Shift

Free for all ages.

Fluffiest fluff that ever fluffed. With a tiny hint of aaaangst. Tiny.

Post-Serenity, with Spoilers .

All scathing feedback welcome. Unscathing, too.

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The lights were dimmed for the night, giving the infirmary with its multitude of reflective surfaces a calming glow. It was almost completely quiet, not counting the steady hum of the engine. Or the occasional beep from one of the monitors.

Or the very, very soft sound of Zoe breathing.

There was always a stillness to her, an economy of movement beyond such things as distracted fidgeting, but this unstirring sleep had nothing to do with control and everything with the lack of it.

It had been a close call. Bad judgment.

She was slipping away from him, away from the world, in pieces, every few weeks, just when he thought she was out of the woods she would do something and slip . She'd make him watch her die. Zoe, of all people.

She made him watch out so it wouldn't happen. He'd never had to, before, had no practice in it. So here she was, again, and here he was, again, in the middle of the night, willing her body to recover more quickly and take her mind along with it.

Sometimes he found himself wondering who he'd trade to get Wash back from the dead and he never had an answer that didn't make his heart bleed.

"Cap'n?"

It appeared he wasn't the only one awake with worry.

Kaylee's disheveled form stood in the infirmary door, sleepily blinking. Judging by the white men's undershorts that did a very bad job of matching her flowery shirt, Mal guessed she hadn't made her way to him from her own bunk. He wanted to be disturbed but, truthfully, he was too tired to muster up the effort.

"Hey."

With one hand he beckoned her closer until she walked straight into his hug.

"How is she doing?" One of Kaylee's hands, almost completely clean, reached out to pick invisible lint off Zoe's blanket. "Simon said she should have had a transfusion."

"Yeah