#band of brothers OFC

[coco-bean-1218]

Well-Behaved Women Never Make History

Chapter Two: When Blue Met Brown

Chapter Soundtrack

Summary: Claire arrives at Camp Toccoa, where her fate will be decided.

A/N: Hi, everyone! I am back from my unexpected hiatus. I'm very excited about this chapter, and I hope you all are, too. As always, feel free to like, comment, and reblog! I hope everyone enjoys it!

Warnings: Swearing, period-typical behavior, crude behavior towards Claire

Taglist: @whollyjoly @footprintsinthesxnd @panzershrike-pretz @xxluckystrike

June 6, 1942 Camp Toccoa, Georgia 5 p.m. Eastern Time ---

“Okay, I can do this," Claire muttered to herself.

Claire stood outside the entrance, in front of the sign that read Camp Toccoa, Georgia, searching for the confidence to go in. The young woman clutched her luggage handle with sweaty palms, her stomach twisting with nervous energy.

She fidgeted with her blouse and skirt, smoothing out imaginary wrinkles and adjusting her luggage for the hundredth time. Her heart raced as she thought about the rigorous training that awaited her in the army. Claire knew she had to push past her nerves and doubts if she wanted to succeed as a combat medic. As she stood alone, lost in her thoughts, she was suddenly jolted back to reality by footsteps approaching from behind.

“Oh shit,” Claire thought anxiously, “This better not be an MP.”

“Staying or going?” the voice next to her asked.

As she turned towards the voice, her eyes landed on a man who seemed to be her age. He stood tall, with a slim build and a clean-shaven face. The late afternoon sun glinted off his dark hair, highlighting his twinkling brown eyes. Like her, he clutched onto his belongings tightly and had one bag sitting on the ground beside him. She breathed a sigh of relief, grateful that he wasn't an MP like she feared.

“Staying.” Claire finally replied, “At least I think so.”

"I'm James," he introduced himself with a friendly smile, extending his hand. Claire took a deep breath and shook it firmly, feeling a sense of warmth in his touch. "James Alley."

"Claire O'Connor," she replied, matching his smile with one of her own.

“Are you a nurse here?” He asked.

Combat medic,” she replied with a slight edge to her voice, not looking away from the entrance.

James shifted awkwardly. “Oh, my mistake...So, what company are you in?” he asked nervously, trying to recover.

"Easy Company," Claire answered confidently, finally meeting his gaze again.

The young man's face lit up with a warm smile."So am I. You're the first person I've met from Easy." He laughed, a hint of dryness in his voice. "Should've gotten here earlier."

He fidgeted, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. "How long have you been standing here?" 

Claire glanced around before answering, "'Bout ten minutes.

James picked up his bags. “Well, you might as well walk with me.” He then nodded towards the entrance. “C’mon.”

Claire picked up her luggage and followed her new friend through the gates, past a row of wooden buildings, and into a bustling camp.

As they walked into Camp Toccoa, Claire's senses were immediately bombarded with the sights and sounds of soldiers moving about. The barracks were lined up in neat rows, flags fluttered in the breeze, and there was a constant stream of voices calling out to one another. Claire couldn't help but feel small and out of place amid the hustle and bustle. Alley looked just as overwhelmed.

“What do we do now?” Alley asked.

Claire shrugged, "I'm guessing we need to find where we're supposed to check in?"

"Yeah, wherever that may be," Alley muttered

Claire gestured to the left. "I don't know...let's try going this way." 

The two of them started walking in the direction Claire had pointed out. As they continued through the camp, Claire became aware of how immense Toccoa was and felt small, as if she were wandering alone in a dense, shadowy forest. Walking behind Alley, she noticed a large group of soldiers—seven, to be exact. Even from a distance, their boisterous behavior and loud voices were enough to make her uneasy. 

“Oh, fuck,” she muttered under her breath.

“What’s the matter?” Alley asked her.

She shook her head. “Nothing, let's keep going.” She quickened her pace, wanting to avoid any potential trouble that might come from being near them.

Claire kept her eyes fixed on the ground, counting each step she took. She could feel the curious glances of the other recruits burning into her skin, but she knew she couldn't let their stares get to her. If she were to make it, she had to prove herself capable and strong. As a young woman in a camp full of grown men, she had reasons to be apprehensive. Therefore, she didn’t want to engage with the group unless necessary.

Unfortunately, as she walked by, everything began.

Someone whistled at her. One yelled, “Hey, look, it’s a broad!” Another yelled something along the lines of, “Oh, yeah!” or, “Hell yeah!” Claire really couldn’t tell with all the commotion. Someone else yelled, “Hey there, beautiful!” Another just cackled at the other four, which only provoked them more. However, when she glanced back, two of the men were simply watching and didn't engage in the crude behavior.

If she rolled her eyes anymore, they would go to the back of her skull. She had two options: walk away or confront them. She would have likely walked away if it were just some unknown boys on the street. But, these were individuals she needed to interact with in the future and could potentially save their lives, so she squared her shoulders and prepared to confront them.

With her head held high and a confident sway to her hips, she marched over to the group, leaving Alley in her wake. As she approached, she crossed her arms over her chest and narrowed her eyes, projecting an intimidating aura that dared anyone to challenge her.

Among the group, there was a red-haired man with dimples, a shorter man biting his lip to hold back laughter, a man with dark hair who seemed disinterested, a lanky one with thick, dark hair, another with sharp features that suggested he could throw a punch, a young-looking boy who kept winking at her, and finally a tall boy with piercing blue eyes. Her intense gaze locked onto his, but he couldn't meet it for long. He quickly averted his eyes and stared at the ground, feeling a flush of embarrassment spread across his cheeks.

“Well, this is some group,” she thought to herself as she observed the seven before her, “A real bunch of jokers is what they are.”

She shifted her weight to one leg and took a deep breath, the sound of frustration escaping her lips. “There something you need to say to me?” 

The first five, Claire dubbed the ‘rowdy ones,’ stared at the ground, trying to contain their laughter. The other two avoided eye contact with her and exchanged glances.

She leaned in closer. “What is it?” You don’t know what to say when a girl has bigger balls than you, doesn’t take your shit, and stands up for herself?”

They were silent now.

“Thought so,” With a satisfied smirk, she confidently strutted off with Alley at her heels. Claire felt a sense of satisfaction with what she had accomplished in the mere ten minutes she had been here.

The red-headed man chuckled, “Well, I'll be damned,” he exclaimed.

“Wasn’t expecting all that,” the shorter one laughed, gesturing towards Claire.

“Hey! Hey! Buddy, come here!” the skinny one called out to Alley.

Alley sighed and begrudgingly walked back toward the group, “Yeah?”

“So, tell us, what’s the deal with girly?” the tough-looking one asked.

As Alley shrugged his shoulders and began explaining how they had just arrived at Camp Toccoa together, the blue-eyed boy found himself lost in thought. He wondered what it would be like to have a conversation with this girl, to discover more about her beyond her fiery attitude and unwavering confidence. It was an unfamiliar feeling for him, this curiosity that was slowly growing within.

“Hey, watcha lookin’ at, Grant?” one asked, nudging him in the side.

“Nothing.” he snapped back.

“Uh-huh, sure,” the youngest of the group replied sarcastically, raising an eyebrow at his friend's obvious interest in Claire.

Grant's cheeks flushed red, and he quickly averted his gaze from his friends. He couldn't deny that there was something about Claire that had captivated him, but he didn't want to admit it either. He was always known as the level-headed one, the guy who didn't let distractions get in the way of his focus. But there was an indisputable spark within him that had been ignited the moment he locked eyes with her.

As soon as he gained a sense of boldness, Grant found himself chasing after her. He couldn't let her go without at least trying to make things right.

Claire quickened her stride, relieved to be away from the group. Yet she couldn’t help but feel guilty that the group had summoned Alley back.

“Excuse me, miss?” She heard someone call out as they ran up to her.

She stopped in her tracks, “Jesus Christ,” she murmured as she rolled her eyes and turned on her heel. She anticipated encountering one of the other boys, but to her surprise, it was the quiet one.

Claire cocked her head to the side, piercing him with a sharp gaze. Her arms were tightly crossed over her chest, and her voice carried a steely edge, "Yes?"

Grant shuffled nervously, his hands fidgeting at his sides. He glanced up at her, trying to compose himself before speaking.

