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[flybywash]

Wash doesn't know what wakes him up nearly an hour and a half before his alarm's set to go off. He'd like to think it's something other than the quiet, sinking knowledge of what day it is.

He knows it probably isn't.

Zoe's still asleep; he props himself on an elbow to watch her in silence. After a while, he smiles faintly -- it hurts a little -- and shifts his weight, enough to let him rest a hand on her hair and gently run his fingers through it. The knotted bracelet of ship's rope and wires is still fast around his wrist.

It's been six years of marriage and he still can't get over how beautiful she is; or how lucky he's been, to be able to do this almost every single day.

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[righthandwoman.livejournal.com]

The touch on her hair doesn't wake Zoe up--it's too light, for one thing, and too familiar, for another.

But as Wash shifts position and the mattress dips and rises, she rolls on to her back, muttering slightly, not quite awake, but not so deeply asleep anymore.

[flybywash]

Wash slides his arm down to her waist, kissing the top of her head before resting his chin on her shoulder.

"You awake, baby?" he whispers.

[righthandwoman.livejournal.com]

Zoe shifts again, and then blinks, one hand coming up to rub sleep out of her eyes.

Low, "Shi a."

[flybywash]

"Okay."

And he leans to kiss her properly, fingers spreading out over her hip.

"Just wanted to make sure before I did that." He smiles a little. "Morning."

[righthandwoman.livejournal.com]

Zoe smiles into the kiss, one hand curling around the back of his neck to hold him there an extra moment or two.

"Mornin'."

[flybywash]

Not that Wash is making any kind of effort to pull away.

After another minute: "You sleep okay?"

[righthandwoman.livejournal.com]

"Not bad."

It took her longer than usual to get to sleep, but once she did, she stayed asleep.

"You?"

She hasn't forgotten what day it is. But if anything, that makes this all more important.

[flybywash]

"Mmm. Pretty shiny."

The 'considering' doesn't even need to be implied, let alone spoken aloud.

Wash shifts again, closer, and adds quietly, "I think we might actually be able to get away with a breakfast that's just us this morning. You interested?"

[righthandwoman.livejournal.com]

Zoe's smile is a little bittersweet--couldn't be otherwise, today, but it's also warm and unguarded, the way it rarely ever is with anyone besides him or Naomi.

"Think I could see my way t' bein' talked into it."

[flybywash]

"Well..." He takes a moment to kiss her again. "I got some fresh eggs from the bar last night, and there's some toast I could make..."

A pause.

Conversationally: "Right. Talking into it."

[righthandwoman.livejournal.com]

Zoe chuckles, and pats his shoulder.

"I think between the two of us, we should be able to manage."

Zoe's no master chef, but she can handle scrambled eggs. And even Wash ought to be able to handle toast, right?

[flybywash]

Oh, she of so much faith.

But with the air of a grand proclamation, Wash says, "Then it's settled."

Eventually, he even gets around to pulling away from Zoe so he can find his clothes.

[righthandwoman.livejournal.com]

Still in her pajamas, Zoe heads to the sink.

A few moments later, the sound of running water is overridden by the sound of crying from over the comm-cum-baby monitor. Not upset crying--just HEY I'M AWAKE FEED ME crying.

"Uh-oh." Zoe changes quickly as she can--which is pretty quick--and heads for the ladder still barefoot. "Guess we better make that breakfast for three."

[flybywash]

"I'll get the toast started," Wash says. Dressed by this point, or dressed enough to get by -- pyjama bottoms and one of his more well-worn Hawaiian shirts -- he nabs his cane and follows Zoe up the ladder.

Just the three of them.

It twinges, deep in his gut, but it's tempered by the sheer fact that it is the three of them together. That's how it should be.

[righthandwoman.livejournal.com]

As soon as she's up into the corridor, Zoe disappears again, down the ladder into Kaylee's old bunk. Naomi's, now.

It's a while later, with Naomi fed and Zoe having gone back for shoes, that mother and daughter make their way into the kitchen.

[flybywash]

Which, surprisingly, does not smell faintly of charcolized bread yet. He's getting better.

(He's also been turning the toast in the pan with the frequency of someone who learned the hard way what happens if you let it sit for too long.)

Wash looks up, and there's another warm, if wistful smile when he sees Naomi. "Hey. Look who we found."

It's safe to abandon the stove for a few seconds -- long enough to cross the room and bend to kiss Naomi's forehead -- and even if it wasn't, he'd do it anyway.

"Good morning to you too, sweetheart," he says.

[righthandwoman.livejournal.com]

Naomi babbles happily, one chubby hand flailing out in her father's direction.

