So sorry it has taken so long to get this posted here. Everytime I tried to log in I couldn't access the site! Thanks for being patient.

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Chapter 7

Zoë took the ramp to Serenity at a dead run, racing across the empty cargo hold and through the entrance to the lower common room, an expression of worry and slight fear on her face that was rare and almost out of place. Shepherd Book met her at the closed infirmary door, stepping into her path with hands raised.

“He’s still in surgery. Simon asked that they not be disturbed until he’s done as this is tricky work and it’s too important for him to be distracted.”

“I appreciate that, Preacher, but Doc’s just gonna have to deal with a small distraction.”

“Zoë, I know you’re concerned, but Wash really is in the best hands. Let the doctor do his job,” Book reasoned, unmoving.

“I ain’t askin’, Shepherd.”

“Stand aside, Preacher,” Mal added, coming up behind them, thoroughly out of breath from his sprint. “Been developments the doc needs to know ‘bout.”

Book held the captain’s gaze for a few seconds, then nodded his head in acceptance and stepped aside. “Not more trouble for poor Wash, I hope,” he said with real concern.

“More’n likely,” Mal answered tightly. Without waiting to hear his reply, Zoë pushed open the infirmary doors and walked through, Mal at her heels.

Wash was lying on the table, his whole body covered by a sheet except for his face and left hand. If it wasn’t for the bruises on his face and the fact that Inara hovered worriedly nearby, keeping an eye on his breathing and pulse while Simon worked, he might have been stretched out for a nap.

Simon never looked up from his intense, careful work on Wash’s exposed hand, but his brow wrinkled in frustration as the doors opened and his voice was laced with anger as he spoke.

“Exactly what part of I’m not to be disturbed did you people not understand. I’m performing detailed surgery on this man’s hands! I need to be able to concentrate without interruptions unless you don’t care if your pilot or husband is crippled for life!”

Zoë smothered both the spike of rage and irrational fear the doctor’s words sent through her and forced herself to keep her emotions under control. It had been a very trying day for the young doctor as well, and she knew he was worried about performing such a tricky surgery away from the fancy equipment he was used to having, and on someone he was coming to respect as a friend. He was just trying to do his best to heal her husband, for which she was highly grateful, and had no way of knowing the added danger he was in.

“Sorry, Doc, but we’ve got strong reason to believe Wash’s been poisoned along with everythin’ else,” she said softly, aching to move to her husband’s side and run comforting fingers through his hair, but knowing his life depended on her staying focused.

Inara gasped and let a hand fly to her mouth in shock at her words, but Simon still never looked up or stopped his work.

“I don’t think so,” he said calmly.

“Don’t care what you think, want you to be checkin’ anyway,” Mal growled, moving closer. Simon finished tying off a suture and finally looked up. He took a deep breath before speaking, calming his temper so he didn’t say something he’d regret, and glanced at Mal before meeting Zoë’s gaze.

“Mal, Zoë, I know I haven’t been here that long, and I know you don’t always trust me completely, but I am, a good doctor. I don’t practice medicine halfway, not even on little things, and certainly not when it’s this important. I ran every test for every substance I could think of before I started this procedure. There are no poisons currently in his system that are known to man at this time. Now I can run the tests again if you’d like me to, but Wash and I will both thank you if you’ll let me finish this up first. I’m quite sure he wouldn’t like to wake up to find me still working on pinning his fingers into place and sewing it all back up.”

Under any other circumstances, Zoë would have smiled at the slightly pale sheen that spread through the captain’s face at the mention of “pinning” and “sewing.” As it was she just felt a deep sense of relief, and a huge welling of renewed anger. She took a moment to step up to her husband’s side and run a gentle hand across his abused face and through his hair, before she schooled her expression to cool professionalism again and turned away.

“Right, well, good then,” Mal was stuttering sheepishly. “How’s about you just finish up here and…um…we’ll go wait outside. You call us soon as you’re done though, dong ma?” The captain beat a dignified, if rather hasty retreat from the medical room.

“Take good care of him?” Zoë asked, letting some of the warmth and fear creep into her eyes as she faced Simon. He smiled reassuringly at her in a strange reversal of roles.

“Of course. I hadn’t planned on anything less.”

Nodding, Zoë followed Mal out and left the doctor to his work.

She found him sitting on the bridge in Wash’s chair, staring out at the faint light of dawn streaming in the windows as the sunrise crept nearer on the planet. The silliness of a moment before was completely absent; instead she could feel the waves of worry, anger, shame, and pain rolling off him as she came up to stand silently behind him.

Mal didn’t speak for a long time, even though he was aware of her presence, and Zoë didn’t push him. Patience was one of her personality traits and silence suited her just fine. Life had taught her that words weren’t always needed. When he did break the stillness, his voice was raw and rough.

