It suddenly dawned on Mal just how much time he'd spent in space these last eight years.

Not much swimming in space…

He made an effort to stay in shape. He'd even started working out with Jayne occasionally. His mercenary had lost his spotter in Book, and Mal had thought it wouldn't hurt to try and bond a little with his crewman after all they'd been through, but the snarky comments coming from the bigger and obviously stronger man, had put emphasis on occasionally.

And so by now his limbs were burning with exhaustion and he was panting more than a little. He kept going though. Not that he had much of a choice; the only alternative was drowning, and Kaylee was relying on him to get them both safely to their destination.

He kept pushing on, and his mind wandered back to sunny summer days by a pond on a dusty prairie world

– and he sent a silent thank you to the ranch hands who'd taught him how to swim.

God – if he existed – rest their souls.

The little rock out there in the water seemed to get ever closer somehow. "Nearly there," he kept saying, as much as a mantra to himself as to Kaylee. He glanced up at one point to see River already climbing up on it, and he gritted his teeth, annoyed.

Gorram girl! Of course she would swim as good as she danced, and read minds, and spoke nonsense – and killed Reavers for that matter. Sometimes one had to wonder why they spent so much time and energy looking after her.

She ain't exactly helpless.

Jayne had said that, hadn't he?

One of these days he would have to start listening to Jayne.

"We're nearly there," he muttered again.

And then – finally – they actually were. He hauled Kaylee along and pushed her up in front of him, scraping his knee against the sharp rock in the process, and she crawled ashore – if one could imagine the tiny island actually having a shore to speak of – sputtering and coughing and weeping, and shaking with