Disclaimer thingy: Firefly/Serenity are owned by other folks and not by me, though I appreciate being able to write some stuff purely for fun inspired by the Firefly 'Verse.

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This is my first ever fanfic post: kindly feedback will be kindly appreciated. I've enjoyed reading contributions from many others in BSR, so I've finally got up the nerve to put up some stuff I've written, for all you nice people to have a look. Initial chapters of this story may be a bit angsty but I promise it'll get livelier as the story goes on... That's assuming anyone out there would like to read more!

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The alarm sounded, its small but penetrating bleep piercing through the darkness of the cabin. A faint green light glowed from the little digital clock, revealing a shape on the bed wound in the covers. The shape stirred: Zoë twisted over towards the clock and reached out with her eyes shut. Her fingers found the shut-off button and the bleeping stopped, leaving only the faint green glow stretching across the bed. Zoë pulled her hand back and let her arm fall across her face, pressing across her closed eyes. They felt wet. She wiped her hand across them and breathed in. Got to stop this crying in my sleep. Getting to be a habit. Opening her eyes she looked up into the darkness. She couldn’t remember anything of her dream. She never could. Only this waking, every morning, with the emptiness inside her: the feeling of something gone missing forever. An ache like a missing limb, never diminishing, never going away. She turned over onto her side in the bed. The ache turned with her, sunk deep in her chest and belly. Even now, in this smaller cabin she’d moved to, when she woke and turned over in the bed her arm fell onto the empty space beside her and she missed him so badly it could have happened yesterday. Missed his warmth, his morning smile of welcome and promise. Missed the touch of a body she’d grown so close to, so familiar with, that it was truly as if she had lost a part of herself. And now she could never have that again, she wanted it so fiercely it made her afraid. If I’d known that was all the time we were going to have, I would have made so much more of it. I wouldn’t have got up out of bed so quickly, so many mornings. I would have let you charm me with your grin, let you make me laugh and pull me back to bed every morning I could. I wouldn’t have wasted a single sunrise. The clock beeped again and Zoë let out a sudden breath. She hit the shut-off button a second time, cancelling the alarm. Time to get up. She rose from the bed and reached for her clothes, turning on the cabin light. She moved purposefully, sluicing her face with water, pulling on her clothes, driving the dreams away. No time for this, now. Got to get on with living. Only thing I can do. Can’t stay in bed and dream any more. She regarded her face for a moment in the mirror. Her eyes looked back, dark and steady. She lifted her chin, then turned and climbed out of her cabin and up to face a new day. In Serenity’s cockpit Mal sat with one elbow resting on the console as he checked their position. He glanced at the fuel readouts, then back at the coordinates: pulled a less-than-happy face. “It’s a consequence of following a divergent trajectory.” River’s voice came from behind, making him sit up sharply, then glance around. She was leaning in the doorway with her arms folded. At his look she advanced into the room, moving to the co-pilot’s console: her hands moved effortlessly over the controls. “There’s an inverse relationship between energy efficiency and navigational stability.” “Y’know, I just about got that worked out already,” replied Mal, frowning at her actions. “You want to stop playin’ with that? I just put in a new course heading.” “She doesn’t want to fly that way,” River countered serenely, fingers still busy on the console. Her eyes lifted up and gazed out at the stars: she smiled as she looked at them. Mal watched her for a moment longer, irritated but not to the point of wanting to do anything about it. She won’t do any harm. Most likely. River turned her head and gave him a sidelong smile. The sound of footsteps coming up the steps to the bridge made Mal turn around again: River faced back towards the stars, sitting down on the co-pilot’s chair. “Morning, Zoë,” she said gently. Zoë stepped into the cockpit, nodding a calm greeting. “Morning, River. Captain.” “Mornin’.” Mal rose from the pilot’s seat, stepping aside to let Zoë move across and sit in his place. He didn’t ask her if she’d slept well, because he knew she didn’t want to be asked. He understood that. It wasn’t a question he particularly wanted anyone asking himself these days, either. Although an inner