A/N: The incidents in this story takes place pre-series. Sort of a prequel to my Eagle-series. A study of the wonderful Jayne/Zoë dynamics.

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Her name was Zoë.

Not that it mattered. Names had never been that important to him, girls he met mostly just made up one anyway. No, there wasn't as much in a name as some people liked to think; being a not particularly feminine man called Jayne, he would know. So if there was anything about this new ship's first mate that made her stand out, it had to be something else. And at first he hadn't seen it.

The captain had introduced her in a more formal manner after they'd returned from collecting Jayne's personal effects (which his old crew had given up quite easily once a still whimpering Marco had told them to). She had simply nodded curtly at him as her name was mentioned, and a short glance in her direction clearly told him that even though she stood by her captain's decisions regardless of what they were, it didn't mean she always agreed with him. He saw her stone cold face and the eyes that never wavered, and he saw what he'd seen countless times before:

Another icy bitch.

He'd known his share of them. If a woman was to have any chance at all at climbing up the chain of command, she had to be one. Ruthless, distant bitches with sharp elbows that wouldn't let you touch them. Not that it mattered; he was usually not that interested in them anyhow.

He didn't see much of her the first night he spent on Serenity. She'd disappeared to somewhere unknown after they'd shown him his room (the captain hadn't been lying about that) and the kitchen (full run of it, the captain had said, he hadn't been lying about that either) and the rest of the crew.

"So," the pilot, a pale and puny-looking fellow in a ridiculous shirt and a goofy grin on his face, said after introductions had been made, "Jayne? That's an unusual name. For a guy, I mean."