“Hi, there. I...uh... just wanted to apologize on behalf of my friends. They’re a bunch of idiots and shouldn’t have acted that way,” he said, nervously rubbing the back of his neck. He glanced over at his rowdy friends, who were still causing a scene.

Claire wasn’t impressed, “So, why aren’t they apologizing?

“Um, well,” he stammered, meeting her eyes with a mixture of apology and nervousness. "I thought it would be more sincere if I apologized instead."

"Well, it's not your fault they're idiots," she replied, her voice softening slightly.

He nodded, relieved by her response. "Still, I should have stepped in and stopped them from harassing you."

She quirked an eyebrow, her expression guarded “Mm.”

“My name’s Grant. Charles Grant,” he introduced himself, extending a hand towards her. 

A faint smile tugged at her lips as she returned the gesture, “Claire O’Connor.”

Claire studied Grant closely, taking in his tall stature and young features. Despite his attempts to remain calm and composed, she could see the way he was shaking slightly, the way his cheeks flushed slightly with embarrassment.

It was clear to her that Grant was a man who was not accustomed to being rattled, but there was something about her that had thrown him off balance. In a way, it was oddly refreshing to know that even the strong and confident could be knocked off their feet sometimes.

She had to admit that Grant was undeniably handsome, the way his golden brown hair was neatly side-parted, not a strand out of place. Her gaze was drawn to his mesmerizing eyes, which resembled the clear blue sky on this warm Georgia afternoon. And she found herself unable to look away from him.

"Oh no, Claire, this is not why you're here. We are not doing this again. Remember what happened last time," she scolded herself.

“I’m guessing you’re here to be a nurse or a medic?” Grant inquired.

“Combat medic, yes,” she confirmed. “I know some French from high school, so I’m hoping they might make me a translator, as well."

Grant nodded, impressed by her intelligence and multitasking abilities. "That's impressive."

Claire glanced around the camp, "You wouldn't happen to know where the check-in is?"

“Yeah, I do. I’ll show you if you’d like,” Grant offered.

She graciously accepted and led the way with Grant close behind. Of course, the group of boys behind them caught sight of this and started pushing and shoving each other, their voices rising in excited hollers.

“So, if you don’t mind me asking, where are you from?” he inquired politely.

"Detroit, Michigan. How about you?" she responded.

"Southern California," he answered with a hint of nostalgia in his voice.

"Is that so?" she exclaimed, raising her eyebrows in surprise. "I've always been fond of California. I vacationed there once."

Grant smiled. "Looks like we're both city kids.”

“I suppose we are," she nodded.

As they rounded the corner, a quaint wooden building came into view. "Here we are," Grant announced.

After expressing her gratitude for his assistance, she turned towards the building. She paused for a moment to glance back at him before entering. He stayed outside, waiting patiently. Feeling a bit awkward, he tried to distract himself by taking in his surroundings.

The door creaked as she pushed it open, revealing a cramped room with peeling paint and a musty smell. She noticed a person she presumed to be an officer lounging in a chair behind a desk.

She nervously cleared her throat. “Uh, excuse me, sir?”

“Hmm?”

“I’m here to check in, sir.”

“Name?” the man asked.

“Claire Renée O’Connor. I’m here to be a medic.”

Not expecting to see her, the man nearly fell out of his seat when he heard this. To which Claire, of course, had to look out the window next to her to stop herself from laughing at his reaction.

After composing himself, he cleared his throat. “Just a moment, please.”

The man turned and walked back to another room behind him. “Hey, Dick, she’s here.”

Returning to the office, he introduced himself as Lieutenant Lewis Nixon. He extended his hand to Claire, who shook it firmly while trying to hide her nerves.

Another man walked into the office. He was tall with red hair. He offered his hand and introduced himself as Lieutenant Richard Winters.

“You must be Miss Claire O’Connor?”

“Yes, sir, I am,” she nodded and shook his hand too.

“Pleasure to meet you.” He handed her a thick stack of papers and a pen. “Please review these documents, verify everything is correct, and sign.”

"Certainly," Claire quickly scanned the pages, her eyes darting back and forth as she checked each line for any errors. After a few minutes, she confidently signed her name at the bottom of the last page.

“You’ll be assigned to Second Platoon, Private.”

She nodded, “Yes, sir.”

“Here’s your gear: Dress uniform, PT gear, combat uniform, helmet, utility belt, dog tags, and boots,” Winters explained as he handed her each thing. The pile was so tall that she couldn't see over it.

“Welcome to the Airborne, Private,” Winters said, his voice booming and filled with pride.

“Thank you, sir," Claire saluted.

Claire left the building with her stack of gear, stepping out into the humid air. Grant was still standing there, waiting for her, but was now rolling up his sleeves to gain relief from the heat. He turned to see Claire carrying her vast stack of newly acquired gear.

"Here, let me help you with that," he offered as he walked towards her. 

A flicker of appreciation danced across Claire's eyes. "I appreciate that," she admitted, "but I can handle myself just fine."

Grant's lips curled up into a small smile. "I believe that," he said, "But, what kind of a gentleman would I be if I didn't offer my help?"

Claire hesitated for a moment, considering Grant's offer. She wanted to be more independent, to not rely on anyone else for help; she had done that for too long in her life. But there was something about Grant's genuine kindness that made her reconsider.

Claire sighed, "He is really sweet," she said to herself, "Maybe I should give him a chance."

"Alright, fine," she gave in as she handed him the stack and continued carrying her luggage.

Grant's smile widened at Claire's acceptance of his offer. He carefully took the stack of gear from her, making sure not to drop anything. 

"Thank you, Claire said softly, "I do really appreciate it. I didn't mean to sound cold."

Grant shook his head, a gentle laugh escaping his lips. "No worries, I understand the need for independence. So, what platoon are you in?" he asked.

"Second," she replied.

"So am I. I'll show you where the barracks are." Grant said, genuinely pleased by the coincidence.

Grant walked alongside Claire, each step in sync with the other. As they made their way through the bustling camp, Claire tried to keep her gaze ahead, focusing on the dirt path in front of her. But no matter how hard she tried, her eyes kept drifting toward him. His stride was confident, his posture strong, and there was a subtle grace to the way he carried himself. She wondered what stories lay behind those kind eyes, what experiences shaped him into the man he is today.

"You know, you didn't have to wait for me back there. I could've made it around on my own," Claire said, her voice laced with curiosity.

Grant shrugged, "I wanted to. You know, I was in your shoes just this morning when I first arrived." 

Claire raised an eyebrow, intrigued by Grant's admission. "You were lost too?" she asked, a smile playing at the corners of her lips.

Grant chuckled, nodding as they continued walking. "Oh, definitely. I must have taken every wrong turn possible before finally finding my way around this place. I'm still not exactly sure we're going in the right direction."

Claire laughed for the first time since she left home, the sound echoing through the camp, drawing the attention of nearby soldiers. Grant's face lit up with joy at the sound of Claire's laughter. It was contagious, filling him with a newfound sense of ease. He found himself yearning to hear it again and again, to be the one responsible for that joyful sound.

"I appreciate your kindness," Claire replied sincerely. "Most of the guys my age I've encountered haven't been nearly this nice."

Grant smiled warmly at her. "Well, they don't know what they're missing out on then," he said. "You seem like a force to be reckoned with." 

Never in a million years would Grant have pictured himself running after a girl, especially one he hadn't even spoken to, and being so open with her. Having never felt this way around someone was a strange feeling for him. But, here he was, now befriending her.

Claire nodded, though a part of her couldn't fully trust Grant's words. She couldn't let his words fill her head with false hope, especially when the odds were stacked against her.

As they neared the busier parts of the camp, many of the soldiers they walked past shot Claire curious yet dirty looks, sizing her up with judgment and skepticism. She could feel their eyes on her, questioning her presence amongst them, and some began whistling at her.

"Aren't you afraid they'll tease you for helping me?" 

"Afraid? Not at all," Grant replied, his voice steady and confident, as he shot dirty looks right back at them. He stood up straighter and walked with a swagger. "Let them try," he muttered under his breath, though loud enough for Claire to hear.

Claire spoke up, "So, who was the group of guys you were with? Like, what're their names, I mean?"

"The one with red hair, that's Malarkey. The one who didn't say anything, that's Toye. The skinny one with the thick dark hair, that's Liebgott. The shorter one, that's Luz. The tough-looking one is Guarnere. And the young-looking one standing next to me, that's Talbert." Grant explained.