voice with an unkind tone made itself heard anyway, especially when he was midway through his watch, alone on the bridge. So, how do you sleep at nights, Cap’n Reynolds? Don’t all those dead folks keep you awake? He pushed the thought away as Zoë started to look over the pilot’s console. “She’s riding easy. Just put her on a new heading, one we can hold pretty much for the next few hours. Fuel’s lookin’ a little lower than I’d like – “ He looked up to find River watching him and continued “ – but we got a safe margin to get us to Beaumonde, we don’t do too much sightseeing on the way.” “Right.” Zoë kept her gaze on the console for a moment longer, then looked up briefly at him and nodded. “I can handle it from here.” Her tone held nothing except its usual calm capability. Mal met her gaze; then nodded in return. “Okay. I’ll go get some breakfast, then. You want somethin’? Coffee?” “I had some already. Thanks, captain.” Zoë turned her gaze to the cockpit screen with its view of the dark sky. Mal waited for just a moment longer, then turned and headed out of the cockpit. River watched him go. She said nothing, but slowly brought her feet up onto the co-pilot’s chair, hugging her knees, and looked back out at the stars. Mal headed to the galley. He was glad to find both dining table and kitchen empty; he didn’t much feel like making early morning banter with Jayne, or even Kaylee. His engineer’s happiness was closer to the surface than ever now that she and Simon had got together. He didn’t begrudge her, or even Simon, that happiness. He just couldn’t warm himself at that flame. He found the coffee that Zoë had made still warm and poured himself a cup. It was foolish to drink coffee at the end of his watch when he would be getting his head down soon, but like as not he wouldn’t be sleeping for a while anyway. He glanced at the food lockers, but elected not to bother. All he wanted was to sit for a spell, then go to bed. Or go to his cabin, anyway. His mind still occupied with thoughts of fuel margins, he walked past the table towards the seats in the corner. The lights there were off, leaving the corner in shadows: he had begun to sit down before he saw Inara, curled up in a corner on one of the cushioned chairs. He paused, then made to rise again. “Sorry - didn’t see there was someone here.” “I didn’t mean to startle you.” She looked up at him. “I should have turned on the lights, but I didn’t really need them.” “Didn’t mean to be disturbing you.” He was nearly standing now, but Inara shook her head. “Don’t go on my account. In fact, I was assuming that someone would show up for breakfast soon.” “Well, Jayne’ll likely be turning up any minute to fortify himself for the coming day. Not that I recommend watching him eat breakfast.” “No. Maybe not.” She smiled again, impishly. Mal found himself smiling back. He half lifted his mug, to drink; then paused. “You want coffee? Zoë made it not long since.” “Thank you. That’d be good.” Mal returned to the kitchen and poured a cup full, topping up his own mug while he was there. He returned to the alcove and held the cup out to Inara, who took it. “Thank you, Mal.” “You’re welcome.” He sat down opposite her, letting himself drop into the soft chair. A tired sigh came involuntarily out of his lips: he lifted his coffee and blew on it to mask the sound. Inara watched him steadily through the steam rising from her own cup. She hadn’t missed the sigh. Companions were trained to observe their fellow human beings. How to read the nuances of body language; to hear between the words that were spoken, to understand what was being said in the silences in between. Mal’s eyes shut for a second as he took another sip of his coffee, and in that moment she looked at him, reading his face. He’s so tired. A tiredness that’s settling into his bones. If he was a client she could have reached across, touched him, taken the tiredness away. But not with him. Mal’s eyes opened and he met her gaze, almost catching her assessing look. Just in time she managed to make her eyes and face relaxed and light. He took another sip of coffee, then set his mug down on the table. “Damn, but Zoë makes it strong. Her coffee’s got a kick on it like an unbroken horse.” “I like it.” Inara cradled her cup in her hands. “I’ve always liked strong flavours, in drink and in food. On Sihnon the cooking was always full of flavour: spicy, sour, sweet. Even the simplest meal could be a feast of tastes and colours.” Mal smiled wryly. “Guess the food shipboard here’s something of a let-down after that.” “Well, the food may not be as exciting… But the company is better.” She smiled back at him. “I’ve had some good meals here, with all of you.” “Maybe one or two…unusual meals, as well,” he commented. “Or are you forgettin’ the time River peeled all