#2nd gif he's got that thousand yard stare

[deadpoets]

GEORGE HARRISON The Beatles: Get Back (2021) dir. Peter Jackson

[violetflowerswrites]

Taking it Slow

Summary: An unexpected explosion severely injures you, and Jim Street, your LAPD SWAT roommate, comes to your rescue. The life and death situation makes you reevaluate the status of your “just casually dating” relationship.

Pairing: Jim Street x (Female) Reader

Disclaimer: Cannon violence and danger. Mentions of fire, explosions, and bombs. Location is an elementary school, mentions of danger to minors, but reader is the only one injured. Gruesome descriptions of bodily injury and blood. Some angst and mentions of divorce. BUT ALSO consensual kissing and touching. The smut in this is absolutely filthy as usual. Oral sex (female receiving). Consensual P in V sex. Street has a big cock. 18+ for explicit smut, violence, and language

Word Count: 4.5k

A/N: I finally got around to watching more SWAT after taking a break from crime dramas and I gotta say, Season 4 has been SO good. The commentary on our Covid and post-Covid society especially with race and Black Lives Matter is so thoughtfully done. I was re-inspired to make a part 2 of my Jim Street fic from back in July 2022! This fic can be standalone but it is technically a continuation from “Too Complicated.” Enjoy!

Part One Here - “Too Complicated”

Part Three Here - “I’ll Be Here”

Masterlist Here

…

“All Units please respond, bomb at Harriet Tubman Elementary, repeat bomb and fire at Tubman Elementary.”

The police scanner radio squawks to life in the leather-scented interior of Sergeant Daniel “Hondo” Harrelson’s sliver Dodge Charger.

Hondo locks eyes with Jim Street, LAPD SWAT. His expression falls immediately, drawn and serious.

A school bombing?

Not on their watch.

”20 David, Sergeant Harrelson responding. Let’s roll!”

…

Your pink highlighter squeaks across the tiny Times New Roman text of each signature line on the paperwork you’re preparing.

A tightness in your neck forces you to pause and lean your head to the side, trying to release the tension in your body.

It’s another tough case. The student was expelled out of a previous school due to repeated fighting. His current teacher is young and inexperienced, and the counselor is definitely overwhelmed. You were called in to take over his case and then recommend him to a therapist, a behaviorist, a specialist, someone before he was expelled again.

Who knew that an 8 year old could wreak so much havoc at a school?

You glance out the window of the 2nd floor classroom, watching the poor kid get into a screaming match with a yard duty. The bright red digital display of the classroom clock shows 9:00 am in blinking lights that seem to say…

tick

tock

It’s

only

9

freakin

AM

on a Monday.

But, no one could have predicted what would happen in the next ten seconds.

One

A thunderous boom echoes across the playground, so loud that all the kids freeze, balls dropped and forgotten.

Two

Thousands of shards of shattered glass fly through the air as the school building collapses into itself from the roof downwards.

Three

The ear-splitting screech of the fire alarm forces everyone to cover their ears, eyes squeezed shut.

Four

Smoke rises in thick gray plumes into the sky, followed by bright orange flames.

Five

The stampede of three hundred little feet shakes the earth as panicked children run towards the grass field, away from their burning school.

Six

Bewildered shouts across the blacktop try to account for all the children, staff members still running out of the smoke.

Seven

Wide-eyed stares fill with tears as it dawns on the kids what had happened.

Eight

A dozen simultaneous calls to 911, all trying to be heard over the crying, screams, and shouts.

Nine

A terrifying pop pop pop makes everyone flinch and duck for cover, as the heat from the fire breaks even more windows. But it could have been gunshots. Everyone doesn’t dare to move.

Ten

After those ten, chaotic seconds, you finally open your dust-filled eyes, ears ringing, sounds muffled as if you were underwater, and your dazed mind takes several agonizing seconds to comprehend the scene around you.

Fallen desks and books scattered haphazardly across the classroom.

Shattered glass reflecting the flickering flames of a fire somewhere above you.

Looking up, a gaping hole in the ceiling leading to a smoke-stained blue sky.

The incessant blaring of the fire alarm doesn’t help your clearly concussed head make sense of it all.

You deduce that there had been some kind of accident. An explosion maybe.

And that caused an industrial AC unit to collapse through the ceiling, knock you out of your chair, and pin one of your legs from the waist down.

And now, an alarming pool of blood was starting to seep from under the crumpled gray metal.

Even more alarming, you couldn’t feel a thing underneath the crushing weight.

“Oh. I’m dying.” You huff out loud, your logical deduction giving way into dark humor.

You twist your neck around, the soreness long forgotten, and try to find something, anything, to help yourself survive.

You grab your cardigan, covered in drywall dust, and slip it under your upper thigh, tying the sleeves together as tight as it could possibly go. The makeshift tourniquet immediately soaks up your blood, turning the cream-colored yarn into a horrific deep red.

Bile rises in your throat as panic sets in, but you push it down, desperate to get out of this.

You look down, realizing that your phone fell out of the pocket of your jacket when you grabbed it. The screen is cracked, but usable.

Without hesitating, you press a number on your phone and it starts to ring. There’s only one person in the world you want to talk to before you lose consciousness. Maybe forever.

…

“Street! What do you think you’re doing?”

“What? You’ve never played in one of these as a kid?”

You’re out on another casual date with Jim Street, LAPD SWAT. Also known as your impulsive, annoying, immature, and absolutely adorable roommate.

That you had accidentally-on-purpose kissed one drunken night. Which led to much more…for several hours.

And now, the two of you went out most every weekend, casually dating, but not trying to label it…yet.

“Come on, Y/N! It’ll be fun!”

Street ducks into an arcade, which immediately deafens you with a cacophony of beeps and honks, electronic character voices, and techno dance music. It’s an overstimulating nightmare so you focus on the leather-clad back of Street, who is leading you deeper into the room.

A couple of surly teens throw judgemental side eyes at the two of you, grown-ass adults screaming and shouting at basketball, skew-ball, and claw machines.

You clutch a small blue plushie, from Lilo and Stitch, courtesy of Street’s claw machine skills, as he whoops upon seeing another game, his childhood favorite.

“Yes! We have to play this next!” Street grins at you from ear to ear.

You hesitate for a split second, but shake your head, chuckling, “Okay NASCAR, wait for me!”

You tease him, knowing that Street’s name is all too fitting, his long history of all things on wheels that can go faster than 100 miles per hour is well known.

You sit behind the plastic wheel of the racing game as Street quickly punches in a couple quarters.

“Think you can keep up?” Street teases you immediately.

“Mhm.” You reply, your face dead serious, all traces of amusement long gone.

