Not a lot scared Zoë. She’d gone through fistfights, firefights, barfights and knockdown, drag-out fights with Wash and she’d survived it all relatively unscathed. She felt she could survive just about anything and she felt that she could keep just about anyone alive, so long as they were with her. These weren’t conscious thoughts, naturally. She didn’t sit in the common area for hours at a time and wonder at her ability to not-die, but it was part of her psyche and identity, which is why the blood scared her so much. She didn’t tell Wash for two reasons. One, if the blood was nothing, she didn’t want to worry him and two, she didn’t want to entertain the possibility that the blood was something serious, and worth worrying him over. Instead she hurried to the Infirmary, as casually as her racing heart would let her, with a mind to demand an emergency appointment with the local doctor. Unfortunately, when she reached the infirmary, the door was opened, the lights were on but the room itself was totally empty. "Looking for Simon?" Inara asked. Zoë started, she hadn’t noticed the companion, who was curled up in the common area, reading a small book. She looked comfortable but oddly out of place. "Ah, yeah," Zoë said, trying to make her voice sound less anxious. "Know where he is?" "He should be up in my shuttle with Kaylee," Inara said nodding towards the cargo bay without looking up from her book. "She found an old flick on the cortex she wanted to show him. River might be up there too." "Thanks," Zoë said, forcing herself to smile at the companion, who was so engrossed in her small volume that she didn’t notice one way or the other. The firstmate forced herself not to run through the cargo bay and bound up the stairs. She walked across the catwalk with quick but relatively steady strides and forced herself to smile as she poked her head into the doorway of the companion’s shuttle. It was dark, with the exception of the muted light streaming in from the cargo bay and the dim white light radiating from the cortex screen. River was sitting on the floor, apparently engrossed in whatever they were watching. Simon and Kaylee were sitting on the companion’s couch, his arms warped around her shoulders and her left hand playing absentmindedly with the inside hem of his pant leg. "Simon?" River asked without turning her face away from the screen where a pretty girl about River’s age was singing passionately. "Yes?" "Rainbows are only optical illusions. They don’t exist." "I know." "Can you braid my hair like hers?" "Ya think it’s pretty?" Kaylee asked, shifting forward a little so she could see River better. River nodded. "After the movie I could do you’re hair like that," the mechanic offered. "Would you like that?" River nodded again, nobody but Zoë saw how her eyes twinkled at the prospect. Zoë felt a little guilty interrupting, but she was bleeding and she wouldn’t be able to rest until she found out why. "Hey," she called, once the song was done. "Doc." "Zoë?" Simon said, squinting as he leaned forward to try and see her better. "I’d, ah, I’d kind of like to see you." His contented expression quickly turned to one of concern. "Are you—" he started. "It’s about the baby," River said abruptly, turning from the screen to look at Zoë. Her large brown eyes, which were filled with excitement a second ago at the prospect of having her hair braided into pigtails, suddenly seemed to hold the deepest sorrows and sympathies. As much as Zoë liked the girl, she was very creeped out by the change and refocused her attentions of the doctor. "Is it about the baby?" he asked very seriously as he moved to push himself of the low couch. "Kind of," Zoë said uncomfortably. "Do you want to go to the infirmary?" Simon asked as he walked up to her his curiosity had been replaced by an appropriate amount doctorly concern. Zoë wasn’t sure if she liked that attitude better, or worse. "Well, yeah," the firstmate nodded, eyeing the two girls watching them instead of the movie. "Right," Simon nodded back. Turning quickly to Kaylee and River, he said. "Zoë . . ." "We can upload it later," Kaylee said, shooing the young man away. "Come on with me, River, we’ll go ta my room and play with your hair." * * * Two hours later, River’s hair was braided in twin pigtails and she was hovering in front of the intermarry, despite Kaylee’s continual insistence that they should go do something else. "Come sit here, River," the mechanic suggested, patting the spot on the couch next to her. "We could play cards. You ever played Egyptian Rat Race?" River shook her head, without glancing at her friend. "I could teach you," Kaylee offered. "Shhhh," River hushed. She was standing just to the left of the door. She couldn’t be seen by anyone in the infirmary directly, but she heard everything that Simon and Zoë said, and she could see them move in the dim reflections off the windows. "It’s natural," Simon explained, although he sounded more like he was apologizing. "Approximately one in three pregnancies end in miscarriage, most of the time before the woman even knows she’s pregnant." "I can’t believe it," Zoë choked. "I’m sorry," Simon said. There was nothing else he could say. "But she’ll be ok, won’t she?" Wash asked, holding his wife’s hand in one of his