Unfinished - Zoe and Wash origins

I'm just grabbing this out of my lj - from 2 1/2 damn years ago, geez louise! Mistakes, cross outs, notes to my neurotic self - and yeah, it ends in the middle of a scene. Mostly I wrote it because I think Alan is a complete delight and I loved imagining him in this story.

He bothered her. She didn't know why, and for weeks didn't stretch herself in any attempt to find out.

It wasn't how he kept on asking, even knowing she was going to shoot him down. That, she'd anticipated, even before Mal had mentioned it, the first night their new pilot spent on Serenity.

"He's sweet on you."

"I guess you're not his type, sir."

Zoe wouldn't quibble about his flying ability - he moved Serenity through the sky as though he could feel her like his own skin. As though anything nearby her, even unseen, would disturb him like a bothersome draft might lift the silly, blond, all-too-soft looking hair on his head. On his forearms. In the shadow of his bottom lip on the days he didn't shave.

Who dresses like him, outside of those employed to entertain at children's birthday parties? Wrapping paper colors, stands out against the landscape, makes him far too easy a target.

And the moustache was clearly an indication of a serious character defect, even apart from the ungodly cheerfulness. First thing in the morning, even that morning after he'd surprised them both and joined them in a night of purposeful drinking. Less grim, with Hoban Washburne accompanying them. One more thing to irk her, if she chose to let it: their pilot sings when he's drunk. Every time he got up for a drink or a snack or a deck of cards or a piss - the man wasn't one for sitting still, odd in a pilot - he'd keep himself entertained with a song. Songs of home beyond reach, lost friends, lonely souls against the indifferent sky. But also songs of romance, pleasure, unabashed foolishness. He didn't seem to be able to make up his mind, pick one or another and stick with it. Irksome, but not so much she'd leave the table, her Captain, the whiskey, and the chance to hear what he'd sing next.

First time they were dirtside together, wrapping up a job that for once didn't cost more in bandages than it paid, they headed into Yiyi's bar. Cheap, begrimed with layers of unspeakably nasty detritus from years of drunken bad judgement. But the little patch of lemongrass Yiyi had growing in a swampy patch of gutter on the roof kept them coming back - strongest, hottest tom kha around, certainly potent enough to defeat whatever biohazard clung to the chipped edges of the serving bowls.

Zoe expected that she and Mal would be remembered, either for their regular patronage or for the odd brawl they'd started/finished over the years. She also had a vague recollection on Mal and Yiyi doing some booze-fueled grappling in the side alley years back. That had been Yiyi's ploy to get her fry cook jealous, and it had worked. He was Mr. Yiyi now, and Zoe saw he favored Mal with the expected pitying glance. Still no woman for you, comrade. Console yourself with the soup. What Zoe did not expect to see were the hungry, liquid-eyed expressions of 3 of Yiyi's most promising young barflies, jostling Mal into a cart of dirty (dirtier) dishes when they caught sight of the pilot.

He'd excused himself from their table with an expression that looked almost shy, as the women put their hands on him and arched their backs to coo into his ears.

"I know who you are, you're Wash," accused the seeming leader of the campaign, a small, wiry girl with astonishing yellow hair.

"My old boyfriend said you ain't that hot a pilot." Alpha Skank grinned up at Wash while she traced the petals around one of his shirt buttons. "Course he only said that 'cause he's not near fast as you." This weighty analysis caused the two Junior Skanks to laugh suggestively and pull his arms over their shoulders. The entire party lurched toward the bar like a horny octopus, trailing Wash's nervous-sounding laughter behind them.

Mal looked at Zoe and Kaylee in astonishment. "He gets three? That's a passing strange turn of events. Is there something about that man I'm unaware of?"

Zoe's brief glance took in their new pilot, licking something off the neck of one of the Skanks while the other two hooted and rubbed at his chest and shoulders. "I find it mystifyin' myself. Suppose there's women as have a weakness for pilots."

"Oh, yeah," Kaylee supplied, nodding at her Captain. "There's lots of girls go through that pilot-groupie stage. 'Specially the fast ones."

"Pilot ain't much without a ship to fly." Mal's mood would not improve until the tom kai and a few shots of baijiu distracted him from Wash's unparalelled welcome.

