This is a fan fiction set in the Firefly/Serenity universe created by Joss Whedon. It takes place after the events in the television series and the companion motion picture that followed. This means it has SPOILERS, folks, and major ones at that. So please don't read this unless you get the chance to see the series and the movie -- both, in my opinion, some of the best science fiction ever created for the big or small screen.

But if you're already a Browncoat tried and true -- someone who knows what it means to have "done the impossible" -- read on!

FIREFLY: CONNECTING FLIGHT
by Randalynn

Synopsis:
Just out of flight school, Hoban Washburne learns how to "do the impossible." After saving Serenity and losing his life, Wash is offered the chance to go back and keep his old crew alive -- but of course, there's always a catch . . .

Chapter One -- Changing Planes

It was the night before graduation. He should be back at The Hanger, guzzling rice wine and celebrating his hard-won employability with the rest of the students. After all, there were a few high-ticket offers sitting in his message queue, waiting for him to decide where he wanted to work and how much he was going to make. The future was finally here, and if opportunity was knocking, Hoban Washburne wanted to make sure he greeted it at the front door with beer, snacks, and a hearty welcome.

But Skinny said he needed to come here, tonight. To this small green door in the heart of the market district, with all the stalls and stores closed up tight, force fields sparking as he walked past, his footsteps echoing down the empty streets.

"Think of it as a final lesson, Washburne," Skinny had said, taking him aside after his last class. "You've got what it takes to be a great pilot. But this guy . . . well, this guy could make you the best there is. If you're willing to take a chance."

Normally, Wash wouldn't be caught dead in this part of the city at night. 'Well,' he mused, 'maybe I'd be caught and then wind up dead.' He grinned in spite of himself. 'Coming here definitely wasn't the smartest thing Mrs. Washburne's little boy has every done. But nobody ever said I was smart — devastatingly handsome, maybe, but certainly not smart.'

He caught a glimpse of his reflection in a shop window, and one finger crept up to touch the bushy mustache that hung under his nose like a blond boot brush. Half the time he just wanted to shave the thing off. He almost felt like he was hiding behind it.

'The other half of the time, I can't bear to . . . just cut it down in its prime,' Wash thought with a grin. 'At first, I wasn't sure about having a moustache, but then it just . . . grew on me . . . ' He snorted, and turned away from the window to face his destination. Squaring his shoulders, he marched towards the door, half-smile still playing across his lips.

As he reached the door, it swung open before he could knock. After a brief pause, Wash sauntered into the black entryway like he didn't have a care in the world.

The door closed silently behind him.

After a few seconds staring into a darkness as black as space itself, a single spotlight popped on to reveal an ancient Chinese gentleman in brightly colored robes. He was sitting in the center of a highly polished hardwood floor that seemed to extend out beyond where the circle of light could reach.

"Hoban Washburne." The man spoke definitively, no question at all in his voice.

"Ah, I see my reputation has preceded me," Wash replied lightly, keeping a crooked smile on his face. "Who would have thought fame would find me so early in my career?"

"Actually, the name is written on your flight jacket." It was the man's turn to smile.

There was a long, slightly embarrassed silence. "Yes, well . . . you have me at a disadvantage," Wash said.

"Yes, I do." The man smiled again. "You may call me Chiang."

Another silence. Wash took a deep breath and shoved his hands in his pockets. "Well, I could call you Gladys, as far as that goes, but that's probably not your name either."

Chiang nodded, still smiling. "Chiang will do. Or Gladys, if you prefer. My name is unimportant. It is what I have to teach you that matters."

Wash nodded. "Skinny said you could make me a better pilot."

"Skinny?" The man's brow wrinkled briefly, then he smiled again. "Flight Instructor Erskin. Ah, yes. I presume you gave him the nickname?"

Wash looked down, almost sheepishly. He nodded.

"Flight Instructor Erskin weighs over three hundred pounds. Obviously, your nickname is not accurate."

"No, but it is funny as hell," Wash pointed out cheerfully. "Especially when the whole class started using it."

"Were you not afraid of angering your instructor?"

The flight school graduate grinned. "He's a pilot, too. That means he's got an ego the size of a gas giant and then some, or he'd never get behind the stick in the first place. He laughed as much as the rest."

Another silence. Chiang regarded Wash with a critical eye. "You do not, I see."

The pilot felt a wave of confusion run through him, not for the first time since he walked through the door. "Do not . . . what?"

