This is just a little one shot scene of Mal and a childhood friend at the end of their first major combat situation in the war. I hope you like it, if you do let me know, maybe I’ll write more. If not, please let me know why. It’s helpful to hear either way.

I’d like to thank Engineangel for the beta and helping me with the ending, and ItsAWash for helping with the title, as well as encouraging me to write it in the first place. Her shiny stuff can be found at: 'ItsaWash's Shiny Stuff'

Losing Wyn

The battle had been more intense than anyone had expected it would, and as the dust settled on the plain, the carnage was clearly evident. Bodies lay broken; those of browncoats and Purple Bellies alike. Injured soldiers limped or crawled, pulling themselves along the ground to the nearest rock or bush to lean a broken head against. A couple of wrecked vehicles smoldered in ruin, and the only sounds to be heard were the final cries of the mostly dead.

Mal was stunned. His ears were still ringing, and his eyes were burning from the smoke. Neither he nor Wyn, his childhood friend, had seen action like this since joining the Independents. He thought back to training, to the simulated battles they had taken part in "war games"; that was all they had been. This was real.

Reaching out to grab hold of a boulder, Mal pulled himself to his feet and surveyed the area. Wiping the grit from his eyes he struggled to focus. To his right a young Independent grunt was frantically trying to stop the blood that was pulsating from a gaping wound in his side. A few feet in front of him, he noticed a detached leg, its owner nowhere to be seen. Body parts lay astrewn among rocks and bushes. Transfixed by the scene, Mal froze. He’d never seen such gore, not in human form. He struggled to keep the sickness from spewing forth as he turned away, but found no relief; the horror was everywhere. Doubling over, his stomach convulsed, sending a stream of fluid contents rocketing from his mouth.

Wyn! he thought to himself as he regained his composure. His friend had been right next to him when the fighting had started, but as the violence progressed they had been separated. Now, with the fighting ceased, Wyn was nowhere to be found. Turning, Mal made his way back to where he had ended up just before the Independents had managed to push back the Alliance with a series of large artillery bombardments. The Independent shelling caught the Alliance off guard and left only one option, retreat. Alliance space craft cleared the way by strafing and bombing to slow the advancing Independents.

There were no celebrations taking place; a rare turn of events had allowed the Independent army to push the Alliance back to the black, but everyone knew victory would only be temporary. In the meantime, there were dead and injured to care for, and many at that.

Frantically, Mal turned over bodies, attempting to recognize the one true friend who’d chosen to follow him off to join the Browncoats in search of adventure. “Wyn!” Mal yelled, his cries drowned out by dozens of injured soldiers writhing in pain. No answer came. Leaning his back against a boulder, Mal exhaled deeply, confused and worried.

“M…M…Mal,” came a cracked voice from the other side of the boulder.

Turning, Mal hurried to his friend, kneeling down next to him. Immediately, he noticed the large gash on Wyn’s head and that his leg was missing below the knee.

“You’re gonna be okay, buddy,” Mal comforted, holding Wyn’s head in his hands. “I’m gonna get you out of here. The angels are coming.”

“A…ain’t happenin' M…Mal, I’m a goner.” Wyn’s face was twisted, the pain in his head growing more and more as the area around his injury swelled. Letting out a wince, his body stiffened in Mal’s arms, and his grip on Mal’s shirt tightened, pulling Mal down to him.

“No…you’re not a goner. I’m going to see you fixed. The angels are coming, and they're gonna make you right!” Mal assured, tears beginning to fill his eyes. “We promised we’d get each other through this, and I don’t aim to let my end of that promise go dark.” He pulled his friend’s head into his lap. “You just keep looking at me. Don’t you close your eyes. I ain’t leavin’ til the angels come.” Mal wrenched his gaze away from Wyn's face and looked around desperately for some source of help.