"Plus, he's cute. And funny. And it can get a girl thinking, he knows all them buttons to press, when to push, when to pull up, that's got to be a good sign, right? For the sexin'. Girl can't be on top all the time, some nights your arms get tired. Bet that don't happen to you, Zoe, you're real strong. Or, when you're too tipsy to keep your seat. Havin' a man who knows how to flip-"

"Please." Mal's face was scant inches from the crusty tabletop and he was pressing his palms, hard, into each temple. "I'm begging you not to finish that sentence."

Some time later, Mal had become bored of pouting in favor of more baijiu and exchanging congenial insults with the drinkers around him. He sent Zoe with a message for the pilot. "Tell him he's to be on board by 8 AM. I want to get gone."

"I'll let him know." Zoe knew Wash had staggered into Yiyi's decrepit piano, used more as a drying rack for sticky bar aprons than an actual instrument of music. With 2 of the Skanks still attached like lampreys, he had pried back the cover on the keys and started experimenting, running deft if drunken fingers over their chipped surfaces. Zoe was surprised that she actually recognized the song - a suggestive tune written by a man declaring his fervent appreciation for the sway of his woman's hips. The Skanks exchanged knowing leers and roared, shaking their tightly clothed bottoms in time to his rhythm.

Wash stopped when Zoe approached. "You need me?" he asked, attempting to rise. "Because I can -"

"No reason to disappoint your audience." She favored the Skanks with a beatific smile. "Cap'n says 8 AM." Zoe turned on a booted heel and strode back to Mal. She could feel the pilot watching her until she turned the corner and passed out of sight.

And it happened that way, so regularly over the next few months, that it ceased to be a surprise and Mal gave up complaining. Apparently, Wash was well-known among the women in the ports they visited. Zoe never saw him seek out a woman, but they always did find him. Each time, he seemed just as abashed and almost puzzled. More than once, Zoe caught the end of a questioning look he sent her way, but she didn't know what the question was. Another way he bothered her.

The pilot reputation would have sufficed, but he liked to sing when he drank. Happened that he could also mess around, quite ably, with a guitar and similar stringed instruments, as well as the occasional piano. There'd be some painted up and itchy-looking woman hanging on him, but he'd be intent on coaxing a song or two out of whatever instrument he'd pulled down from the wall of the bar. Sometimes he'd tug Kaylee along with him and sing to her, making her giggle while the tramp - or tramps - glowered sideways at her and hissed. After a few songs, Kaylee would get her eye set on some sweet heartbreak of a boy, and she'd leave Wash to his admirers.

He was never late getting back to the ship, but there were times he did cut it close. Half falling out of a mule driven by some girl with too much in the way of makeup, too little in the way of undergarments. He'd stagger back for a good-bye kiss - once Zoe saw him get well and groped for his trouble - then haul himself up the loading ramp, smelling like easy virtue.

Then came the explaining. "We were sitting up in the hovercraft most of the night. Fun, but the upholstery was torn and now my skin's all abraded. Plus, I have a kink in my neck."

"Am I sparkly? Because she had this lotion all over her, some kind of glittery - I feel awkward, being sparkly on the job. Do you think Mal will notice?"

"I didn't know, but she called this girlfriend to meet us at her apartment. Girl has a key. Apparently, they've done this before because they were so comfortable with each other. It was really sweet, actually."

The funny part was, he actually did think it was sweet. Zoe had been around talkers before - men anxious for everyone to know what conquistadors they were - but that didn't seem to be Wash's motivation. He wasn't going for laughs, either. Each time, he seemed in affectionate awe over whatever carnal nonsense his temporary lady/ladies had in mind. Not a mean or ungenerous bone in his body. Which irked her.

Sometimes he'd engage autopilot and lope around the ship looking for someone to pass time with. On really quiet days, it'd be Kaylee, out from the engine room, watching some old movie on the Cortex. Or he'd come and find Zoe, start up some inconsequential chatter about the last job, the next job, anything really. She'd let it go for a bit, then...

"Don't you have a ship to steer?"

And he'd glance at his timepiece, smile, and be gone.

There was a morning she was seated at the galley table when he came in. She heard his steps slow as he approached; she could feel his eyes on her. He poured himself a cup of the aggressive, oily black drink Mal called coffee, and sat across from her.

