Bullets whipped over the top of the trenches, bombs exploded all over no man's land leaving huge scaring craters in the landscape, and yet he felt sleep approaching. The screams of dying men filled the air, shouts of "Medic!" or calls for ammunition could be heard in between the constant barrage of ordinance and small arms fire. But all of this was background noise to him now, like the ticking of a watch or leaves in the wind. How long had it been since he slept? 3 maybe 4 days, and then only an hour or two. Fatigue was a big problem. As if to nail his point home he was quite roughly shaken awake.
"Sarge...Sargent Reynolds!"
"Private Simpson, this had better be gorram worth disturbin me, or it won't be no alliance bullets killin ya you need worry about." Muttered Malcolm Reynolds unsure of how sincere that threat really was.
"Sorry to be waking you sarge, but we're awful low on ammo and the men are tired, we won't stand a chance in hell if the alliance make their move".
Sgt Reynolds begrudgingly got to his feet, and put a hand on the young private's shoulder.
"Never made it to sleep Private, you wasn't wakin me. We gotta move ourselves back to the ridge up there, we must hold there for reinforcements. I want you to set up 5 details of men to provide cover while we move back. And find me-"THWANG!
Malcolm dropped to the floor covering the back of his neck with his hands. That bullet cannot have missed by far, sounded like it had hit one of the metal sheets on the side of the trench wall.
"Let's stay crouched from now on, don't you think Private?"
Malcolm heard nothing but some faint coughing, like water going down the wrong way.
"MEDIC! WE NEED A MEDIC NOW! C'mon Private you stay with me now. MEDIC!"
Without even noticing his own actions, Mal was now clutching the Private's neck trying to apply pressure to his wounds. The bullet had passed straight through. That is the shot Mal had heard, his hands were now soaked with blood. As Zoe arrived at his side Private Simpson choked spewing more over himself, spattering Malcolm's coat and face.
"S-sarge?"
"I'm here private, and Zoe, she has medicine, you're gonna be all fixed up in no time, you just stay with me Private, that's an order"
"Sarge…"
Simpson's voice trailed off, he exhaled for the last time, his hands falling limply by his side.
Captain Reynolds woke quickly, a sweat on his brow in his bunk on-board Serenity, the bullets and bombs of his nightmare, replaced with the noises of his beloved boat. Can a memory be a nightmare? He thought pulling himself out of bed, dabbing his forehead on his sheets. Surely nightmares are just bad make believe stuff? he reasoned climbing the ladder, and following the corridor to the kitchen. Coffee was required, lots of it.
Reaching the kitchen Mal found the young Dr Tam sat with a mug of rather lukewarm looking coffee in one hand, and some rather complicated medical notes and information scattered about the table. His head resting gently on the surface if the table his mouth slightly open, with a gentle snore filling the air. A smile crept to Mal's face, the young doctor had been particularly focused on his sister lately. Little River had one of her turns before dinner two nights before, and had thrown a tin across the room nearly knocking the shepherd unconscious. Pouring his own cup of coffee, Mal sat and cleaned his gun, repeating the process just to make sure and returned to his bunk.