“MEDIC!” Mal screamed. He looked back to his Wyn. “Stay with me!” He had to keep Wyn conscious until help could arrive. Remembering his training, Mal loosed his grip slightly. Taking off his coat, Mal wadded it up and placed it underneath Wyn’s head, gently laying the soldier back. “I’m gonna tend to this leg. Gotta stop the bleeding. You hold on. Someone'll come…very soon.”

Taking his field tach off, he removed one of the shoulder straps and hastily wrapped it around Wyn’s leg just above the knee. Pulling the strap as tight as he could, he then grabbed his knife and placed it between the strap and Wyn’s leg. Wyn wretched with pain as Mal slowly twisted the tourniquet tighter and tighter, watching to see the blood flow from the meaty stump of his leg would stop. When it did, Mal tied off the blade to keep the tourniquet tight and moved back down the length of Wyn’s body, laying Wyn’s head back in his lap.

As he wiped the dirt from Wyn’s face, Mal’s mind drifted back to the day’s they had spent together on Shadow before the war, the trouble they had gotten into, and the fun times they had had. Trying to stay composed as his friend lay dying in his lap, he reminisced about the good times.

“Remember when we stole that boat?” Mal laughed slightly. “How we planned and planned, only to realize once we’d stolen it we couldn’t do anything with it because it was tagged?” Wyn choked out what appeared to be garbled laugh. “So we stashed it, and when we went back to get it, someone had stolen it from us?” Mal continued, trying to keep Wyn awake. “Those were some good times. We got lots more of that sorta stuff to do, you and me.”

Trying to stay calm and knowing Wyn was slipping, Mal looked up, frantically checking the air for any sign of a med ship. There was none. He watched as soldiers limped past, some carrying the injured, others walking as if in a fog. “Help us!” he yelled to one. A stunned soldier faced him, a blank gaze on his face, then turned back and continued to walk as if he hadn’t heard anything.

“I…I’m scared Mal, ” Wyn whispered as a shiver ran through his body. “I..It’s getting cold...”

Trying hard to hold back his own tears, Mal took Wyn’s face in his hands and looked at him squarely. “You have to stay with me Wyn…we’re gonna get through this!” Mal continued knowing if help didn’t arrive soon, their promise to each other would be broken. “MEDIC!!!! We need help here! Somebody PLEASE help!”

“Wyn!” Mal slapped Wyn’s cheek, causing his body to jerk. “Wyn…remember …remember when we shaved that guy," Mal paused searching for the name. "Bob…that was his name," Mal chuckled. "When we shaved Bob’s eyebrows off when he got drunk?” Wyn barely moved, but Mal saw a slight grin cross Wyn’s pained face. “Man, that we sure taught him a lesson that night.”

Mal began to retrace their lives, searching for stories he could use to help keep his friend from losing hope. The blood had stopped flowing from the end of Wyn’s leg, and as Mal brushed Wyn’s hair back, his hand became wet with blood from the wound on Wyn’s head. Reaching to his side, he retrieved a dressing from his gear and hastily wrapped it around Wyn’s head, then placed his hand over the dressing and applied pressure in an attempt to stop the bleeding.

“M…al, tell my f…olks…I was a good b…r…owncoat,” Wyn choked out, staring up at Mal, his eyes barely open. Neither of their families had been happy about the two of them joining the independent army, but their parents also knew of the tyranny that was befalling the outer planets that weren’t bending to the Alliance. As hard as it had been to let them go, they knew it fell on their sons to protect their freedom.

“You’re gonna tell 'em yourself, just as soon as the medic’s get here.” Mal responded. “You just keep focused on me, all that stuff we did growing up. We got lots more times ahead, you just hang with me.”

Mal gazed at the sky again. He could see smoke wafting through the air from the many small fires that still blazed on the now quiet battlefield. Reaching again for his coat, he pulled it towards him and positioned it underneath Wyn’s head.

“I’m gonna stand up and see if I can flag someone over here,” he said looking down at his broken friend. “I’m not leavin’ you. I just need to get someone’s attention.”