“This is all my fault, Zoë. My fault and I don’t even know why. The man knows me, too gorram well. Knew just how ta get to me, just how I’d react. Hurt Wash and enjoyed it, now he’s messin’ with my head. Every move from here out could be faked, just like that poison, but he knows I can’t afford not to believe it.”

“Ain’t your fault, sir. You got nothin’ to blame yourself for,” Zoë said firmly, meaning every word of it. Wash’s condition broke her heart, but she didn’t blame her captain, and knew there was no way Wash would either.

Mal gripped the arms of the chair until his knuckles turned white as he spoke. “They took my pilot! My dinosaur playin’, crazy shirt-wearing pilot and tortured him! Whipped him, crushed the man’s hands, smothered him in burning tar. Just to send me a little message, postage free. Findin’ it very hard not to see the fault in that. Captain’s supposed ta take care of his crew an’ I didn’t do that. Wash paid the price.”

He paused for breath, his voice cracking. Zoë flinched at his harsh words, feeling the pain and anger she already felt for her husband flair up again, but she stayed silent, knowing Mal needed to get this out.

“My heart’s screamin’ at me ta track down this monster an’ fill him full of holes, but I can’t even do that. Don’t know who he is; don’t know how to find him. Don’t even know if I can keep him from strikin’ again. How’m I ‘posed to keep my crew safe, Zoë, when I don’t know what’s comin’?”

Mal turned to her with a look so lost her heart almost broke. It was like seeing him back in that Valley again, his faith stripped away and his soul raw and bleeding. She swallowed the sudden emotions that rose up in her and stepped up to the pilot’s chair, crouching down so she was eye-level and laying a warm hand on the tense muscles of his arm.

“Never know what’s comin’, Cap’n. Never will. Been told that’s a good portion of what makes up life. You stop livin’ just because you can’t see what’s comin’, they win by default. Only thing we can do is keep goin’, take extra care to protect what’s ours, and make sure we got lots of bullets next time we meet.”

Zoë couldn’t tell by his expression if he bought her words or not. He simply shrugged her hand off and looked away, and she could almost see the walls he kept around his personal emotions standing back up. None of the tension was gone, however. It still hung in the air between them like a lead weight. He opened his mouth to say something but never got the chance as Kaylee’s voice floated in over the comm.

“Cap’n? Can you come down ta the engine room fer a second? Need ta talk to ya about the stabilizer.”

“Kaylee!” he snapped, standing up quickly to flip the comm. to speaker and letting all his frustration leak into his voice. “Told ya we spent all the coin we got fer parts already, so ya can’t go get any more no matter how nice ya ask, an’ I got more important things ta worry about right now!”

There was a moment of silence from the other end, then Kaylee’s voice came again, slightly wobbly. “Yes, Cap’n. Sorry,” she whispered and the line went dead.

Zoë raised a disapproving eyebrow at the exchange, and Mal let his head stink into his hands, realizing what he’d just done.

“The mean ol’ captain strikes again,” he muttered, massaging his temples. Zoë just stood up and crossed her arms.

“Gonna say anything?” Mal asked quietly.

“Don’t got nothin’ to say. Not the one needs talkin’ to.”

“Right. Well, guess I’ll be in the engine room if anyone needs me, talkin’ with my mechanic. Let me know when Simon finishes. I’m thinkin’ a meetin’ with all the crew is needed once Wash is restin’ easy for a bit. Got things need discussin’.”

“Aye, Cap’n,” Zoë agreed.

Mal left the bridge, his boots clanking on the deck plating and his usually proud shoulders sagging.

Zoë watched him until he disappeared around the corner then let the calm expression on her face crumble. With a bone-weary sigh, she sank into the pilot’s chair and brought her knees up to her chest. For the first time since she’d walked into that infirmary and seen her husband covered in tar and feathers, she allowed herself to feel the pain and sorrow and worry that caused.

It made her sick. Wash was the kindest, gentlest, most honest soul she knew – was part of what had allowed her to admit her attraction to him in the first place and to let him into her life. Oh, he could be petty, annoying, even mean with the mood struck, but that didn’t change who he was at the core. He balanced her, filled in the holes and cracks that life had left. And in return she tried her best to protect him from the very things that had caused those fissures in herself; not because she didn’t think he could handle it, but because she didn’t want him to have to.

In the end, it didn’t matter. The cruelty of the ‘verse still managed find him. It was just wrong in so many ways and it broke her heart.

Blinking back a lone, salty tear that threatened to leak out and roll down her cheek, Zoë leaned deep into the chair, drawing comfort from the almost tangible presence of her husband she could feel there. Her eyes fell on the flight consul and the little line of colorful “friends” that lived on its surface. Almost against her bidding, her lips cracked into a small smile even as her eyes filled up even more.