"You do not have 'an ego the size of a gas giant,'" Chiang smiled. "You use humor to hide the fact that you do not possess a pilot's . . . overwhelming confidence . . . in all things."

Wash thought a minute, and shrugged. "Ba Jiu Bu Li Shi. I can fly anything that's meant to fly, and I can play at being ship's mechanic if you can't find anyone better. That's what I've got. You want gourmet cooking, impressionist art, or juggling geese, you need to keep looking."

Chiang nodded. "That is why . . . Skinny . . . sent you to me. There are few pilots who could learn what I have to teach. He apparently thinks you are one of them." Chiang considered, and nodded again. "And I agree."

Again, there was silence. Wash waited. Finally, Chiang spoke. "Have you ever considered the impossibility of flight?"

Wash looked at him, confused. "Since I'm a pilot, I tend to assume that when I get into a ship, it's going to go up, and hopefully stay there until I decide to bring it back down again. It's not really a good idea for me to think something can't fly."

"That is, of course, understandable," Chiang said in a conversational tone. "But consider this . . . when you look at a spacecraft, or any heavier-than-air vessel, what makes it fly . . . is faith."

"Faith?" Wash's mind spun, and he began to smile. "I've thrown my share of prayers into the black from time to time to keep a bird in the air, but there's a whole lot of science behind getting a ship off the ground and making it stay there."

"And you have faith in that science, correct?"

"Well . . . yes. Of course I do, or I wouldn't climb into the cockpit in the first place."

"And without you, would that ship fly?"

"I'm not the only pilot in space."

Chiang sighed. "Without someone sitting in that chair, holding onto that stick and believing that the ship can fly . . . would it ever get off the ground?"

"Will you hurt me if I mention the autopilot?"

"The autopilot has to be activated, again by someone who believes." He waved two fingers in a gesture that could have meant anything, but Wash instantly knew he was mildly irritated. "Let us stipulate that the ship must be fueled, its engines serviced. Now, please answer my question."

Wash sighed. "Yes. Someone has to believe the ship can fly, or it won't."

The old man nodded, a smile on his face. "Now, that belief is supported by the science of flight, because civilization as we know it has depended on science to explain how the Universe works for over a thousand years. But the belief itself can be strong enough to stand without the science."

Wash felt like he'd been kicked in the stomach. "Excuse me, but beliefs should be backed up by facts. Otherwise they're just opinions, and bad ones at that."

"We have already established one fact -- it takes faith to make a ship fly."

"Yes but it also takes a ship!" Chiang looked at him, and Wash felt a sudden need to make the man see reason. "Look, Gladys, Dui Niu Tan Qin, okay? I may be easy-going, but I know how the Verse works. What's real is real, and what isn't, isn't, right? And wind and gravity are real. A man can't fly just by thinking he can, anymore than he can breathe vacuum!" He paused for a second, and a smile touched the corner of his mouth. "Although there have been a few people in my past I'd have liked to see try."

Chiang favored him with a brief smile, but his eyes soon turned serious again.

"Consider the leaf on the wind," he said softly. "It does not think, or feel, or believe. It simply is. It dips, it soars . . . it flies, but only as the winds and gravity command. But if the leaf could think, could feel . . . could believe . . . it could also choose not to do what nature demanded. It could soar when the wind said to dip, or drift when there is no wind at all." His eyes found Wash's and held them, and the pilot could've sworn they flashed with a green fire that came from within. "Mister Washburne, the belief of a determined individual can be stronger than all that is, if only his will is strong enough."

Wash looked at the man for a moment, then shook his head and sighed.

"As entertaining as this conversation is," he said, "I'm afraid I can't agree with you. You're telling me I can do the impossible. I mean, if I had some proof . . . even a little . . . you would have my full and undivided attention. But as much as I love the idea of it, I find it hard to believe I can keep anything in the air just because I want it to fly. In a wrestling match with the Verse, I'm way out of my weight class." Wash gave Chiang a lopsided smile. "Or as my daddy used to say, 'wishing don't make it so.'"

Chiang sighed, closed his eyes, and rose effortlessly to hover several feet above Wash's head. His robes rustled as they drifted downwards, still listening to gravity with the obstinate lack of self-determination that only comes from the most inanimate of objects.

A chill ran through Wash's entire body as the old man floated over him with a serene smile.

"Of course, my daddy was wrong about so many things," the pilot said, his tone almost conversational. "At one point, he actually wanted me to be a ballerina."