the labels off the food cans, and we had prunes and tofu? Or how about Simon’s birthday dinner?” “I don’t think any of us are likely to forget that,” she answered, sobering slightly. They were both silent for a moment, remembering the fireball and subsequent engine failure that had left Serenity dead in the black. Memory climbed unbidden into Inara’s mind, bringing pictures with it: Mal standing alone on the catwalk as they left him on Serenity, to his death as far as they all knew. To his death as it had nearly turned out. And another memory: returning to find the trail of blood leading through Serenity to the bridge, Mal lying bled white and almost gone on the floor. She hadn’t wept then. She hadn’t wept as they carried him to the med bay; as Simon had worked like a man possessed to save Mal’s life. She hadn’t wept as she and Kaylee had walked back the length of the ship, cleaning away the traces of Mal’s lonely, desperate fight to save Serenity: the bloody handprints on the doorframes from cargo bay to engine room. The only time she had wept had been when Mal and Nandi had spent the night together, and she had hidden herself away and cried like a child because she wanted something so badly that she couldn’t have. And more than that: she had wept then because she had thought that that pain meant only one thing. That to survive she had to get away from Mal, leave Serenity and go back to her old respectable life. It had been a grief she great she had buried it deep enough so she would never have to feel it again. But now I am back, she thought. I am back on Serenity. Things have changed, but not everything. I don’t know what the future holds here, but I do know that this is where I should be, for now. The silence still stretched between them. To break it she spoke. “That was one meal that ended badly. But it was only one out of many. And when I think of the meals we all shared around that table, I think of the laughter.” She smiled. “Lots of laughter. Even when things weren’t going so well… Someone always had a way of finding a joke to lighten up the journey.” Mal nodded, an answering smile briefly lifting the corner of his mouth. Inara set her coffee cup down on the table. “I miss that. I miss the laughter.” Mal looked up at her, startled. “There used to be so much laughter on Serenity. It’s a lot quieter without it.” Mal kept his gaze on her, his brows drawing down into a frown. “Folks have got considerably less to laugh about than they used to,” he said brusquely. “Not to mention, one who made us laugh the most ain’t here to join in the jokes any more.” He set his own empty mug down on the table. “I know.” Inara’s voice was gentle. “I still can’t believe Wash is gone. When I go up on to the bridge I still expect him to turn around and smile at me.” She lowered her head. “I miss him so much. And to see what it’s done to Zoë… It hurts me to see how much grief she’s bearing. I don’t know how she manages to go on the way she does.” “Zoë goes on because she has to. We all have to.” Mal’s tone gave Inara warning. “Grievin’ won’t bring the dead back to life. Life goes on; we gotta work, earn a living in the corners of the ‘verse the Alliance allows us room to scratch about in.” “But that’s not all that life is for.” Inara held his gaze. “Scraping by, barely earning a living… That was never all Serenity was for, was it, Mal? Just…going on, because you have to?” “Inara – “ Mal’s tone was growing harsh, but he stopped himself. He shut his eyes for a moment, pressing his lips together, and Inara saw the effort he made to reign himself in. He let out a breath, then opened his eyes again and looked directly at her. “Truth to tell… That’s what I can manage, right now, right here. I aim to look after this crew, the best I can. I ain’t always done the finest job of it, I know that. I lost Wash, and there ain’t a day I don’t wake up and remember that before anything else. But I aim to keep on going, on Serenity, and look out for those I can. Beyond that…” He shook his head. “I ain’t even good company for myself, let alone other folks. Apologies for that, but what you see is the better part of what I am right now.” “I understand that.” Inara kept her voice calm. “I do understand, Mal. What happened on Miranda... changed things for all of us. Everyone suffered: and that kind of pain doesn’t go away quickly. But all I’m saying is, people don’t heal by being alone. Zoë is alone without Wash, but there’s a ship full of people around her. There’s you with her, her oldest friend. If she can’t talk to you – “ “Zoë ain’t the talkin’ kind.” Mal looked down at his hands. “She’s got her own way of grieving, Inara. There’s not a thing I could say that’d make losin’ Wash any easier for her to bear. Especially as I’m most ways the reason he got killed.” He shut