Wash could hear her footsteps against the cold, metal floors of the medbay as he dragged his palms over his face slowly. His fingertips rubbed against his aching temples, that smirk still upon his expression until he looked back up at her. The cheeky grin fell away to a slightly-mouth-agape loss for what was happening. Maybe if Wash understood why him sitting there was so world-shattering he would have been able to help -- but that situation was impossible within its very premise. How could he understand that to Zoe, he was supposed to be dead? The time between now and when he last "saw" his wife was the matter of a few hours.
"Zoe?" Concern for the state of his wife had an amazingly sobering effect on the fuzzy-headed Wash. Sliding off the end of the table, there was a shakiness to his steps, but he managed to approach her slowly. His hands were held in front of him, palms out in a way one might approach a dangerous situation. "Baby... what's wrong? Is it the ship? We'll figure this all out, okay? I promise. We've been through worse, right? Niska and his Skyplex comes to mind... we can handle this."