December 1916

A scream from Stan woke Kenny up.

This was getting far too common. Two o'clock at night, and Stan would wake everyone up in the middle of some horrid nightmare. It wouldn't even be so disturbing if he didn't stay asleep throughout the whole damn episode.

Kenny groaned and sat up, looking first towards the thrashing and sweating Stan, then towards Pip. Pip nodded. They'd set up a rota as for who would have to get out of bed and wake Stan up, it was that bad, and today was Pip's turn. He peeled his covers back, rubbed his eyes, then stood up. He walked across the room and took hold of Stan's shoulder.

"Don't be afraid to be a bit violent," Kenny advised as Pip started shaking against Stan's thrashing. Pip apparently paid no heed at all.

He shook gently enough that it made little effect at all. "Stan?" he asked quietly. "Stan, old chap? You're doing it again." This, of course, did nothing to quell the shaking and gibbering. "Stan?" Pip asked again, drawing the syllable out. Kenny groaned - Pip was fucking useless.

"STAN!" he shouted from his bed. That did the trick - Stan gave a final yelp and woke up.

"What?" he asked immediately, but then seeing Pip right next to the bed and the annoyed look Kenny was doing his best to not give him. He sighed. "I was doing it again, wasn't I?"

"Stan," Pip said gently, "I know you're really feeling bad about what happened, but you've really got to stop doing this at night."

Stan rubbed his palms on his face, coating them in sweat. "You know damn well I would if I could, Pip," he protested.

"You can't blame yourself," Pip tried. "It's not like you had any choice back there, he all but jumped right onto your bayo-"

"You think I don't know?" Stan snapped. He immediately shrivelled a little at the sight of the flinch Pip gave. "Sorry, just-"

"Don't be," Pip smiled, untensing himself. Even though the smile looked warm and genuine enough, it had been long enough for Kenny to tell otherwise. As good as Pip was at appearing chirpy, and as indistinguishable as his acting was from when he was actually happy, Kenny had learned the little signs, and without fail they were all appearing - Pip was forcing it.

Something about that was admirable, but there was something about it that was also kind of scary. Kenny had never taken that great an interest in Pip so maybe there was a reason. Kenny really didn't want to ask after a year and a half of them sharing a dugout, too, because he always thought that questions regarding why people were the way that they were should be among the first things that were established, not the subject of cursory questions over a year into acquaintance.

In any event, if Stan noticed too then he didn't show it - he just nodded. "But I see it every night," he muttered in response. "I know damn well he just jumped and speared himself, but…"

"But?" Pip pressed. When Stan didn't reply, instead continuing to stare at an unremarkable patch of floor, he continued. "It might help to talk about it."

Kenny chuckled bitterly. "You've been saying that for two bloody months," he reminded Pip.

"I've never bayoneted a man before," Stan continued after a few seconds. "I've never had to look into his-"

"Spare the bullshit," Craig said harshly from the door. Everyone looked towards him and his angrier than usual entrance. Usually nobody noticed him until he was sitting down to join the conversation, or even before he was already asleep on his bed - only when he had business did he announce his coming. "We've got problems," he informed them.

"What is it?" Pip immediately asked.

Craig walked inwards and sat on the table, all eyes on him. "Sergeant Broflovski did not make it to his shift today."

Stan was the one who perked up the most. "He's not-"

"No," Craig replied, cutting him off. "Or at least, in any event there's no body. There has been no gunfire since he went out so the odds of him disappearing over the top are nil, and his record is as close to spotless as it gets so I doubt he's run away. Simply put, he's vanished. Nothing. Somewhere between here and our watch station, he ceased to be."

There was what Kenny thought should have been a stunned silence then, that maybe should have lasted a good few seconds. Instead, there was only a single second before Stan very worriedly shouted "What?"

Slowly, Craig turned his head to Stan. "I believe I made myself abundantly clear. Sergeant Broflovski has gone."

Kenny watched Stan tick that news over. "So…" he muttered.

Craig rolled his eyes and threw his arms out. "Gone," he repeated exasperatedly. "Absent. Not here."

Stan slumped again - first nightmares and now this, Kenny was glad he wasn't Corporal Marsh right now. "Fuck."