As Grant listed off the names, Claire made mental notes, trying to match the faces with the names, "I see."

"They're good guys. I mean, I haven't known them for more than a few hours, but they seem like good people," he reassured her.

They reached the barracks, a large wooden structure with peeling paint and worn-out steps. 

"Well, here we are," Grant sighed, "You can pick any bed that isn't taken."

He held the door open for Claire, allowing her to enter first. The first thing that caught her attention was the overpowering smell of sweat and dirt, mixed with the faint scent of cigarettes.

Inside, the room was filled with bunk beds lined up against the walls, clothing, and gear strewn about haphazardly. A few soldiers were playing cards at a small table in the corner, their laughter filling the air. Claire noticed that some of them turned to look at her as they entered, their eyes filled with curiosity.

Grant led her to the last empty bed near the corner, between two occupied ones. He carefully set down her stack of gear and moved to stand beside her. He motioned towards the bed on Claire's left, "This one's mine, and on your other side is Roe. He's also here to be a medic. I think you two will get along just fine!"

"Thank you again," Claire smiled at Grant, "I really appreciate your help. I know at first I was a bit resistant, but having a kind and trustworthy person like you by my side makes everything a lot easier."

Grant beamed at the compliment, feeling a warm glow in his chest. "I don't mind at all. It's my pleasure to help you," Grant responded, his words genuine and warm. 

For once, Claire didn't feel like she was carrying the weight of the world on her shoulders. For once, she had someone who cared about her, someone who would look out for her, and someone who was willing to be her friend.

With a final nod, Grant turned to leave, but not before catching Claire's eye and giving her a reassuring smile. "I'll see you around."

"Yeah, see you around," Claire replied, watching with a heavy heart as Grant walked towards the door and out of the barracks.

As Grant disappeared into the camp, Claire wondered if this newfound friendship would last or if they would just be fleeting acquaintances in a world that seemed determined to tear her apart.

---

[latibvles]

tell me when it kicks in.

ahem. Killy totally enabled me here (affectionate). Vampire!Daisy x Priest!Ron, postwar vague 1950s thing. Or: the one where Daisy needs to feed and Ron's feeling existential over his choice in postwar profession. Not proofread because I definitely wrote like a man possessed. It's a vampire au so uh . blood warning ( shock, surprise ).

He knows that his line of questioning can be saved for another time.

Daisy never really responded well to interrogation anyways. She’s always ducked out of questions she didn’t want to answer and pressing further always made her lips tug into a frown, made her shut down entirely. He couldn’t pry answers out of her.

He’s only asked about how it happened once, she averted her gaze and muttered something about trusting the wrong people, a long time ago. It made his fingers flex, made him want to reach for the sidearm he doesn’t have anymore. It’s a thought he’s not even supposed to have anymore, not if he’s supposed to be fully committed to the Church, the word his father preaches, and all that encompasses.

Ron’s starting to acknowledge he’s never really been fully devoted. It’s just easy to convince people that he is.

The epiphany is something he can contemplate on his own time, when the sun isn’t so bright as it reflects off the snow. He hasn’t seen her anywhere in days and maybe it’s his own paranoia that has the alarm bells ringing in his head incessantly. Maybe he’s finally lost the last scraps of sanity he managed to take home.

He should leave it alone. Anyone else with a shred of their sanity would leave it alone. Unfortunately, Ron signed off on his sense of self preservation years ago and hasn’t been able to get it back since. Only someone who’s lost their mind would walk straight into the mouth of the devil.

A wind chime on her front porch, a wreath yet to be taken down and a pileup of snow on an old rocking chair, which remains still. Real sinister stuff here.

Ron knocks on the door and there’s no answer. Any other person would take that as a sign to go away — but he just tries the knob which is, to both his surprise and detriment, unlocked.

Should he not be grateful that he hasn’t seen her? That she hasn’t occupied the pews late at night or brushed past him during the day? Daisy made him question things, threw a wrench in whatever he was trying to do here (it was what he liked about the Army, after all — the lack of questioning. There was no time for it. You get your order and you fulfill it by whatever means necessary).

What’s he even trying to do anymore? He really doesn’t know. He hasn’t since he’s gotten home when he was so very convinced he wasn’t going to make it back.

Ron steps into the darkness of the house, shuts the door and locks it behind him. Streaks of light leaking through curtains illuminate parts of the living room and the steps leading up to the second floor. It’s still, quiet, he takes a momentary glance at a couple frames hung on the walls. One of a man in a service uniform, one of a couple and two children. She’d mentioned a brother, once.

“Daisy?” He calls down the hallway. The silence that follows is an answer all its own — likely the third warning to go away that he’s electing to ignore in favor of moving down the hallway, undaunted.

The hallway opens up into a dining room and kitchen. His eyes have finally better adjusted to the dark, all curtains drawn. It’s the smell of singed hair that gets him, though, as he’s turning his head this way and that with a newfound awareness of his surroundings. Or rather, something he’d tried to bury but hasn’t been able to quite yet. It’s all undisturbed — rooms frozen in time, deathly still.

He sees her through his periphery when he steps into the kitchen, a curled up ball by the back door, marked off by a streak of sunlight breaking through the shades.

Ron turns fully, to face her, and she stares directly back at him. He smells the blood — strong and coppery — before he realizes it’s on her lips, on her hands, and that those hands are cradling… something. What it is, he isn’t sure, but Daisy’s holding it close like it’s something precious.

“You shouldn’t be here,” her voice comes out raspy and trembling, nothing like that smooth and honeyed tone he’d been getting used to. She shrinks impossibly further into her corner and once again Ron can’t help but question how it is that she’s something the Devil conjured up.

“You’re hurt,” It’s a statement, an obvious one, but as he gets a better look at it he can see the severity. Blackened patches of skin on her arms, a red swatch of skin on the bridge of her nose and the tops of her cheeks. “The snow?”

“Nothing gets past you,” she doesn’t say it with irritation or even a tease — more like a lament. Like she’s scorning his observational skills. “It’s fine. You can go now.” Dismissive, he watches her grope in the dark until her hand finds purchase on the frame of the window in the door, and she hardly even flinches when her fingers begin to smoke. It takes everything in Ron not to yank as she pulls herself up, still holding onto that thing.

A bird, he realizes, now that she’s standing and he can better see it. Small, limp in her hand. Her bottom lip is trembling and her eyes are impossibly black as she skirts past him through the flash of light, towards the counter.

“What’re you doing?” Ron’s brows furrow as she opens up a cabinet, pulling out a box and opening it. He tails her and she doesn’t give him a second glance.

“I have to bury it,” she says simply, but he can see the way she trembles, the way she’s leaning on the countertop like a crutch.

“Right now? You have to lie down. Christ, Daisy, you’re barely standing—” She shuts the box with a decisive thud.

“Bed rest isn’t gonna do much for me, Ron,” She hisses, her voice sharp as she gives him a narrow-eyed look. Her body’s rigid before it relaxes, before she rubs her temples as though she just has a migraine. “Can you just– you can go now, okay? You shouldn’t even be—”

“Then what will?”

He doesn’t know why he asks this, like he doesn’t know the answer. Maybe to hear it from her own mouth, to confirm what he knows in the pit of his stomach. The look Daisy gives him is almost… sad, apologetic, and she looks away from him, back to the box, to the dead bird in a bed of shredded newspaper, now covered with the lid of its makeshift coffin.

“Blood,” she murmurs after a moment of silence. “It always ends in blood.”

“Hence the…”

“I didn’t want to do it. I was just…” she runs her hands through her hair, there’s a crack to her voice that tugs at his heart. “Hungry. I’m used to uh— the dry spells. In the winter. I didn’t realize it was so bright until I stepped out and it was right there and—”

It’s tumbling out in rapid fire and he can hardly keep up. He wants to reach out to touch her, ground her, but Ron isn’t especially sure that’s the right call. He clears his throat instead, cutting her off. Daisy looks at him again and he realizes that her eyes are glassy. She looks down at her own hands, now tucked back towards her chest.

“You should go.” She repeats again.

“How long will it take?” Ron asks instead, unmoving. “For you to heal.” Daisy hesitates, like she doesn’t want to tell him, before sighing.

“Two weeks, I think. Give or take.”

