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[flybywash]

Inasmuch as it can be, it is quantified as dark and silent and empty. The edges between things blur. They don't seem to be there most times -- nor is anything else. Imagine the blank forgetfulness of deep sleep, and stretch it endlessly in either direction.

Dreams may interrupt it, but not very frequently.

What is there most consistently is a knotted length of cord woven through with wires. Sometimes, more often than the dreams but not with any regularity, the rough rope catches him, and he surfaces, becoming definable again. He can feel the boundaries, touch his fingers to the smooth plastic sheaths covering the wire (green and yellow, though he can't see it), realize who he is and how he got there.

Wash sees the sky -- if only in his mind -- and remembers.

It lasts until the breath he exhales carries him back down, and he slips away, drifting to fill the nothing with more nothing.







Until one breath he draws hurts. He remembers, and it's...

The definition to his arms and legs and self has never been this clear, and when he opens his eyes this time --

There is light.

Light, a solid deafening rumble, and something cold beneath his palms. Wash claps his hands over his ears to block out the noise (this doesn't hurt, but he feels every ridge, every hair, a sharp prickle of heat) and gasps again. There's too much: he has to shut his eyes.

On the kitchen floor of Serenity, back pressed to the wall and legs curled awkwardly to his chest, Wash continues to drag in ragged breaths as he whimpers subaudibly.

Comments

[righthandwoman.livejournal.com]

"Okay, kiddo. You had your dinner, now it's Mom's turn."

The voice is outside the kitchen, but getting nearer. There's no reply to it in actual words, as such, but there is a kind of sleepy, contented burbling noise.

[flybywash]

More noise. It's familiar, but that's all it is, more sound, and he can't --

Wash's next breath hisses out painfully, like he's been burned.

The engine's vibrations feel like a gorram earthquake. Even though there's nothing to see but his knees with the way he's curled up, he tries cracking open an eye. It's blurry, and still too bright.

And then it registers why the noise is familiar.

Zoe.

[righthandwoman.livejournal.com]

The hiss of breath isn't really loud enough to reach outside the kitchen, and Zoe may have battle trained senses, but her attention's on Naomi, and she steps into the kitchen still looking down at the baby.

"Okay, let's see what we've--"

Her voice breaks off, abruptly.

[flybywash]

Breathe in. Breathe out.

"Ow."

He tries once more: both eyes this time, slitted open for half a second before he has to close them again. His hands stay at his ears.

In. Out. In, a little deeper.

"Zo'...?"

That's barely any louder, more of a hoarse croak than a name, but it shakes with sudden, fathomless hope.

[righthandwoman.livejournal.com]

"Wash..."

Zoe takes a moment to be glad Naomi's in her sling. She's not sure she trusts any of her limbs right now.

Only her legs are going to have to work, and her hands, because she knows there's only one way she's going to convince herself he's here.

Footsteps, and the slight rustle of clothes as she kneels down, and then one hand settles on his knee, one on his shoulder.

Stronger: "Wash."

[flybywash]

"Ah -- "

The contact startles Wash enough to make him try to pull back. But it is startlement; not pain, now. He freezes again except for the steady heaving of his chest.

Then, clumsily, he gropes for the hand resting on his shoulder. It takes a few tries before he can close his own hand around it, pulling it away to rub her fingers like a blind man feeling out an unfamiliar shape.

Slowly, the movement gains more surety. He begins to smile, tiny and utterly relieved.

"It's you," he whispers in awe, and forces himself to raise his head and open his eyes.

[righthandwoman.livejournal.com]

Part of Zoe's still waiting for this to not be real, but she's aware, in a sort of detached way, that an enormous grin is starting to spread across her face.

"Yeah. It's me."

"An'...it's you." Almost a question.

[flybywash]

Wash nods, blinking. His eyes are unfocused, the pupils too wide, but they're staying open.

"You're here," he rasps, and with no further preamble than that, reaches out to pull her close to him.

[righthandwoman.livejournal.com]

Zoe wraps one arm around his shoulders, the other automatically going to adjust Naomi's sling, because the hug (alright, it's more of a cling) that ensues wouldn't be fun to be caught in the middle of.