Street takes in your expression and furrows his brow.

“Oh shit!” He exclaims as you leave him in the dust, your digital car screeching as the wheels fight against the tight turns.

You’re silent, the only sounds are the quiet clicking of your foot pressing on the fake gas pedals of the game.

Your car peels around the track, going into the final lap, with a 3 second lead on Street.

“Oh my god, are you seriously drifting?” Street shouts in frustration, watching your vehicle slide sideways against the last tight turn and across the finish line with a flourish.

He smacks the wheel and laughs.

“That was crazy, Y/N. I didn’t expect you to be so good! I thought you said you didn’t really go to arcades growing up.”

“Can we go home?” You grab your jacket from the armrest of the racing game chair, turning away from Street.

“Uhh…yeah sure.” Street says slowly, confused.

You walk quickly out of the arcade, a mix of frustration, shame, and sadness filling you.

Hands clench into fists at your sides as you suck in a shaky breath, trying to steady your whirlwind of emotion.

Street half-jogs to catch up with you, calling your name. He reaches out a hand to grab your wrist, but the instant he makes contact you snatch your arm back abruptly.

“Don’t touch me!” You snap, more harshly than you intended.

Street’s face flashes confusion, hurt, and a bit of anger all at once. You see him stifle the urge to snap back at you, and instead, he shoves his hands into his pockets, his shoulders slumped down and he quietly pleads with you instead.

“Talk to me, Y/N. Don’t keep it in again.”

You know you’re acting like an asshole and ruining the date. Street surprised you with being the mature one in this situation while you’re the one taking out your emotions on him.

So you slowly reach out to take one of his hands in both of yours. It’s warm, heavy, and sure in your grasp, a reassuring anchor. You clutch his hand close to your chest and duck your head down, unable to make eye contact.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. Just tell me what’s going on. Please?”

“It’s just—I’m not used to opening up like this.”

“I know. We’re learning how to, with each other.” Street slips his free hand under your chin, lifting your head up to kiss you affectionately on the cheek.

“Take your time.”

You sigh into his touch, releasing some of the tightness in your chest.

“Can we get ice cream first?”

…

Over a double scoop of cookies and cream, you confide in Street more of your life story.

How there was a period of time in middle school where you used to spend hours at the arcade after school to avoid going home.

Your parents were fighting constantly and you just couldn’t take all the screaming. Your older sister was in high school and worked part time, so she would drop you off with a handful of quarters and get you after.

For some reason, that racing game became your focus, your obsession. You channeled all your frustration, all your hurt, all your pain into that game.

It was your escape.

“It feels silly to freak out now. It’s been well over a decade since I’ve played that game.” You mumble into your ice cream.

“It’s not silly,” Street reassures you, “It’s a painful part of your life.”

You scrunch up your nose and murmur in agreement, not really wanting to think about it anymore. You take another lick of your ice cream, accidentally getting some on your cheek.

Street reaches out with a finger to wipe the smudge of the sticky treat off your face and instead of cleaning his hands on a napkin, he decides to lick it off instead.

You raise your eyebrows in surprise, the gesture unexpectedly sexy, but Street just chuckles.

“What? You taste good.”

…

You clutch Street by the collar of his leather jacket, slamming his broad back against the apartment door.

He drops the keys with a clatter, slides a free hand up to lock the door before gripping the back of your neck roughly, returning your desperate kiss.

“Y/N. Are you sure?” He releases your lips with a pant, pressing his forehead to yours and checking in with you.

Consent is so sexy, especially coming from him. Your previous boyfriends always took what they wanted, when they wanted, and you thought that’s how sex had to be.

It was only after being with Street that you realized how gentle, how considerate, and how trustworthy someone could be during sex.

Street treated you with respect, with reverence. He took his time to worship your body.

You were his queen, his goddess, and even if he didn’t say as much in words, he sure as hell showed it with his actions.

So yes.

You were fucking sure you wanted him.

You pulled off your clothes as you walked ahead of him towards your room, dropping fabric across the hallway on your way there.

Street followed quickly, stopping at the foot of your bed with his jeans still on. His chest visibly flushed red as he stared in wonder at your naked form. And he half-laughed, half-groaned out loud.

How did you manage to get your clothes off so quickly and look so damn delicious on the bed for him?

He grabs both of your ankles and drags you down, lifting them up above his shoulders so he can taste you.

You lean back on both elbows, your hair splayed across the sheets as you tip your head back in delight.

“Oh shit, that feels so good.” You breathe out, a moan slipping through your lips.

“Mmm, I can tell.” Street smiles into your pussy as he licks long strips up your core. He finds your clit within a few moments, and starts alternating sucking and licking the sensitive nub.

Your thighs start shaking as the stimulation shoots down your legs.

Street’s chin grows slick as your arousal throbs out of your core, but he simply holds down your thighs with his strong grip, and dives his tongue into your center even more.

It’s only when you spasm particularly hard, almost kicking him in the head that he finally releases you, chuckling as he swipes a thumb across his lips, wiping off some of your juices.

Your body is still twitching, your nerve endings shooting electricity from your core all the way down to your toes and you throw an arm back across your forehead, trying to recover.

“Come on, you can’t be done yet…” Street teases.

“Absolutely not.” You laugh out in a huff, “j-just…give me a minute.”

“Nah.”

Street lifts your legs again, this time crossing them behind his hips, so that he can line himself up to your entrance.

He pushes in slowly, but just the round head of his cock stretches your pussy to the point that you have to grab his arms and stop him.

“Hold on, Jim.”

Street freezes. You only call him by his first name when you’re being serious or something’s wrong.

He pulls out immediately and lifts you up into a sitting position. He immediately grabs your face in his hands, searching your eyes for pain.

“I’m so sorry, did I hurt you? We can stop— I didn’t mean to—“

You grip his wrists and gently remove them from your cheeks. Instead, you press a gentle kiss to his lips, your gaze at him soft and reassuring.

“I’m okay. Let’s try a different position.”

“Are you sure?”

You turn around, holding up your weight on your hands and knees, and spreading your hips back. You flip your hair over your shoulder and glance back at him with a smirk.

“You haven’t made me cum yet, have you?”

Slowly, Street’s concerned look spreads into a smile.

“No, I haven’t.”

“So fuck me.”

Street holds his cock steady while you carefully push back against him, controlling the pace.

When you’ve fully taken him in, now adjusted to his size, Street still hesitates.

“It’s okay. I’m ready now.” You brace yourself.

“Be as rough as you want.”

A sound akin to a growl escapes from the man who is balls deep in your pussy.

He places a bruising grip on your right shoulder and left hip, and slams you back, knocking the wind out of your lungs.