Chiang's eyes narrowed. "You mean a ballet dancer?"

Wash shook his head. "Nope, a ballerina. Toe shoes, tights, tutu, sweaty guys throwing me in the air." He shrugged. "What can I say? Dad was always a bit . . . quirky."

"You are a strange man, Mister Washburne."

"Says the guy floating three feet over my head," Wash replied with a grin. "In any case, you have my attention, Gladys. Can you teach me to do that?"

Chiang bowed his head as he drifted back to the hardwood floor. "Sadly, that is not possible. Not in the time we have. It would require many years of dedication and study. But your mind is open to the possibility. I can plant the seeds, and over the years, they may grow. And one day you may find a way to bring the knowledge to the surface . . . when you need it most."

He beckoned Wash to come closer, and pointed to a spot on the floor nearby.

"Come," he said, a smile playing across his lips. "Consider this your . . . graduation present."

Wash dropped into a seated position and smiled back. "Oh, heck, and here I was hoping for a watch. Maybe a really nice fountain pen." Chiang threw him a dark look, and Wash held up his hands. "No, no! Floating is good, too! Really!"

Chiang sighed. "Then let us begin."

###

When it had finally sunk in that the battle was over, Serenity's crew realized that, for the first time in a long time, they could relax, just a little. So before they started the thankless task of putting their damaged ship -- and their home -- back together again, everyone gathered in the galley. Although the burials had been done and the funeral rockets fired, they all still needed to say goodbye to absent friends.

Surprisingly, the last of the Haven homebrew had made it through the battle intact, and everyone sat and drank and told stories about Book and Wash. Zoe was mostly silent, although she smiled every time someone mentioned her husband, and took another sip of her drink. The impromptu wake went on for hours, but eventually, one by one, the rest of the crew drifted off to bed, leaving only Mal and Zoe.

The silence was almost a comfortable one, but Mal fidgeted a bit, needing to say something but not quite knowing how. Zoe spoke first.

"It's all right, Captain," she said, her voice level and nearly emotionless. "We had to do it. Not just to save River, but to show everyone out there what the Alliance really was." Even though it was unspoken, Mal still heard what Zoe wanted him to hear. 'It's okay, Sir. I don't blame you for Wash's death.'

Mal looked down at the table and spoke into his glass. "For all the times he and I had words, and there was more than a few, you know how I felt about Wash. He was crew. He was family. For all the things he did to try and hide it, he was strong and he was smart. And he could fly like nobody else in the 'Verse. That's . . . that's somethin'." He took a big swallow, and reached over for the bottle for a refill. "I know . . . I know you loved him. And as much as it made my life a hell of a lot more interesting, I was happy for you when you found him -- when you found each other. I just --"

He went silent, and it was Zoe's turn to hear what wasn't said. 'You may not blame me, but I still do.' It was one of the qualities that made her follow him, on the battlefield and off.

For the Captain, there was no such thing as an acceptable loss.

Every man mattered.

And every death under his command killed a little piece of him as well.

'Which is why he left so much of himself behind in Serenity Valley,' she thought sadly.

Zoe put her hand on his and squeezed. Mal looked up, surprised, and she smiled.

"One thing's for sure," she said softly, "my man really could fly. I was surprised he managed to get us down alive, as bad off as Serenity was."

Mal nodded, almost happy to move away from his own sense of guilt. "That's a fact. That pulse weapon took out most of the flight systems. Wash kept us in the air with nothing but his own self to depend on. He saved us all."

The captain shook his head. "He kept sayin', 'I am a leaf on the wind.' As if it meant somethin'." He shrugged. "Maybe it did to him. Whatever it meant, it helped him keep us flying, and turned a crash into a landing."

Mal raised his glass.

"To Wash," he said, looking into Zoe's eyes. "He did the impossible."

Zoe raised her own. "To Wash," she replied, " a hell of a pilot, and one hell of a man."

They drank together, and the silence became right at last.

###

River listened to the conversation as she lay motionless in the ductwork near the galley door. She didn't actually have to be this close to hear anyone in the crew anymore. Still, she wanted that physical closeness. She wanted to be close, to make her feel like part of them all, even if the others didn't know she was there. She could feel Mal and Zoe in the galley. Even when she was lying in her bunk, their feelings washed over her like warm ocean waves.

She didn't know how she did it. But that didn't matter anymore. Since Miranda, she was able to control it, and it made her closer to everyone here on her ship. This was her home, and these people were her family, and River loved them all. She would do whatever it took to keep them safe -- use whatever it was the Alliance gave her to keep them flying.