The answer… bothers him. Not even on the basis of her not knowing which, maybe if it were any other person, might’ve irritated him. But it’s the implication that gets him, an intrusion of his thoughts. The idea that she’ll be here, alone for two weeks, in pain, and then what? Go outside and burn again? And here she is, telling him to leave, instead of seizing an opportunity right in front of her. It bothers him. The thought of her in pain bothers him.

Bloodthirsty killers, says the myth — that the burning was a punishment, but he isn’t sure if he even believes it, looking at her now.

What could she have possibly done to deserve that? She’s working herself up over a damn bird.

Ron sheds his jacket without a word, then starts to roll down his sleeve.

“What’re you doing?” There’s an edge to her voice. He looks up at her, to her furrowed brow and the way her entire body tenses again.

“You’ll heal faster if you feed, right? Feed off me.” Daisy shakes her head immediately.

“Absolutely not,” She crosses her arms over her chest, turns her head as though the very sight of his wrist is temptation incarnate. “When someone tells you to go, you leave. You don’t— you don’t just offer yourself up like an afternoon snack.” She takes a step back from him, and she still won’t look at him. He notes the twitch of her hand over her arm, and Ron knows he might be poking a bear, but he has no intention of letting it lie. He narrows his eyes.

“And why not?”

“Cause it’s messy,” Daisy hisses, “And it hurts, even if I’m careful, and I don’t want to hurt you. Isn’t that reason enough?”

He thinks back to the bullets he took, and the shrapnel, and the scars etched into his skin that’ll never go away. The war that loops in his head, makes him paranoid, makes his sisters cast him worried, wayward looks. He doesn’t think there’s much worse than that. And even if there is, she’s already worrying about being careful with him.

“I can handle you,” Ron affirms, taking a step forward. “You aren’t hurting me.”

The silence between them is palpable. Her eyes shut on a deep inhale and even stronger sigh, he swears her body shudders as she turns to look at him with a face that can only be described as defeated. He knows it well.

“You don’t know what you’re asking of me,” she breathes out in that similar lament from when he first found her, shrouded in that corner. Ron shrugs.

“Won’t know until I find out.” He offers his wrist, holding it up to her, and she looks at him and swallows hard. Her eyes are still glassy.

“Are you sure? You really don’t have to.” There’s something about the way she says it — the soft earnestness that her words take that sends him into that line of questioning again. How it’s possible that she can exist at the same time as him and be the one who’s cursed. How any god could allow that to happen. And if those burns weren’t so apparent on her skin, he would’ve allowed himself the time to get angry about it.

“It’s fine.” Ron affirms, definitive. She mutters a barely audible okay, reaching for a paper towel to wipe that stain from her mouth, like she doesn’t want to mark him with the remnant of her last meal.

He watches like a hawk as she takes his wrist in her hands — cold, impossibly soft, she runs her thumb over his pulse point and looks at him through long, dark lashes.

“It’s gonna hurt for a moment, and you might start to feel lightheaded, so it’s… it’s better if we sit,” She doesn’t let go of his wrist as she walks into her dining room, sitting down and bringing him with her. “Let me know if you need to stop or just… just push me off. I won’t get mad. I promise.”

The way she says it feels rehearsed, like she’s done it before, and Ron has to remind himself that she’d talked about that, too: being a nurse. What that might’ve entailed. Her reluctance makes more sense now, the gentle way she’s handling him, and he won’t ask her to confirm his own suspicions. He just nods, but has no intention to shove her. Ron instead just watches, silent, as she lifts his wrist to her lips. Their knees knock up against one another’s. He half expects her to just go for it, but she doesn’t.

Her lips brush up against his skin in a way that’s so gentle and so terribly human that it has him even more on edge.

Then her lips part. He doesn’t look away when her teeth meet his skin, biting down. He bites on his cheek to refrain from grunting on the sting of her teeth breaking skin — his entire arm throbbing as his blood rushes to meet her awaiting mouth. She makes a noise, a soft rumble in the back of her throat that has his breath hitching. Part of him wants her to make that noise again, but he tries to remain neutral-faced.

It hurts where she’s bitten him, like the sting of a knife, but the rest of his arm just feels warm and eventually he has to lean back in the chair once he starts feeling a bit dizzy. She releases, after a few moments longer, and he can’t look away when she licks the excess from her lips.

“Better?” He asks, and she nods.

“A little,” she looks down at his wrist, still in her hand. “I have bandages in the cabinet. For your wrist. Don’t… don’t go anywhere.” Ron wants to quip that she’d been telling him to leave this whole time, but she scurries off before he gets the chance.

Ron doesn’t know which part he’s more stuck on — the sting of her bite or the burn of her kiss.

[adamantiumdragonfly]

|| UNDER THE BANNER || @juliannetoinette

lyrics from Nobody's Soldier by Hozier.

[cherrirui-official]

"You know... You didn't have to take that with you."

"But I promised him I'd take him out to see the ocean one day."

[wiltedprayers]

first day on hbo war fandom: this is with all respect to the real guys im merely talking about their fictional counterparts. i don't want to offend anyone!

months into the hbo war fandom: this war veteran is a cutiepie. a babygirl, even. dare I say.... my poor little meow meow?

[narwal-ed-in]

ARMY GLITTERATI - (Band of Brothers x Bimbo!Reader)

✨glitterati✨- /ˌɡlɪt̬.əˈrɑː.t̬i/ - 1940's slang for famous people, glamorous people, in the spotlight.

Summary: “You want to become a combat medic for the 101st?” “What, like it's hard?”

Warning: Period typical sexism, Fem reader, she/her pronouns, slight body shaming (not directed at reader). NO BETA READ. I WROTE THIS JUST NOW SO PLEASE DON'T EXPECT MUCH.

No disrespect to the real veterans of WW2, all my BoB fanfics are based on depictions by actors in the miniseries.

Borders by @plutism

BEFORE TACCOA

The war is raging and everyone is doing their part to help the men on the front.

For you, that mostly meant trying to look your best at all times, no matter how inconvenient the situation.

"Looking good is a ginormous part of the war effort, it's good for boosting troop morale. I saw it on a poster at the teaching hospital" You reasoned with your father after he complained about you buying another pair of shoes and some expensive vanishing creams.

"Darling, I think they meant that we should all keep our appearances up, not buy out our local department stores"

"Oh my god daddy, you're suffocating me! I'm just doing my part by looking nice..." you glare at your father in his work clothes and eye him with a grimace "...and clearly you're not"

When you get a telegram informing you that you've been selected to participate in a program that aims to send female medics into combat you jump on it.

This is going to be so much fun.

"I'm going to be the talk of the town when everyone finds out. Not even Reverend Smiths boring old story about dying for ten minutes in a car crash and seeing Jesus will be able to outdo this!"

Your supervisors at the hospital are shocked that you've been chosen, seeing as you're not the sharpest knife in the drawer.

You had once walked out of an operation because it was bloody and you were wearing white (all the nurse uniforms are white).

You hoped you wouldn't be assigned to the army or the airforce.

The army is too basic, and if you were stuck on an airbase somewhere then nobody would be able to see how fab you always were.

The navy was your goal, their uniforms were sooo cute, you were just dreaming of all the ways you could style it.

It's just your luck when you get assigned to airborne.

"THIS BLOWS! I'm in the two most unglamorous branches at the same time"

After your initial breakdown you realized it wasn't that bad. If you were jumping out of planes it just meant that your hotness would have a bigger audience since it would literally be raining down from the sky.

"When the Germans see all this falling from the sky, they're going to flip their friggin wigs! AHHHH"

CONNECTING WITH EASY

You're assigned to Easy company and meet the men a few months into their training at Camp Toccoa.

You show up randomly in the middle of the day.

Although the men had been told a woman would be joining them and they had been expecting you, they hadn't been expecting YOU.

You were a ditzy thing and looked like you’d jumped out of one of their pin up postcards. The brass surely couldn't expect them to put their lives in your hands.

"I'm sooo happy to meet everyone. You know, the other girls in the program are such massive liars, they said airborne was where all the uggos went, but that's so not true. After all, I'm here"

You always woke up an hour earlier than the rest of Easy so you would have time to put your face on.

It was one of your tenets to never be seen by anyone outside of family without makeup on, or with your curlers in.

Malarkey, Skip, Penkala, Shifty, Bull, Christenson, Lip and Winters had all been kind to you from the beginning, expecting nothing in return.