He does that again and again - pulling out almost all the way before slamming your body back against him almost violently.

“Oh fuck!” You yelp each time, your pussy throbbing around him.

Street then pushes your neck down, and you fist the sheets in your hands as you press into the bed, your ass in the air as he thrusts into you relentlessly.

You can hear your bottom smacking against his strong abs, as he swings his hips into you over and over.

And that cock, his huge, delicious cock, spears your pussy in just the right place every time.

“Oh my god, Street. That feels so good!” Your muffled voice can barely be heard over his grunting. God, you love it when men are loud during sex.

Before you know it, you’re close. Street must be too because he snakes a firm arm around your tummy and lifts you up, holding you tightly to his chest. Your core is still clenched in a vice grip around his member as he thrusts upward into your pussy.

“Street! Oh wow! You’re so big!” You praise him, feeling his cock hitting your cervix from his position.

“Yeah? You like it when my cock hits your pussy. Just. like. that?” Street punctuates his question with a hard bounce into you.

“Mmph!” You moan, and you grab his arm, still trapping you against his sweat-slicked body.

“Street,” you pant.

“Yeah?”

“Go faster.”

With a guttural groan, Street grabs the flesh around your hips and drills up into you. His cock drives in and out at a speed that could only be described as mechanical, a piston that pumps as deep as it could possibly go before pulling out and slamming back in as far as it can go.

You fall onto the bed again, unable to do anything but hold on far dear life as Street rails you like a rag doll.

Within seconds, you feel that familiar tingle spread from your core to your entire body, washing over you in waves of pleasure.

“Oh god— I’m cumming!” You scream, gasping for air.

You are answered with a growl as Street collapses on top of you, cumming inside your throbbing core, your pussy milking every last drop from his twitching cock.

Fuck, that was incredible.

After a few moments, you crawl out from under him, and stand up to head to the shower. He leans up on an elbow, watching you with a blissed-out smile. You tie your hair up into a messy bun, the simple action somehow sensual as hell as he sees your bare shoulder blades squeeze together as you reach up to your head.

You turn, catching him admiring you.

“What?” You ask, totally unaware.

“You’re beautiful.”

Your already hot skin somehow flushes even hotter at his words. You have a love-hate relationship with Street’s compliments.

So you just lean down and peck his cheek with kiss-puffed lips.

“Go to bed. We both have work tomorrow.” You whisper before pushing him back onto the mattress, shaking your head in laughter.

…

Your current reality is a universe away from yesterday’s date night with Jim Street.

You stare at his name on the phone, willing him to pick up.

“Y/N?”

Before you can explain to him, you hear the police radio in his car announce your school site and the bombing.

“Jim. I’m there.”

Street is speechless, the dots connecting with several torturous seconds as his worst fears become true.

One

You had told him that morning that you weren’t going into the office, but visiting a school today.

Two

You never call him, preferring to text. If it’s a call, something must be urgent.

Three

You almost never call him by his first name.

Something was wrong. Very wrong.

Hondo responds to the radio but Street barely hears it as he shouts into the phone.

“What happened? Are you okay?”

“There’s been an explosion. A bomb? An AC unit fell through the roof. I’m trapped on the second floor.”

“Are you hurt?” Street repeats his question, desperation seeping into his tone.

Somehow you hesitate to tell him. So instead, you switch to video call and show him your leg.

Street’s eyes widen in horror as he sees the bloodied, crushed flesh.

Hondo glances at Street’s phone, his siren already screaming down the streets of LA.

“We’re coming.”

…

“You can’t keep me here, Hondo! Y/N is hurt, I have to get to her!”

“Street, you’re compromised. You’re gonna take risks and I can’t have you do that, not when there are kids here who need your head straight.”

Another sudden crash makes both men instinctually duck for cover. They had just arrived into a horror scene, with a blazing fire, fire trucks dousing the building with water, police holding back hysterical parents, ambulances treating kids and staff for smoke inhalation, and a soot-smeared principal talking to the fire marshal.

Hondo makes a beeline for her, Street on his heels.

“Sergeant Harrelson, LAPD SWAT. Is everyone accounted for?”

“Yes, all the kids and staff, but we’re missing one visitor, a social worker.”

Street chokes your name out, to which the principal nods, confirming that it’s you.

Meanwhile you breathe out a sigh of relief.

“Thank god everyone is safe.” You remark weakly, still on the phone, hearing their entire conversation.

Street is astonished you can think about others but his train of thought is interrupted when Chris in his comms crackles to life.

“There! I got eyes on the bomber! He’s on the roof, east side!”

“We have to go!” Street yells desperately.

“Okay.” Hondo huffs out, making a split second decision.

“Tan, go with Street and get Y/N out. Weapons hot, masks on, the bomber might run into the building. Deacon, you’re with me, let’s trap this rat.”

Street wastes no time running inside the smoke-filled building, his flashlight barely penetrating the ash and dust as he finds the stairs and runs up, Tan covering his back, sweeping his gun back and forth just in case the bomber decides to come their way.

“I’m coming, Y/N. Ten seconds out.” Street speaks into his comms, and his phone, for your benefit too.

But he doesn’t hear a reply.

“Shit!” Street curses. “She was losing a lot of blood, she’s not responding!”

Tan makes a game plan immediately as they keep running.

“I got the AC unit, you start CPR!” Tan shouts.

They skid to a stop at the destroyed classroom, and Street’s heart almost stops at the scene.

Your limp body, lying in a pool of dark blood, trapped under a giant hunk of metal, your phone still clutched in one hand.

Street kneels next to you, his own heartbeat reverberating loudly in his ears.

Thu-thump

He presses his fingers to your neck, feeling for a pulse while leaning down, trying to feel your breath on his face.

Thu-thump

Nothing. He immediately rips his smoke mask off his face and breathes into your mouth.

Once. Twice.

Thu-thump

He braces his hands against your chest and pushes down forcefully, starting CPR compressions.

Thu-thump

With a grating screech of metal, Tan manages to tip the AC unit off of you, revealing your upper thigh soaked in blood and your leg clearly broken in at least two parts.

Thu-thump

Street barely glances down to look, focusing on bringing you back to life. He feels for a pulse again, finally feeling a weak heartbeat, but a heartbeat nonetheless.

“She’s stable! Let’s get out of here!” Street shouts, throwing his smoke mask back on, and another for you.

Tan has already tied your leg down into two splints, one for your thigh, and another for your calf and ankle.

“Ready!” Tan replies in a voice muffled by his smoke mask, wiping his blood soaked hands on his tactical pants and gripping his gun again.

Street lifts you up, carefully draping your injured leg over his forearm, and cradling your concussed head gently against his shoulder.