Now River had an entire ship full of people to take care of. Not just Simon, but Kaylee and Inara and Mal and Zoe. Even Jayne. Especially Jayne. She frowned, thinking about the things she'd seen him do in the past few days.

'He isn't the man he was,' she thought, reaching out to touch his sleeping mind. 'He fought it every step of the way, but he's changed since we came to Serenity. Jayne's finally getting that this crew is more than a crew, and maybe there are things that matter more than the next paycheck.' She smiled. 'He's growing up. Fun to watch.'

River thought back to what Mal and Zoe has said. Wash really had done the impossible. And for a few seconds there, as the ship fell like a stone, she had felt something change. It was as if Wash had reached out and turned the ship from a hunk of metal into an extension of his will, like a part of him. He just . . . MADE it stay in the air long enough to land safely.

It was impossible. But he had done it, just as she had fought an entire army of Reavers and won.

Somehow, River knew the 'Verse wasn't quite done with Wash yet.

'Maybe I'll see him again,' she thought with a smile. 'Stranger things have happened.'

###

Wash opened his eyes to find his world totally white. Floor and ceiling, anyway. The walls were either non-existent, or so far away they might as well be. The horizon was nothing more than a grayish blur

'Wherever I am,' he thought with a smile, 'I could really make it big as an interior decorator. These folks know nothing about color . . . let alone furniture.' He grinned. 'I've seen asteroids with more atmosphere than this.'

"Still, talk about your empty canvas . . ." Wash spoke aloud, and stopped. He was expecting an echo, but instead there was nothing. The sound was just swallowed by the vastness of the space. Creepy.

"So much to work with here, too. Lots of empty space. Add some comfy chairs, a few throw rugs, some nice curtains . . . maybe some nice windows to put the curtains on?" His voice trailed off. Wash felt a little panic rising from deep inside. Jokes only went so far, and the last thing he remembered was getting Serenity on the ground and looking over at his wife with pride. There was a sharp pain in the middle of his chest, and then nothing.

"Well, not exactly nothing." He spun around slowly to survey the emptiness. "But close enough, I guess."

"Welcome, Hoban Washburne."

The voice came from behind him, and it seemed familiar somehow. He turned, and saw Chiang floating a few feet in front of him . . . and a few feet above the floor.

"Gladys!" Wash exclaimed happily, and did his best to keep his smile small when he saw Chiang sigh. "What are you doing here?"

"I am doing what I have always done," Chiang said. "Working hard to restore the balance. Harder now, since I passed on."

"Passed on? You're dead?" The older man nodded. Wash grinned. "Well, that explains the huge empty room then. Sort of. Seems a bit sparse for Heaven's waiting room, though, doesn't it? Surely the gods could spring for some furniture, or a few potted plants?"

Chiang smiled. "Does it truly bother you?"

Wash thought for a moment. "Some. I started traveling for the scenery, after all. It feels all sorts of wrong when there isn't any."

There was a long pause, and Wash looked up at the older man. "I'm dead, aren’t I?"

Chiang nodded, his face impassive. "Just so."

The pilot nodded back. "Thought as much."

He walked around in a circle, his mind spinning. "Huh. It's funny. I should feel something, but I don't."

"Partly shock," the other man replied. "Partly because you . . . go on. Humans think of death as such a large transition, it is hard for you to accept that it really happened. You arrive here in the blink of an eye and the big moment becomes barely a bump in the road."

"Almost a letdown," Wash agreed, and then it hit him.

'Zoe.'

After a blank space in time, he found himself curled into a ball on the endless white floor, tears streaming down his face as all of the might-have-beens rolled though his head. Everything he had lost -- all that was taken from him in that instant -- was reduced to one word that echoed in his mind, over and over and over.

'Zoe.'

Wash didn't know how long he lay there, and Chiang said nothing. Eventually, the pilot sat up, still looking into the nothing and seeing all the life he left behind -- and the life he would never get to live.

"It's not quite over, Mister Washburne. You can see her again."

Chiang's words hung in the air, dragging a sliver of hope out of Wash's soul.

"How?" he asked, barely able to breathe. The old man sighed.

"There is a way, but it involves some sacrifice," he replied. "The Verse has been watching you. Serenity and her crew have survived more than their fair share of challenges. But evil waits for them on every moon, in every orbit, and their luck is not infinite. Still, they are good people, in their way --"

Wash blinked. "Have you met Jayne?"