his eyes for a moment, then took a deep breath and stood up. “Him, and Book… and all those other folk.” “Mal.” Inara looked up at him as he rose from the chair. “It wasn’t your fault. You shouldn’t blame yourself. Zoë doesn’t blame you for Wash’s death.” “Not too sure on that myself.” Mal shook his head. “I would, in her place. And I got to take that on my shoulders. I’m the captain of this ship, of this crew. I give the orders, I take the responsibility. I made the decision way back, to let the Tams stay on board. And two things I learned about making decisions, pretty early on when I got my first command in the war. First thing is, once a decision’s made, it’s made. Best you don’t go revisiting it. Second thing is, whatever decision you make, it’ll make someone unhappy, and they’ll lay that unhappiness at your door. Which is generally where it belongs to be.” He shrugged. “Comes with the deal, when you're in charge.” “That’s an easy thing to say.” Inara watched him, watched until Mal’s gaze eventually met hers again. “But you’re only human, Mal. Just like the rest of us. I understand what you’re saying, that to have the responsibility for everyone on Serenity is hard. And I understand that sometimes the decisions you make, aren’t going to be the ones that make people happy. But you made the best choices you could.” “Seemed like it at the time. But ain’t hindsight a cursed thing, Inara.” She was still, hearing the sudden change in his voice. “I thought I was making the right choice when I put on a brown coat and fought for the Independents, because I knew it was a just cause and we would win. Then at Serenity Valley I made a whole bunch of choices, because there was no-one else there to make them. And when Simon and River came on board I made choices too. I chose not to hand them over: I chose to take us down to Miranda, to get the truth about what the Alliance did there out where folks could hear it. But lookin’ back now… There’s a river of ghosts following the road my choices made.” “Mal…” Inara held his gaze. “How many people came out of Serenity Valley alive because of the choices you made?” She let a beat fall, then added, “Zoë being one of them. You think she blames you because she lost Wash? If it hadn’t been for you, she would never have lived to meet him. If you hadn’t hired him as a pilot, they would never have met and shared the love they had.” “Yeah, well…” Mal looked down at the floor, then back up with a weary grin. “That wasn’t one of my better decisions, y’know. Never did approve of shipboard romances.” Inara smiled back. “I think you may have mentioned that. Once or twice. But I never heard that two people falling in love with each other needed much approval.” “You may have a point.” Mal’s wry smile stayed, turning up one corner of his mouth. “Don’t seem like it’s holdin’ Kaylee back, for sure.” This time Inara laughed. “She is so happy, it’s a delight to see! And Simon looks, well, almost… relaxed.” “Stunned, was how I figured it.” Mal’s mouth twitched. “Just hope that boy’s keepin’ himself well-nourished. Way Jayne tells it, those two ain’t been getting’ a whole lot of sleep.” “Who ain’t been sleepin’?” A voice from behind made them both look around. Kaylee walked into the dining area, heading for the kitchen. “Mornin’, cap’n. Hi, ‘Nara.” Mal and Inara simultaneously greeted her, unsure of how much Kaylee had overheard. But she seemed oblivious: putting out a hand she felt the coffee pot and pulled a face. “Jeopardy. This coffee’s colder’n an open airlock.” She looked up. “I’m gonna make fresh. You want some?” “No, thank you, Kaylee.” Inara stepped out of the alcove, bringing her empty cup to the kitchen to wash it. Behind her Mal shook his head at Kaylee’s enquiring look, following Inara back into the dining area. Kaylee spooned coffee into the pot, then asked over her shoulder, “So, who ain’t been sleepin’?” Mal looked appealingly at Inara; but she merely returned his look with a calm smile. Mal fell back on a half-truth. “Oh. Uh, Jayne. He was complainin’ about it the other day. But then, when ain’t Jayne complainin’ about somethin’.” He smiled quickly at Kaylee, who smiled back. Behind her Inara shook her head mockingly at Mal: when Kaylee moved away from them both towards the dining table, Mal retaliated with a frown at the Companion. Kaylee turned back and Mal quickly rearranged his face into a normal expression. Kaylee looked sober, checking the heat under the coffee pot. “Wondered if you might have meant Zoë. She’s been lookin’ awful tired. Wish she’d let me help out some, split some shifts with her and keep an eye on Serenity when we’re just on autopilot. I keep offerin’, and she’s keeps sayin’ she’s okay.” She shook her head. “But she ain’t okay.” She looked up at Mal, and there was sudden pain in her eyes. “Is