He flies down the steps, Tan covering his back.

“This is 25-David, Y/N is secured, coming out of the school now.” Tan communicates to the team.

The moment they step out onto the front lawn of the school, their comms crackle again.

“Don’t do it man, don’t!” Hondo yells out. He must have found the bomber.

“Second bomb!” Chris warns, just as another explosion on the far side of the school collapses the roof completely, burying the spot where you were just trapped, and taking the bomber along with it.

“Hondo! Deacon! Chris!” Tan shouts into comms. The two of them shield you from the debris, holding their breath as they wait for a reply.

After a few moments, they hear Hondo coughing into the radio.

“20-David. We’re okay, we’re coming down.”

Street and Tan breathe a sigh of relief, as the EMTs run up to the three of you, carefully putting you on a stretcher.

Streets hurries alongside them, and jumps up into the back of the ambulance, glancing back at Tan.

“Go!” Tan shouts at him. “I got it covered.”

The last thing Street sees as the doors close is Tan standing with his back illuminated by a school on fire, his hands hanging at his sides, bright red with your blood.

…

Bzzt Bzzt Bzzt !

Vision blurry, it takes a few seconds for your eyes to focus and notice the late afternoon sun streaming through plastic blinds in a white-washed room.

A hospital room. That’s right, you were injured in an explosion at the elementary school, and your leg…

You looked down to see a full cast, from thigh to ankle, keeping your leg locked straight. A thin, polyester blanket covers the rest of your body.

Bzzt Bzzt Bzzt !

The insistent vibrating of a phone turns your attention to where a sleeping Jim Street, still in full SWAT gear, rests his head on his folded arms in the empty space on your bedside. One of his hands holds yours gently, even as he dozes.

You slip your hand out from his warm grip and brush his hair back, still flecked with a bit of ash and dust from the rescue mission.

Your gaze softens as you look at his peaceful face. You must have worried him so much with the accident.

Bzzt Bzzt Bzzt !

You see his phone lying on the table and you can just make out what it says.

5 missed calls from Hondo. 2 texts from Chris and Tan saying he missed the debriefing.

And currently, Commander Hicks is ringing, ready to ream his ass for being irresponsible, you’re sure of it.

“Street.” Your voice cracks. Clearing your throat, you try again, louder this time.

“Street!” You shake his shoulder insistently.

He shoots up, awake in an instant. “Y/N! You’re up!”

His eyes dart over your face, checking for any signs of pain.

“You’re in trouble.”

Street takes one look at his phone and mutters “Shit.” Without thinking, he presses a kiss to your clammy forehead and ducks out the door, phone pressed to his ear.

You bring a tentative hand up to your forehead, a lot dazed and a little shocked. The two of you haven’t really discussed the nature of your relationship after that weekend of crazy sex, trying to take it slow.

But it’s not every day that you get gruesomely injured and your hot as fuck roommate rescues you from near death.

As you hear Street’s muffled apologies outside of your hospital room, fuzzy memories start coming back to you.

White letters of a SWAT vest hovering over you as firm hands push down on your weakening heart.

Strong arms holding you up as you feel yourself being carried down a flight of stairs at a ridiculous speed.

The smell of smoke, and the unmistakable smell of Jim Street as he cradles your head into his chest, keeping you safe.

A warm hand never letting go of yours as sirens squeal in the ambulance, your consciousness fading in and out.

A reassuring voice, his voice, telling you that you’re alright, that you're safe.

“I got you, Y/N. I’m right here.”

Fuck taking it slow.

You’re not a girl who normally falls in love with a man in an uniform but damn. You sure as hell get it now.

The door opens with a quiet click and Jim Street steps back inside.

“Hey—“

“I love you.” It comes out a little louder than a whisper. ”I love you, Jim.”

Street's words die in his throat as his eyes widen. He crosses over to you in two strides and simply lifts up your chin so that he can press a kiss to your lips.

A desperate, urgent, love-filled kiss that says just how scared, just how terrified he was to lose you.

And just how much he loves you too.

….

[vro0m]

vro0m’s rewatch - 148/310

2014 Abu Dhabi GP

HERE WE GOOO FINALLY as always I'm so done with everything when I reach the end of a season phew. Let's end this.

According to Brundle, Nico said he could've slept better and Lewis looks nervous and Anthony and Nicolas have confirmed to him that he is.

JEV is 10th. Magnussen is 9th. Raikkonen is ahead of Alonso in 7th. Jenson is 6th. Brundle says he's probably starting his last race? Kvyat is 5th. Massa is 4th. Valtteri is 3rd. Lewis is 2nd, it's Nico on pole again.

Seb and Daniel were excluded from quali because it was discovered they had flexing front wings, which is against the regs. So they were to start from the back of the grid. But the team had to change their front wings to make the cars legal to race which was a parc fermé violation so they started from the pitlane instead. Good job RBR (not).

Crofty says Nico needs to win the race and finish ahead of Lewis and hope for his title that someone finishes in-between them. Brundle says he said "I'm relying on Lewis coming up with some ideas" and then turned to Lewis and smiled at him while Lewis "had a thousand yard icy stare." Crofty reminds us that although Nico had more poles this season (10 vs 7) he converted less of them into wins (3 vs 6). However, Lewis has DNFd twice from the lead in Abu Dhabi. 

Formation lap… 

And they're racing. 

UNBELIEVABLE! Wait, I need to rewatch that I can't believe my eyes. LEWIS TAKES THE LEAD! Right there! Almost still on the grid!

He's about two cars' length ahead of Nico in the first corner, that's unimaginable! What a start! Loads of people going wide here and there at the back. There's been some contact. But at the end of the first lap it's Lewis 1.2 from Nico from Massa from Jenson from Raikkonen from Alonso from Kvyat from Valtteri from Hulkenberg from Perez. Magnussen says he has damage. 

Both Alonso and Kvyat overtake Raikkonen for P5 and P6. But Alonso says he wants to pit and so he does. Valtteri also overtakes Raikkonen, for P6. Jenson is called in as well. Raikkonen pits. Alonso starts his journey up the field by overtaking Kobayashi for P15. Seb is up in 12th btw. Now 10th. Bono tells Lewis his stop will be soon, they just need to clear the window as there's a Williams in it at the moment. Nico is told they will extend his stint a little. 