The old man laughed. "Even Jayne has good in him, although he doesn't know it yet. As I was saying, your former crew does more good than harm on their journey, and the Universe has decided that they need to remain in play -- to keep the balance, as it were. River was our first attempt to keep Malcolm Reynolds and his crew alive, and push the captain into remembering what it meant to believe in something, instead of just drifting. But now we believe the crew requires a bigger edge than River alone can provide, even as formidable as she is."

The pilot shook his head, slowly. "What are you saying?"

"That Serenity still needs a pilot," Chiang smiled. "One who can do the impossible . . . once in a while."

Wash's heart skipped a beat -- or it would have, had it still been beating. "Chong Jian Tian Ri! You mean I can go back?"

Chiang raised a hand. "In a way. Your body is dead and buried on that distant planet. But your soul can return, and rejoin the crew. If you're willing."

"Are you kidding? I'm back in a heartbeat . . . so to speak!" Wash bounced to his feet, his smile nearly too wide for his face. "When do I leave?"

"Right now, if you wish." The older man held up a hand. "Time has passed in the world you left, and Captain Reynolds has been looking for a new pilot for months. Fortunately, you were too good to be easily replaced, but he has found a suitable candidate -- and so have we."

"Do it!" Wash's whole body trembled with excitement. 'I get to see Zoe again!' he shouted inside. 'And I get to fly!'

Chiang hesitated. "There is something you should know. The pilot you are about to become . . . the life you are about to enter . . ."

"Oh, come on, Gladys!" Wash fairly bristled with frustration. "I'll pick it up as I go along. How hard can it be? I've always been good at flying by the seat of my pants. 'Leaf on the wind,' remember? Just send me back already!"

"As you wish, Mr. Washburne. Although you may find the seat of your pants to be not quite as familiar as you remember it to be." Chiang smiled. "Your life is about to get very . . . interesting."

Wash felt a twist in his soul, an instant of foreboding.

"Wait a minute," he said, holding up a hand. "Define --"

###

"-- interesting."

He was in a bar, sitting across a table from Mal, Zoe, and Jayne. It was a spaceport bar, that much he could tell. Loud, grungy, and just two insults away from a brawl. Wash had been here before, he felt sure, but the name of the place floated just outside of his reach. Probably because he was too busy dealing with the rush of differences that washed over him and left him struggling to catch up with his new here-and-now.

His whole body felt wrong -- smaller and lighter, and strangely off-balance. His arms and legs were longer and thinner than what he remembered from his old body. And this body felt way overdue for a haircut.

'Easily fixed,' he thought, trying to get back in control of the situation. With his three former shipmates staring at him, Wash realized what was happening. 'This must be the job interview Chiang talked about -- my ticket back onto the ship. So look friendly and interested already, stupid.' He licked his lips and smiled.

Mal looked happy, Zoe was reserved and skeptical, and Jayne kept staring at him with a hungry look he'd never seen on Jayne's face before. 'At least,' he thought, confused, 'not when he was looking at me.'

"I'm glad our offer interests you," Mal said with a smile. "Every reference we've gotten says you're good, and we need the best."

Zoe spoke then, her eyes never leaving Wash. He could hear the lack of enthusiasm in her voice. "Awfully young, sir."

Mal started, then turned to her. "Well, young, yes, but I figure talent don't need age, just a ship and a place to fly her to."

"Thank you," Wash replied, and stopped. He cleared his throat and tried again. "I hope I can live up to my reviews."

The voice was melodic and higher than he remembered, and suddenly he froze as the pieces started coming together. He remembered Chiang's smile and his parting comments, and the look on Jayne's face suddenly made a hell of a lot more sense.

'Damn you, Chiang,' he thought savagely. Wash tried to look down at the tabletop to hide his feelings from his old crew, but he found his flight suit stuck out a lot more in the chest area than he remembered. A lot more. He sighed, and heard a dry chuckle in his head.

'Think of this as payback for calling me Gladys,' Chiang said. Wash could hear the smile in his voice. 'Although it isn't, really. Linda is the only chance we have to get you back with your crewmates.'

'Is she real? I mean, a real person?'

'Oh, yes. Quite real. She should have died in a shuttle explosion last week, but we diverted her to a different ship and kept her soul in her body as a placeholder until you agreed to take possession . . . so to speak.'

