All Kaylee does is drop Niska’s name. Just two syllables, five letters, but in the corner of Zoe’s eyes, she sees Wash stiffen. Nothing that anybody else would notice; only Zoe sees, because only she knows what to see.

His eyes widen ever so slightly, and he squares his jaw, keeping his eyes on Kaylee while in his head, he’s back in the torture cell. He reaches out his hand that once lay relaxed on the table, clutches Zoe’s, and that’s when she feels his fear. Wash squeezes her hand, bracing himself for another beating, another shock of electricity in his mind.

It’s happened before, and Zoe knows what he needs. She grips his hand just as tight as he’s holding her. With her free hand, she just barely touched Wash’s arm, telling him I’m here for you, I got you out, he won’t get you again, and keeping him grounded. It’s the kind of assurance he needs.

Was this a few months ago, Wash would have left the room and spent the night on the bridge. That doesn’t happen anymore, but he still needs Zoe to help him through.

They don’t even look at eachother, not until Wash steadies himself, blinks back to reality, relaxes. He’s not squeezing Zoe’s hand anymore, doesn’t need to, but he’s still holding it.

Zoe lets go first, knowing just when it’s ok to do so, when Wash will let her, but her other hand, under the table, reaches for his hand again.

He makes a joke now, smiles, laughs, and is fine again, but now Zoe wants to hold his hand not to help him, but to help herself.