Muffled against his shoulder, "'Course I'm here. Point is, so're you."

[flybywash]

A real laugh's rather beyond his capabilities at the moment; the noise Wash makes isn't even recognizable as one. He's shivering -- more from the overload than from cold -- as he buries his face in her hair.

"Yeah. I'm." Another noise. "I remember. And I think you were..."

He loosens his hug, and just as quickly tightens it again.

"This is home. Right?"

[righthandwoman.livejournal.com]

And just as quickly as Wash tightens his grip, Zoe pulls back enough to see his face, brow furrowing slightly in worry.

"Yeah. We're in the kitchen."

Naomi, perhaps tired of being ignored, squirms in her sling and bats one tiny hand against Wash's cheek. Zoe intercepts before she can do so again, eyes still focused on him.

[flybywash]

Wash's aren't anymore.

They dropped to Naomi as soon as she touched him -- it was enough to make him startle again -- and he's staring at her as if he's just noticed she was there.

(Might be because that's the truth.)

Gently, his other arm still around Zoe, Wash brings a hand down to catch his daughter's fingers.

"Nĭ hăo, băobèi," he whispers, suddenly blinking even more furiously as his eyes begin to sting.

[righthandwoman.livejournal.com]

Naomi latches onto his hand and looks up at him for a moment, eyes wide.

And then drags his fingers forward and tries to stick them in her mouth.

Zoe's expression clears a bit as she watches them, though her eyes are misty as well.

[flybywash]

He's working his way up: it sounds a lot closer to a real laugh this time, albeit a watery one.

"God. Look at you," he murmurs, obligingly letting her gnaw his fingers. "You're getting so big. You're getting so -- ow."

Wash pulls his fingers back, eyes widening.

"You've got teeth," he says, delighted (if a bit pained).

[righthandwoman.livejournal.com]

Zoe gives a quiet, amused snort. "That she does."

She focuses on Wash again, smoothing back his hair with one hand.

"You okay? I mean--how do you feel?"

[flybywash]

"I'm, uh."

He's still watching Naomi. She's grabbed hold of the bracelet tied around his right wrist, with the sort of accuracy she couldn't even approach the last time he saw her. Wash keeps his hand still, letting her tug it, but not teethe it.

For a second, his eyes drift closed as Zoe strokes his hair.

"Kind of hurts," he admits after a pause. "It's too bright. Everything. I-I can't see too well -- but I'm okay, we're shiny, it's just -- "

A deep breath.

"I'm shiny, baby. I am."

[righthandwoman.livejournal.com]

"Okay,, Zoe says, and nods, and then says it again. "Okay. Guess maybe you just need t'...get used t' everything again."

Her hand slides around to cup the back of his neck, and stays there.

[flybywash]

"Yeah."

The air catches in his chest in a weird way, and he coughs weakly before rubbing the heel of his palm over his eyes, trying to clear them.

A little stronger: "You didn't crash while I was gone, did you?"

[righthandwoman.livejournal.com]

Zoe manages a chuckle, though it's faint.

"Oh, y'know. Few times here 'n there, nothin' too bad."

Then, seriously, "We've been gettin' by. Had a few rough spots here an' there, but we're gettin' by."

[flybywash]

"Good." He's smiling, less shaky now. "Good."

Wash leans in the last few inches to kiss her, oddly tentative, as if afraid this, too, will hurt a bit -- or that Zoe won't be there when he reaches her.

[righthandwoman.livejournal.com]

Zoe leans into the kiss, but gently, her arm encircling his shoulders again but trying not to put too much pressure on him.

It's okay, every line of her body says. I'm here, and you're here, and neither of us is going anywhere.

[badinlatin]

It's not any rare thing for anyone on ship to walk to the kitchen at any hour of the day or night.

It's just been awhile since Mal's run into his pilot there, and Mal's eyes narrow at the sight of Zoe and Naomi with the fairhaired man, rubbing at them with fisted hands to make sure he's seeing straight.

[pirate_jack]

He'd been following the other man, but as Mal stops dead blocking the door, Jack Sparrow peers curiously over his shoulder.

