The grass rustled behind him, and he spun, gun in his hand and pointing at the silhouetted figure standing there.
The figure that held his cross, swinging from one of – her? – hands. Who in the good gorram…?
And then the sun dropped below the horizon, and in the light of the evening Malcolm Reynolds found himself, for the first time in almost a decade, staring into the face of his mother.
-- Destiny: The Director's Cut - 6 by SoulOfSerenity