Here In Spirit (Chapter 2)

Title: Here In Spirt(Part 2)
Author: GateHobbit
Rating: PG
Characters: Wash, River, Zoe (with cameos by everyone else)
Pairing: Wash/Zoe
Summary: He's still here "in spirit"
Notes: MAJOR BDM spoilers. River has some explaining to do, and it could be painful.
Disclaimer: Like action figures. Not the real thing, but fun to play with.
Cross-posted to ff_fanfic



Kaylee’s eyes traveled back and forth between Simon and River. He seemed to be more worried about her than usual, and she was avoiding his glances. Finally, Simon relaxed, and Kaylee picked up her spoon to dig into her protein mush. Suddenly, River gasped and dropped her spoon into her bowl, splattering her breakfast onto Simon and Jayne who sat on either side of her.

“Gorramit, girl!” Jayne fumed, “Why’d ya pick meal time to start bein’ crazy again?”

River looked up at him and then laughed mischievously. “Sorry, Jayne. I hope I didn’t smudge your make-up none.”

Mal rose halfway, ready to prevent his hired gun from retaliating. He didn’t have to move farther, though, because Jayne was sitting as if stunned. The rest of the crew looked at River for a moment, shocked as well. Kaylee’s hand flew to her mouth as she started to giggle. Jayne recovered himself and looked indignant, which made Inara smirk as well.

“Shut it!” Jayne snapped. “Feng le girl’s spending too much time in the cockpit; startin’ to sound like Wash.”

Zoë’s suddenly became very interested in her bland protein mush, and Mal shot Jayne a glare that scared even the mercenary. He’d never admit it of course, but he figured it was best if he made himself scarce for a while.

“I’ll be in my bunk.” He stalked out of the galley. Zoë wasn’t far behind, her eyes still downcast.

Mal looked over at River, who was looking sheepishly back. “I reckon he’s right, Li’l Albatross. What’s gotten into you?”

River fought the urge to answer ‘Wash.’ It was his comment, after all. She’d gasped when she realized she could hear his thoughts again, and hadn’t recovered fast enough to prevent his smart-aleck joke from escaping her lips. Instead, she tried to look repentant. “Sorry, captain. Won’t happen again.”

“Well, there’s nothin’ wrong with you tellin’ jokes,” he conceded, “Just sounded an awful lot like Wash was sittin’ here again. I know Zoë’s still havin’ a hard time with it, so maybe just be more careful when she’s listenin’.”

River nodded absently, standing with her bowl. “Needs to converse with Zoë, coincidentally. Obligated to apologize.” She turned to rinse her dishes, missing the concerned look passed between Simon and Mal.

“River, that might not be the best idea,” Simon suggested, “Maybe you should just give her some time.”

The girl turned; dark hair and airy skirt whirling together. “Conversely, it is rather urgent.” She glided out the door before they could object.

------

River stood before the door to Zoë’s bunk, wringing her hands. She had no idea how to tell Zoë what she knew, or if she would believe it if she did.

“I don’t know what to say, either,” Wash told her, “But after seeing her so upset… we have to try.”

River tilted her head. Wash was speaking in the third person, in her head, and it made sense. She was used to having other thoughts invade upon her fractured mind, but was having a hard time adjusting to the thoughts being welcome and friendly. “Yes,” she finally replied, “Though it is your responsibility to help her understand. I do not know how to relate to her.”

“Frankly, neither do I sometimes.” Wash laughed his cheerfully ironic laugh, and it comforted River.

She reached out and knocked softly on the hatch. She heard a shuffling noise, and the door opened. Zoë’s eyes were sad, but she hadn’t been crying. River could feel Wash’s heart break as he saw his wife through River’s eyes.

“I came to apologize,” River told the woman, who was even more intimidating when she was upset. “And to talk, to explain, if you’ll let me.” She held her breath until Zoë answered.

“No need for apologies,” she told River, putting on a small but genuine smile. “Shouldn’t have to watch what you say ‘round me. It’s just… Jayne was right for once.” Her smile grew, full of irony. “I just miss hearing Wash say those kinds of things.” She turned to climb back down the ladder into her bunk, beckoning for River to follow.

As she stepped gracefully down, River decided to do as Zoë would and give the upfront truth. No go se. “I hear him say those things, in my mind.”

Zoë looked warily at her as she sat on her bed. “I hope you’re here for some other reason than to make me jealous,” she stated frankly.

“No, of course not,” River assured her, “Please do not be angry about what I have to say.”

Zoë raised an eyebrow, but remained silent.