It's lap 10 already. Lewis is 2.6 ahead. Massa P3, Valtteri P4, Hulkenberg P5, Perez P6, Vergne P7, Daniel P8, Magnussen P9, Seb P10. Lewis is called in. Really good stop, 2.7, 21.8 total. Valtteri pits in response. Hulkenberg gets a 5 second stop and go penalty for pushing someone off track. Nico pits. 2.6! 21.7! That still puts him 3 full seconds behind Lewis. Daniel overtakes JEV for P6 but they almost collide in the process. Nope. JEV got his place back. Valtteri overtakes Seb for P9. And Daniel overtakes JEV for P6 again! Massa pits from the lead. Nico sets the fastest lap. The gap is now 2.4. It's gone down by a lot… Valtteri overtakes Magnussen for P7. Yellow flags. It's Kvyat, being pushed off the track and out of the way. DNF. Nico is told the plan is to keep the gap to Lewis manageable as they plan to go longer than him. The gap is 2.3, it's not really going down at the moment. Nico sets the fastest lap. 

It's lap 20. Lewis is 2.7 ahead. Then the order goes Massa still P3, Daniel up in P4, Valtteri, Magnussen, Seb, Jenson, Alonso and Raikkonen for the top 10. Magnussen and Seb pit. Wait. The gap is up to 7.3?! Oh he's lost over 3 seconds in the last lap he must have had a problem… Losing engine power he says, and the answer is "yep copy Nico we can see it". Shortly after he's told ERS has failed. They're trying to fix it. It's dramatic though, the gap is over 10 seconds now. It's great for Lewis but if that's how it ends, it'll be a bit anticlimactic, you gotta admit. And Massa is closing on him. 2.5 seconds away now. His engineer then tells him still no ERS "so all the brake energy is coming from the rear brakes…" Nico gets a bit angry and cuts him off "but it feels like there's more than that! It's literally only the brakes on the rear or something." The engineer says "okay, copy that" and Nico adds "so investigate that now please and tell me what I can do." And he's told again "okay, copy that" and he adds still "it's not just ERS that's not there, it's actually holding back too." And again "okay, copy that". Daniel pits. Alonso pits. Raikkonen has pitted. OH! THERE'S A CAR ON FIRE! It's Maldonado. That's another DNF. He walks away without one look back while the marshals put the fire out. Massa is now gaining extremely fast on Lewis. 

It's lap 30. There's a lot of fighting in the midfield but at the front it's Lewis, 10.5 seconds away from Massa. Nico in P3. Then it's Valtteri, Perez, Daniel, Hulkenberg, Vergne, Seb and Alonso. Magnussen pits. Lewis' pace is going down?! Oh god. On lap 31 Massa has already gained a full second on him. What is going on?! Not both cars, right?! Please? 8.6. Daniel overtakes Perez for P5. Lewis pits as Nicole and Nicolas watch from the garage. He's out right behind Nico! Ted has asked the team if he had a problem as well and he's been told no. And he very easily gets ahead of Nico, and immediately starts building a massive gap. Now it's Valtteri overtaking Nico. Tbh, it's sad. Not a great way to finish the season. Nico is called in and told he'll need to do a "manual pull away". We don't hear it but I read on the transcript he says he didn't copy that and to tell him what it is. Here's the answer, I have little to no idea what it means : "OK so go RS, but don’t drop the levers. Just pull away as you would do leaving the garage. So engine power will be lower because you have no turbo. So just be aware, completely different procedure pulling away. It will be difficult to pull away. Use the same revs but just more throttle. You won’t have the boost to help you away." It's a slow stop. 4.7. He's out in P7 behind Hulkenberg. Valtteri pits. Nico : "How am I looking for that position finish that I need in case Lewis drops out?" – "It’s not good at the moment Nico." – "Well what the hell does that mean, what do I need to do on pace?" – "Just drive flat out. That’s all you can do Nico." Drama. And then Seb overtakes him for P7. 

It's lap 40. Massa is still in the lead at the moment, 14.6 seconds ahead of Lewis, himself 25 seconds clear of Daniel. Valtteri is not far behind him but he's been told to manage his tyres as Daniel is supposed to pit once more. Perez is 15 seconds down on them followed by Seb. Jenson is a bit further down not too far from Nico in P8. Then another gap to Alonso and JEV. Nico : "advise what's going on? The car switched off and now the throttle is all over the place." I feel so bad for him really. I mean I'm very happy I get to see Lewis win another title but I'm sorry for Nico, it’s such a bad way to lose. Perez and Seb are fighting for P5. Nico has gone wide. Perez has pitted. Lewis sets the fastest lap of the race. Hulkenberg overtakes Alonso for P8. Lewis : "Please don't turn up my car, I'm comfortable, I can pick up the pace if I need to, don't turn up the car please." The gap is down to 11.4. The team is worried that it won't be enough to keep Massa behind once he's pitted and on fresh tyres. Lewis is worried about the car giving out. Massa is called in. He should be out about 10 seconds behind then. Yep. 11.2. Lewis sets another fastest lap. Bono tells him Massa is on the supersofts and he needs to keep his pace up. Kobayashi retires. Nico asks what position he can hope to finish in. He's told possibly P5, if he can keep Hulkenberg behind. Not great. And he can't. Keep him behind, I mean.

10 laps to go. Massa is 9.8 behind Lewis. 8, 7.7! We might get a fight to the end then, just not with who we thought. Daniel pits from P3, which puts Valtteri back in P3, and Perez overtakes Alonso for P8. 7.2. 7. 6.9. Damn it's closing fast. Seb overtakes Alonso for P9. 6.7. 6.5. 

It's lap 50. So Lewis is leading by 5.9 over Massa, Valtteri in third. Daniel P4, then Jenson, Hulkenberg, Nico, Perez, Seb, and Alonso. 5 laps to go. Seb overtakes Nico for P8. The gap at the front is 4.8. Lewis is going to have to either pick the pace up or defend with all he has. Daniel fastest lap. 4.6. "OK Lewis, Nico looks to not be a threat now, Nico not a threat now, so we can fight for this." Nico indeed is letting cars pass him. He's gonna DNF. I can't believe this is how it ends. He's out of the points. 4 laps to go. 4.2. 3.8. 3.6. 3 laps to go. The gap stabilised? No. 3.2. 2 laps to go. Massa is not gaining as fast anymore. And Nico is indeed called in. He says he wants to go to the end. They allow him to. Lewis' family is getting ready to welcome him and celebrate. The highs and lows. 

There we go. It's the final lap of the season. The gap to Massa is widening actually now. He's gonna win everything. 

It's the end of the race! 

Lewis wins his second world title ahead of the two Williams! Nico ends up P14. 

Somehow it's Prince Harry talking to him. "Lewis, thank you very, very much for not letting or making the British public sweat. You are an absolute legend, well done mate." Then it's one of my favourite radio messages ever. Just because of the genuine surprise in his tone of voice. "Woohoo! World champion! Oh my god! I can’t believe it. Thank you so much guys! Woo!" He actually said that before Prince Harry talked to him and I hate that they edit radio messages that way back then.