But some of the guys had other ideas.

George was one of the men that befriended you initially. And although he did have the ulterior motive of getting it on with you, he eventually stuck around because he actually liked you.

You guys have great play-flirting banter and you're both very entertaining people to be around, especially when you're drunk.

On the rare nights anyone gets passes they want to be around you and George because they know that's where the funs at.

You get sloppy drunk with George, flirt with men from Easy and other companies all night, then end up with your shoes off at 3am, sitting on the curb and crying about one of your ex boyfriends.

Perconte was one of your original detractors but when you found yourselves making the same brain dead comments about obvious things, you both decided to put your two half braincells together to form the singular braincell you share between yourselves.

Talbert was trying to get into your pants instantly. Nobody was surprised.

But just like George he grew to be genuinely fond of you.

What was surprising was Joe Toye taking you under his wing.

Toye could see that you were absolutely clueless and the worst part was, you had no idea.

Toye couldn't bear the agony of watching you skip around camp with your happy-go-lucky attitude, harping on about celebrity gossip nobody cared about.

"Y/N!" Toye yelled as you all got dressed to run Currahee "Why the hell is your PT shirt pink?!"

"Isn't it just the most gorgeous thing you've ever seen, Joe? I put a red handkerchief in with my laundry. Cosmo said carnation pink is the color of the summer"

Huffing and puffing, Toye took out one of his spare shirts and forced you to wear it.

"And when you give it back, it better not be fucking 'flamingo pink'" Toye said.

"Oh honey, this isn't 1939, flamingo pink is so over. I wouldn't be caught dead in that. You know, Joe, sometimes I feel like you don't care about fashion at all" You scoff at his cluelessness as you walk out.

Joe Toye is secretly your best friend in the company.

Toye taking you in meant Gaurnere and Johnny Martin had to be around you, much to their chagrin.

They didn't want some girl hanging off of them.

You win Gaurnere's respect when you coach him on what to write to his girlfriend back home to assure her that he's serious about their relationship when she began doubting his intentions.

And you win Johnny's respect when you help him find the most romantic gift for his wife for valentines day.

"Y'know, back home they call me the love doctor...Well, they used to, before I told Betsy Kline that Rob Jones was her soulmate but then he left her at the altar to elope with his housekeeper"

Sobel despised you from the moment he laid eyes on you.

Not wearing your red lipstick everyday was torture, but you had to stick to natural colours so Sobel wouldn't be able to tell what you had on.

He tried with everything in his power to get you kicked out, but much to everyones surprise, you kept up extrordinarily well with the men when it came to physical training.

"I do a lot of Pilates. It's really good for flexibility and helps you keep a positive outlook so you're not be such a 'negative nancy' all the time. Some of you could really use it. Some more than others..." you said as you side-eyed Skinny who just looked around incredulously

Eventually most of the men come to consider you a friend and a confidante since you give remarkably sound relationship advice.

"It's like sooo hard being the smartest person and the hottest catch in this camp at the same time"

The hardest nuts to crack in your immediate friend group end up being Leibgott, Cobb and Doc Roe, all for different reasons of course.

Leib was snide and arrogant and spoke to you like you were a silly little girl.

He didn't shy away from telling you how dumb he thought you were to your face.

Your relationship eventually becomes friendly but he will still be mean occasionally.

He always ends up apologising though and feels really bad when he makes you cry (the other guys nearly bite his head off whenever this happens).

"Jesus Christ, Y/N, stop being a baby already. I said I was sorry" Lieb said to you as you cried into your pillow.

"You can say sorry to me, Joey, but how are you going to tell Rita Hayworth you're sorry for saying nobody cares about her nighttime face washing routine?" You spoke inbetween sobs.

"I ain't saying sorry to Rita because I ain't sorry I said it. I stand by what I said. Nobody cares how some broad washes up at night"

"You take that back! That routine saved my life" You jumped up, pointing an accusing finger at the man.

"How the fu-"

"You're a horrible, horrible man Joseph Leibgott"

"Oh put a sock in it" Leib rolled his eyes, making you cry even harder.

Toye, ever protective of you, had enough "I swear to god Leibgott, leave that girl alone!"

Cobb was just straight up cruel to you and made sure you always knew "your place".

Roe didn't seem particularly close to anyone.

But as you all of you went into the more specialised aspects of your training and you and Roe spent more time together, he found himself looking out for you.

You were sitting alone on the grass after everyone had groaned and walked off the moment you started talking about an article you read in a magazine.

You sigh sadly, pulling at the grass when a shadow falls over you.

Bringing up a hand to block the sun you finally recognize who it is. It's Eugene Roe.

"I, uh, I was wondering if I could sit with you?" he asked.

You nodded excitedly and he took a seat beside you in the grass.

"What was it you were telling the others?"

You gasped "You really want to know?"

"I guess…"

Doc had seen everyone walk away, and although he didn't care much for mindless conversation, he knew talking to people meant a lot to you and had come over to cheer you up.

Without missing a beat you began one of your famous tirades.

By the end of your first year in Toccoa you end up finding your place.

Thanks for reading! Please like, comment and reblog if you want❤️

[irraddiated]

brmach :)

[lenisoldi]

Request/Genes Reaction

Masterlist

!TW!: Selfharming!

BoB boys reaction to your selfharming:

Welshy:

His cheerful expression dropped as he took a sharp intake of breath. His heart pounded hard in his chest as he reached out a steady hand, placing it gently on your shoulder. Harry's eyes were wide and serious, a rare sight, and he looked straight into yours, genuine concern etched into his features. "Hey," he said softly, "What's goin' on here? We need to talk about this." He had seen the scars before, but never fresh ones like these. He bit his lower lip nervously, trying to find the right words. How could anyone hurt themselves like this? His mind raced as he fought back a wave of protective anger. He remembered the countless times he had seen his comrades in pain, but this was different, more personal somehow. He felt helpless, yet determined to do something, anything to make it better.

Dick:

His heart skipped a beat as he carefully observed the faint lines etched on her skin. He'd seen plenty of injuries during war, but these were different - they weren't inflicted by an enemy; they were self-inflicted, hidden behind layers of uniforms and camaraderie. He gently reached out to touch her arm, his voice steady but tinged with concern. "What happened here?" He asked quietly, hoping he wasn't overstepping any boundaries. His cheerful demeanor momentarily faded, replaced by a look of deep worry. He'd known pain himself, but this... this was something entirely different. Oh God, how did I miss this? She's hurting herself, and I didn't even know. He thought to himself. "Come here." He pulled his wife into a deep hug.

Bill:

"Whoa!" Bill Guarnere exclaimed, his eyebrows shooting up in alarm. His gaze landed squarely on the bloodied patches of your skin, the sight instantly draining the humor from his face. The cockiness momentarily disappeared as he took a few steps closer to you, eyes narrowing with concern. He clenched his jaw, struggling to find words as the gravity of the situation sank in. "Jesus Christ, what happened here?" he finally managed to ask, his voice gruff but gentle. His demeanor shifted from carefree to serious in a heartbeat, showing the protective side of him that usually only came out around those close to him. He reached out a hand tentatively, stopping just short of touching your arm, unsure if you needed space or comfort. „I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, Bill." You cried, but just took you in his arms. „Shh, shh, hey, hey, it's ok, baby, look at me, it's ok. Just let's forget about this." He said and kissed your forehead.

Sparky:

Speirs raised an eyebrow in visible concern and then pulled you aside from the other men.  “Do you mind tellin’ me where those scars are from, Y/N?” He said to you in a calming manner, and yet you could see the hint of worry in his eyes. You didn't answer and just covered your arms. Speirs gently removed your hands from your arms, frowning at the sight of the scars. "Baby..” He sighed. “You know you can talk to me?” He said in a softer voice, looking into your eyes with a kind expression. He then pulled you into a gentle embrace, wrapping his arms around you carefully. You just began to cry and sob quietly. "Baby, don't cry, it's ok. Hey, look at me, it's ok." Ron gently took your face in his hands so you would look at him. “I don't know why..." Your voice broke and you just sobbed even more than before. “Speak to me.. Speak to me when you feel the urge to do it again next time. Promise it me, promise me that you will speak to me." He spoke, still looking into your eyes, his expression soft and loving. You nodded and added nearly inaudible: "I promise... I promise.." “I love you, darling. I love you so much.“ Ron whispered, kissing you on the forehead, and then on the lips.