“A few days ago, I dreamt that I was Wash. Yesterday, I could hear his thoughts in my head. I thought it was memories, old thoughts that haunted the ship, haunted the minds of the crew. But they were not memories; not about events before but events after. I cannot read what is not there, and dead souls do not think new thoughts. Somehow, his consciousness is in my mind, alive. Maybe because…”

“Enough!” Zoë suddenly spat, bolting up. “Don’t try to cheer me up with false hopes. Do you know how much I wish he was still here with me?!”

River looked at her with pleading eyes. “Zoë, I…”

“I lost him once. Don’t make me go through that again. Get out!”

River had never seen Zoë look so angry as she pointed towards the open door, hand shaking. Tears sprung to her eyes as she tried to think of a way to get her to understand, and she was sure at least half of them were Wash’s. “Zoë, please, listen!”

“Get… out!”

River stood and started for the ladder.

“No,” Wash begged, “Please, River, let me try.”

The girl stopped in her tracks, wanting to give Wash the chance but not wanting to incite Zoë to further wrath. She fought with her choices for a moment before bowing her head in acquiescence. “Alright, Wash,” she whispered. Her back was facing Zoë, and she decided not to turn. It would be harder for Zoë to believe it was Wash talking to her if she was looking at River’s face. She simply closed her eyes and gave control over to Wash, hoping he would be able to speak through her. She didn’t know if she had the strength to speak for him.

“Zoë, please.”

Zoë felt the corners of her eyes burning as she forced herself not to cry. She was strong; Wash’s warrior woman wouldn’t allow herself to cry in front of the young girl who had been through so much herself. But that quiet, tender whisper was almost more than she could take. Her voice was unsteady as she replied. “River, go. Now.”

“It’s not River, lambie-toes, it’s me. Wash.”

That was too much. Zoë grabbed River roughly by the shoulders and spun her around, ready to berate her for daring to impersonate Wash. The fact that she was a reader didn’t give her the right to mess with people’s minds. But the expression she saw stopped her cold. The girls eyes were squeezed shut, but large tears were slowly dripping down her face anyway. Her body language was meek, the expression on her face sad to the point of hopelessness. She spoke again, without opening her eyes.

“I don’t know how to explain it. Don’t know how to make you believe. Ai ya! I don’t even know if I believe it! Could just be that I am dead, and my hell consists of hearing your voice, and seeing you in pain, and not being able to do a damned thing about it!”

Zoë’s breath caught, her chest suddenly tight. It was River’s face, and her voice. But she only wore that broken expression when she was having one of her worse fits, which she hadn’t since Miranda. And, she seemed completely lucid now, despite what seemed like a crazy claim of being someone else. The words, too, weren’t River’s words. They were Wash’s.

“Wash?” She asked tentatively, feeling the hot tears start to boil down her cheeks.

“Yeah, baby. It’s me.”

“Lao tian ye!” She exclaimed, somehow not feeling awkward about throwing her arms around River’s shoulders and imagining they were Wash’s. When your dead husband was talking to you from the shared mind of a crazy psychic girl, it was hard to find anything strange.

“Oh, Zoë.” After a few moments, Wash loosened his embrace and stepped back.

Zoë was almost surprised to find that it was still River standing there. Her brown eyes were still shut, but directed right at her face. She could imagine a pair of bright blue eyes behind those eyelids, and wished to heaven that he could be here with her in body as well as spirit.

“Oh, Zoë. It feels so good to say your name and see you standing there to match. You know, back… on Mr. Universe’s planet…”

Zoë smiled as she heard him stuttering like her old, nervous Wash.

“That… spear came through the window… all I could feel was the pain of thinking I was never going to see you again. Never going to hear your voice, fight with you, make up, get soup for doing right by you. Never going to kiss you again or tell you I love you.”

“Love you too, husband.” The tears came again as that image flashed back to her, reminding her that she still couldn’t kiss him. She couldn’t hold him in her arms after a botched job and be completely happy just to be alive with him. What if she never could again? What if he faded from River’s mind? “What do we do now?”

“Enjoy what we’ve got,” he reassured her. “River says she’ll try to keep me in here as long as she can. Other than that, we’ll see what comes.” Wash, in River’s form, reached to hug Zoë again.

She felt like she was holding on for dear life, not knowing of she was ever going to get this chance again. Then she heard a small gasp, and River backed away. Her eyes were open again, and she looked sympathetically at Zoë.

“I couldn’t hold on any longer,” she explained sorrowfully. “He mentioned yesterday that he was… unconscious for lack of a better word, until recently. He still gets tired, and then he slips from my mind like dew from blades of grass. Hard to fit two butterflies in one cocoon; we must find a way for him to spread his wings again.”

Zoë nodded, her brain clouded with too many feelings to form words. River squeezed the woman’s hand before turning to climb back up the ladder.

“River?” Zoë finally called. “Thank you.”