badinlatin | Mal dreaming...

It's the black again. No stars, though. Just...nothing. Which pisses Mal off.

We're gonna die.

Bendis? What the gorram - Bendis, you here?

No response. Not that Mal expected one, but he would have liked it.

After his mind moved on from trying to find his dead war buddy, there is a pinprick of light that zooms toward Mal's face, almost bowling him over.

The first thing he smells is the gunpowder. Then the blood. Always the gunpowder first; Mal thinks if it weren't for the gunpowder waking his nose up the blood wouldn't smell so bad.

Where is this? Everyone's moving so fast that Mal can't even make out if this is Hera or Ita, or any one o' the 5 or so planets and moons he fought campaigns on.

He can't see Zoe anywhere.

Gun flying out of his holster, Mal ducks behind sandbags to block himself from the volley coming in over the fancy steel barriers the Alliance battalion had erected in an unbelievably short time. Oh, how Mal wishes he had some of those grenades Mal knows Jayne keeps near the head of his bunk.

Jayne? Who the hell's Jayne?

Cannon-fire; Mal rolls away from it briskly, straightening himself to peer over the bags for an assessment of the situation. More cannon-fire. Great. Moving again, Mal stops when he hits someone.

"What's our statu--" The soldier next to Mal doesn't have any status except dead. And the status of his head being blown off.

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Inara stirs as Mal mutters and shifts beside her. She's been trained to awaken quickly, in order to serve her clients. She sits up slightly, trying to understand what Mal is saying as she awakens.

Mal, laying on his stomach, flays his left arm bringing it toward his face, fist under his chin.

"Gotta find 'em, can't..."

"Bendis!" Mal shouts to anyone that will listen to him; the sounds of battle drown out his voice. "We gotta find the rest o' the unit! Come on! We can't stay here!"

Inara sits up fully and leans over, gently touching Mal's shoulder.

"Mal?"

Mal's forehead has curled itself into a myriad of wrinkles of frustration, his hand reaching toward Inara's

gun. He needs a gun; picking one off the headless body works for now. Check the gun - it's loaded. Good.

"Mal?"

Someone's alive in this? Gotta find 'em, where are they?

Mal sits bolt upright faster than Inara realizes what he's doing, drenched in sweat and his right hand still shaking. Without even recognizing Inara's existence, he holds his head in his hands, trying to shake his mind back to reality.

Inara recoils as Mal throws himself up, not sure if he is awake or if she should try to touch him again. She reaches up again slowly, tenatively putting her hand on his back and rubbing it, the way you would an infant.

"Mal? Mal, are you all right?"

She speaks softly and soothingly, so as not to startle him.

Mal pulls back away from Inara instinctively until he looks up and connects with Inara's worried visage.

"Oh. 'Nara." He sounds like he's trying to convince himself he's actually awake.

Inara keeps contact with Mal, sensing he is going to need it. Once he looks in her eyes, she returns to rubbing his back.

"It's me, Mal. I'm right here."

At least Mal's not running away from her at the moment. But he's not doing a lot to let her know that he'll be okay.

"Wèi."

He's not saying a lot either.

And now Inara starts to worry.

"Mal, talk to me, please. What's wrong?"

"Was just a dream."

Mal's voice seems a little steadier now.

"Ain't nothin' worth talkin' out loud about."

Slightly relieved, Inara resumes rubbing his back, massaging the tense muscles. Unconsciously, she's using the techniques she's learned to make people open up and trust her.

She leans slightly closer, still using that warm, soft tone. "Even if you think it's not worth it, I'd still like to hear it. Our dreams sometimes reveal the most about us."

Mal does appreciate the touch, leaning back into Inara's hands.

He doesn't, however, feel compelled to tell her...much.

"Old soldier dreams."

Inara mentally winces, though there is no pause in her hands.

"Oh."

She doesn't say anything else, just keeps massaging, hoping her touch is enough of a reassurance.

Of course, 'old soldier dreams' to Mal translates to "bizarre memory of a battle I don't think ever happened". No need to say that out loud though.

Sliding away from Inara, Mal stretches out on his back this time, not even remotely considering that he'll be able to fall back asleep. He pulls Inara down to him, moving a hand along her hair.

Inara lays close, her head resting on his chest, and reaches over to take his hand. She is quiet for a minute, gently stroking his fingers with hers as she tries to decide what to say.

"I never knew you talked in your sleep. I might not let you stay here anymore if you keep this up. A girl needs her beauty rest." Her voice is light, gently teasing.

Quietly, maybe a touch of resignation: "Didn't think I did anymore."

Her hand tightens on his. She hesitates, then speaks softly.

"Do you think that...recent events are bringing up some bad memories?"

"Didn't think so. Maybe? Hell if I know."

Mal sighs and rubs the creases out of his forehead.

"I'm used to havin' dreams like this. These just...been botherin' me more 'n usual."

She hesitates again, not wanting to push him.

"Are you sure you don't want to tell me about them? I don't mind hearing...I just want to know how to help you."

"You can't, Inara. Much as I would like it, you can't."

Mal's hand finally stills on Inara's shoulder and his breathing becomes a little bit more regular.

"I'll try...not to wake ya up next time..."

She smiles sadly. "Good luck with that."

Mal's chest moves evenly under Inara's head as he falls asleep, his body relaxing. Inara listens to his breathing, lying awake for a long time after Mal drifts off.

Mal dreaming...

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