Rich and Full-Bodied

Author’s Notes:

Written for Razycrandomgirl who requested several prompts. I picked two of them: 1) Zoe gets drunk and 2) Jayne makes a pass at Zoe.

Thank you to my fantastic beta testers, Sharelle and Sarahetc. Any mistakes are, of course, my own.

***

Zoe’s head began to throb quietly but insistently as she simultaneously felt a pleasant buzz begin to meander through her system. Kaylee’s wine never failed. Although somewhat vinegary, it also felt warm and full on the tongue – not that Zoe was much of a wine critic. She certainly wasn’t one who took to drinking just for the sake of getting drunk, though she couldn’t help but note that tonight her desired destination appeared, indeed, to be a state of heedlessness.

She was experiencing thoughts that she wanted cast out of her mind and, feeling weak tonight, had reached for alcohol. She and Wash had received some horrible news today. The pain and sense of loss were one thing, but the future and the comforting that Wash would require were another. Zoe didn’t feel up to the task. She mourned, but she also feared what lay ahead and wondered how she would adequately address it.

The soldier was merely tipsy and not yet drunk, a fact which kept her somewhat alert and fully aware of the sounds of heavy footsteps descending the galley’s stairs. Without turning her head or making any detectable movement, she knew that Jayne was approaching.

“Hey, Zoe,” Jayne began, pulling up a chair and moving it a few inches closer to Zoe’s. “It’s late. What brings a pretty woman like you outta bed at this hour?”

Jayne’s voice was deep and rich. His words were slightly slurred, indicating that he too had been drinking. Zoe sniffed slightly and guessed that he had been hitting the harder stuff and hadn’t stopped at a few glasses, either.

The alcohol had emboldened Jayne, yes, but there was more to it than that. He knew that something was up; something was off-kilter between Wash and Zoe. It was hard to keep secrets on a small spaceship, hard to have privacy when you interacted with the same eight people and depended on them for your survival every day.

“Jayne,” Zoe began, warningly.

Jayne was braver than he was smart. He laid a hand on Zoe’s thigh and began, “How’d you like to see a real man in action? We oughta head for my bunk and I --- “

He shouldn’t have been surprised at the punch which sent him reeling. He could not have known that his particular choice of words was incisive tonight.

After receiving the blow, Jayne staggered to fighting stance. Zoe, however, was quicker and had already cocked her omnipresent pistol. “Back to your bunk,” she ordered. “Now.”

On a good day, Zoe might have been able to take Jayne in a fair fight – without the aid of a weapon. But she was tipsy and did not want to put herself to the test tonight. Besides, she had been through enough these last several hours.

“You don’t kid around,” Jayne managed. He stood down from his aggressive stance and added, “I was just teasin’.”

Zoe watched him depart for the front hall, slowly finished her glass, and then staggered back to her own bunk. She efficiently removed her holster, weapon, and clothing and then joined her husband on the bed. He was sleeping fitfully.

*** The next morning Zoe slept later than usual and mentioned a slight headache when she woke. Wash climbed the stairs back down into their bunk while holding a canteen and dose of medicine.

“To help with your headache,” he said. “You wouldn’t have said a word about it if it wasn’t really bothering you.”

As Wash watched her take the pill and gulp the water, he asked, “Did something happen? You didn’t get some sort of head injury on our last job, did you?” They were two days out from Bernadette, but it never hurt to ask. Some injuries were latent for a period of time.

Zoe knew that lying would be futile. Apart from the fact that Wash detested prevarication, there was also the fact that he could spot a fib three planets away.

“I had a drink last night,” Zoe said. Her voice was low and a bit scratchy. She ran her tongue around the inside of her mouth and experienced a remnant of an acidy taste. “Couldn’t sleep. Finished off the last of Kaylee’s wine.”

Wash sat next to her on the bed and nodded. His face was haggard and his mouth a straight line of thin lips. He wasn’t even attempting to find some humor, Zoe noted, distressed.

Wash then began, quietly, “When your head’s clear, can we talk?”

Zoe gently laid a loving hand on his thigh. “It’s clear now, husband. Ain’t that bad of a headache. And I’d like to talk too.”

Wash cleared his throat, and Zoe braced herself for the words she knew were coming. Ever since they received the diagnosis, Zoe knew that the hardest part would be Wash’s reaction.

Damn that fancy new medical equipment we liberated on Bernadette, she fleetingly thought. Bits and pieces of Simon’s diagnosis echoed: “Non-reversible sterility…probably due to extreme environmental damage…exposure to toxins as a child...” The diagnosis wasn’t a complete surprise. Apart from the fact that they had been trying to conceive for nearly two years now, Wash had recently located a (now-censored) study on the Cortex. It showed that out of those who were raised on his home planet and had been married for at least ten years, only one-third had any children. Simon reviewed it and agreed that its research methodology appeared quite sound.

“We’ve seen this phenomenon on other polluted worlds,” the doctor had said. “We’ve known about the impacts of toxins on fertility for centuries.” Wash gently squeezed his wife’s hand. “You’ve wanted a baby for…for such a long time,” he began. He gazed in the direction of the floor, misery wiping his face. “You’d make such a wonderful mother too.” He then swallowed and turned to face her. “I wouldn’t blame you. I’d understand if you want…want to find someone else. To be with somebody else, someone who can give you a child.”

“Great. Should I go with Jayne or Book?” Zoe deadpanned, nearly startling Wash with their role-reversal.

“This is no time for kidding around,” Wash insisted, his face grim as death.

Zoe sobered up and looked at the stranger sitting next to her. “Husband, I –“

“I’m serious,” Wash vowed. “Zoe, you know I love you like crazy. But that gorram planet I grew up on was poisoned and now I’m poisoned. I don’t want to keep you from your dream! I love you too much for that.”

“What happened to ‘till death do us part’?” Zoe asked. “Or ‘for better or for worse’? Pretty sure our vows didn’t say that we stay together only when things are going the way we want.”

“But I – “

Zoe placed a hand over Wash’s lips. “I love you. I ain’t throwin’ away all these years we been married. Having a baby just ain’t in the cards for us.” She shrugged. “We’ll live without one, then. I love you and I ain’t ending our marriage. Period. End of discussion.”

Wash slowly nodded, digesting her words. “Really?” he asked, hopeful. He liked the feeling of her hand, which was solid, sturdy, and even a bit wooden.

“Really. Part me of can’t even believe you’d suggest such a thing, husband,” she added.

From the moment they were handed the diagnosis, Zoe had known that this would be the hardest part. She would need to swallow her own pain and bitter disappointment over what was never-to-be and instead put her energies towards reassuring and comforting Wash. She could have used some comforting of her own but, she fleetingly noted, that was not to be either.

The room was quiet for several moments.

“We can always adopt,” Wash then said. A sense of hope peppered his suggestion. He now sounded and looked more like himself, which warmed Zoe immensely.

During their long period of attempting, she had never seriously considered this option. But for some reason, this morning with her head feeling heavy and her husband starting to smile again, the idea resonated. The ‘verse was full of overflowing orphanages and unwanted children. Every planet had them, and they were scrawny, crying, and in serious need of someone to love and guide them. Would it matter that Zoe and Wash were not the biological parents? Didn’t they live their lives on board a spaceship filled with family? And only two of them were actually blood relatives.

That stuff don’t matter, Zoe thought. This could be a wonderful solution.

“Yes,” Zoe said, her eyes clear. “I think we can.”

THE END

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