Babe:

Babe looked at you with deep concern on his face as he noticed the unmistakable signs of self-harm. It ached his heart to see the pain behind your eyes. In a soft, gentle voice, he asked, "What's wrong, love? Why are you hurting yourself?" His words were filled with genuine care and understanding, careful not to sound judgmental or accusatory. He held out a hand with an open palm, hoping to offer some comfort. In his mind, he thought of all the times he had faced his own fears and how important it was to have someone to talk to in those dark moments. He wants to help, understand, and be there for you. While you hesitated to answer, Babe's gaze remained calm and caring, his eyes reflecting his deep compassion. He gently squeezed your hand, reassuring you that you were not alone. "It's okay if you don't want to talk about it now, but please remember that I'm here when you're ready. We can tackle this together, like we tackle everything else." His voice was soothing, like a gentle breeze on a summer day. He wondered how long you had been struggling with this and why he hadn't noticed sooner. He promised himself he would be more attentive, be the rock you needed in times of need. Around you, the living room was silent except for the soft crackle of the fireplace in the background. The peaceful atmosphere was a sharp contrast to the turmoil he sensed within you. The warm glow of the lamps cast a calming hue on your faces, as if it encouraged openness and honesty between the two of you. Babe's thoughts were focused on you and your well-being, pushing aside any fears or worries he might have.

Web:

When David walked into the dimly lit living room after a long day at work, his heart immediately sank at the sight of your bandaged wrist. The usually bustling room filled with laughter now seemed heavy with unspoken words. He carefully set down his briefcase and walked over to the couch, where you sat quietly, trying to hide your discomfort. "Hey, what happened?" he asked softly, concern on his face. His gaze was warm but worried, and his voice had a sad undertone. The room was decorated with books, photos of their happy memories together at Harvard, and other wonderful moments they had collected over the years. Normally, the room looked cozy and inviting, but now it was just cold. He reached out tentatively, his hand hovering above the bandages for a brief moment before he decided against touching you. His mind raced with questions, but he didn't want to push too hard. He knew you needed space and understanding right now. What could have possibly led you to do this? How can I help? He thought desperately. With a deep breath, he sat down next to you, leaving a respectable distance between the two of you. His eyes searched yours, trying to gauge how much you were willing to share. "We're in this together, you know," he said softly. "Whatever it is you're going through, we can face it as a team." He paused, allowing his words to sink in before adding, "Do you feel comfortable talking about it? I'm here for you, no matter what." David's heart ached seeing you like this, and he wished he could take your pain away. His calm demeanor was a testament to his desire to be strong for you, but inside, he felt a storm brewing. You just leaned against him without saying anything and he decided to accept that you weren't ready to talk about it. The two of you just sat there, hugging each other for the rest of the night, before he noticed that you were asleep and carried you to your bed.

Toye:

The dimly lit room was quiet except for the distant sound of laughter from the hallway. Joe, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest, couldn't help but notice something off about you tonight. Your usually bright eyes seemed clouded with sadness, and the sleeves of your shirt kept slipping down, revealing faint scars that told a painful story. He took a deep breath, his raspy voice barely audible even to himself. What's going on here? He thought. She's always so strong, what happened? Gathering all the courage he had, Joe approached you, his expression softening into one of concern. "Hey," he said gently, reaching out to carefully pull back your sleeve. "What are these?" he asked and pointed at your scars, trying to keep his tone neutral yet caring. The room suddenly felt smaller, and he swallowed hard, pushing aside his own playboy persona to make space for genuine worry. His heart sank as he saw the scars on your arm — clearly the result of self-harm. He couldn't believe what he was seeing, but he knew better than to react harshly. Instead, he kneeled down beside you, his gaze filled with empathy and understanding. "Whoa, hey now," he whispered softly, his rough voice betraying the tenderness he felt. "These scars... they ain't right. What's been goin' on?" He took your hand in his, gently rubbing his thumb over your knuckles. She needs someone to lean on right now, and I'm gonna be that person. Joe's playboy facade crumbled away, revealing the sweet, caring man beneath. He remembered his own battles and how hard it was to open up about his feelings, so he waited patiently, silently offering you the support you needed at this moment.

[bandagesandloveletters]

Band of Brothers Masterlist

𝙰𝚞𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚛𝚜 𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚎: 𝙵𝚘𝚛 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚛𝚎𝚚𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚜, 𝙸 𝚍𝚘 𝚝𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚖𝚢 𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚜𝚞𝚛𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝙸'𝚖 𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚒𝚜 𝚎𝚡𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚕𝚢 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚛𝚎𝚚𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚒𝚜 𝚊𝚜𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐. 𝙳𝚘𝚗'𝚝 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚛𝚢 𝚒𝚏 𝙸 𝚍𝚘𝚗'𝚝 𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚝 𝚘𝚛 𝚊𝚗𝚜𝚠𝚎𝚛 𝚛𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚊𝚠𝚊𝚢, 𝙸 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚐𝚎𝚝 𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚖𝚙𝚝 𝚘𝚗𝚌𝚎 𝙸 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚏𝚛𝚎𝚎 𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚖𝚢 𝚜𝚝𝚞𝚍𝚒𝚎𝚜. 𝙰𝚕𝚜𝚘, 𝚒𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚒𝚜𝚗'𝚝 𝚊 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝙱𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚘𝚏 𝙱𝚛𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚜 𝚋𝚎𝚕𝚘𝚠 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚝 𝚠𝚛𝚒𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚗 𝚏𝚘𝚛, 𝚙𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎 𝚊𝚜𝚔. 𝙸'𝚖 𝚊𝚕𝚠𝚊𝚢𝚜 𝚘𝚙𝚎𝚗 𝚝𝚘 𝚠𝚛𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚎!

Tag list: If you like my work, feel free to comment, and I can add you to a tag list for any future works either in general or for a certain character.

Lewis Nixon

Cold as Ice -A little something where Nixon learns to ice skate but it’s all part of a deeper plan. Pairing: Lewis Nixon x OFC.

Richard "Dick" Winters

Hidden Love - A request written around the reader and Dick having a hidden love for each other. Pairing: Richard Winters x Reader

Chuck Grant

Get Well Soon - Chuck gets a visitor to cheer him up. Pairing: Chuck Grant x OFC

Floyd Talbert

Frostbite and Kisses - In the cold depths of Bastogne, a little warmth is always welcome. Pairing: Floyd Talbert x OFC (Rosie Moretti)

George Luz

Sentimental Journey - A dance brings two kindred souls together. Pairing: George Luz x OFC (Ellis White)

Joe Liebgott

A Sergeant's Sorrow - A conversation between two friends after Brécourt. Pairing: Joe Liebgott x Platonic!OFC (Lizzie Welsh)

[kilojulietsierra]

Finders Keepers - Capt Ronald Speirs x Nurse!OFC

Summary: Lt. Elaine Walker is apparently the only nurse in her unit not terrified of the new Easy Company CO. As such she gets to know him just a little bit better than anyone else.

Warnings: All of my content is considered 18+ only, slow burn, fluff, eventual relationship, secret relationship, not so secret relationship, flirting in the middle of a war, smoking and drinking, allusions to sex canon typical language, violence and events.