"Morning, Miz Zoe," he joked. She didn't reply, and his question surprised her. "Sleep well?"

Not particularly. "Like a sweet baby lamb in the springtime." Bad dreams last night, couldn't take to her bunk, spent the night sitting in the corner with her back pressed against the cold steel wall. Eyes on the ladder. Watching for ambush. She must have let slack her vigilance and slept at some point - she remembers waking with an unsheathed knife in her hand. Also, the side she'd pressed into the corner - neck as well as shoulder - had stiffened and were causing some pain.

"I know how to fix that." The eyes she turned to him gave him a sliver of permission to continue. "Your shoulder. I saw that you...that is, you're always so perfectly..." He cleared his throat. "You're out of alignment. It must hurt." She was about to cut him off when he added, "Range of motion. Stiff like that, it could slow you down on the job. I can fix it." He flexed his fingers in the space above his coffee cup, looking oddly tense.

"What's that entail?" Pilot or no, if this was some kind of play, well, they'd be in no-pilot terrain soon.

"I'd just have you...you'd just lean forward" he was already fetching a ratty little moss green pillow from the sitting area. "Rest your head on this," he offered her the cushion. "and let your arms rest on your lap." He watched as she arranged herself.

"You can vouch for the cleanliness of those hands? They been places I'd shudder to think on." When he frowned and looked abashed, Zoe sighed. "It's a joke, Washburne."

"Well, I just wouldn't want you...shuddering."

His hands were warm and strong on her neck and shoulder and it made Zoe try to recall the last time anyone had touched her. Mal, of course. On the job. Mostly that was in warning: this way or get down. Zoe didn't figure that counted. Nor did getting stitched up, iced down, or bandaged in the inevitable messy aftermath. There were men she knew in some ports, those that knew the drill with her. Don't call me, don't ask me questions, don't bother me.

"Ai ya, that muscle's one big snarl. Have you heard of this wacky new thing called a mattress?" It would have been ungrateful to shush him when he was in the middle of doing her a favor. "How far down does this go?" he wondered aloud, pressing his fingers further along the length of the knot. Zoe figured he didn't really need an answer and hummed softly in response. She heard his breath catch and wondered why. The pressure from his thumbs, following each other on a confident path from her shoulder blade up her neck to her hairline, made her forget about wondering. Her eyes closed themselves.

"Tell me if I'm hurting you." Wash didn't break contact when he switched from his thumbs to the flat of his palms, tracing the same area and deepening the pressure.

"Ain't likely." The muscle felt like a thick length of twine, twisted and pulled much too tight, starting to fray all along its length. A hot bath might have done the trick, but Zoe hadn't so much as seen an actual soaking tub since a few birthdays ago. Courtesy of one of the men, one who knew her both too well and not well enough. The tub had been a nice idea, but she couldn't say she missed the man.

----------------

She was the most astonishing woman he was ever going to meet, he knew that the first time he saw her. Laid eyes on her and surprised himself with a prayer of thankfulness back to old Dr. Dahui, who'd stayed the 20 minutes in the metro clinic that day. Fixed a knocking-on-blind kid's eye, let the kid grow up flying, right out of the fetid, textured-air atmosphere of home, and far away. Far enough away to get a job, lose a job, need a job, and meet Zoe Alleyne.

He'd spent a bitter, chuckly couple of days before he found out the broody, uncommunicative tough-guy Captain wasn't her boyfriend. Zoe showed herself to be amused at his word choice. Apparently war heroes didn't have boyfriends. Wash kept going, remembering an old proverb about thin ice and boldness. "Is there a special fella out there anywhere?"

Zoe still wore the smile, but her eyebrows rose inquiringly. "Are we getting all confidential?"

"Well, I - " Wash ------. "What about dinner?"

Zoe nodded. "Not a bad idea." She ---------. "I'll get Mal, meet you in the cargo - "

"No." --------- "I'd like to take you out to dinner. You and I. Dinner. Food. Conversation. Colorful, fizzy beverages."

Zoe shook her head, not unkindly. "That's not happening."

"Why not?"

"Cause it ain't."

"I'm planning to ask you again."

"And I'm planning to say no."