"I've put out a message to a few of the soldiers, to spread it around. Look around for a sergeant with bright red frizzy hair who may or may not be in serious trouble." Craig slumped a little himself. Kenny could understand slightly. He'd worked with Kyle for over two years now and he was worried sick. These guys had been in the same unit for over a decade. It must have been damn near torturous. "In the meantime, I will be taking over Kyle's shifts."

Pip raised his eyebrows a little. "That's not a good idea, Craig."

"Why not?" Craig immediately asked.

"Well," Pip explained, "you're an officer. I mean, first of all, you're not supposed to just go out and put yourself in the line of fire-"

"Which overlooks that German pressure on this section of the lines is practically nonexistent at this point in time," Craig countered.

"Didn't save Clyde," Stan muttered bitterly.

Pip nodded. "That's right. Secondly, you've got other stuff that you have to do being in command of an entire platoon."

"I can give some of those responsibilities to Lanskin," Craig replied. "He's a lieutenant too, still waiting for a platoon of his own. He could use the practice."

"But you hate him," Pip reminded him. Craig had no response to that, so Pip continued. "You're very eager to remind us all at every opportunity that he is a stickler for regulation to the point of nausea even if such stickling isn't an advisable thing to do given certain circumstances, and that you're of the opinion that he's the worst thing to come out of officer training this century."

Craig glared at Pip for a few seconds. Kenny was waiting for him to throw something at him. Instead, Craig kept his calm. "Allow me to make this abundantly clear," he began. "I am the commanding officer of this platoon, not only do I outrank you all but I'm directly in your chains of command. This is how I, as platoon commander, have decided to respond to the disappearance of one of my most capable men. None of you are to tell Kyle I said that about him, by the way, if he should ever have the decency to turn up again." He spent a good few seconds making eye contact with everyone, and dishing out his finest ice melting glare in glacier melting volumes. "Have I made myself clear?"

Slowly, everyone nodded.

"Good." Craig moved for the door. "If anyone hears any news on the sergeant they are to inform me immediately even if the Bosche are attacking and they have been ripped limb from limb." With that, he left, presumably to cover Kyle's shift.

Pip turned to Kenny. "So do you think he was aware I was right there?"

"Yup," Kenny nodded.

"Why do you think he used the 'I am the CO, I can do this so I'm going to' argument?" Stan asked. "Saying 'That's an order' in the face of being questioned by your men is like the ultimate in admitting that you're in the wrong." He stared after Craig. "He only does that when he gets emotional."

"He gets emotional?" Pip asked through a stifled laugh.

Stan nodded. "You'd be surprised."

"I wouldn't," Kenny muttered.

"Anyway, I've got six hours until I'm out there," Stan informed them, pulling his blanket back up. "I'm going to try to get some more sleep."

Kenny leaned down to face Stan. "Stan, I know this could sound sarcastic or cynical but really, honestly…" Kenny paused for a second. "Do you really think you'll get more rest when you're asleep or if you stayed awake?"

Stan averted his gaze by rolling onto his side, facing the wall. "I'd rather not go out tired, Kenny. Just in case."

"Well," Kenny replied, not wanting to press the issue of the persistent nightmares that Stan was having, "on your own head I guess." He saw the black mop move slightly - a nod. Kenny sighed and stood back up.

He was on the verge of moving back to his own bed before deciding not to bother. Stan was only going to wake him within an hour anyway, and he'd barely just come off shift. He could afford a few more waking hours.

He picked one of his cigarettes up from his bedside and lit up. Craig had taken to splitting his ration with him seventy thirty, which Kenny considered pretty generous.

"I do worry about Stan, you know," Pip said needlessly.

Kenny turned, exhaling as he did so. "I think everyone does." He glanced towards Stan briefly. Right now he actually looked peaceful, and that was rare these days. "I don't think I'm going to get a whole lot of sleep right now so I'm going to go out and take a walk, if anyone asks that's where I've gone, okay?"

"Of course," Pip acknowledged with a nod. Kenny grabbed his jacket and rifle - just to be safe. "You could ask some people about Kyle too," Pip added. Kenny simply nodded and left.