She’d put them away so often, but every time got them out again. Stupid things. Why’d you ever start playing with ‘em? Some kind of reversion to childhood? She stared at the T-Rex. Maybe I should just space you. Get you out of here.

She tossed it away from her, hearing it hit the bulkhead but not looking where it fell. Every time I asked you why, you just looked at me and waggled those eyebrows. Sometimes I coulda hit you for that. Wanted to hold you down and make you tell me, only every time I tried we ended up doing something else. It was a game.

She lay back on their bed … her bed. Why does it have to take so long? Why do I still have to hurt like this? Days were easier, keeping busy, seeing Jayne didn’t break anything or anyone, least, not unless he was told to, going on jobs with Mal, getting the coin to keep flying.

But having to watch Kaylee and Simon, coming on them draped around each other, mouths locked … it opened up the wound in the centre of her chest just as painfully as if it was her body the stake had gone through.

Wash, why did you have to die?

At least they hadn’t made love on the bridge yet. Not that she was aware. That was her spot. Her and Wash’s. Mal complained so often that it smelled of sex. If only he knew. She smiled a little. If you’d known where me and Wash had coupled, the places we’d made love, you’d be tearing your hair out.

Like the time Mal and the others had gone out to that bar on Greenleaf. They’d stayed behind, giving the reason that Wash had to tweak one of the sensors that had gotten out of alignment, and she didn’t feel like drinking.

Only reason had nothing to do with it. By the time the crew had rolled back to Serenity, Wash had christened the dining room table, Simon’s medical bed, and they’d ended up climbing out of the EVA hatch on top of the Firefly to make love under the stars. Always did have a good recovery rate, husband. Just can’t recover from everything, I guess.

So the days weren’t bad. But the nights …

No days on board this boat, she reminded herself. That’s the trouble. It’s always night.

Mal wanted to help her, she knew that. It was the reason she tried to keep out of his way. His understanding, his sympathy, were too close to pity. Pity, all tied up with guilt in a big red ribbon. It’s not your fault, Mal. She only ever called him Mal in her thoughts, hardly ever in person. You didn’t fire that harpoon. Still, she knew there was no point. Nothing she was going to say would make any difference to him. Not a man who still carried the remorse for all the men who died at Serenity Valley.

It didn’t stop her blaming him. We all agreed. All said it was what should be done. But he’s captain. Who was gonna say no to him? If he hadn’t wanted to be a hero, maybe … maybe … Except it wasn't about that. It was about doing the right thing. You always wanted to do the right thing, Wash. The voice of conscience on board. Why did it have to kill you?

She turned over onto her side, looking at the emptiness next to her. She still couldn’t sleep there, not on his bit of the bed. Right from the first moment they’d fallen onto it, tearing at each other’s clothes, unable to keep their hands off each other for one more second, that had been his. Lying at her left.

You joked about it. Said it was something natural, keeping my gun hand free. ‘Cept the way you kept wrapping me up in you, my hands were never free. Nor my heart. Why did you creep into me?

I should’ve kept you at arms length. Made my feelings clear to Mal, told him I didn’t want you on board. Instead I let him be the boss, and you moved into that bunk. Kept on at me. Then didn’t. Tried to kiss me then pushed me to arm’s length. The most infuriating man I ever met. The one I wanted a baby with. Wash …

When does it get to be only the best times I remember? Why does it always come back to that moment, when it all ended? Why’d you damn well leave me, Wash? I could’ve gone with you, kept you company, but you didn’t let me. None of you let me.

When does your scent go from the bed, Wash? What will I do when it does?

Tears rolled down into her hair, staining the pillow slip. She hugged herself, feeling the ache inside growing to consume her.

The sound of the hatch opening made her sit up, wiping her face angrily. Thought I’d locked it.

“Zoe?” Jayne’s tentative voice growled down the ladder.

“What?”

“Mal say’s we’re about ready to land. Only he wants to know if’n you’re planning to take root down there.”

“I’m coming.”

“’Kay.” He didn’t sound convinced, and a moment later his big boots descended the rungs.

“Get out, Jayne,” Zoe said, standing up and turning away, wanting time to make herself look better, to present that calm to the ‘verse that had been lacking of late.

“You okay?” the mercenary asked. “Only you ain't exactly been talkative the past few.”

“Got nothing to say.”

“That ain't the truth of it.”

“And you’d know?”

“You ain't the only one lost someone here, Zoe.”

She turned on his, her hands in fists. “I lost a husband, Jayne!”

“’N’ we lost a friend.” His voice was almost gentle. “Not that I liked him that much, but … hell, he saved our lives more’n a couple.” He gazed at her, his blue eyes thoughtful. “Not saying that’s the way he’d’a liked to’ve gone … reckon that would’ve been in your bed, maybe seventy years down the line. But he saved us, Zo. ‘N’ that’s worth something in my book.”

Zoe stared at him. “Jayne …”

The man shook himself. “Anyways, Mal says to get your ass up here so we can get to work.” He climbed the ladder swiftly, the sound of his boots echoing away.

I thought they’d forgotten. They don’t talk about you, Wash. Shy away from any subject where your name might come up. I thought they didn’t care any more. She bent down to pick up the toy dinosaur from the floor. If that man can miss you … Maybe I was wrong. Maybe they’re hurting almost as much as me.

She placed the T-Rex on the table by the bed. Her bed. Maybe we should talk about you. Remember the good times, the laughter … Her eyes fell on the Hawaiian shirt she couldn’t bear to throw away.

Maybe.

Strapping her gun to her leg, she climbed the ladder, leaving the scent of Wash behind.