When Zoë had occasion to consider her past and all the events that had made up her life so far, it seemed to her that most everything could be portioned out, contained and counted in her mind, as either a before or an after. Before she joined the Army. Before the War. After she found herself drawn to and then unable to leave Mal; after she had accepted the position of second-in-command on Serenity.

Before Wash.

The defining moment in her life, Zoë knew. Many times, lying in his arms, watching the slow rise and fall of his chest as he slept, she had been convinced that there was nothing in the 'verse with the power to alter her course as perceptibly as his entry into her life had.

She had sure been wrong about that one. Seemed to her now that each moment from here on out would be clouded by his absence. The most significant before or after that she could imagine. After Wash. For Zoë, there would be no further defining moments. For Zoë, the end of Wash's life felt, peculiarly enough, like the end of her own.

He ain't comin'.

Zoë kept her eyes on her gun, unable to look at Kaylee as she spoke. She was barely keeping it together as it was, and Zoë was more than certain she did not want to see the same hurt and shock that was currently threatening to bring her to a standstill mirrored in the faces of the others. Not if she was gonna be the one to get everybody through this if Mal should ...

Zoë? You here? Mal grabbed her elbow, hard, turning her to face him. His eyes, grim and determined, searched her face. She met his gaze, couldn't speak. He needed to know if she was able do what was what must be done. She took a breath, leaned into his grip a bit, steadied herself. To the job, sir.

It was all he needed to hear. You hold. Hold 'til I get back. Then he was gone.

* * * *

They had not talked much since then, Zoë and Mal, about what had happened. She knew there was no comfort he could provide her beyond his wordless presence at her side. He knew it as well, and did not push the issue. For that, Zoë was grateful. The others had also, for the most part, given her the space she needed. She found herself missing the preacher more often than she had imagined she would.

"You think they hollowed you out inside, but they didn't." Zoë didn't need to turn around to know that River wasn't even looking at her. She kept her gaze on the stars as River crept soundlessly into the chair beside her and pulled her knees to her chin. They both contemplated the black for a spell. Zoë knew that River didn't mind her coming up on the bridge and sitting in her chair, as she often did these days, but it was still hard for her to think of River as Serenity's pilot.

"You think they took everything, but they only got a morsel." Zoë remained silent. She wasn't exactly in the mood for talking in general, let alone talking about this. She knew River wasn't looking for much in the way of a reply anyhow. They both kept their eyes on the sky.

"It hurts you to see them so happy." A beat. "It hurts me a little too."

It took Zoë a few seconds to realize that River had changed the subject. "You mean Simon and Kaylee? Why would it ... "

"Happy together means unhappy apart. All things must come to an end. They don't know it yet. But they will."

"River, I ... "

"I know. Not now. Not soon. But eventually, one way or another. We're the only ones who know it. But we won't say a word."

"Everything ends, River. Don't mean things ain't worth doin'."

River stood swiftly, considered Zoë's words, thought on them a while before speaking, and when she did, her voice was not quite her own. "Not so afraid of losing something that she won't try havin' it. She'll be all right." She startled Zoë by patting her shoulder gently as she passed, quickly, most likely headed to her bunk. Zoë shook her head, not wanting to follow her train of thought to its completion, and headed to bed her own self.

* * * *

It wasn't the first time Zoë had dreamt of Wash, but it was the first time she had been aware that it was a dream before she woke from it. Most often, she dreamt of standing behind him as he piloted Serenity, her hand on his shoulder, the faithful wife. In these dreams, she kept forgetting that he was dead, and would wake from them abruptly, disappointed that she hadn't remembered to say or do anything meaningful.

But Zoë knows this dream is different, right from the beginning. She knows that she's dreaming, for one. And she remembers this time that he is dead, even though she can see him plain as day, grinning at her from across the dining room.

"Wash." Reaches for him.

He smiles, that gentle grin that is so uniquely Wash that she can hardly bear it. It stops her where she stands. She is afraid to touch him. Doesn't know if she actually can.

"Zo." Another smile, this one blinding in its intensity. Simple mercies. "I've missed you, Zo." She can only nod. "I didn't mean to leave." There is something in his eyes that pains her, something very much like regret.

"I know. I didn't mean for you to leave either." Something tightens in her throat, but she feigns stoicism. "It's okay." She hears River's voice in her head. She'll be all right.

"You'll be all right, Zo. It's me you should be worried about. You know how anxious I get when you're out on the job." She nods, a faint smile touching her lips. "Just finish up and come on home. I'll be waiting."

"I know you will."

"C'mere," he says, extending a hand to her. She takes it gingerly. It is easier to touch him than she thought it would be. Zoë closes her eyes, breathes him in. It is a lifeline, this final physical connection, unbinding the ties that need to be severed and strengthening the ones that must be kept alive between them. She slides close to him, and the feel of his fingertips on her back finishes what his words have already started. His touch is her undoing.

"I can feel your heart beating. How is that possible?" She leans into him, tears on her cheeks.

He breathes deeply, his nose nestled in her hair. This is what Zoë will miss most of all, this physical closeness that has always been there between them, his hand tracing the line of her shoulders, the other in the hollow of her lower back, her cheek pressed against the rise and fall of his chest.

He holds her until the tears are gone. They relearn each other, far into the night, their voices barely a whisper. It is painful for Zoë to see him like this, actual and whole. She can't help but wonder if she will be able to remember him this way when she awakens. They laugh, oddly enough, reminiscing. There are no more tears.

After a time they grow silent. Grief has robbed Zoë of words. Sorrow sits heavy and low in her stomach like a hot stone, and for a brief moment, she is not sure she can do this, not sure that she can leave him waiting on her to finish the job.

Wash holds her for as long as possible, until two become one, together in the dark night.

* * * *

Zoë stands in the doorway, leaning her head against the metal frame. Wash is sitting alone at the table, his face illuminated by the warm glow of the gaslight.

"See you soon, darlin'?" The ache in her voice is almost a plea.

"See you soon." Zoë knows it will never be soon enough, but she pretends to believe his words, for her own sake as much as for his. Wash knows this as well, but he is charitable to her, pretending, and she reaches to him across the distances between them, and their fingertips touch one last time, and Zoë can feel somewhere inside her that she will be okay.

Slowly, painfully, she lets him go. Zoë is alone on Serenity now, and she walks through it deliberately, touching walls and panels and switches as if they contain a piece of him that she does not. She finds her way to the bridge and settles herself into Wash's chair. It still belongs to him here, in this place, and is not yet River's. She would like to stay here forever.

The first rays of daylight fall across her face, warming her cheeks, and Zoë closes her eyes. She wonders if he will still see her when he closes his, the way that she can see him now.

Napping in this very spot, surrounded by his fleet of dinosaurs. Kissing her forehead when he thinks she's asleep, because his love for her is so great he just can't help himself. Sitting around the dining room table, grinning at them all, just loving this family he had chosen as his own.

Zoë wonders if he will still plague her dreams twenty years from now.

She is not yet sure whether or not she wants him to.