Cue the donuts. He stops and signals with his hand.

A marshal brings him a flag. In the meantime, I read on the transcript, Nico asks "can I do donuts?" and he's told "the guys would rather not, I think it'll be a safety issue" and actually? It truly breaks my heart for some reason.

But here goes Lewis! And he's so happy! 33rd win, which puts him in front of Alonso. Crofty thinks he won't care about that too much but I disagree. Now we finally hear Bono, which was of course actually the first message he received : "Get in there Lewis! Eleven race wins, 2014 world champion!" 

And then Jock Clear : "Great job, Lewis, great job from Jocky, brilliant stuff mate, world champion." 

And then Paddy : "Congratulations Lewis, 2014 world champion, first Mercedes-Benz champion since Fangio! And I’m going to hand you over to Prince Harry." And we don't hear that message because that's the one we've heard before. 

Jenson does donuts as well. He deserves it. 

Paddy apologises to Nico now. He says he drove like a champion all year, and he'll have another go next year. 

Anthony is with Ted. Ted says "he's gone and done it again" and Anthony says "Amazing." and he laughs! He says what he feels is relief. "What a fight this year, what a fight!" Ted asks if he had any doubts because there were tough times during the year. "You know something, you always obviously have doubts because you never quite know what's going to happen. But you know, if you apply yourself decently and honestly, things happen. And the right things happen all the time." 

Lewis throws his headrest out the car, stands on the cockpit and waves his flag.

He hugs his brother and Nicole and some girl I’ve never seen. Nicole kisses his helmet. She cries. Lewis hugs his dad. Lewis kisses his step mom. His engineers hug him and yell.

I love that you know? I love it when people are so happy it overflows out of them and they get overcome by it and they become pure bodies and they completely embody that emotion and yell and move and touch in such a specific way that is only pure joy.

Look at how tight their hands are gripping him, oh my god

He signs the camera lens and throws the pen in the air.

Ahhh this is so perfect. I can't wait to see it happen again in present days. He goes up the stairs with Toto and they're holding each other all the way up.

He slips his fingers through his visor slit as he walks the hallway to wipe his tears. Oh. As he comes up to the table after his weigh in, he looks down and Toto smiles at him. He wobbles, and sits down. Toto stops smiling. Lewis rests his elbows on his knees. It was really a tough year. Massa gets here. Valtteri taps his back, offers his hand, they hug.

Did he help him up? Lewis seems so weak all of a sudden, completely wiped out by the emotions. He finally takes off his helmet. He carefully stays away from the camera shoved in his face. But then he turns around a little and you can see everything in his eyes as always. He kisses his helmet. He's crying.

He joins the three other men and they all look at him with wide smiles. Toto hugs him. More like : he engulfs him in his long arms.

Lewis looks so small.

Massa shakes his hand. "Well done," he says. I really like Massa. When you think back to their situation in 2008...

Outside, Bono is waiting for him. 

Oh. Oh fuck. Ohhhh don't do this to me. Nico has come into the cool down room to congratulate him. I can't cope with that.

He holds him by the neck, and Nico smiles and I wonder what he might have told him then, to the one who lost. 

It's time.

Toto is so tall he stands as high as Lewis on the podium even though he's on the lowest step.

Lewis is crying and it's making me cry very much.

Then they spray the champagne and he drowns Nicole and his dad in it from the platform.

Toto gets a hold of his champagne bottle and empties it on his head,

and then Massa comes and empties his,

and then Valtteri joins as well.

And it’s time for the photo.

And after all of that, Brundle comes to interview them. He says we've seen how emotional he got and can he try to put it into words? He brings the mic to his mouth but just shakes his head. Then he says in a shaky voice : "I'm a bit at a loss for words, really, but… I think really, one thing I wanna say is a big huge thank you to all the fans coming out all this way. All the flags, all the caps, everything… It made such a difference this weekend. Also to my family I love you guys, thank you so much for coming. I really, really appreciate it, my mom back home… And my team who throughout the year did an incredible job. Without them I wouldn't be here today so… I can't really explain how much this means, it means even more than the first one, it feels like it's the first time, and… I just… I feel so blessed."

Brundle asks him to speak about the race, what a start he had to the grand prix! Lewis giggles. He points to someone in the crowd.

"That's my guy down here, gave me a start, it was uh… like a rocket. It's probably the best start I've ever had. And… I knew from then on straight away that I was in the lead and obviously going into the race I had a couple of different options of which, of how to approach the race… if I was behind then… we'd see how it goes to the first stop, but if I was ahead then I knew I had to really really race and… you know the car was fantastic we really got it spot on for the race obviously qualifying wasn't perfect but we got it ready for the race so… that's what's most important."

Brundle says he then heard on the radio that Nico had a problem. What did he think? "You know, Nico put on an incredible fight throughout the year. He was a phenomenal competitor. You know, we, we met each other (the crowds starts cheering and applauding) back in 2007 uh… 1997, and we always said it would be amazing to be racing in the same team and fighting for a world championship. He did an amazing job today and very sad obviously to know that he, the car wasn't quick enough so we can fight in the end but… still, he was graceful enough to come up to me just now".

Brundle asks if he minds sharing what they said to each other after such an intense season, adding that it's been difficult between them from time to time. Lewis fumbles with his words. "Yeah I mean he just, as I said he just came into the room just now, very very professional. And I just said you know, fantastic– he said you drove really well so, and same for him you know all year long he drove incredibly well especially qualifying so, hat off to him."

Massa congratulates Lewis during his interview, he says well done and he's done a fantastic championship with his team. Then Lewis and Valtteri comment on the trophy together for the rest of his interview.

When Brundle moves on to Valtteri, Lewis embraces Massa again. Then they talk during Valtteri's interview.

Finally Brundle asks Lewis what's going to happen now for him in the next few hours, days, months. He says he really doesn't know and will take it one day at a time. "This is the greatest day of my life, so…" He thanks again everybody, he says 2008 was a special time in his life and the feeling he has now is way past that. "It's the greatest feeling ever". He ends on a "thank you so much everyone, thank you!"

And that was 2014.

[stillbandofbrothersthirsty]

As Far As Friends Go

Chapter 17 (Chapter 1; Chapter 2; Chapter 3; Chapter 4; Chapter 5; Chapter 6; Chapter 7; Chapter 8; Chapter 9; Chapter 10; Chapter 11; Chapter 12; Chapter 13; Chapter 14; Chapter 15; Chapter 16)

Emily - September - October 1944 Emily’s mind was with Nixon as she quietly crept down towards the kitchen. He had looked so disheveled wandering the halls like a madman. Emily worried that he was struggling to sleep again. She flicked on a small lamp just inside the kitchen. It provided enough light to guide the kettle. Within a moment Emily stood beside the stove waiting for the water to boil. She wanted to be careful to pull it off the burner just before it whistled. The last thing she wanted was to wake the entire house of officers before they left England for good.