while he stroked her arm with the other. He was doing his best to be the supportive husband but she didn’t seem to notice. "Yes," Simon nodded. "Like I said, it’s natural. She just . . . this wasn’t the time." "Did it have to do with the la shi birth control pills?" Zoë asked, her eyes focused on Wash’s hand holding hers. "I, ah," the doctor stammered, scratching his head. "I don’t know, it’s possible." "Did I work to hard?" Zoë continued, "Should I have rested more?" "I don’t think . . ." "Did I eat something wrong? That fish? Or too many sweets?" "That really shouldn’t . . ." "Could it be that I didn’t really want it?" the firstmate asked, finally looking towards Simon. "Did it die ‘cause I didn’t want it?" "No," Simon said categorically, shaking his head. "No." "If ya want a baby we can try again," Wash said, trying so hard to be there for her. "Be a little more careful next time." "No," Zoë said. Her voice sounded shaky, totally unlike her. "This whole thing it . . ." "Sweetie," Wash implored. "It wasn’t meant to be. You’re strong, stronger than . . ." "Shut it Wash," Zoë snapped so viciously that her husband took a shocked step back, although he didn’t let go of her hand. "Zoë," Simon said compassionately. "I understand you’re upset." "No," Zoë said, shoving herself off the examination chair, pulling her arm away from Wash and pushing past the doctor. "You don’t understand! You can’t!" "I understand," River said quickly, as the firstmate rushed past her through the commons room, heading for the cargo bay. "Ruo di yu you understand," Zoë said, halting at the stairs and turning to look at River viciously. "We are not your family, feng shao nu. This baby, it was never yours." "Honey," Wash said, practically tripping over River as he tried to catch up with his upset wife. "Maybe we should . . ." "Get the hell away from the gan rao cha shou ren qun?" Zoë asked. There were tears in her eyes, a sight no one present, with the exception of Wash had ever seen, or had ever thought they might see. "I think maybe," she finished, nodding her head as she turned and barreled into the cargo bay. They all stood, shocked, for a moment, at her uncharacteristic display of emotion. River was the first to react; she sucked in a breath that was clearly a precursor to a long cry, pivoted and ran to her room. "River," Simon said, reaching out as she ran by him. She batted his hand away and a second latter the sound of a small sliding door being violently banged shut seemed to echo through the quiet room. "Sorry about Zoë," Wash finally said, chiefly addressing Simon but glancing over to Kaylee who’d watched the whole thing in silence. "She’s . . ." "It’s understandable," Simon nodded. "Maybe you should . . ." he nodded towards the cargo bay, implying the husband should follow the wife and offer loving, husbandly support. Wash laughed softly and sadly. "Naw, give her a moment ta calm down. If I try to talk to her now she’s liable to blow off my head." "What cha gonna do?" Kaylee asked softly. Wash tried to smile at the young mechanic, but his jaw was trembling a little and his eyes were threatening to shed tears. "Go tell Mal," he said with a thin voice. "Maybe Book, Jayne and Inara, if I see them. I don’t . . . don’t think Zoë could do that and . . . and somebody should tell him." “If you need to be with Zoë," Simon offered, "Or be alone or . . . I could tell the captain." Wash cleared his throat. "No," he said with determination. "I am . . . was . . . would have been the father. This is something I need to do." Simon nodded and stepped aside, as if to clear a path. Wash offered the young doctor one last sad smile and nod before walking past him and heading, heavy footed and heavy hearted, up to the kitchen to look for Mal. Simon and Kaylee stayed still, waiting until they could no longer hear Wash’s footsteps as a sort of somber sign of respect. Finally, Simon sighed and turned to look at Kaylee, who’d pulled her legs up on the couch and was hugging them as tears trailed down her cheeks. "Baby’s dead, huh?" She asked as the doctor walked over to slouch down besides her. "Yeah," Simon said, stretching his arm around her as she let go of her legs and leaned into him. "What happened?" "I don’t know," Simon confessed. "Sometimes these things just happen." "I guess," Kaylee sighed, tenaciously trying to find the bright side. "I mean, ain’t like we lost anything we had." "I guess not." There was a lull in their conversation so that the only sound was that of River in her room sobbing. "You gonna go comfort her?" Kaylee asked after a minute. Simon sucked in a deep breath before he answered, "In a while, I think." "Why a while?" "She’s grieving," Simon explained. "She loved that baby and . . . . She needs some time alone to just be sad." "Well," Kaylee said, sniffling, "I’m glad that I can be sad with you." "Yeah," Simon answered very softly, rolling his head so that he was talking into her hair, inches away from her ear. "Me too." * * * "Mal," Wash said. There was distinctly humorless tone in the pilot’s voice. Mal swiveled the chair around so he could see his pilot standing in the door that lead to the crew’s quarters and, beyond that, the kitchen. Less than a minute ago, through that same doorway, Mal had seen Zoë run from the