From underneath the trees, we watch the sky Confusing stars for satellites I never dreamed that you'd be mine But here we are, we're here tonight Singing, "Amen I, I'm alive" (I'm alive) Singing, "Amen I, I'm alive"

Wash lay on his side, looking at the woman stretched out next to him on the blanket, watching her sleep. “My wife,” he whispered, trying out the words. “This is my wife. My wife she is.” The women is question murmured in her sleep, the only time she ever looked vulnerable, and snuggled into him closer. It was warm on this out of the way planet, and Mal had given them all three days of leave time. He figured Jayne was probably off finding the nearest cathouse. Kaylee would probably end up finding some nice young blacksmith or farm boy to share the night with. And Mal…well, Wash never really knew what the Captain did during times like this. Never figured it was his place to ask. Besides, the longer things went before the Captain knew what they had done, the better. Wash knew the man didn’t approve of people getting all coupley on his ship, and it had taken him almost three months to convince the woman next to him to take the next logical step in their relationship.

If everyone cared and nobody cried If everyone loved and nobody lied If everyone shared and swallowed their pride Then we'd see the day when nobody died And I'm singing Amen I, Amen I, I'm alive Amen I, Amen I, Amen I (I'm alive)

He almost hadn’t shown up for the interview. He had offers from a couple of Core-based firms looking for pilots to do circuitous supply runs to some of the mid-range worlds still under development. The money was great, but the work would be dead dull, and he hadn’t spent years in pilot school to not have some adventure to show. Besides, those old Firefly class ships were legendary. Temperamental if not kept up, but otherwise, some of the most cunning things flying. Or at least they were in their day. So he had pulled on his most irreverently loud flowered tropical shirt (yet another reason he wasn’t keen to work for the corporate suits with their drab uniforms), and combed his terribly stylish mustache and headed to the meeting his friend had set up. The ship was everything he had heard it would be, but he was hardly paying attention. Because there was this woman, a little shorter than him, but not much, emanating strength and fierceness and disdain at him, and all he wanted to do was press his lips to the skin just under her ear. The color of it reminded him of the tea his mother drank growing up, black tea with a touch of milk. He had absolutely no illusions that she couldn’t break him in two if she wanted, but right then and there, he knew he would take the job if the ship’s Captain offered it. Because he loved nothing so much as a challenge, and this woman looked like nothing if not a challenge.

And in the air the fireflies Our only light in paradise We'll show the world they were wrong And teach them all to sing along Singing, "Amen I, I'm alive" (I'm alive) Singing, "Amen I, I'm alive"

“You know that makes you look like a bai chyr, right?” she had said one day, almost a month after he had joined the crew. They were sitting in the galley, just after breakfast. She was finishing her coffee while he pushed his protein hash around on his plate.

“What?” he asked, confused. She hadn’t spoken more than ten words a week to him since he came on board, and that was eleven in one go.

“That thing on your upper lip.” She paused to take another sip from her mug. “Looks like a little yellow mouse corpse.” Standing up, she set her now empty dish in the sink, rinsed her mug, and left to go consult the hulking mercenary about weapons for their next job.

Reaching a hand up, he worried the spot, wondering how hard it would be to shave it off. Obviously, she was weakening under his ever present charm. Otherwise, why would it bother her? Yes, he was getting through to her.

If everyone cared and nobody cried If everyone loved and nobody lied If everyone shared and swallowed their pride Then we'd see the day when nobody died

The first time she had kissed him, it was late and he thought he was the only one up. Usually the ship went on auto pilot at night. However, the system they were traveling through was notorious for unexpected asteroid belts. He had out his secret obsession, the plastic model dinosaurs from Earth-the-Was. He was somewhere in the middle of a dramatic battle between a T-Rex and a Brachiosaurus when he heard the snort behind him. Quickly trying the sweep the toys out of sight, he turned to look at her.

“You really are a strange one" she said, holding out a mug to him. He took it, smelling the coffee she had brewed.

“Actually, that was a highly technical part of my training.” He looked at her evenly and saw one perfect eyebrow arch up.

“Really?”

“My instructor in flight school actually gave these to me.” He picked up the T-Rex and handed it to her. “He told me that a lot of the time, being a pilot is boring, lonely work when no one else is even awake, and to keep from burning out, you have to find something to pass the time.”

“So you play with dinosaurs?” She set the T-Rex back down on the ships console.

“Haven’t come across a better idea,” he replied, looking up. Instead of answering, she quickly closed the gap between them, leaning forward and pressing her lips to his. His head swam as he reached his hand up, burying it for the first time in her mass of curls while deepening the kiss. Just as suddenly, she pulled away, turned, and left the bridge. He blinked for a minute, then grinned like a fool as he reset the plastic figures.

And as we lie beneath the stars We realize how small we are If they could love like you and me Imagine what the world could be

His hand found its way into her curls again. “This is my wife, Zoe,” he whispered again. They had become lovers not long after that night on the bridge, and finally, now, husband and wife. Mal would rant and rage, but to hell with it. “This is Zoe, my wife.”

“Go to sleep, husband,” she murmured, turning so she was spooned against him.

“Okay, lambie-toes,” he said, snuggling in tight with her in the sleeping bag. This is Zoe, my wife, he thought.