Mal listened to the music playing and considered whether if he shouldn’t order it to be stopped. But even as the thought passed through his mind, his heart was remembering other nights, when the moon was high, and the breeze scented with the smell of fresh cut hay, when he was young and the ‘verse was a place he would probably never get to see.

The beat was starting to get to him, and his foot was tapping. On the edge of his consciousness he almost saw the paper lanterns swinging, their soft light making every girl seem pretty, and every boy taller. He always enjoyed the harvest dance, not playing favourites, but taking a turn with any skirt that wanted, before making his way home in the early dawn, a spring still in his step and a whistle on his lips.

Perhaps he could pretend. It wasn't exactly Shadow, and they certainly hadn’t just got the last of the crops in, but maybe he could pretend for a while.

He stood up and crossed to where the others were sitting, talking in low tones. He held out his hand.

“Dance with me?”

“What?” She looked up, her dark eyes wary.

“Dance with me.” He smiled. “Just this once.” She continued to stare at him, so he added, “Humour me.”

She glanced at the other men, most of them grinning and nodding their encouragement. “I don’t dance.”

“Of course you do.” The smile softened. “Come on. We can pretend.”

The plea in his blue eyes must have done the trick, or perhaps she recognised it from her own, because she took his hand and allowed him to take her onto the hard-packed earth. He put his arm around her, his mouth twitching as he felt her stiff body only slowly mould to his, relaxing enough so that she could follow where he led.

And there, under the foreign stars, and to the tinny strains of the tiny music player Tracey had found somewhere, the Sergeant and his Corporal danced.

Maybe the battle tomorrow wouldn’t be so bad, and maybe they’d win. But even if they didn’t, for just these few minutes they could pretend they were somewhere else, on