Ain't So Afraid of Being Lost

Well, here goes nothing. He pushed open the door to her bunk and climbed the short way down the ladder. When he got to the bottom, he flashed her a little smile. Sometimes it really hit him just how much like Zoe she looked. And now was one of those times. “How ya doing?” He felt self-conscious. Like he was making all this harder than it had to be. But really - how did anyone just start this kinda conversation?

Wash cleared his throat and moved to sit down on the end of her bed. He reached into the pocket of his flight suit for the necklace. “So - uh- I was goin’ through some stuff and I found this. Thought you should  probably have it.” He shrugged and a sheepish smile flickered across his face. “Probably should have given it to you ages ago…” He held out the thin cord. “It was your mom’s,” he said. He sucked in a deep breath. “Uh - she had it in the war. One of her bootlaces. After it was all over, she wore it around her neck.” He gestured vaguely, as if to demonstrate but mostly he was still looking at the necklace. Damn. Those are some memories there… For a long moment, he was lost in remembering just how it looked against her skin.

Craning her neck curiously, Emma watched as her father pulled out a worn looking leather string. Not much to look at, but as soon as he said what it was, the girl could feel a lump forming in her throat and her eyes felt a might glossy. Damn it, she was going to cry. Gently, she took the bootlace from her father, the worn was material warmer than she would have guessed it to be. Her father was speechless and when she dared to glance over at him, there was a faraway look in his eyes. Sometimes when  he talked about her mother, he looked very, very lost. Suddenly, almost all at once, he seemed to snap out of it 

With relief, Emma watched as he smiled -- though it didn’t seem a hundred percent genuine -- and played his hand at a joke. With tears still dancing behind her eyelids, the laugh she choked up was definitely real, but rough.  “You know I only wear the best designers in the ‘verse, but I think I can make it work.” She chuckled once more, but soon grew quiet, her eyes darting from the bootlace to her father. When she spoke again, her words were soft and she met his eyes when she said them. “Will you help me put it on?”

He hadn’t expected to find it. Hell, it had been years since he’d seen it at all. Kept away in a box, carefully tucked on a shelf. It was easier that way. He could almost pretend that the ‘out of sight out of mind’ thing wasn’t a total crock. That he hadn’t been missing her for fifteen years, pretending to their friends - and their kid  - that he was okay. But an unexpected closet cleaning brought all that to a screeching halt the second he opened the lid of the dusty shoebox. 

Her necklace. The one she’d worn every day he’d known her.  Wash let out a shaky breath and turned it over in his hands. It felt kinda wrong. She never took it off - so why should he  be manhandling it now? It should be left in peace. With the rest of his memories of her. Especially when all it did was pick at an old wound. 

Except…. it wasn’t just his wound, was it? A stab of guilty realization panged in his stomach. Emma. There was all this stuff in boxes, stuff he’d thought was best untouched. But really it was hers. Shoulda been hers the second she was old enough to ask questions about her mom. Jesus, Washburne. How terrible at this are you?

It had been a quiet sorta day, one of those days where not even the air in Serenity seemed to move. The ship, a little too still. The crew, a little too quiet. After the crazy of yesterday, how could she really blame any of them for the safe boredom-- but there was an antsy-ness to the girl. A year or so ago it began and since then just  built until the hull of the ship was starting to feel like the opposite of the free Mal liked to go on and on about. The bed creeked beneath her as she shifted her weight, staring up at the metal ceiling-- although her thoughts were far, far away, lost among stars she longed to explore.

Nearly grown and yet Emma didn’t know exactly what it was she longed for. The stars. That was always the go to. To explore and weave her way between stars, not as a passenger neither, but... freer. To point in a direction and be able to go, no questions asked. It wasn’t quite piloting-- though she probably had a grander knowledge of the craft than most folks her age. It wasn’t even being a part of any part of a ship. 

That tended to happen, didn’t it? The more time you spend somewhere, no matter how much you love it, there’s only so long that it can remain the only thing you’ve ever known. Serenity had always been her home. She knew no life but the rough and tumble. There had to be more. She stretched her hand up out in front of her, like she was reaching for something-- seeing just how far she could go, longing to grab hold of--