miniscule disc about the size of a half dollar.
Mal snatched the disc. "Okay, I'll bite. Tomorrow, you bring her up here, and I'll show you it's fake."
As Mal dozed in his bunk, Zoe lay wide awake in hers which, until just under a month ago, she had shared with her husband of five years. Now the bunk seemed exceptionally large.
Zoe had never needed a man. All her life, she had been an independent spirit. That's what happened when you were born on a freighter in transit (her own mother had never even been outside the ship). She was accustomed to living with vagabonds, roughhousing with the boys her age and older, and feeling the hum of the engines beneath her feet. It was this longing to be free, this hatred of restriction, that caused her to fight for independence. By extension, it's also what caused her to meet the first man she ever truly felt a connection with.
She didn't love Malcolm Reynolds. Sure, she found him attractive, and he was a kindred spirit, but she didn't love him. There just wasn't any there there. Wash, on the other hand, was funny, friendly, and fearless. Most men eventually backed down if they disagreed with her. Not Wash. It was this fearlessness that caused her to realize her feelings for him. She never hated him, in fact he actually intrigued her, even though she was still put off by his moustache, which was the largest one she'd seen since Col. Obrin. However, moustache or no, she loved him.
The two couldn't have been more alike. Neither one was afraid to stand up for (or to) the other, they were both endlessly loyal, and their favorite sight was clouds and blue skies giving way within seconds to an ocean of stars. She even came to view her old leather necklace as a symbol of their marriage in that it had survived all manner of rough times with a minimum of damage.
Zoe was anything but a housewife, and Wash loved it. Sure, there were times when he wouldn't mind a fresh meal from her, but given the choice between Zoe and a wife who cooked, cleaned, and was basically a slave, Zoe won hands down. Why? Personality. He loved that Zoe had spunk. He loved that she was a tomboy and took him for who he was, dinosaurs and all. Did he get jealous of the relationship between her and the captain? A little, but it wasn't for lack of trust. He knew that Zoe would never do that to him, likewise with the captain.
Wash's death had saddened her, but she didn't shed many tears. Not because she didn't love him, nor was it because she was putting up a façade, but because her life both pre- and post- UW had left her incredibly thick-skinned. In her heart, she'd always carry a torch for her Leaf-on-the-Wind. A grin spreading a cross her face, the thought comforted her enough to allow her to finally sleep.