stairs to her room. He’d called out, asking her ‘where’s the fire’ and she hadn’t answered, hadn’t even glanced at him. Now Wash was there, looking apologetic and mournful. Mal didn’t have to be a genius to figure out what had happened. "Yeah, Wash?" he said, trying to make his voice sound kind. He couldn’t quite do it. If it had been Kaylee or River, maybe Simon, Zoë even, but not for his goof-off pilot. "I just wanted ta tell you the baby," his voice caught in his throat, he cleared it, took a deep breath and swallowed hard. Mal waited silently. "Zoë, she had a miscarriage so there . . . there isn’t a baby." "I see," was all Mal could think to say. Wash nodded, the muscles in his jaw twitching. "Just, you know, thought someone should tell you." Mal nodded back. He thought, maybe, he should say he was sorry. Instead he asked, "You gonna tell everybody, or you want me to do it?" "I, ah," Wash stuttered. The poor man clearly wanted to follow his wife's example: run into his room, slam the door shut and bawl his eyes out, maybe curse a little. "I think I should probably tell them." A new respect for Wash was suddenly kindled in Mal. The pilot still wasn’t good enough for Zoë, he wasn’t strong enough or brave enough or noble enough, not by half. Zoë disserved the most stunning example of manhood the universe had ever produced, and she’d settled for this pathetic buffoon. But he loved her, there was no question on that account. And he loved that baby that hadn’t even ever really been because it was hers, Mal could see it in his eyes. And he was going to do the manly thing and accept his duties, even if they were difficult. He was going to protect Zoë, even if she were clearly the stronger of the two and would never need his protection. But this new respect didn’t make its way into what Mal said, or even his tone of voice. "Good," he said, nodding again before swiveling his chair again, turning his back to Wash so he could examine Serenity’s read outs, which both men knew didn’t really need to be examined. "Yeah," Wash said, bringing a sort of closure to the conversation. Mal could here the pilot turn and shuffle out so he could seek out Serenity’s varied occupants and say over and over again that there wasn’t gonna be a baby, that all the hope and excitement had been for naught. Wash wasn’t a lot of things, Mal thought as he fiddled with dials that didn’t need to be fiddled with. He wasn’t good enough, that was for damn sure, but he was a decent man, and he loved Zoë. He hoped that Zoë could take some comfort in the fact that, even if she didn’t have that baby she didn’t really want, she still had the husband that she really did. * * * "River," Simon said, carefully opening her door. "It’s time for supper." "I’m not going," River said, although it was barely understandable with her head buried in a pillow. "River, please," Simon pleaded, stepping in tentatively and putting his hand on her delicate shoulder. "You’ll feel better if you eat." "Go away!" River yelled. "She knows what she said and that means you!" "Well," Simon said sadly, backing out of her room as he’d done six times in the last four hours. She wouldn’t be comforted and Simon didn’t know what to do. "I’ll make a plate out for you, okay?" "Leave," River whimpered. "And close the door." "All right, mei mei," Simon sighed, "I’ll be back soon." The door slid shut, per her instructions, and River immediately wished she hadn’t sent Simon away. She heard Zoë’s words over and over again telling her ‘We are not your family’ she would have given anything for someone to come up and tell her that she had a family, that there were people who loved her and that she would never be alone, despite how lonely she felt right now. But Simon didn’t know that’s what she needed, so he kept telling her lies about how everything would be all right. It wouldn’t be all right – it could never be all right. She was an orphan, a crippled orphan who was too wicked to save and too wild to evoke pity. She’d thought, because Simon was so good, maybe she could get better, become presentable. And Mal was so good and Jack was so good that she started to think she might be like a real person, not like an animal on the street. But Zoë’s words, spoken so passionately made everything clear. She was a crazy girl and she had no family. It wasn’t right, River thought, that the innocent unborn baby had died while she lived. It wasn’t right and it wasn’t fair and River hated herself for being the beneficiary of such injustice. There was a gentle rapping on her thin door. River’s response was to hold her breath and make as little noise as she could. If the person thought she was asleep or dead they would go away, leaving her free to be lonely and miserable. But her plan didn’t work. The door slid open and Zoë’s voice clearly said, "I know you’re in here, River, I could hear you cryin’." "I’m sorry," River said, not looking at Zoë as she scampered to the corner farthest away from the door, taking her pillow with her so she could continue to bury her head in it. Zoë laughed, the dry laugh of someone who’s sad, and then took a sharp breath. "That’s what I wanted to say." "The baby shouldn’t have died," River said. "It’s all mixed up." "Won’t argue with that," Zoë said, lowering herself on