"Here, you want to--"

Zoe stops for a moment. Swallows. Starts again, expression mostly unchanging.

"Want to take her for a while and I'll see about those eggs?"

[flybywash]

"...Sure."

He doesn't miss the hitch to her words. Of course he doesn't.

There's a second, before Wash gently helps Zoe shift Naomi into his arms, where he rests a hand on the small of her back in a feeble attempt at comfort.

And then he crosses his eyes and pokes his tongue out at his daughter, who responds with a shout of laughter, and eases himself into one of the kitchen chairs.

[righthandwoman.livejournal.com]

If she stops to think about the fact that she might have just handed Naomi to Wash for the last time in the next few months...

Well, breakfast isn't going to make itself. Zoe settles for rubbing his shoulder briefly as she walks past on her way to the stove.

[flybywash]

"So, how'd you sleep?" Wash whispers as Naomi worms around and latches onto his shirt, still babbling contentedly --

(the ba ba that slips out isn't anything but meaningless syllables, he knows, but his heart seizes up anyway -- )

as she explores the floral pattern. "Good dreams? Anything about pirates and big sea ships nobody else's seen before? You are gonna have the broadest and best history education known to mankind, lemme tell you."

[righthandwoman.livejournal.com]

Zoe's paying more attention to the eggs than Wash's words, and his voice is low anyway, but--

"--Honey, did you take our daughter onto th' hole-ridden pirate ship out on the lake?"

Hey, at least she probably won't get too put out with him for anything, today?

[flybywash]

"Not onto it." He smooths Naomi's hair. "We were just out by the shore and talking to the guy who owns it. But she got a good look."

As good a look as one can get with newborn's eyes, anyway.

[righthandwoman.livejournal.com]

"Well."

Zoe joins the two of them at the table, sliding one of the plates she's holding his way.

"Guess I don't have much ground t' complain about just havin' her around a pirate."

[flybywash]

"None whatsoever."

He sneaks a kiss on her cheek when she's in range, then, Naomi still happily gumming the fist that's holding fast to his shirt, starts in on the food.

[righthandwoman.livejournal.com]

There's a bit more back-and-forth as they sit and eat, purposefully kept light, and if it doesn't manage to be as playful as it would on some other day, the smiles they exchange now and then aren't forced.

[flybywash]

And when the plates are empty, save a couple tenacious bits of egg and toast crumbs, Wash cradles Naomi a minute longer before he even thinks about getting up.

It's not that he's reluctant, exactly. It's just...

You want to make time like this count.

So it's an extra minute before he hands her back to Zoe, saying, "Here. I'll get the dishes."

[righthandwoman.livejournal.com]

You do.

Which is why Zoe keeps her hands brushing Wash's for longer than is strictly needed, and leans up to kiss his cheek.

"Thank you, dear."

[flybywash]

Wash smiles. "Wŏ ài nĭ," he murmurs in her ear before gathering the plates and cups, easing his way over to the sink without his cane.

It doesn't take long for the water to warm. Plates first, scrubbing off the crumbs; then the first plastic cup. Something sticks to the back of his left hand as he's rinsing it, and Wash rubs it absently to brush it away.

Except the faint, gentle pressure, like fingertips ghosting across his knuckles, doesn't stop.

And nothing's there when he glances down.

Wash freezes.

[righthandwoman.livejournal.com]

Out of the corner of her eye, Zoe sees him go still, and turns her head, brow furrowing slightly.

"Wash? Honey?"

[flybywash]

It could just be an illusion. Nerves don't fire right, sometimes, it could just be...

He doesn't know.

Wash is still holding the wet, sudsy cup as he turns, and his voice is a little strangled as he says, "Zo' -- "



And in the hovering space between heartbeats,
he hears a sound like blood in his ears,
or the rush of shattering glass,
(it's time to go)
or broad, fathomless wings.

Wash gasps.



Where he stood, there's nothing left. The glass clatters against the floor and angles sideways, rolling to meet the left-hand shelves.

[righthandwoman.livejournal.com]

There's no shocked exclamation, no jumping up to run to the spot where he was. Zoe sits, still looking at the empty air where his face was a moment ago.

After some time--maybe a minute, maybe an hour, she can't see that it matters much right now--she stands up and walks to the sink, shifting Naomi to one arm as she bends down to pick up the glass, then straightens to put it in the sink and turn the faucet off.

She stands there for a while.

Eventually, Naomi starts fussing, probably needing to be changed. Zoe shifts her grip on the baby again, turns, and makes her way out of the kitchen.