“Gorram, crazy man,” she muttered under her breath through the tiny smile. She reached out and gently picked up the mottled blue one with all the bumps down its back – Steggy, if she remembered right – and caressed if fondly with her fingers. “Plastic toys and palm trees…” she added, shaking her head. “Need ta get him a sandbox.”

“It could be worse you know,” Book’s calm, smooth voice came from the doorway of the bridge. Zoë was startled, so absorbed in her thoughts that she hadn’t heard him coming, but no one watching her would have known that. Outwardly, she dropped her legs back to the ground and answered as though she’d been expecting him, the dinosaur falling to her lap.

“What you mean, Preacher?”

Book wandered over to lean against the consul beside her chair, a warm smile on his face. “I knew a pilot once that collected candy wrappers; turned them into paper chains. He decorated the whole bridge with them, like paper streamers. I’ve never seen anything quite so distracting as that, and the worst thing was the smell. You entered the bridge and you were just hit with it, this sickly-sweet scent of sugar and spit.” He shuddered at the memory. “Compared to that, what are a few dinosaurs between friends?”

“You’ve never stepped on one barefoot in the dark when ya get up in the middle of the night ta answer nature.”

“No, I can’t say as I have,” Book said with a small chuckle. “But then, I guess we each have our own crosses to bear, don’t we.”

Zoë laughed for the first time in hours and she found it felt rather nice. “So, you need somethin’, Shepherd?” she asked lightly, still smiling.

“No. I actually just came up here to give you this,” he answered, sobering. He pulled a small, cardboard box, the lid painted a dull red, from his pocket. “I found it while unloading the mule earlier and thought you should have it before it got lost and forgotten or broken.” With sincere concern and kindness in his eyes, he stepped forward and pressed the box into her hands, giving them a warm squeeze. “That’s a mighty good man you’ve got there for a husband. Not many like him anywhere in the ‘verse, and I’m not referring to his quirks. You hold on to him. And don’t worry too much, Zoë, I believe he will make it through this just fine.”

Then he turned and silently exited, leaving her sitting there with the little box gripped in her hands and the strange feeling that she’d been given the reassurance she hadn’t known she was even seeking. It gave her pause and she let her mind drift for a while, but after several minutes, she shook her head and refocused her attention on the box in her hands.

It was about the size of a medium protein bar, but much, much lighter. Gently, she worked the top off and set it aside. Snowy folds of wrapping tissue met her eyes and increased her curiosity. Paper of any kind was rather rare in the ‘verse these days, and to use it so frivolously in packaging… Carefully, her long, slim fingers peeled back the folds of precious tissue, searching for what it hid. When they felt something smooth and cold, she pulled it out.

It was a hair clip. Nothing fancy – just a smooth metal bar polished up to give the appearance of silver with a small, turquoise stone in the center. But it was beautiful in its simplicity and even more so knowing who it had come from.

Clutching it in her hand, she closed her eyes. Wash knew she didn’t like fluff, wouldn’t put up with jewelry and trinkets, but somehow he still seemed to delight in finding little ways to remind her that he thought she was the most beautiful woman in existence and wanted everyone else to know it, too. The hair clip was elegant and functional, and she couldn’t help liking it, even as she told herself it was a total waste of good coin.

She tried to be angry with him, wasting their hard earned money like that. She didn’t need it and there were things he certainly did. The man hadn’t bought so much as a new shirt since he’d come on board all those years ago. He didn’t even have a good coat; just that ragged sweater and an equally ragged jacket. He just existed in the same worn jumpsuits and colorful shirts and seemed to hope the bright colors would hide the fact they were practically thread-bare. She’d lost track of the times she’d ordered him to buy something new for himself, only to have him return empty handed. The only thing she’d ever seen him splurge on was a new toy or two, and even that was rare. She really should be furious with him, but she just couldn’t. She felt the metal of the clip pressing against the palm of her hand and warming to the touch of her skin and thought of Wash gleefully picking it out, searching around for just the right one, hurrying home with a smile on his face to give it to her. And then she saw him beaten and burned, gazing at her with such anguish in his eyes…

With sorrow and determination, she opened her eyes. Gathering up her long curls in a bunch at her neck, she took the gift and deftly slipped it around her hair, clicking it shut and thanking whatever higher power might be listening that she had found such a man to love.

“Zoë?” Simon’s voice crackled in over the comm., breaking the stillness and the mood.

She stood quickly, the plastic toy falling from her lap into the chair, and grabbed the hand unit. “Doc.”

“I’m all finished here and everything went fine. Wash is resting, but he should be waking soon. I thought you might like to come sit with him, and I can fill you in on everything.”

“Will do, on my way now,” Zoë replied, relief flooding through her. She switched the channel to connect to the engine room. “Cap’n, Simon’s done. Says ta come to the infirmary,” she said briefly. Not waiting for a reply, she switched the comm. off and left the bridge, Steggy lying forgotten in the chair behind her.