Means of Expression (Go Thy Way Remix)
Remix Author: Molly
Original Story: Milk and Ash by Pearl-o
Summary: Zoe isn't the type to cry.
Rating: R
Fandom: Firefly
Usually the baby sleeps through the night; he's a good child, less trouble than Mal had grumbled he would be back when it was okay – if mildly irritating – to treat her pregnancy as an inconvenience.
He buttoned up quick after, though. If nothing else, Mal understands the importance of the only thing a person has left. Still, she's glad for the nights the baby sleeps, because each one is a night that she doesn't scramble to take him deep into the cargo bay where the sound won't carry and disturb everyone else. Each one is a night she can lie awake, quiet and still, let the faint gleam of light on copper catch her eye, stare at the shadowy curve of Wash at her side.
***
He had joked about it one night, making her laugh with vivid descriptions of worms crawling out his nose. "Burn me," he'd declared, already leaning to drag his mouth across her neck. "Don't leave me to the worms, I beg you."
He had joked about it, because it wasn't supposed to matter. Their lives dictated that she die first, or that they die together. But eventually she had to make a choice, and a joke was all she had to go on. "Burn him," she said after everyone conceivably responsible was just as dead as he was. "I want the ashes."
Three months later she gave birth, and wouldn't allow anyone but Simon near her. But afterwards everyone came in their own time, one by one. Jayne almost – almost – made her smile, peering down into the tiny sleeping face and finally muttering, "Big little thing." Kaylee was nervous and hesitant until she ran her fingers across his round belly, through the slight fuzz of silky hair; then her eyes lit up and she beamed at Zoe, but her voice was quiet and sincere. "He's a cutie, Zoe."
Inara was the first, though, after Simon finished cleaning – the medlab, her, the baby. She leaned and kissed Zoe's forehead, one hand stroking damp curls back from her face, then picked him up after the slightest hesitation to leave room for Zoe to refuse. She didn't, and Inara lifted him in a smooth motion that seemed natural, perched at Zoe's side and murmured a soft song for a few minutes. When she settled him back into Zoe's arms, she smiled fondly at them both. "Anytime you need –" and Zoe nodded curtly.
She appreciated it, though, as much as she appreciated anything anymore.
Book came last of all, and he stood in the doorway and watched her in his placid way. "I was reading something," he finally said, "and it made me think of you."
"What would that be, Shepherd?"
"'But go thou thy way till the end be: for thou shalt rest, and stand in thy lot at the end of the days.'" The words sounded familiar, but while she was trying to place them Book just bowed his head slightly and slid back into the shadows outside the medlab.
A week later she figured it out, and she named the baby Daniel. She and Wash had never discussed names; that one seemed just as appropriate as any other.
***
The months passed, life as usual and anything but. They all kept out of her way, and yet pushed her in small ways, just by being themselves. Book was an unexpected comfort; there were times when she'd nurse Daniel in a quiet corner of the common area, quick stolen moments of motherhood too short to make going to her bunk practical, and he'd arrive quietly, sit quietly, read quietly, a steady presence that never pressed against the lingering edges of her grief.
Mal was different. He had to be, and hadn't shirked that duty since the day he brought Ernest aboard, held her gaze steadily when he broke the news. Something in his eyes seemed like he was waiting – maybe for the chink in her armor to show at last, if only for a minute. But war and other atrocities hadn't torn her down, and even then, still heavy with grief and his child, she wouldn't let the loss of Wash do it, either.
Even if it did push her closer than she could remember ever being. She stared steadily at Mal and she said, "Ernest. Pilot. Got it," and walked away.
And after Daniel came, he treated her different only once, sending her back to the boat when they both knew she should stay and cover him. Jayne actually looked wary, glancing back and forth between them, but she looked at Mal coolly and didn't say anything.
Later, she said, "Never do that again, Captain." He tried to argue the point – as if there were a point – but she stood her ground, holding the baby and staring him down.
And he gave in, but later he stopped at her side as she sat cleaning one of her guns, Daniel sleeping in a pile of blankets in the middle of the dinner table. "Make arrangements," he said shortly. "You make sure that kid's taken care of."
"Yes, sir," she said quietly. She never looked up from her task.
***
She chose Inara twice, because for both things she was the only choice, and the right choice. When she told Mal about the first decision, about the name on the papers for if anything ever happened to her, he stared at her for so long she started to wonder if she'd miscalculated, if he was hurt after all, or if he just thought she was wrong. But then he nodded. "Good."
"Then you agree," Zoe said, but she was really asking.
"I don't disagree. She'd be able to keep him safe. Take him somewhere to grow up real nice."
"That was my thinkin'."
"Fine thinkin' at that. You told her?"
"I will."
"Who's runner-up if she says no?"
Zoe hesitated. "Would you want it to be you, sir?"
Mal didn't hesitate at all. "No. Zoe, anything happens to you – I ain't gonna be any good to anybody, 'specially not a tyke with needs."
She thanked him for that, for the sentiment hidden within the acknowledgment of his dependence on her, with a short pause. "Kaylee, I think."
"You know Jayne would probably attach himself to that package?"
"Countin' on it, Captain."
He nodded again. "Okay then. Lemme know when it's settled. And if you'll excuse me, I need to go find some wood to knock on."
***
She chooses Inara the second time for reasons that are less clear to her. She supposes it has something to do with knowing that Inara won't confuse the two things, a certainty that Inara will know that trusting her to take care of Daniel has nothing to do with...with *needing* her to take care of Zoe. Inara will understand the difference between a night and a lifetime, a kindness and a responsibility, and will answer to each independently of the other.
And she does, but some things do echo others. Inara's hands are as soothing and careful on her skin as they have ever been cradling Daniel's head; Inara's body responds just as instinctively to the turbulence of Zoe's need as it always has to the softness of Daniel's.
Zoe is only courteous enough not to leave marks on Inara's skin; no more, no less, and she holds herself away from Inara's tender grasp in the dark silence that follows. A single candle flickers on the other side of the shuttle, and Zoe stares at it, letting the bright shape of it burn into her retinas so that she will carry the memory of it for some time to come.
At long last she rolls onto her back and tells Inara a different version of a story she once told Wash, a version just as true but tailored to make a different point. She had warned Wash that it wouldn't always be easy to be close to her, because she had been in love before and war teaches things that can be hard to unlearn. She tells Inara that she did unlearn that pain, as best she could, and that while she's not ready to regret it she's not going to let it happen again.
Inara is quiet for so long that Zoe almost wonders if she spoke aloud, after all. But then Inara reaches for her, expert hands drawing out responses, and her voice is almost casual when she breaks the silence. "I hear you down below at times. There are nights when he won't stop crying, no matter what you do?"
"Yes." Zoe closes her eyes, focuses on breathing instead of the slide of Inara's fingers across her flesh.
"Patience, and time. He probably has things he's desperate to say, and no words to get them out." She kisses Zoe, slow and easy, hands coaxing Zoe into letting loose sounds that start somewhere deep inside. "If crying is all he can do, perhaps the kindest thing is simply to be there, and let him cry."
**end**
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