Disclaimer: this work is based on the HBO series Band of Brothers and is in no way meant to disrespect the real heroes of Easy Co.

~~~~~~

She woke up all but burrowed under the covers, warmer and cozier than she'd been in longer than she could remember. On the verge of sleep and waking something was nagging at her. Fighting to stay asleep she wrapped her fist tighter around the edge of the blankets, giving them a tug.

The blankets came freely and she burrowed deeper into her pillow. The one hand she had out in the cool air of the room reached out to the other side of the mattress and stretched out the stiffness. That was when she realized what had awoken her in the first place.

Cigarette smoke.

Reluctantly she cracked her eyes open, it was still dark, the night air was cool and quiet.

"Over here." Ron broke the silence. HIs voice was smooth and quiet, barely disturbing the darkness.

Once her eyes adjusted to the light Elaine saw the cherry red end of his cigarette, "Come back to bed."

"Go back to sleep." HIs voice stayed just as hushed as before, the end of his cigarette glowed brighter for a moment.

"I will." She stretched her entire body and chased after sleep once again. "When you come back to bed."

Across the room he huffed out a silent laugh and took one last, long drag on his cigarettle. In the dark his steps were noiseless and only the faintest shape of him was visible, a silouhette as he passed in front of the moonlit window.

Her eyes had slipped closed once again, only opening when the bed dipped with his weight. She sighed contently as he slid under the blankets beside her once again. Once he was settled he wrapped an arm around her and pulled her close. "You enjoy bossing your CO around Walker."

Eyes closed and a sleepy smile on her face she rested her head on his chest. "Technically, you're not my CO."

That earned her another huff, a laugh, or as close as it would get. "That so?" His fingers stroked up her bare back. "Pretty sure your chief is reporting to me while your unit is still attached to Easy."

She felt his eyes peering down at her, could imagine the look on his face. Keeping her own eyes closed she chose not to respond.

The next time he spoke the words were whispered directly in her ear, "That would make me your commanding officer," He ducked his head to place a kiss behind her ear, "Technically."

Laney chuckled and pressed herself tighter against him, dropped a kiss of her own against his chest. Followed quickly by her teeth nipping at his pec. "Wise ass."

Ron hissed a little at her sharp teeth, but only retaliated by rolling them over so he was on his side and her back was flush against his chest. "Thought I told you to go back to sleep." He whispered against her ear again,

She settled back against him and hummed. letting her eyes slip closed. "What woke you up?"

His arms around her and his face pressed against the back of her neck he kissed her there. "Just a dream."

"Same one?"

Behind her Ron only hummed.

During the day he was a man of few words for the most part. Being promoted to Captain apparantly hadn't changed that much from what she heard. But, here in Austria, especially with her, he would losen up some. One of those times, late at night, laying in bed together he had told her about his nightmares.

Most of the men had them, she knew that all too well. The boys that came into the aid stations, the hospitals, they all trembled, moaned, sometimes screamed in their sleep. She had seen it plenty of times. They would startle awake. Their sleep haunted, dreams of earth exploding, shells raining down, the images of their friends bloody and mangled beside them..

Captain Speirs was no exception.

"Go back to sleep." Rons voice was even softer as he pulled the blankets up closer around them and settled in.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Captain Speirs, Sir?"

Speirs turned around, "What?" he snapped, already sick of people coming and asking him stupid questions.

"SIr, the nurse corps is asking where to set up." The soldier standing in front of him stared blankly as he waited for orders.

Speirs breathed deep through his nose and glanced out the grimey, half shattered window, "Take three men and clear a building across the street."

"Yessir." The boy left to do as he was told.

Less than an half an hour later, as he leaned on the back of the couch talking to a shivering, coughing Lipton, Speirs was once again interrupted.

~~~

When the chief nurse came to them they were unloading the last of the supplies. "Captain Winters is requesting someone to report to company E CP, they have men there that need attention."

Elaine and the other nurses stopped what they were doing. One of them spoke up, "Why can't they just come here? We are almost set up."

The chief nurse simply stared back at them, "Apparantly they're too busy."

"Isn't that what medics are for?" Another girl asked.

"Will one of you please, just go report to Captain Speirs. Don't make me order you."

The girls all exchanged a look. "Captain Speirs, ma'am?" Even the nurse corp had heard the stories. Boys coming into feild hospitals and aid stations were full of them. The nurses had all heard of the infamous Captain Speirs by now.

"Yes, Captain Speirs. He's the Easy Company commanding officer."

Glancing amongst themselves the nurses remained silent. After a long, tense moment Elaine jumped down from the truck with a humph and grabbed her kit, "I'll go Teresa." She slung her bag over her shoulder and took a look around at the wide eyes staring at her. With a snort she added, "I could use a cigarette anyway."

Laney ignroed the snickering and whispering behind her as she jogged across the street. Stepping quicker at the sound of artillery screaming overhead. Once she made it across the street to the company CP she ducked inside as a shell hit somewhere nearby.

The men looked up as she entered. One of them standing behind the couch looked her over as he stood to his full height, "Aid station is set up across the way."

Laney squared up to the Captain from across the room, "I'm well aware SIr. I've been sent to see to someone here."

The man on the couch sat up a ittle straighter, fighting back a coughing fit. "See who?" A shiver rolled through him as soon as he finished talking.

With a snort and a hint of a smile Laney shrugged out of her satchel and walked over to the couch, "I'm willing to bet that'd be you Sargent." Kneeling down beside him she gave him a quick once over and felt at his cheek and forehead. "You should be laying down somewhere trooper."

"Exactly what I said." Speirs spoke up from behind the couch, his eyes meeting hers and his lips twitching the slightest bit as though he may smile if he weren't careful. "In the back. Let her take a look at you Lip, that's an order."

With a cough and a little help, Sargent Lipton got to his feet, taking the blanket with him. "Yes Sir."

Speirs nodded to Lip and then looked back to Laney, "What's your name, Nurse?"

Laney shot him a look, "Lieutenant."

"Your name is Lieutenant?" His lips twitched again.

"My rank." She wrapped Liptons arm over her shoulders and picked up her bag. "If you'll excuse us, Sir?"

Speirs' eyes were dark and he did finally crack the barest of smiles as he nodded his approval, "Lieutenant. Lip, get some rest."

"Sir." Lip nodded and together he and Laney headed for the back of the building.

At the door Laney tugged Lipton to a stop and turned back to Speirs, "Say Captain, got any cigarettes?" Lip jerked his head up to look at her in surprise.

Back in the main room Speirs met her gaze with an honest to God smirk, "Fresh out."

~~~

Later that evening, when Laney had finally finished with the officers and non-coms and their multitudes of 'minor' ailments they'd all been dutifully ignoring, she was surprised to find that Speirs was still there.

He sat in relative darkness, save for the one kerosene lamp turned down low in the corner. His eyes were closed and he was slouched back in his chair, one muddy boot kicked up on the desk. Laney thought he must be asleep so she stepped quietly past him.

"Lieutenant Walker." Laney stopped in her tracks, not questioning how he'd gotten her name, and turned back towards the desk he'd moved into the corner and away from the windows. Now his eyes were wide open but his posture remained the same. "Captain."

Speirs seemed to be studying her intently for a long moment. "How are the men?"

Taking a breath, forcing herself to relax, Laney kept her voice down to match his, "Wore out." She took a few steps closer, "To say the least."

He nodded. "A little out of uniform aren't you Lietenant?" His eyes held hers, a hint of something in them. He looked her up and down, taking in the state of her dress.

A pair of hand me down jump trousers and a four pocket jacket a size or two too big over layers against the cold. She carried a bag like a medic, noticeably emptier than it was when she arrived, a battered helmet with the red cross peeling on one side . He saw a pair of fingerless gloves tucked in the utility belt she had cinched around her waist and noticed that the brown leather was stained darker with blood.

Laney rolled her eyes and cocked her hip, "Well, Sir, a white dress and stalkings don't fair too well on the line."

Speirs chuckled. "Appreciate you taking care of them."

"It's what I'm here for." She spared him a smile. "How 'bout you Captain?"

"How about me?" Foot still propped on his desk he crossed his arms, smirking again like he had earlier.

"Need me to take a look at anything?" She nodded his direction for emphasis.

Speris shook his head, "I'm doin' just fine Lieutenant." He held her gaze for a moment and eventually bobbed his head towards the door, "Go get some rest."

"Yes sir." She hiked her bag higher on her shoulder and turned to leave, "Good night Captain."

"Good night Lieutenant." At the door she stopped, and dug through one of her jacket pockets until she pulled out a crumpled pack of Lucky Strikes. She tossed them to the Captain and chuckled when he had to quickly uncross hs arms to catch them. "Laney."

Speirs held up the pack of smokes in thanks, "Ron."

He watched her smile and then disappear out the door. Once she was gone he chuckled to himself and pulled a cigarette out of the pack and lit it. He was still smiling when he stuffed the pack in his pocket, recrossed his arms and closed his eyes again.

~~~

When Easy moved out of Haguenau, Laney and the other nurses hung back with the rest of the support staff. At least until they could receive word from Easy and the rest of the battalion that Sturzelburg was secure enough for them to enter. Once they had received the all clear they rolled in with their jeeps and trucks.

At the center of town they dismounted and it was Lieutenant Elaine Walker that was once again sent to the CP. After their group of nurses had linked up with Easy on the other side of the French/German border Lieutenant Walker had been designated the unofficial go between for the Nurse Corp and Easy Company. The other nurses were still hesitant to approach the Company CO.