In the hair-trigger suspicious climate after the war, he'd kept alive by putting strangers at ease. Landing in frontier hamlets on the bidding of maybe one person who wanted him there, bearing goods the settlers needed and resented him all the more for hauling, stuff they'd had to do without for too long to be simply happy to see. Bringing people who weren't welcome. Taking away those who were leaving the hopeless familiar for blanchingly dangerous opportunity. The slimmest chance at a future, a job, a way to earn and send some coin back. He'd gotten used to grim eyes on him, to his small pleasantries falling flat, greetings pointedly unanswered. He'd accustomed himself to listening and waiting as long as it took to earn the bit of trust that would allow him to do his job.

Things were better now. Not better, better. People were still poor and desperate and rough and duplicitous, many places. Some places rich and polite and charming, but just as much with the duplicitous. But sometimes there were also bars, drinks, snacks, a piano. Women who didn't glare, but smiled at him, wrapped friendly arms around him, passed some sweet hours with him in a soft, woman-smelling bed.

Besides which, his new Captain seemed to be the default target for anybody looking for a one of them to dislike. Wash benefitted from comparisons to Mal. Except with Zoe. She, for some mysterious reason, didn't seem to mind Mal's surliness, contrariness (word), or general pain-in-the-assedness at all.

It was something he might have seen about her, and about them, if the dazzling aura around her very existence hadn't flummoxed him so. She and Mal clearly weren't a couple. No, Zoe acted as though she'd grown up with a very bad-tempered twin, that she understood him so completely as a way to balance the rest of the 'verse not getting him in the slightest.

Wash didn't get Mal in the slightest. If there was a woman who'd follow him anywhere, who looked like a goddess, who moved as though she was perfectly and unconcernedly aware of every naked thought a man might entertain, if that woman turned her eyes to him with love and trust and respect...he'd buy himself a fancy hat to twirl. And a back-up hat for when the fancy one got smudgy from all the twirling. He'd be one contented man.

As it was, she thought he was a fool. Zoe Alleyne, unimpressed. Unimpressable. Even when he did for her what he did better than anyone. That was flying, and Wash knew it, no matter what any new friend of his might say, in the dark, in her bed, on that hour's turning world. Not a matter for bragging, nor false modesty: flying was what he'd been born to do. It occupied his mind, its joys and troubles, in between ----- She'd show she was mildly pleased; not appreciably excited or grafeful, except in the acknowledgement that, with him flying, there was one fewer problem for her to fret about that day. One fewer thing on a long list of things, the Captain's inclinations when choosing jobs made the long list of things a given.

So he kept on asking, and she kept on shooting him down. All the while, he got to know her a little bit more each day. How she loved to laugh; how important truth-telling was to her, in any circumstance, she was not one for equivocating; how it seemed her mind was always reaching and turning, reflecting and supposing...(make this better, please).

Boldness on thin ice was one thing, but he wouldn't have been so forward if she hadn't looked to be in pain that day. And that kind of come-on? The backrub segue? So excruciatingly cheesy, he could only offer and hope, hope she knew he was above that oily kind of scheming.

Her shoulder must have been bad, for her to consent to being touched. By him. So he touched her, pressed, rubbed, diligently coaxing knotted up fibers back to where they belonged. Feeling this strange joy at getting to help her.

Until without warning Zoe straightened and then stood, the shabby pillow already in hand. She pushed the chair in, tossed the pillow back to its home on the couch, walked away toward the doorway. Called a soft "thank you" after her just before crossing the threshold to meet Mal on his approach. Wash hadn't even heard him.

"Bye!" He looked at his own hand, tracing a faltering wave through the air. Dropped the hand to hitch a thumb in his coveralls, cleared his throat, set his voice an octave lower, to manly-competent. "I'll be ready - "

Mal kept walking, in step with Zoe. "See to it that you are."

------------------------------

Painkillers were in the infirmary closet. Hot packs too - Mal saw to that. Zoe knew he'd decline to use what he needed, time to time, just to make sure they didn't run out. It was his way of looking out for her.

She'd been about to walk down there and avail herself of some pharmaceuticals when Wash had offered. Turning it over in her mind, Zoe could not make it less of a puzzlement, why she'd let him put hands to her. Not that he'd been anything less than proper.