the foot of River’s bed. "I think God made a mistake," River said, lowering the pillow so that it was just covering her mouth, not her bloodshot eyes. "Wash told me it wasn’t meant to be," Zoë confided in the young girl. "He told me that when I first heard, when I wasn’t thinking, wasn’t listening. But then, when he came ta me after telling the whole crew, he said it again. Said this wasn’t our time, which don’t mean we’ll never have a time. He said when were ready it’ll happen." Zoë wasn’t looking at River, she was leaning forward, elbows on her knees, examining her hands folded in front of her. "And, after I calmed down, I realized he was right. I wasn’t ready, this whole thing, made me act like a baby myself." She turned to look at River, who quickly buried her head back in the softness of her pillow so she didn’t see the firstmates sad but amused smile. "I was generous, when I had something I didn’t want," she told River as she pushed herself up and walked over to where the young girl was huddled. "I said it was the ship’s baby, because I didn’t want one. But then, when it was gone, I got greedy." She reached out, pulling River’s pillow down and away from her face, "And I’m sorry." "You’re sorry?" River asked, blinking hard as tears rolled down her cheek. "You loved that baby," Zoë said. "Much as it hurts me ta say this, you probably loved it more than me. I was wrong to yell at you." "You were telling the truth," River said. "I am feng." "Maybe," Zoë said graciously. "That don’t give me the right to be mean. You forgive me?" River didn’t know what to say, but she did know she would have done just about anything Zoë would ask of her. She nodded and tried hard to swallow the lump in her throat. "Good," Zoë said, taking a deep breath and smiling almost naturally. "’Cause we are a family, you know. As much a family as any I’ve seen, and better than most." "Me too?" River asked, almost afraid of the answer. "Yeah," Zoë smiled. "You too." River felt herself smile; she couldn’t help it, and for some reason that seemed to bring a new battery of tears. "That’s all I really came to say," Zoë said as she stood. "Everyone else is upstairs, eating and . . . and I needed to tell you that." River didn’t know what to say, she was just overwhelmed with the joy at the thought she was part of the family, that she wasn’t an orphan. She couldn’t wait to tell Simon. "Plus," Zoë continued, forcing herself ahead as she walked over to the foot of River’s bed where she’d been sitting. "I thought I ought to give you this." River looked up and even leaned forward, so that she was on her hands and knees instead of a tightly curled ball. In her hand, Zoë held the doll River had sewn with Joanne. River had been so preoccupied with her guilt and grief she hadn’t noticed Zoë bringing it in. "Wash and I started going through the baby stuff," Zoë said, looking at the doll. "Some of it we can use, some of it we can sell, and some of it, Wash’s crib, for example, we’re keeping ‘cause it don’t hurt to be prepared." "It hurts to remember," River ventured. "Yeah, well," Zoë said, lowering the doll and turning her gaze to River. "It hurts not to remember too." There was a moment of silence while both women were remembering things that hurt. "But," Zoë finally said. "You made this for the baby, I think you ought’a keep it. So you can remember." "You should keep it," River said, pushing herself up off the floor rather awkwardly as her dress kept tripping her up. "I gave it to the baby when it was in you. Yours." "No, River," Zoë said. "I’ve thought about this," she extended the doll out to the young girl. "I got other things to remind me, you don’t." Carefully, River took the doll out of the firstmate’s hand. She stared at the place were there would have been a face, if she’d known how to make one. Now she was glad she hadn’t. She looked up at Zoë and smiled, "My baby." Zoë laughed, "Whatever you need, sweetie." With that she turned around and started to leave the room. She was all the way to the stairway when River suddenly realized she had forgotten a big part of being a person, especially if she was going to be a person in a family. She hurried to her door and leaned out, calling after Zoë, "Thank you!" The older woman turned and smiled again. "You’re welcome," she said before continuing on past the infirmary and up to the cargo bay. Zoë wasn’t going to eat tonight, River realized. She was going to give herself one night where she could cry herself to sleep and then, the next morning, move on. And so, that’s what River decided to do. She closed her door, took off her dress and put on her nightgown. She turned off the lights and slipped under her covers, cradling the faceless doll and humming a lullaby she remembered from her earliest childhood.

"Sleep my child and peace attend thee, All through the night Guardian angels God will send thee, All through the night Soft the drowsy hours are creeping, Hill and dale in slumber sleeping I my loved ones' watch am keeping, All through the night Angels watching, e'er around thee, All through the night Midnight slumber close surround thee, All through the night Soft the drowsy hours are creeping, Hill and dale in slumber sleeping I my loved ones' watch am keeping, All through the night"

The End