ok this is a short one as it was really buggin' me... i'm not sure if it's any good. you ever get that feelin' when it just doesn't seem as good as it could be but you're not sure what more to do?? well yeah, hope it still makes sense!

(oh and if you figure out it is that's not great please tell me...)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

She felt his eyes burning furious holes in the back of her neck, but even before she looked up, Wash had glanced away. Zoë frowned and turned back to her meal, suddenly not hungry. In the last few days Wash’s bitter silence towards her perfectly demonstrated his feelings. He would not speak, he spent all day avoiding her and at meal times he would determinedly keep his eyes averted from her gaze.

It bothered her. It bothered her more than she expected it would. At first she had assumed it had been the drink, but then the more it bothered her the more she really had to hope it had been the drink. The last thing she needed was for what she had felt to have been real. Maybe that was why she wouldn’t go out of her way to appease Wash. She didn’t want verification of her feelings.

So instead Zoë returned Wash’s silence for silence and prayed all would go back to the way it had been.

“What time should we be landing tomorrow?” Mal said, ignorantly breaking the silence that hung around the mess like a bad smell.

“Around midnight,” Wash replied, making no attempt at conversation.

If Mal had noticed the changes in Wash’s temperament he hadn’t commented. “We’ll be advertising one of the shuttle’s for rent while we’re planetside. See if we can’t get us some respectability, not to mention the money.”

“Passengers?” Kaylee’s face lit up.

“Not so glad of the notion myself, always best not to have strangers poking around on your ship,” Mal pointed out.

Zoë only half heard the conversation. She couldn't stop thinking of Wash, her eyes were involuntarily glancing across the table towards him and she was only beginning to understand why. Finally their eyes met. It was only a moment before Wash turned hurriedly away, baring a frown but Zoë felt something in the pit of her stomach, which seemed disturbingly like regret.

Wash needed to escape. He needed to breath in a place that didn’t reek of Zoë. He couldn't find one thing on this ship that didn't bring her to mind and it was driving him mad. She seemed to have blissfully forgotten what had happened and he wished he could do the same. He couldn’t find a way to let go though.

It was maybe the first time he had washed up without complaining. Nobody commented though. Did anyone even notice?

“Want a hand?” Zoë passed him a plate.

Wash looked bravely up at her, unable or unwilling to keep the anger from his gaze. “No, thanks.”

“Look, Wash…”

He laughed bitterly to himself, turning back to the sink, dropping the plates into the foam with venom. Now she wanted to talk…

“You can’t ignore me forever.” There was a bit too much pleading in Zoë’s voice for it to sound sincere.

“You’d be surprised.” He didn’t look up, cleaning at a furious pace. He needed to escape.

“So you’re just going to sulk like an insulted schoolboy? That’s big of you. We shouldn’t even talk about this?”

Wash actually enjoyed Zoë’s frustration, mainly because it showed that maybe she actually cared. “Bit late, I’d say. If you’d wanted to talk you could’ve then, not now.”

“Don’t put this all on my shoulders.”

Wash rounded angrily on her. “Ok, who’s would you like me to put it on?”

“You! You shouldn’t have made me choose!”

“I didn’t and you know it. Besides, if you didn’t feel guilty then you wouldn’t have wanted to apologise!”

“I didn’t want to apologise! I wanted to talk like rational people. Just because you are incapable of rationality…”

“I am-!” Wash was so angry he couldn’t finish. He glared heatedly at Zoë for a long moment before throwing down his dishcloth, muttering an oath beneath his breath and storming past her.

Zoë followed him relentlessly. “Right, run away. Rational.”

He hadn’t intended to hit her. He lifted his hand more to brush her away than actually strike, but Zoë’s reactions were too quick and her mind too on edge. Grabbing his hand she pinned him snarling to the wall, her body in flames.

They stood for an extended moment, both frozen with shock, staring incessantly at each other. Maybe they were both still incensed, but that wasn’t the passion that caused their lips to find each other, kissing with desperation because there was nothing else to be done.

They didn’t pause, they didn’t falter. It was all as though it were predetermined, natural, fated. They found their way to her bunk and they explored each other, his lips finding her neck, her chest. Laying her onto the bed, Wash ripped of her shirt, marvelling at the feel of her skin against his fingers. Finally, he paused, blinking rapidly in the semi-dark then pinching his arm.

Zoë smiled. “What are you doing?”

He grinned guiltily. “Just checking I’m not about to wake up.”

To be continued... (ready for the finale?)