When a war was raging, sometimes it seemed like blood fell from the sky in sheets of rain. Blood was everywhere you looked: on the ground, on the men injured and uninjured; there was so much of it that after enough time had passed, it seemed as though blood was dancing before your eyes, in a confusing, dizzying haze.
That haze had been before Sergeant Malcolm Reynolds' eyes since the day the war began, and he'd seen his first bit of action. Whenever he spoke to someone, he saw them as though they were covered in a bloody, red shroud. Sometimes it was worse than other times, especially when he was tired from a long day of fighting. When those times came around, nothing could snap him out of the bizarre daze except for carefully picked words from his friend and fellow soldier Zoe Alleyne.
One night, after a particularly bloody battle in which many soldiers on both sides lost their lives, Mal was sitting with his back resting against a boulder, his gun at his side. The bloody haze was clouding his vision, blocking everything out and trapping him in an inescapable vision of death and carnage. It was a psychological response to the horrors of the war, and even though Mal was aware of its irrationality, for whatever reason, he could not pull himself out of it. The aftermath of the Browncoats' defeat had caused something in Mal to break. Whether it was the loss of his faith in religion and higher powers, or a certain loss of faith in humanity or both, Mal was not the same person he had been before the war.
Now that the Browncoats had been defeated, it was all too easy for Mal to just lose himself in his mind. But Zoe made a point of never letting him stay that way for too long, and she had worked out a way to get him back to reality. She kneeled in front of him, staring at him for a moment, but saying nothing, before she suddenly grabbed his hands. "Sir, you need to get yourself out of your head. There are people here who need you to lead them." As if to emphasize her words, she tightened her grip on her sergeant's hands. "So, get up and lead."
Mal slowly raised his eyes to meet Zoe's, the violent images projected by his mind gradually fading from his sight. Soon, only Zoe was left standing there. She crossed her arms, continuing to stare at him, as though trying to use her gaze to pierce through his troubled visions and bring him quickly back to reality. "The blood is not real, sir. It's only in your mind, if you'd just look around and see." The dead soldiers had been buried, and those who remained alive had relocated to another area that was not soiled by blood. "Come on, sir. We're waitin' for you to get up and lead us." Her words were sharp, but her tone was warm, encouraging, and even a little hopeful.
It was enough to cause Mal to take action; he bent down, picked up his gun, and straightened up. He didn't verbalize what he was thinking, but somehow, he didn't need to. The appreciation he felt towards Zoe showed clearly in his eyes. "I'm ready, Zoe. Let's go."
The sun was just beginning to rise up over the hills as the remainder of those who had fought in the Battle of Serenity Valley left the desolate location behind. They had been beaten down, but as long as they were alive and willing to fight, the determination and fortitude that characterized the Browncoats would also stay alive.