Part of me was determined to never write Firefly fanfiction. Faerie, resist, I told myself. Don't get wrapped up in yet another fandom! But then I thought, hell, I'm already obsessed. Might as well make it official. As with any new fandom, I'm unfamiliar writing these characters, so any concrit is greatly appreciated.

Disclaimer: Everything belongs to the mighty Joss. I am merely a worshipper of his greatness.

For What It's Worth

Zoe Alleyne would follow Malcolm Reynolds to the ends of the verse. Her presence was a constant. A certainty. And certainties were good to have when everything else stood an uncomfortably large chance of being blown straight to hell. Zoe Alleyne was the perfect soldier, a flawless, deadly first mate.

Zoe Washburne foresaw some problems with this.

For the most part, the two managed to reconcile. Zoe Alleyne found that she quite liked sitting by campfires under skies that weren't bleeding smoke and bullets, held by a man not clothed in a uniform and several layers of mud. Zoe Washburne leant back against his shoulder and vowed to use all her skills in violence to protect what she had, should it come to that. Wash kissed her cheek and asked what she was thinking, and she answered honestly when she said she was the happiest she had ever been.

So when Malcolm Reynolds, her friend, sergeant and captain, suggested yet another ideal-fuelled plan to piss off the Alliance, Zoe, for the first time since she had known him (and it was a long time, longer than Wash thought), actually asked herself if she should go along with it. But she remained his corporal, faithful to the death, and so held her position when really, all she wanted was to be in her bunk, Wash lying beside her, taking comfort from the steady rhythm of his heart.

"They're going to see this coming." There's too much at stake, sir. Don't ask this of us.

"No. They're not going to see this coming." Made your bargain, Zoe. We all did. It's too late, soldier.

Too late. Too late to take Serenity and keep running, leaving the Alliance, Miranda, the war and gorramit, even Doctor Tam and his crazy sister in the dust. Too late to forget and pretend it was all some ugly dream to add to her night time horrors that plagued her far too often. "Hey," Wash had said the first time she woke sick with war and prison memories, pulling her sweat-soaked body against him while she shivered. "S'okay. It's all long gone, Zo. And I'm here, being the manly protector-type person."

She'd raised an incredulous eyebrow at him then, knowing that if anyone was going to be protecting, it would be her. Wash grinned, combing his fingers though her curls as she rested her head on his chest. "No, really!" he insisted. "The dinos and I have this surprise attack thing planned. Booby traps and everything. T-rex is going to bite their shins with Steggy for backup. Then there's a complicated manoeuvre involving a pincer formation and a glue gun. It's brilliant. Last thing they'll expect."

Zoe chuckled against his skin and caught him in a hungry kiss, because it had been a damn long while since anyone had made her do that. Wash had, without her noticing and certainly against her better judgement, crept into her soul and there was no way in hell she was letting him go now. "I love you."

"Love you too, sweetcake. And I meant it about the protecting thing. I know I'm not the best shot in the verse, but dinosaurs are a highly underrated defence mechanism that should be deployed more often."

Laughing harder, she pressed her lips to the hollow of his throat, savouring the salty taste of him before rolling over so that he spooned her. His arm slid around her waist, comforting, yet almost possessive and for once, there were no nightmares.

Wash may have been perfectly correct when he said he wasn't the best shot in the verse, but in his arms Zoe was safe, safe from the blood and death of the war, everything she'd seen, and everything she'd done. A new beginning, she told Mal. A future. A life where she didn't close her eyes and see a private with his face blown off. "Fine," he growled in answer. "Get married, it's all gonna end in tears every which way. An' I ain't coming to the weddin'. Can't say I'd be able to keep still during the 'speak now or forever hold your piece' part." She turned, then, and walked away, leaving Mal staring into his coffee cup in the mess. A crash told her he'd hurled it against the wall the moment she left the room.

And now here she was, waiting while her superior officer forced her mind back into Serenity Valley. Time to be a soldier, Corporal.

She leant over her husband's shoulder as he once again steered the ship through impossible odds, his face set in grim determination. In a strange way, he was as much a fighter as she was, rushing to the front line even when his mind told him to turn and run as far as the black would stretch. It took all of Zoe's training to stop her from stealing the helm and taking them back to that cursed rock, letting the message be forever lost in cyberspace. A mere glance at Wash revealed he was thinking the same thing. "Hey," she whispered against his ear.

"Hey." His attention left the console for a split second so he could brush his lips across hers. "It's gonna be okay. You're gonna be okay."

Zoe straightened, but left her hand against his collarbone as if he were the only anchor to any sort of sanity. Her fingers traced over the bulge of his muscles against the flight suit, and she studied every inch of him as he sat in that chair, making sure that every feature was burned onto her memory. The strength of his hands as they gripped the controls. The way his head tilted with the movement of the ship. Don't take him from me. Dear God, don't let them take him from me.

Zoe would follow Mal to the edge of the verse, but she would come back from the edge for Wash. And that had to be worth something.