He doesn’t know how long she stays or how often she’s been coming. Since shortly after Miranda probably – after Wash died. He kicks himself for not noticing until now, but Zoë had always been good at stealth. It was the last job that finally left a lingering scent stubborn enough for him to catch on. As soon as he had woken up to that scent in his bunk, he’d woken up to the pain she’d been hiding from him the last few months. But she’d already vanished. Tonight, Mal waited for her. He lay awake, listening to the sounds of the ship, refusing the exhaustion that threatened his body. It wasn’t sight or scent or smell that told him when she arrived. Just a strange kinesthesia, lacking physical markers. He peeked one eye open, and there she was, squatting in the corner of his bunk, watching intently, her eyes vigilantly observant, but in another time altogether. She was back in Serenity Valley. Not during the war, but after – when the fighting had ceased and all that remained was surviving until help came. They waited for weeks, watching as their friends died one by one of nothing more than bureaucratic neglect. They kept the men alive. Kept them together. Rotating watches, catching sleep when they could. Zoë had returned to the Valley. She was on watch. It was a pain she had experienced, understood, and dealt with. It was easier than the pain she felt now. She didn’t know how to feel that pain, so she put on a brave face during the day returned to the Valley at night, and kept watch. Quietly, Mal slipped out of his bed, crossed the room, and sat next to Zoë. She gave him a curt nod, then returned to her vigil. Mal’s heart shuddered at the brokenness behind those glazed eyes. He could almost hear the cries of the dying and the occasional gunshot as one soldier after another took action to end his own suffering. He sat next to her, shoulder to shoulder, watching her face carefully, not wanting to spook her. Just wanting her to return to the present. “Quiet night,” Mal commented. She nodded, then shifted to sitting, pulling her knees to her chest and resting her forehead on her kneecaps. Mal looked at the hand that she had let fall to her side. It had been a long time since he’d taken her hand. Not since his momma died when Shadow fell black. He had returned to the Valley that day, and she’d come for him. Now it was his turn. Tentatively, he reached out and touched her. She gripped his hand tightly, half in the present, half in the past. Mal searched her face in the dim light of his quarters, waiting for the first tear to come, but it never did. How many nights had she sat here and kept watch alone, waiting for him to notice? Waiting for him to come? “It ain’t the same,” he told her. Her hand shook a little in his. It was the only sign that she’d heard and that she understood. Losing Wash was not the same as Serenity Valley. Mal had no idea what it felt like losing a husband, but he knew it wasn’t the same as losing a war, losing comrades-in-arms, or even losing a mother. “Let it be different,” Mal whispered. Zoë pulled her hand away from Mal’s, wrapped both arms around her legs, and resumed her watchful stance over another time. “Cold night,” she answered stoically, then shivered. This time, Mal didn’t touch her. He had to find her where she was, and she was not here. “There’s a warm blanket over there,” he said, nodding toward the bed. Zoë didn’t move. “We got a long day tomorrow,” Mal tried again. “Maybe we should get some sleep before then.” “Sir?” “It’s not your watch, Zo. Get some sleep.” Obediently, Zoë started shifting again, lying down on the cold deck plates. Mal went quietly to the bed, pulled off the pillow and blanket and returned to her side. Then, just like they did in the war, he lay down next to her and they huddled together for warmth, waiting for help that would never come. In covering their bodies with a shared blanket, Mal replaced Zoë’s battered armor with his presence, staving off the weight of the grief that threatened to crush her. A few minutes later, her breathing steadied and she melted against him, fast asleep. There was no Serenity Valley. There was no Miranda. There was only Zoë huddled next to Mal, both broken and healing as one.

*~*