She was still surprised over it. The refusal, the accompanying smile, were ready on her lips, but she found herself resting on that sketchy old pillow, feeling impatience as he moved her hair to the side and warmed her skin with slow and careful hands.

Haha, flyboys. Yeah, that's my understanding how it goes with the girls in ports.

Do I detect a hint of jealousy already with Zoe towards those girls? That she's unaware of, but still there anyway?

And yeah, somehow it seems accurate that Wash would be all about having fun, but then be self-conscious about what the other members of the crew thought about him and try to laugh it off.

Still pretty good with all the blank spaces and notes. I'll give it a better look over in a bit, once I know the day's schedule.

I think Alan would do a fantastic job as the guy all the girls hit on - and he goes along with it because hey, what's the downside? And yes, he's the alpha pilot and that gets noticed. I'd also love to see Nathan get to play Mal triply insulted at getting jostled aside in the bar in favor of Wash!

Zoe's getting less and less amused by Wash's playing around, although it's still on such a very low level that she's not aware of it. On his part, he's already crazy about Zoe and his embarrassment is due to her seeing him be the "fool for love," but he's also looking at her hoping to see any hint of annoyance or displeasure. He'd give any of these women up in a heartbeat just to spend time with her but she acts pretty much indifferent to him.

Yay for this fic seeing the light of day!! You know I love your Zoe/Wash.

Wash would totally creep into Zoe's heart when she was not expecting or wanting it. I just love to think about her eventually understanding that this silly man lifts her spirit in a way that no one ever has. That she wants that lightheartedness in her life. I imagine Zoe always with a great sense of humor but the time after SV, it didn't rise to the surface as quick as it once did. And then here comes this guy who's far quicker with a grin and a joke than anyone she's seen in a long, long time. And fun jokes. Not like the wry jokes she sometimes shares with Mal. (love, love, love their interaction in Out of Gas when she first sees Serenity)

They really are perfect for each other.

Wash's skills with pianos and music actually kind of reminds me of a scene from top gun. My brother used to watch that movie all the time, he was an ace with simulators, though nowadays he's more into the lawyering.

Anyway, I've zeroed on on some of the parenthesis and blanks for some initial editting work. I don't see anything wrong with the premise or anything contradictory, so I think really all we need is the fill in the blanks stuff. The end doesn't look quite finished, and I can help brainstorm where else to go. Somehow I picture Wash getting more heartbroken and Zoe getting more impatient and frustrated with him, and then there's maybe an explosion that surprises Zoe herself.

dirty (dirtier) - Hmm. While dirtier implies the dishes are moreso than some of the others at the joint and that's saying something, dirty might be best. Because in order for the "dirtier" one to work, you have to keep dirty in so that you're elaborating on it. Like Zoe looked closer at the dishes and readjusted her estimation of the amount of filth encrusted on them.

>easy virtue

Ha. I like that turn of phrase.

>I feel awkward, being sparkly on the job.

Man, you wear day-glo hawaiian shirts, I don't think anyone's going to look twice.

>Each time, he seemed in affectionate awe over whatever carnal nonsense his temporary lady/ladies had in mind. Not a mean or ungenerous bone in his body. Which irked her.

Ha, and that's about as true an assessment of Wash as I'd ever seen, I mean look at how he still seems kind of surprised that he won Zoe over, you know?

>"Sleep well?"

Hmm. Wonder if Wash knows or guesses more about how the war has affected Zoe and Mal than he lets on. I suppose it would be hard to ignore.

>Fixed a knocking-on-blind kid's eye

Interesting head canon.

>"Well, I - " Wash ------. "What about dinner?"

Stumble and a blurt? That's how I'd imagine this one. Wash awkward, there's a double meaning there that distracted him, then before his brain catches up with his mouth...

Zoe nodded. "Not a bad idea." She ---------. "I'll get Mal, meet you in the cargo - "

Depends. Does she deliberately misunderstand him here, or is the misunderstanding genuine and the days getting on and she's a little peckish?

"No." --------- "I'd like to take you out to dinner. You and I. Dinner. Food. Conversation. Colorful, fizzy beverages."

I'm imagining Wash here, a little serious, also maybe a little strained, because this conversation is just not working out well for him and he can see where it's going. Bit of disappointment and resignation before she even says no.