Black eyes widen, and then a slow, delighted grin appears.

"Good for you, son," he mutters. "Good for you."

Moving with stealthy care, he backs away from the kitchen and disappears down the corridor, leaving the crew to their reunion.

[flybywash]

Just as carefully as it started, Wash breaks the kiss, opening his eyes.

He thinks he sees movement at the far edge of his field of vision, but it's hard to tell still. With some effort, he shifts his attention toward it, taking a moment to focus.

Once he does:

"Cap'n?" he ventures hoarsely.

[badinlatin]

"...Shi a," and Mal's already moving closer to Wash and Zoe.

"When did you...How long have you been here?"

[flybywash]

"Couple minutes. Not long."

His hand finds Zoe's again as he keeps blinking up at Mal.

"Wei."

[righthandwoman.livejournal.com]

Zoe looks up as well, half-turning.

...Yeah, that's a smile Mal hasn't seen in a while.

"Hey, cap'n."

[badinlatin]

And Mal's glad of it, making the smile of his own reach a little bit higher.

"You need anythin'?" he asks Wash. "Doc need to check you out? You want somethin' to eat?"

[flybywash]

"No, I'm -- " He starts to shake his head, then thinks better of it.

"'M not hungry," he continues, and makes an attempt at pushing against the floor. "And I'm -- I'm not, I'm fine, I just..."

Wash's expression begins veering toward apologetic.

"Don't think I can stand."

[badinlatin]

Mal moves to the comm near the fore entrance of the kitchen, depressing a button, Doc? Make it to the kitchen. He adds a quick ma shong without any of the frantic tone that phrase normally has carried in the past.

Even with Wash still needing to get checked out and settled back in, it's good to see him, and Mal can't get the grin off his face.

At least he's not wearing one of Wash's gifted shirts today. That might have been awkward.

[simon_doctor]

Getting from the infirmary to the kitchen doesn't take long, even with a brief stop to grab the first-aid bag. Mal didn't sound like anything was wrong, but --

Simon freezes in the doorway for a split second, and stares. A slow, half-disbelieving smile starts to spread across his face.

"Wash?"

[flybywash]

"Uh-huh?"

He's given up on the standing part for now, settling for rubbing his eyes again. Things are beginning to slide closer to focus, if not holding there.

Half a beat later, he parses the voice and turns his face toward it.

"Oh." Smiling again, weakly. "Hey, Simon."

[simon_doctor]

"Hey."

He steps closer and crouches near Zoe, not quite kneeling and not quite sitting on his heels.

He's still smiling -- can't quite seem to stop -- but there's concern there too, now, as well as delight.

"How're you feeling?"

[flybywash]

"Shiny," he insists, even if his appearance speaks otherwise. "Except for the not-standing. And the. Um."

He squeezes his eyes shut, opens them, blinks rapidly.

Apologetic again, "Duìbùqĭ. There's a lot."

[righthandwoman.livejournal.com]

Zoe shifts to let Simon have a better look at Wash, but doesn't take her arm from around his shoulder.

"Doesn't look like anythin's really wrong, just...everythin's three months out of practice," she comments.

[simon_doctor]

"It should pass, then."

Perhaps inevitably, somewhere in the back of his mind he's thinking of Eddie Dean.

"Did you just get here?"

[flybywash]

He nods.

And then, because it seems prudent to ask, says: "That means I'm not gonna get any penlights shone in my eyes, right? Right now I think I'm against penlights. On principle."

[river_meimei]

There's no sound but that of bare feet on metal. No greeting, and no comments.

But River's watching around the edge of the doorway, now, tucked tidily out of the way.

And her smile makes her whole face shine.

[simon_doctor]

"I think we can hold off on the penlights for at least a day or so."

Beat.

"It's ... very good to see you, Wash."

[flybywash]

Zoe's hand on his shoulder, warm and comforting; Naomi against her chest; Mal, Simon, and River all within sight.

Serenity humming softly as she drifts through the black.

"Yeah," he murmurs, and his smile widens to light up his face.

He's really home.

"You, too."