Trevor tossed and turned once more as his body quickly became coated in a thin sheen of sweat and phantom gunfire bounced around in his head.
"Alright, Sherwood, go!"
He breathing quickened and his heart rate accelerated. His head whipped to the side and the sheets tangled around his waist.
"RPG!"
He gasped and shot up, hands fisted in the covers, breathing and heart rate rapid.
"Keep trying!"
His eyes rapidly moved around the room taking in his location, assessing the situation, looking for the enemy. But there was none. He was home, in bed with his wife who was by some miracle still sleeping. He mentally went through the facts. He had been home from Afghanistan for three weeks, and the scene he had just relived for the thousandth time took place months ago. Jeremy Sherwood had died under his command. It wasn't just a nightmare.
"Sargent, he's dead, there's nothing I can do. We've got to move forward."
He collapsed back against the pillows digging the heels of his hands into his eyes to fight back the tears. He sniffed and took a deep breath in an attempt to calm himself down; however the movement woke up Roxy.
"How bad is he Sarg?"
She blinked and stretched sleepily as her half asleep gaze landed on her husband. "Babe?" She asked with a scratchy voice. "Another nightmare?"
"He's dead, we've got to move on, secure the hill, then we'll come back for him."
"Yeah." Trevor said quietly in a hoarse voice. Roxy pushed herself up on her elbows and looked at him with sad eyes; this happened almost every night and no matter what they tried they never lessened. "Same one." He pushed himself up against the headboard in a sitting position and squeezed his eyes shut. Roxy sat up a startled his lap and laid her head on his shoulder while wrapping her arms around his neck and closing her eyes with her face nuzzled into his neck.
"General Holden sir, the mission was a success, but we took a casualty. Specialist Jeremy Sherwood was killed in action at…"
Trevor wrapped his arms around her waist as a single tear streaked down his face and he buried his face in the crook of his wife's neck as the sounds of a long since firefight bounced around inside his head.
"Thank god you weren't hurt."
"I don't think god had anything to do with it Rox."