she?” Mal felt Kaylee’s compassion for Zoë touch him in an uncomfortable place, where he was still raw from what Inara had said. “Zoë don’t need you worryin’ about her.” As soon as the words had left his mouth he knew they’d been the wrong ones. Kaylee’s eyes clouded over and she looked down at the coffee pot. Tzao-gao. Bi-jway, yu bun duh. He tried to elaborate. “She just needs time. And for us not to go botherin’ her.” Kaylee’s face clouded still more, and Mal cursed himself. Oh sure, make her feel like it’s her fault for speaking out of turn. Anyone’s fault but yours. “What I mean, is – “ Kaylee moved away and sat down at the table. “Wasn’t going to go bothering her, cap’n,” she said quietly. “Just feelin’ for her, is all.” She looked up at him. “Caring for a friend who’s hurting.” Mal could feel Inara’s eyes on his back. He stayed facing Kaylee. “Yeah. I know that, Kaylee. I didn’t mean nothin’.” He paused, looking for some more words. But he didn’t know what else to say. After a moment, he set down his empty mug. “Well… I better go hit the sack.” He started to go, then turned. “We’re on course for Beaumonde; should be an easy run… Just noticed that our fuel cells’re looking a little on the light side.” “Should be okay.” Kaylee’s practical mode resurfaced, her eyes taking on a calculating look as she visualised Serenity’s energy supply. “I mean, we’ll be running kind of tight to the margins, but as long as we don’t have to do anything fancy we’ll be shiny.” “Nothing fancy. I’ll bear that in mind.” Mal smiled at her, and Kaylee smiled back. “See you in a while, then.” He nodded at her, then at Inara; then turned and headed off to his bunk. Both women watched him go. Kaylee stirred sugar into her coffee and took a gulp as Inara sat across the table from her. “Ow.” She blew on the hot liquid. “Careful.” Inara smiled. “Yeah, right.” Kaylee blew on the coffee again, then took a more cautious sip. “Think I’ll be real careful not to say anything else about Zoë for a while.” “Oh, Kaylee.” Inara reached across the table and touched her hand. “You were only saying out loud what all of us are thinking. Mal too.” “Don’t seem like it.” Kaylee looked up at her. “I mean, it’s not like I know what to do, or what to say… But I feel like I oughta do something to try to help.” “I know.” Inara gave her hand a squeeze. “She just looks so awful… sad, ‘Nara.” Kaylee sighed. “I know that’s a stupid thing to say. Of course she’s terrible sad and grievin’ bad for Wash. But she don’t let none of it out. Just carries it round inside herself, wearin’ her down.” She looked up at Inara with an unhappy face. “Makes me want to just put my arms round her and hold her tight till she lets it go. But she ain’t gonna do that, is she? That ain’t Zoë’s way. Even at Wash’s burying, she held it in. I ain’t never seen her cry.” “Some people are like that,” said Inara softly. “They need to show a strong face to the world. It’s hard for them to let other people see that they can be vulnerable. But that doesn’t mean that they’re not vulnerable.” “Makes it real hard to help them.” Kaylee took another sip of coffee, still looking sombre. There was a brief silence between the two women; then Kaylee spoke again, in a lower voice. “But someone ought to. Someone ought to find a way to let Zoë know it’s okay to show what’s she’s feelin’. Someone ought to be there for her. She needs that right now.” “Yes. She does.” Kaylee looked across the table at Inara. “Then why don’t the captain try?” Her direct question left Inara silent for a moment. “He and Zoë go way back. They been friends since the War; neither one of them ever let the other down over all these years. Time like this, when she really needs a friend, why don’t he even try to talk to her?” Inara took a deep breath. “It’s hard to understand someone when we don’t know what they’re thinking. The trouble is, Mal and Zoë have much more in common than both having fought together in the war. They’re both strong, independent people. It’s not easy for either of them to talk to others about how they feel.” Inara paused again, recalling Mal’s words. There’s not a thing I could say that’d make losin’ Wash any easier for her to bear. Especially as I’m most ways the reason he got killed. She held Kaylee’s gaze. “Maybe what Mal said is partly right. Though the way he said it might have been gentler. Zoë needs time. We all do. And there’s one other thing, too. Mal may not have tried to get Zoë to talk about how she feels… But that doesn’t mean that he doesn’t care about how she feels.” Inara gave Kaylee’s hand another squeeze. “Maybe he just hasn’t worked out what to do about it yet.” Kaylee looked at Inara for a moment longer, her face unsure. Then she gave a small nod. “Maybe.” Her eyes were still sad. “Hope he works it out real soon.”