Disclaimer: all things Firefly/Serenity are the property of Whedon et al. I'm not making any money off this, just playing with the toys.

For the Friday challenge prompt "silverware". Not beta'd.

Zoe raised a sceptical eye. “She wants to know what?”

“Our pattern.”

The tall woman stilled, trying to process this bit of information that seemed to be making no sense in her brain. “Wash, dear, I don’t know what she means.”

He grinned at his future wife, his Zoe-to-be-mine-forever. “The place settings. You know. Plates and dishes.”

“Why in the ‘verse would your mother want to know that?” She took another drink of tea, her face relaxing into a slightly less bemused state.

Wash shrugged and continued setting up his plastic palm trees on the console. “Something about wanting to find matching silverware.”

“Honey, we live on a spaceship. On the edge of known space.”

“Sure, sure. I know that. You know that. The palm knows that.” He thrust the toy plant towards her. “But my mom doesn’t.”

Zoe straightened in the co-pilot’s chair. “Does she think that you’ve gone on extended vacation?”

“Ha! That’s funny. Strong. Intelligent. Humourous.” He focussed intently on his dinosaurs. “There’s just so much to love about you.”

The woman rose and towered over her seated man. Her arms were now firmly folded across her chest and if she’d been another kind of woman, her boot would have been tapping on the floorboard. She opted for flaring nostrils instead.

“Now honey-bunches, did I mention just how much there is to love about you? Your ability to be understanding being tops.” Wash pleaded, unconsciously pushing himself back into the chair as far as he could. “There didn’t seem any reason to worry dear old mom.”

Zoe glared.

“Only son here.” He attempted a grin that quickly faded. “Wants to keep him safe and all that.”

A thought occurred to the woman. “She does know that I fought for the Independents.”

“Huh...well...see that’s the funny part.” He attempted another grin.

“Wash.” Zoe’s voice was low.

He shrugged laughingly. “Never came up.” He faced the console, concentrating hard on the flashing lights and colours. Ooh, there’s a pretty one. Wonder what it’s for.

Zoe lifted a hand and began massaging her forehead, just above her left eye. “Let me see if I understand this.” She stopped her massage. “You told your mother that you’re getting married.”

“Yep.” There’s another flashing thingy.

“On board a ship.”

“Mm-hm.” If I press this now and flip this after...

“To a soldier.”

“Ah, former soldier.” Wash’s raised hand was quickly lowered.

“Now running salvage and transport from the Rim to the Border.”

He shrugged. “In a manner of speaking.”

Zoe bent down, her lips close to Wash’s. “Listen carefully, Sweet-cheeks.” She smiled broadly. “I won’t start this marriage out with lying and deceit. Especially not with family. So, I suggest you wave her and say Oneida.” She kissed his lips then straightened.

“Onei-what?”

“The silverware. Tell her Oneida will be just fine.” Grasping her mug from the co-pilot’s console, she strode from the bridge straight-backed and smiling.

The table had been cleared of dishes that were now in the washer. Grabbing the cutlery, Zoe tossed them into the holder. Scanning the galley, she spotted a spoon and reached for it, pausing when she recognised it as one from Wash’s mother. The silverware conversation burst through her mind and all the emotions with it hit her like a dam broken.

The inscribed word had nearly been worn away, but she could still make it out if she squinted. But if she did that then tears would fall and she wasn’t ready to cry again.

“Warriors,” River’s quiet voice called from across the galley’s island. “From Earth-That-Was. Fierce. Never gave up until the White Man herded them away. Out of sight, not out of mind. They never forgot.” She smiled lightly, her arms wrapping around the beam at the end of the island.

Zoe brushed her finger across the etched word as though trying to have some of their strength enter into her. And maybe, for a moment, it did. She eyed the young woman. “Warriors never do.”

A/N: finally, my muse came back to me. I think he might have jetleg, though. I also have no idea if Oneida silverware will be around in 500 years, but...eh. And the Oneida are a First Nations tribe in central/eastern North America.