"Well then, Miss Wehr," Mal said, smiling again. "Let's go take a look at your new home, meet the rest of the crew and take her for a cruise. What do you say?"

Wash took a deep breath and watched his chest rise. Jayne watched it, too, and the pilot felt a brief stirring of panic.

'But why a she? Why her? Admittedly I wasn't always a finalist in the Mister Testosterone contest, but still --"

'Because she is our only chance. Our last chance.' Chiang's voice was cool, and Wash heard something there he didn't expect. Worry. 'Because Mal has places to be, and Linda is the last candidate under consideration before he gives up for now and leaves River at the controls. And if you're not there to save them in the next few months, another chance will never come. Serenity and her crew will die in deep space, alone and unremembered -- unless you're behind the stick. Unless you are their pilot.'

'Can't I tell them? I mean, that I'm . . . well, really me?' Wash's mental voice held an edge of desperation. Chiang's voice in reply was understanding, but direct.

'No. At best it would confuse everyone -- make them uncertain about you, the Verse, and everything they know, at a time when they need to be free of doubt, or wind up dead.' Chiang sighed. 'At worst, they could decide you're trying to con them somehow. They would set you loose on some little moon in that body to fend for yourself, and fly off to die without you there to save them.'

Wash noted that everything around him had frozen, as if the world were suspended in the gap between one second and the next. Chiang appeared in front of him.

"The choice is yours," Chiang continued aloud. "You've earned your time on the other side, no question. You could leave this life behind forever, without looking back. Or you could become Linda Rachel Wehr, Serenity's new pilot, and save your friends. Your family. Your wife."

The pilot sighed. "When you put it like that, there's really no choice at all, is there?" His new voice made it more of a question than the statement it was.

The older man nodded. "Not really. Not for someone like you."

He looked at his wife, the woman he loved, and realized things would never be the same between them again. 'But that's okay,' he thought, 'she'll still be alive, and I'll still have her . . . sort of. And how bad can it be, really? I mean, after all, women are human, too, right?' Wash went through his own memories, remembering every woman he'd ever known and ending up with Zoe. The urge to panic rose again. 'Who am I kidding? They're a whole different species!'

"Chiang, I'm not sure I can do this. I've never . . ." The pilot shrugged, struggling with putting his fear into words. "I never understood women when I was a guy, and now you want me to BE one?"

"I know. This was not what you wanted, but it is what it is." Chiang gave Wash a sympathetic smile. "It won't be easy for you, but do not worry. You will have Linda's memories to guide you, at least part of the way. And you will have help on Serenity. You won't be alone, I promise."

The pilot sighed and shook his head, then nodded to Chiang. Chiang nodded back, and vanished.

'So now I'm a she,' Wash thought ruefully. 'Best start thinking of myself as one -- not that I know how, of course, but I'm guessing pronouns would be a good start.'

"Ms. Wehr?" Mal stood up and held out his hand, still smiling. "Are you okay?"

Wash looked up at Mal, smiled back and rose to her feet, trying desperately to ignore the ten million little things her new body shouted at her that screamed "girl." She stuck out her hand.

"Please, call me Linda," she said sweetly. Instead of the strong handshake she remembered, Mal took her hand gently. Wash cringed inside. As they walked towards the door, she watched heads turn, and saw her reflection in the mirror over the bar. Long red hair in a tumbling mess of curls, pale skin, green eyes, and a body with curves not even her flight suit and jacket could hide.

'Damn.' Wash shook her head, feeling the curls bounce. 'She just had to be a knock-out, didn't she.'

Still keeping the smile on her face, she walked a step behind Mal, following him to the exit. Zoe and Jayne fell in behind her.

"Sure like the view," Jayne whispered to Zoe, just loud enough for Wash to hear. She was pretty sure he didn't mean the bar. "And I'm real glad she don't want us to call her by her last name,"

"Why's that?" Zoe's puzzlement was clear in her tone.

Jayne snorted. "Cause then we'd have to go from Wash . . . to Wehr." Wash groaned inside, and Jayne snorted again before breaking off into that deep laugh she'd heard a hundred times before.

'Chiang was right,' Wash thought with a sigh. 'This is going to be . . . interesting.'

'Think of it as turning over a new leaf,' Chiang's voice said before breaking off into a laugh of his own.

'Terrific,' Wash grumbled inside as Mal held the door open for her. 'Now everybody's a comedian.'

###

© 2008 as a work in progress. The universe belongs to Joss Whedon, I'm just borrowin' it some. Posted by the author.