A slight draft blew through the window panes just above the sink and Emily was glad she had thought to bring the tartan blanket from the foot of her bed. As she waited, she peered out the window expecting to see nothing but black. Emily imagined all the creatures that may be roaming about in the night. She had seen plenty of deer, rabbits, and even a few foxes since coming to Aldbourne. Instead of woodland animals, Emily made out the faint silhouette of someone sitting on the bench only a few yards from the manor. She squinted through the pane wondering if it was one of the officers. A speck of orange illuminated the raven night and Emily recognized the posture of the man smoking. She knew that figure, she had sat beside him for hours. Emily pulled the kettle off of the stove and filled two mugs. Clutching her blanket with one hand, Emily balanced the steaming mugs against her chest. The ceramics weren’t hot through the wool blanket but she walked quickly outside anyways, afraid the tea would cool once it hit the night air. “Hey Joe,” Emily approached Joe Toye, adjusting her grip on the mugs. It was chilly outside, but not so cold that the blanket wouldn’t suffice for warmth. The bench Joe sat on was perfect for over looking the low swooping valley below. Emily could smell the smoke from his cigarette who’s tip glowed each time he sucked at it. “Am I disturbing you?” She asked. “Emily, hey,” Joe hardly turned to look over her shoulder, “nah, take a seat.” Emily circled the bench and sat down beside him gazing off into the darkness. She held out one of the hot mugs, “tea?” she asked. Joe grimaced, but accepted the cup, “I don’t know why the tom’s are so moony over this stuff,” he said taking a tentative drink. Emily chuckled, “you don’t have to drink it.” “Eh it’s okay, thanks,” Joe flicked his cigarette to the ground. “So what’re you doing out here?” Emily asked. “I don’t know, just couldn’t sleep.” “Feeling anxious about tomorrow?” Emily kept her voice gentle. Something about Joe allowed her to immediately let her guard down. She felt totally comfortable around him but that didn’t mean he was comfortable around her. “A little bit, I don’t know.” “That’s reasonable to feel that way,” Emily said. She didn’t want to push him. Joe exhaled deeply. They sat in companionable silence for a while. A breeze rattled the leaves in the trees as if warning them of their fate. Emily much preferred the cold to the heat. She was perfectly content cocooned in her blanket with the cool air turning her cheeks red. “Would you call me a coward if I told you I was scared?” Joe’s voice was husky. Emily looked at him in surprise. “Not at all Joe! Not one bit.” Even in the dark Emily could see Joe’s Adam's apple bob up and down as he swallowed. “Is there something specific you’re worried about?” Emily asked gently. “I don’t wanna let anyone down,” Joe confessed into the night. “Joe, why would you say that? You’re not going to let anyone down. You’re one of the best soldiers in Easy Company.” Joe chuckled humorlessly, “I have a hard time believing that.” “It’s true,” Emily kept her voice low, “ask any guy here. You’re the one they want in their corner. You’re the one I want in my corner.” Emily wasn’t just saying that to make him feel better. She had gotten to know Joe well since Normandy and there were few people in the world she trusted more. Joe was the kind of guy who would be there for you without question. “Ugh,” Joe groaned. He ran a thick hand across his face. “Fuck. Sometimes I don’t know what I’m doing here, why I deserve to be with the best of the best.” Emily’s heart ached for him. She knew exactly how he was feeling. There were few feelings worse than doubting your own place. It was incredibly lonely. “Because you’re one of the best,” she said firmly. Joe laughed bitterly but otherwise accepted her compliment. “I honestly wonder what I’m doing here sometimes too,” Emily admitted. “Yeah?” Joe looked at her properly for the first time all night. “Yeah. I came over here a completely different person and now,” she shrugged, “now sometimes I don’t know who I am or what I’m doing.” “You’re the map girl,” Joe said matter-of-factly. Emily laughed, “oh is that what I am?” Joe allowed himself a little smile, “I mean that’s what we call you. That’s one of your nicknames at least.” Emily’s mouth dropped in mock shock, she was curious, “What? How did I not know I had nicknames! What else am I known by?” “You really wanna know?” “Yes!” “Mrs. Nixon.” A shiver ran through Emily’s body and her face grew hot. “Sorry if that embarrasses ya,” Joe said. “Why Mrs. Nixon?” Emily tried to keep her voice light. “You know there’s a real Mrs. Nixon right?” Joe shrugged, “yeah, but you’re like Captain Nixon’s work wife. You guys are always together workin’ on somethin’,” he said innocently. Emily’s muscles relaxed slightly at his explanation. “I prefer map girl,” she said. “Yeah me too, you got me all set up for Normandy.” “I’m glad you made it back,” Emily said sincerely. They exchanged a look that only two people who had been to hell and back could interpret. “Yeah,” he said. Emily inhaled deeply, pulling as much of the outside air into her lungs as she could. “I’m going to go back to bed. You should probably think about getting some sleep too.” “Yeah,” Joe said morosely. His thousand-yard stare was back, “yeah.” “Okay Joe,” Emily patted him tenderly on the shoulder, “good luck tomorrow.” “‘Night.” Emily made her way back to her bedroom where she fell into a restless sleep. The journey to Holland was much more grueling than the trip to France had been. The action was less concentrated and it took weeks for Emily to be reunited with her paratroopers. Operation Market Garden had gone poorly and her route was diverted towards Arnhem rather than the over-ambitious point across the Rhine. The 101st had managed to secure a few bridges and roadways but the initial encounter near Eindhoven had resulted in Easy Company’s retreat. When Emily finally reconnected with the 101st in Schoonderlogt she sought Nixon out for instructions. He and Winters were standing outside of the building where Easy’s second platoon was bunked up. She noticed the spot of raw red flesh on Nixon’s forehead as soon as she saw him. “What’s that?” she demanded, “wait and why do you smell like urine?” 
