TITLE: "WATCHING" AUTHOR: Alison M. DOBELL FANDOM: "FIREFLY" PAIRING: Zoe. Mal. Simon. RATING: PG-13 STATUS: SEQUEL to "REGARD" ARCHIVE: Yes. Just let me know where. FEEDBACK: Welcomed. EMAIL: AlisonMDobell@aol.com WEBSITE: http://carlajane.50megs.com/Ali00.html

SUMMARY: "Zoe notices the tentative dance Simon is doing around Mal when he thinks no one is watching." The usual disclaimers apply. The characters and 'Firefly' are the property and gift of Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy. No infringement of copyright is intended.

"WATCHING"

A "Firefly" story

Written by Alison M. DOBELL

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I see the dance they play, the one hidden from the other. Only those on the sidelines get a glimpse of what is going on under the surface but even then the subtleties are so fleeting. Like ghosts that have no conscious form. Thoughts that will never become actions. The lingering looks from the doctor when no one is watching except I am attuned to the Captain so notice when he becomes the object of such intense, if furtive, scrutiny. He is my dearest friend and I am protective of that most reckless of hearts. Badger called it right when he said he was a man of honour in a den of thieves. A misfit of jumbled pieces none of which make him whole. The doctor is fine enough I'll give him that but he is all sharp angles and high expectations. His body follows the knife edge of his mind and I am concerned that whomsoever he touches will carry the scars for life. And my friend, for all his courage and stern command, is tender hearted in the extreme. Should never have taken the fugies on board, nor given house room to a Preacher whose God he will not acknowledge. Then there's the gorram whore. What in the nine hells was he thinking to let her rent a shuttle? But I know and in my silence am complicit.

Wash thinks I lust after the Captain. That is so rutting funny I could laugh 'cept the tears would choke me. It ain't that Mal isn't capable of love, he is. And not any fly-by-night fancy. It has always been all or nothing for him. No one night stands. No roll in the hay with a whore. No getting it on with some rumbustious maiden with the hots for him. No. When he gives his body his gorram heart goes along with it like it's some kind of package deal which is why what happened to Nandi hit him so hard. It's part of why he's so broken inside. All messed up and fragile like it would take hardly any effort at all to break him all over again and I won't stand by and let that happen. Not ever again. The expression on his face when he found River in that box near stopped my heart. Was surprised as *diyu* myself and then moved beyond the reach of words when I saw Simon go to her, so much love and caring in his halting voice, his hands trembling as he reached for her. Not with fear but emotion. Seeing the Captain's face right there and then told me they wouldn't be leaving. Not now, not ever. Not less they wanted it then he would find a place to set them down safe or not at all. Yep. Too much the gorram hero to pass through this 'verse unscathed. Everything touched him even if he always acted like it didn't.

That's why I watch this dance with a critical eye. Something in Simon's manner alerting me to walk extra soft, not wanting him to realise I'm watching him. It's not that I don't like him or respect his skills as a doctor but none of that will mean a thing if he hurts the Captain. Don't care how good a man he may be, how decent and worthy, his life won't matter a good gorram if he does anything untoward to my friend. Then I see the hesitation. A kind of pain in his eyes laced with something else. An almost yearning quality. Not quite sure what it is but I don't think it's lust. Think that would look different somehow, less altruistic, more feral. This is something else, indefinable, fleeting. Something as age old as lost childhood yet full of wanting. Need. Hopes and wishes that will never see the light of day. I watch him gently brush the hair out of the Captain's eyes and both of us hold our breath. Simon's lips curl in a bitter sad smile and oddly enough I relax. Whatever thoughts have been drifting through his head seem to have reached a conclusion. Without a sound I step away from the infirmary window and pad to my bunk. Back to the warm security of my husband's loving arms. The comfort and joy that only his touch can bring.

But even after we make slow passionate love and I hover on the edge of sleep part of me will always stay alert. Watching.

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CHINESE GLOSSARY: (Mandarin - Pinyin)

*diyu* = hell