Standing up, Mal could see that where once stunned soldiers stood was now bustling with activity as Medic’s and their assistants attended to the wounded. Officers were ranking up those who could still walk and marshaling them to help rebuild defensive positions. Mal looked back down at Wyn and saw his friend wince and tremble as a shot of pain burst through his body.

Fiercely, Mal started waving his arms and screaming for help. His screams, however, fell silent on those whom Wyn needed most. I’ve got to get someone’s attention. Picking up his weapon, he fired three quick shots into the air. The response was swift. Four Browncoats ran towards Mal, their own weapons trained on the pair as they approached.

Mal, dropped his weapon and raised his arms. “You’ve gotta get help. My friend he needs help!” His pleas were met with blank stares.

“Medics were ordered to attend to them’s that are gonna be able to get up and fight first,” One of the soldiers informed him. “Don’t look like he’s gonna be able to fight again,” the soldier continued point towards Wyn.

“Please, just tell a medic to come!” Mal pleaded again.

“I’ll tell 'em but don’t count on 'em coming anytime soon. We beat back the Alliance, but Command wants every able body on the line to hold in case they regroup.”

Regrouping and defensive lines were the last thing Mal could think of. His only concern now was to get his friend the help he needed.

“Just get someone, quick!” Mal yelled at the soldier, then turned and bent down to attend to Wyn again.

Wyn’s face was growing cold to the touch. He’s lost so much blood, Mal worried to himself. Repositioning himself, he placed Wyn’s head in his lap again and spoke to him reassuringly. “They’ve gone for help…”

“I…don’t…think…I'm…gonna,” Wyn coughed. “Make….it.” He coughed again, and a trail of blood flowed from the corner of his mouth.

Reality began to set in and tears welled up in Mal’s eyes. Seeing the blood flow from the corner of Wyn’s mouth could only mean that there were internal injuries that Mal couldn’t have known about. Pulling his friend close, Mal lifted his eyes heavenward and taking the cross around his neck in his hand, he prayed. Help me…help me to save him.

Wyn coughed again, more blood flowing from the corner of his mouth. “M..al…” Wyn choked, raising his hand to grasp Mal’s. “Thank you, for…being my…friend.” His grip on Mal’s hand tightened, then loosed.

Mal could see Wyn’s breathing change, each breath becoming shorter and fainter. “Wyn!…stay with me…please God stay with me!” he begged. Wyn’s breathing became more and more labored. More blood flowed from the corner of his mouth.

“Wyn!” Mal slapped his cheek. Wyn inhaled short but heavy, then held for a moment, his body tightening and palpitating. “Wyn!” Mal cried.

Wyn exhaled, long. He was gone.

All the emotion Mal had tried so hard to keep back burst forth at once as he realized Wyn was dead. The tears filling his eyes spilled over in torrents down his cheeks as he held the lifeless body of his childhood friend in his arms. Mal rocked slowly back and forth as emotions ranging from complete sadness to anger at himself for not keeping Wyn closer to him during the battle rolled over him. He’d never experienced the loss of someone so close, and the pain was proving to be more than he could bear.

“Straighten up soldier!” came a voice from behind him. “You’re needed on the line!”

“But who’ll….?” Mal asked through tears.

“Someone will see he gets home,” the voice continued. “Now get up. You're not doing your friend any good sitting here."

“You were a good friend, brother,” Mal whispered to the lifeless body.

“He didn’t die alone, and besides, all this evil is behind him now. He’s in a better place,” the voice behind him continued, placing a comforting hand on Mal’s shoulder. “Please soldier, get to the line. It's what your friend would want.”

The man's statement cut Mal to the heart. "…he didn't die alone…" Mal's face hardened. We all die alone..

Without looking, Mal pulled himself to his feet, donned his gear, and reloaded his weapon. With a final quick glance down to Wyn’s face, he wiped the tears from his eyes and made his way back to the command tent to find out where he was needed.