Nixon shot Winters a dirty look but didn’t offer any explanation. Winters retold a rather jarring close call Nixon had outside Eindhoven. As Easy Company moved to retreat a bullet ricocheted off his helmet, leaving behind a burn at the top of his forehead. For all intents and purposes, Nixon was fine. He had only been left with the small red scar which was expected to fade away. Nixon thought so little of his brush with death that he had the gall to be annoyed with Winters for informing Emily about the incident. Winters, cool as ever, was uninhibited by Nixon’s attitude and explained matter of factly how shaken both he and Nixon had been in the moment. “I’m fine, it’s fine. It’s not some dramatic war story!” Nixon protested. “No,” Winters conceded, “I’m just telling her how it happened.” Emily tried to match the candid energy of the men but deep down something stirred in her: panic. She wanted to scold Nixon for not retreating quicker. She wanted to ask him so many questions like if the burn had caused him any pain. What would she have done if the bullet had penetrated the metal? She would’ve lost him. It was in that moment she realized she would not be able to cope if he had been killed. “I’m fine,” Nixon repeated firmly, looking directly in her eyes. Emily cleared her throat, “I know. You’re standing here aren’t you?” “Exactly. Plus, you’re lucky you didn’t make it here earlier. 2nd and 3rd Battalions’ C.P.s were hit in force. Major Horton was killed.” “What?” Emily asked in shock, her stomach rolled with fear. “Yeah, glad you weren’t working when the Germans hit,” Winters added. Emily had missed out on so much. Obviously, the army had gotten her over as quickly as they could but she wasn’t priority personnel and the roads were difficult to travel. She cursed her femininity. If she had been a soldier she would have been able to slip back to 2nd Battalion with greater ease. Every day throughout her journey she had encountered men who were AWOL from the hospital, trekking back to their companies, and it didn’t take them nearly a month. “By the way, Em, I think we’re gonna need you later. Dick and I have got to go meet Strayer and I’m sure he’ll have a project for me,” Nixon said. “I’ll be at HQ anyways,” Emily said, “I have some things to set up anyways.” Nixon nodded at her, “thanks.” He and Winters jumped in a jeep and drove off. Emily took the chance to take in her surroundings. Everywhere around her soldiers were bustling about unloading trucks and dodging jeeps. The dirt roads were sodden with mud. Emily looked down at her boots. This wasn’t the first time she was grateful that they were part of her uniform. She began to make her way down the road past thatched grooves and stone buildings. As she walked she made various plans in her mind for what she wanted to get done once she made it the Battalion HQ. It was difficult reconnecting with her team after so much time apart. There was no saying what they had started working on, and Emily had little clue as to the recent developments in their corner of the war. The first couple of hours would inevitably be spent playing catch up. It was an extra hurdle for her to overcome, all because she would never be authorized for jump training. Let’s keep the bitter thoughts to a minimum, she chided herself. There was no place for negative thinking in a war zone. She made it to the command post to find it bustling with officers. Colonel Sink was barking orders in the background. Emily slipped in as inconspicuously as possible and found her way to a side room where other intelligence staff members were working. “Hi Larkin,” she said to a young S-1 working over an open chest. He was pulling out stacks of papers and re-arranging them on a nearby desk. “Hi Miss Rooney,” he briefly looked up to greet her. “What’s the most recent status on things?” she asked him. “Um, we’ll be in this area for a while. Patrols are being sent out to monitor the area while we get situated. A few have already successfully taken some key crossroad points.” Emily nodded, “thanks.” Larkin was concise. It was enough information for Emily to begin to work off of. She located a map of the area and began to review the intersections surrounding Schoonderlogt and outside of Arnhem. “Has anyone been tracking what’s been secured?” Emily asked. Larkin handed her another version of the map she was looking at with few places marked in red ink. “Thanks!” Emily accepted the map. “Okay,” Nixon clapped his hands together sharply, announcing his entrance, “we’ve got some work to do. We’re assisting the British Lt. Colonel Dobie here with rescuing a bunch of his men.” Lt. Colonel Dobie stepped in behind Nixon. “Where are they?” Emily asked looking up from her map. “15 miles north of the river.” Emily tracked the map as he spoke, “Easy company will meet them on the riverbank with boats.” “What do you need from us?” Emily asked Nixon. “We need to pinpoint where exactly to place the boats. Also, we need to take a look at the enemy dispositions and area maps.” Larkin directed Nixon and Dobie to the dispositions as Emily sat by feeling somewhat useless. She hadn’t yet familiarized herself with this intelligence room and she couldn’t help but feel somewhat embarrassed that she wasn’t the one confidently assisting Nixon. She could not afford to slip, not now. The rescue mission, known as Operation Pegasus, was more than successful. It took three trips but Easy Company was able to get all of the Brits across the Rhine without incident. That night Emily could hear the men cheering from the long thatched building down the road. The allied men were celebrating another day of life in their godforsaken world and it made Emily smile to think of their joy, no matter how fleeting. But tragedy struck soon after. A jumpy private shot Moose Heyliger while on guard. Welsh had arrived at the scene. The day after the event Emily could tell Welsh was shaken. His face was gaunt with exhaustion and worry. Emily’s first instinct was to comfort him, at least in the way she would have before Normandy. But Nixon’s words from months ago rang in her head. Since then, Emily had become self-conscious of her friendship with Harry. Heading Nixon’s words she had distanced herself somewhat from the engaged man; not that he really seemed to notice. And to her surprise, she hadn’t really missed him. He was still a happy face to see around and she felt an obligation to be there for him in moments he was hurting. But she had realized that she didn’t crave his company, no more than she craved George’s or any of her other friends. Welsh was nice to have around but Emily didn’t pine for him like she thought she should’ve if she were truly in love. The weeks passed and the weather grew colder in Holland. One day Emily was reviewing the allies' advance deeper into Belgium when a quick question came up. She decided to seek out Nixon to see if he could help direct her. He wasn’t in his office so she walked down the hallway to Winters’ office which was her best guess as to where Nixon might be. The glass-paned door was open but she could hear voices conversing inside so she hung back. The office was occupied by more than just Nixon and Winters. A moment later, Bill Guarnere exited the office and Winters assistant closed the office door. 

“Hiya sweetheart,” Bill said as he passed her. Emily smiled warmly at him then moved to approach the door. As she drew closer she could hear Nixon and Welsh conversing with Winters. “I’m outta here, I’m going to Rheims.” She heard Welsh’s voice through the thin door. “Strayer will be in London for at least another week for Lt. Colonel Dobie’s wedding.” Nixon was speaking now, “I personally am heading back to Aldbourne to look up a certain young lady.” Emily’s stomach sunk with Nixon’s words. She hadn’t realized he was still in touch with the woman he had been seeing in Aldbourne. There was no explanation for her feeling but the idea of Nixon traveling so far back to see his lover filled Emily with rage. What was he doing wasting his time on that woman? He was married for christ’s sake, why was this woman worth compromising that? “May I help you?” Winter’s assistant asked. Emily looked at him blankly, “uh, no, actually, never mind.” Clutching her pad folio closer to her chest she turned on her heel and marched back down the hallway.