>didn't seem to mind Mal's surliness, contrariness (word), or general pain-in-the-assedness at all.

Don't really think that needs anything else, kinda about covers everything.

>It occupied his mind, its joys and troubles, in between -----

"the laughing and the flirting" maybe? It kinda might bridge into the part about Zoe again that follows, plus his life at that point does pretty much look like it's all about flying, laughing, and flirting.

>how it seemed her mind was always reaching and turning, reflecting and supposing...(make this better, please).

Well, I don't think that's bad, I think that it's fairly accurate, but I also think what Wash is notice about Zoe there is that she's always kind of on guard, watching and assessing. It's only rare times she seems to relax, and those times kinda interest Wash. He's seeing something underneath.

Anyway, hope that helps.

This is a very beautifully-written, funny story. I'm not thatinterested in Zoe-Wash - and I don't know if it's because I'm not that interested in Zoe, or in Wash, or in either of them. But I really enjoyed reading this.

Byte's worked hard to make really good suggestions. The only bit that I agreed you could make better was <how it seemed her mind was always reaching and turning, reflecting and supposing> but that's probably because I don't see her that way:

reaching - I actually see as her quite judgmental, making her mind up quickly. I also see this as part of her confidence - she's seen the Verse, she knows what she thinks of it and she's not going to agonise over whether her decisions and view of things is correct.

turning - likewise, this seems to suggest some kind of indecision, but Zoe seems to have a very well-worked out code that she refers to whenever there's thinking to be done. Also, her world is actually quite narrow - Serenity may travel far and wide but perhaps always on the same track.

reflecting - I can see her holding things up against her code and experiences to see how they fit. But I would imagine that Wash is the first person who has made her do this since forever: if people don't fit, she dismisses them. But she can't dismiss him. He doesn't fit, but the ways he doesn't fit are great.

supposing - now that verb I do see as fitting Zoe, for all the reasons I've already said!

I hope you find this helpful - if you want to chew anything over just reply here!

Do you have ideas, of how this develops to where they finally get together? List please!

Well, from what I've read, they basically argued a lot, then Mal noticed a lot of those arguments ended up with one following the other to one of their bunks. Then after they got together they were ridiculously sugar-sweet (from Mal's point of view, since he disapproved and since it's so odd to see any kind of affection from Zoe, he might have been exaggerating). Then they got married, and have a solid relationship and are happy together, and its only been recently Mal's seen them argue about ANYTHING (Zoe wants kids).

Thanks for the input - I've started a new summer job and then a crazy storm tore through town Friday night and knocked out our power for the weekend. I hope to have time to jump back on tonight and contribute more substantially

Yeah, I heard there was a lot of storm issues. I guess you all live kind of in the mid-atlantic area, huh? Well, except me and Aliasse anyway.

Glad you're okay. Be good to hear from everyone else too. I've heard from EB, I'm not sure how Charlie or wytchcroft or Anothersky are doing.

gilliebeans wrote:I think Alan would do a fantastic job as the guy all the girls hit on - and he goes along with it because hey, what's the downside? And yes, he's the alpha pilot and that gets noticed. I'd also love to see Nathan get to play Mal triply insulted at getting jostled aside in the bar in favor of Wash!

This.
Gorramit! This.

Beautiful piece of fic and characterisation and - a damn shame we won't get to see it. Apologies for the slowness of my response.

Oh hi!

Yeah, Nathan would do a really good neglected mope and Alan would really ham it up.

Bytemite wrote:Oh hi!

Yeah, Nathan would do a really good neglected mope and Alan would really ham it up.

Yep. For True. And - le sigh (wistful like).

Really enjoyed this fic, GB. It just feels like very authentic Wash and Zoe voices, and I, too, would just love to see our favorite actors playing out this scene.

And again, reading for the nth time; i think i can learn a lot from how well you write your Zoe, Gillie.

Sometimes, I read GR's stories just to kick myself in the rear and remind myself how to use description.

Bytemite wrote:Sometimes, I read GR's stories just to kick myself in the rear and remind myself how to use description.

hell i probably just steal! LOL.

But i actually get intimidated inspired (koff!) by the quality of so many fic writers; and i include you on that list.

Nah, i probably just steal.