“Albatross, you sure you know what you’re doing?” Mal asked, standing very still.

“I know. Just take one step forward, two footfalls long.” The young psychic was staring at the ground.

“Only it looks like there’s something exactly where you expect me to put my foot.”

“It’s nothing.”

“Right.” Mal glanced to his right at the bleached bones lying scattered and broken under the tree. “Can you be a little bit more specific as to the nothingness it is?”

“It’s not real. A tin. Made to look like a mine to confuse you.” She looked up at him, her dark eyes piercing him to his rapidly deteriorating core. “Captain, if you don’t hurry up you’re going to fall over from dehydration and that would be messy.”

“I’ve a notion you’re right.” He lifted his leg, his vision beginning to blur. “Um, how far?”

“Two footfalls. I’ll guide you.”

Trying to balance he stepped forward slowly, closing his eyes as he put his foot down on the sand, feeling something metallic beneath his bare skin that squashed as he leaned his weight on it. He opened one eye warily. He still appeared to be all in one piece. “River?” he asked.

“Mmn?”

“I'm kinda stuck here. Want to tell me where to put my other foot?”

“Shh, I'm concentrating.”

“Can you concentrate a mite faster?”

“Do you want me to do this fast, or do it right?”

He shrugged and nodded at the same time. “Good point.” He waited, the sunlight beating down on his exposed head and naked back. “It’s still a good point,” he finally added, “but I'm about to make that mess we were talking about.” He couldn’t see too well anymore, and the pounding headache wasn’t helping.

“Swing your left leg in front and to the side.”

“What?”

“Put your weight onto your right leg and swing your left in front of you. Put it down when I say.”

“River, I'm sorry, but I have no idea what the diyu you’re …” His voice faltered as he heard a rushing in his ears. Great, his inner captain said. Not only are you stuck, half-naked in the middle of a minefield, but now you’re gonna faint, fall over, hit one of these chiang-bao hoe-tze duh things which will inevitably blow your legs off and you’ll die from shock, loss of blood, total humiliation … Great. Perfect way to end a perfect day.

“Captain?”

He idly wondered whose voice was interrupting his reverie.

“Mal!”

If he kept quiet maybe they’d go away. He’d always wanted to die in peace. Suddenly he felt himself lifted up and there was an impression of speed and movement on his burning skin. But he didn’t feel himself being placed gently back on the ground. ---

“Mal?” Different voice, just as insistent. “I know you can hear me. Open your eyes.”

“Go away,” he muttered through sun-blistered lips.

“No. Just do like a good captain and look at me.”

There was relief in the voice now, and he decided he wanted to know just who cared that much about him. He opened his eyes. A woman was peering down at him, short dark hair, hazel eyes, and a worried but slightly reassured expression.

“Do I know you?” he croaked.

She smiled. “I should hope so. You’ve been sleeping with me for some time now.”

The ‘verse clicked back into focus. “Frey?” Her smile grew wider and he wanted to kiss her.

“That’s me,” she said softly.

“What happened?” he asked, trying to sit up then taking a sharp breath as pain fired all over his body.

“Lie still,” Simon said, moving into his field of vision. “I’m rehydrating you, but you’ve got bad sunburn over most of your body. It’s going to be tender for a while.” He adjusted the drip running into Mal’s arm. “Good job they left you your pants, otherwise it could have been worse.”

“How did I …?” Mal tried to remember. “Last thing I recall is being about to collapse …”

Simon glanced over at his sister. “I don’t know how she did it, but she ran across the minefield and picked you up just as you were falling over. She carried you back.”

River just smiled, her feet hooked under her on the counter.

“Thanks,” Mal said sincerely.

“I just did the math,” she said. “Can’t let my captain die.”

“Good to know.”

“And I’m more than grateful,” Freya added.

Simon injected a hypo into the drip.

“What’s that?” Mal asked.

“A sedative. Now we know you’re going to be okay it’ll be easier for you if we keep you asleep until your skin starts to heal.”

“Fine by me, doc.” He waited for the numbness he could feel in his arm to spread throughout his body. His eyes started to close but he forced them open again. “You staying?” he asked Freya.

“Not going anywhere, husband.”

“Good.” He smiled, ignoring the pain from the cracked skin.

“Just one thing,” she said, leaning forward a little and dropping her voice so only he could hear. “Next time Jayne says he doesn’t trust a group of men, believe him. He’s untrustworthy himself, so he knows what he’s talking about.”

“Yes sir.” Mal let himself slip into the darkness, and as he drifted off he thought he felt her lips brush across his cheek, and his inner captain grinned.