(no subject)

[flybywash]

He's hardly left the bridge since they lifted off from Beaumonde. Too many variables to track has made it way too much of a risk to stick Serenity on autopilot and leave her be, not for more than the time it takes to get some food or steal an hour's nap.

It ain't fair to leave all the baby care to Zoe, though. Not for this long.

(And it's unfounded, this far out in the black, but he doesn't like sitting in the pilot's chair with his daughter resting against his chest, her tiny hands bunched in a patch of shirt just over the thick scar that hasn't faded or smoothed out one bit.)

So he's on a couch in the kitchen lounge, buzzing with a hollow, detached energy that marks the weariness of a thirty-six hour adrenaline rush, with Naomi fast asleep in his arms.

Lucky kid.

Wash really wishes he could do the same right about now.

Comments

[gonna_live]

Kaylee comes in, eyes down, and sets about making a cup of tea. No breakfast.

She looks up, is about to say something --

-- sees Naomi asleep, and thinks better of it.

Back to tea.

[flybywash]

There's a quick stab of something very close to guilt when he sees her.

He should be back up on deck, making sure they're still in range. Keeping everything in line. Making sure they've got the best gorram chance possible of finding Simon and River.

Naomi shifts very slightly, warm and solid.

Wash musters up a wan smile, frees one hand, and offers a small wave that's at least three-quarters finger-wiggle.

[gonna_live]

It's returned, with a smile that pretty well matches his.

Low: "Want anything?"

She knows he's been up there on the bridge probably more than he should be, considering the need to do things like...sleep. And that's the thing about being a crew, and not just a bunch of people on a ship: you do for each other.

[flybywash]

"How're the coffee stores looking, there any left?" he whispers.

He's pretty good about keeping them stocked up. Usually.

[gonna_live]

Kaylee checks. They've been going through it fairly fast. Obviously. But there's the instant stuff, and she'll pick some up next time she's in the bar.

She turns around from the cabinet, nods at Wash, and sets to. There's enough hot water left from her tea, so it's not too long before she's holding out a mug carefully -- handle toward him.

[flybywash]

"Xiexie." Grateful, as Wash adjusts his hold on Naomi, more of her in his lap now, and takes the mug with equal care.

He doesn't drink right away. Instead, there's a pause, in which he almost asks how are you holding up? and swiftly thinks better of it.

"We've still got a solid lock on them," he says at last.

[gonna_live]

Kaylee nods, eyes going down and away.

Hands in her pockets.

"Figured." Still low.

[flybywash]

"Shouldn't be a lot longer until we're at the station."

He drinks, now, and smothes a wince when the coffee burns his mouth a bit.

Gently, "You eaten anything lately?"

[gonna_live]

Kaylee shakes her head. "I'm good." Another wan smile; she goes to retrieve her cup of tea.

[flybywash]

When somebody denies being hungry, there really isn't any good way to suggest that no, really, eating would be a healthsome and beneficial thing right now. And force-feeding lacks a certain...you know. Tact.

Especially if you'd probably be doing the same damn thing in the same situation.

Wash gives it a try anyway.

"'Cause this one's been making tiny baby snores for almost forty-five minutes," a small, fond nod to Naomi, "which is sickeningly adorable and yet kind of means I think she'll be okay without me for a little bit. So I was gonna go ahead and make some eggs or something. If you're sure you don't want any..."

He lets the sentence hang there, hopeful.

And then picks it up again with a wry, "I know me offering to cook is not the most exciting of incentives."

[gonna_live]

She looks up.

And says, "It really ain't." Smile turning crooked, briefly. "Tell you what. Either I cook and you two keep on like you are, or we switch."

There is no promise of eating in there anywhere.

[flybywash]

He sighs, affecting a martyred expression.

"If I can't ever learn to cook something edible, I'm dooming her to a life of mooching off of the bar," he says, then smiles. "Here. Come switch."

Eggs are almost impossible to screw up.

He can totally manage eggs.

[gonna_live]

Kaylee is dubious.

About the eggs.

She holds out her arms. "It ain't too late to switch."

[flybywash]

Wash sets down his mug and, carefully, eases Naomi into Kaylee's waiting arms. Naomi "ah"s almost inaudibly, but doesn't wake up.

"Naah," he says. "I've been a dad for all of two weeks, I can't let the dooming happen this soon."

Retrieving his coffee again, he pulls himself to his feet, quickly rubs one eye with the heel of his palm, and heads for the stove.

[gonna_live]

Kaylee settles into Wash's old spot.

And eyes him.

And says, quiet, "You ought to take some time out."

[flybywash]

Wash looks over his shoulder, blinks.

Then he shakes his head and says again, casually, "Ain't like it's gonna be much longer until we're there."

There's a tiny, tiny box for perishables under the sink. Right now most of it's taken up by a half-dozen eggs somebody picked up in Milliways; Wash digs it out and sets it on the counter.

[gonna_live]

"What about what comes after?"

Barely audible.

[flybywash]

(Don't suppose askin' politely if we can have our fugitives back is gonna cut it.)

A bowl, a skillet. Set the temperature to medium. (Or is it supposed to be lower than medium?)

"Long and stressful flights are pretty much what passes for normal most of the time. We'll still be able to get out of there fast enough once they're back on board."

[gonna_live]

Kaylee doesn't say anything. Looks down. Ostensibly looking at Naomi.

[flybywash]

Wash cracks two eggs into the bowl, grabs a fork, and sort of...pokes at them a bit. Egg yolk seeps into the whites.

"I was hoping my clever non-use of 'if' there might've helped, but I'm guessing maybe not so much," he mumbles. "Duìbùqĭ."

Clink-clink-clink-clink-clink: he starts whisking the eggs.

[gonna_live]

Silence.






Low:

"It's fine."

Because she can't say there's no way they're coming home today. She just can't.

[flybywash]

Okay. They...mostly looked whisked enough.

Wash dumps them into the heated skillet and begins to stir.

Meanwhile, Naomi yawns, one foot kicking out. Her eyes blink open sleepily.

[gonna_live]

"Hey." Kaylee shifts her a little. "Mornin'."

(A lot can change in a year or two. ...Or in ten minutes, sometimes.)

Kaylee closes her eyes, just for a couple of seconds.

[flybywash]

"Ah!" Naomi agrees, and Wash looks over.

His smile, tired as it is, is more genuine than it's been all morning.

"Sounds like somebody's up," he says quietly as he reaches for a pair of plates, and the eggs -- a little runny, but edible -- are divvied up. "How's she doing?"

[gonna_live]

"Just fine." Half a smile -- and then she looks at the plates.

And considers protesting, because there's no way she'll be able to eat that much.

But decides against it.

[flybywash]

It's a start.

Plates balanced on one arm and cup of coffee in the other hand, Wash returns to the lounge area. (It's not a bad balancing act. He hasn't forgotten everything from that botched fry-cook job.)

"Trade you," he says, offering her one of the plates.

[gonna_live]

"In a bit." Quiet. "Figure we can do it in shifts. You go on."

[flybywash]

Wash's smile dims, but he nods, settles down across from her with his own plate, starts picking at his eggs.

Eventually, they do swap: Naomi's wide awake by then and fussing for her own breakfast.

When Wash apologetically leaves in search of Zoe, Kaylee's plate is still untouched.