They apparently weren't so scared of him that they didn't gossip about him plenty. Speirs, Nixon, Winters... Of course any of them would volunteer to go to Nixon or Major Winters in a heartbeat, bicker for the chance even. Captain Speirs on the other hand, well, Laney was the lucky one. Not that she minded all that much anymore, if she were telling the truth. Her interactions with the Captain were limited but they got on well enough. Quite well actually.

Laney approached a group of soliders congregated on the steps of one of the shops. "Any of y'all seen Captain Speirs?"

The lot of them stood up a little straighter. One with southern accent, much thicker than her own, spoke up, "Yes ma'am, he's clearing houses down that way." He pointed down the street.

With her thanks Laney headed down the street. She finally found him in the fourth house she checked. He was jogging down the stairs with a trayful of treasures. "Lieutenant Walker." Speirs spared her a fraction of a smile as he stopped at the bottom of the stairs.

Laney chuckled as she walked over to see what he'd found. "Captain." She plucked the silver tray dangling from one hand out of his grasp and studied it. Flipping it over and over watching the way the sun bounced off the surface.

"Have they set you up somewhere yet?" He moved to prop a hip on the table.

"Not yet. We just rolled in." She set the platter down and continued to peer through his newest collection. "You've been busy." Laney picked up an intricate, decorative hair comb and admired it. Her fingertips tracing the delicate, silver flower petals. It was the kind that was too pretty to be used.

Speirs huffed out a laugh, "I'll have the boys clear a house for you. Help you ladies get up and running."

"Thank you, Sir."

"Told you," He ducked his head slightly to catch her eye, "Call me Ron." He was grinning when he said it and he grinned a little wider when he caught her smiling down at the floor.

Laney looked at him out the corner of her eye, "Right... Ron." She turned to face him, still holding the silver comb. "How much of this stuff you sent home already?"

His face remained the same as he shrugged. "A little here and there."

She chuckled, "Mhmm, a little." Laney took one last look at the comb and set it down carefully back on the tray. "Who should I find? To get us a building?" She noticed the way his eyes flicked from the movement of her hands back to her face. The fact she could get away with snooping through his loot without retribution pleased her more than it should.

Speirs smirked, stood up straight and situated his grip on the tray full of treasures. "I'll grab some men."

"What about your treasures here?" She pointed.

His face sobered slightly, "We'll stop on the way." He nodded toward the second tray she'd left on the table, signaling for her to make herself useful.

When she reached for the empty tray a noise upstairs caught her attention, stopped her in her tracks. Her head tipped back she looked up at the floor above them. It was pretty obvious what the source of the noise was and Laney pulled her lips between her teeth, trying not to laugh. "Glad everyone else is enjoying themselves."

She walked towards the door where Speirs was waiting and she tried not to turn too red when her gaze met his for a second too long. She felt his eyes on her as she walked out of the building in front of him but him nearly getting ran over by the jeep broke the tension as she tried and failed not to laugh.

His scowl was half hearted but no less effective as he pointed her towards the APO.

Laney also couldn't help but notice the way the soldiers jumped out of his way or the looks they gave her as she followed him in. She was still staring them down on their way out the door when Ron sat his loot down on the counter for the private.

WIth one hand he set the two packs of smokes down and with the other deftly grabbed the comb off the tray to sneak it back in his pocket. "Laney."

She spun around and chuckled when he pointed to the tray she still held. Laney handed it over and stayed in the same spot as Ron conducted his business.

When he was done he turned to leave and had made it to the door, his hand settled on her back to guide her out when the private had spoken up.

Laney had stiffened slightly under his hand. He'd never touched her before and while it was unfamiliar it was not unpleasant. His hand stayed there as he looked back to the Private and had given him that unsettling smile. "Finders keepers." Rons fingers had flexed at her back as he'd said it and then he had ushered her out the door.

~~~

Laney had followed the low murmur of mens voices and smell of cigarette smoke down the stairs where battalion had set up HQ.

When she found the source Lipton was the first one to notice her, "Evening ma'am."

Speirs looked up from his cards, lips twitching as he gave her a nod.

Harry gave her a big smile, "Lieutenant Walker! Lovely night ain't it."

She chuckled as she stepped further into the room, "Isn't it past you boys bed time?"

"Mom said we could stay up late, as long as we finished our schoolwork and brushed our teeth." Harry giggled at his own joike.

Laney glanced around the table. Harry had quite the collection of bottles beside him, Lip a single bottle of half drank beer and the Captain had an empty bottle and a coffee cup in front of him, a cigarette smoldering between his fingers.

Speirs was the one to question her, face unreadable but his eyes searching hers, "What brings you by Lieutenant?"

Hands braced on the back of Harrys chair she shrugged, "Dropping of requisition forms, hard to get paperwork done furing the day." She held Rons gaze a moment longer before she broke away, "So, who's winning?" She looked over Harry's shoulder and gave him a consoling pat on the arm, "Obviously not Lieutenant Welsh here."

Harry groaned as Lipton laughed and Ron raised again. "I'm out." He dropped his cards face down on the table. "That's just plain rude."

Laney laughed and threw the other two men a wink. "Y'all stay out of trouble." She turned to leave but Liptons voice stopped her in the doorway.

"You play cards Lieutenant?"

She turned to look back at him, momentarily distracted by watching Rons hand shuffle the deck of cards. "Better than Harry." They all shared a laugh and she watched as Ron started to deal. Harry grrumbled but Speirs and Lip both smiled.

"Have a seat." Ron flicked his eyes up to hers as he dealt.

"Don't have any cash."

"Use Nix's." Ron had already dealt her a hand at Nixons empty seat. He quirked his lips into a smile, cigarette dangling between them as he spoke, "He won't miss it."

After a moment of hesitation she smiled, "Sure." and made her way around the table to take Nixons empty seat.

Lip stood up, "Care for a drink ma'am?" already on his way to grab her a beer.

"You can call me Elaine, you know that right?" Laney smiled as she sat down, and couln't help but catch the look on Ron's face.

He hid a smile by taking a long drag on the end of his cigarette, obviously pleased he was still the only one that got to call her Laney. Hands dealt, fresh cigarettes lit and a bottle of beer in front of her, Ron looked up and gave her smirk, "Ladies first."

A couple hours later Laney collected her most recent winnings with a giggle much to the disdain of the men around her.

"This is your fault." Harry stabbed a wavering finger in Liptons direction.

"Not his fault you're a shit card player." Laney smiled as she straightened out the dollar bills and added them to her stack. The couple beers she'd had were hitting her and she was enjoying herself.

Lip was glassy eyed and grinning as he collected the cards to reshuffle.

Ron had finished his coffee then had one more drink himsefl. His eyes were still sharp but he was slouched back in his chair and had run his hand through his hair enough it was hanging over his brow as it sometimes did. "Don't be a sore loser Welsh."

"Easy for you to say, she didn't take all your money." Harry groused as he scowled at his empty beer bottle.

"Not all of it." Ron smirked at her as she folded her winnings neatly and pushed back from the table.

"Wait, where you going?" Lip looked up mid-shuffle.

"Gentleman, it's been fun, but I think I'm gonna call it a night." Laney smiled wide as she pocketed the cash she had collected.

"Not gonna walk off with Nix's money are you?" Ron looked up at her, still with a smirk on his face.

"Like you said, he won't miss it." She pushed her chair in and waved them all a, "Good night."

Ron sat up straighter, "Where are you billeted?"

Laney leaned on the back of the chair, tipsy enough she had to think for a second, "We have a house, other side of town."

WIth a glance at his watch, Ron pursed his lips and snubbed out his cigarette. "It's late, I'll walk you."

As the two of them left the room Lip and Welsh exchanged a look, a long and knowing look.

~~~

The girls were exhausted, all of them sitting around the long, dining room table eating in silence. After the things they had seen that day outside of Lansburg, none of them had much to say. Or much of an appetite for that matter.

Laney was sitting about halfway down on one side. Staring at the meal they had scrounged together for themselves. She couldn't bring herself to eat any of it though. Not after that.

All of them startled slghtly at the sound of the heavy front door opening. They all seemed to hold their breath while they waited. A moment later Captain Speirs and Lieutenant Lipton appeared in the entryway. Both of them just as exhausted as the rest of them.

Their chief nurse stood up to greet the officers.

Lipton offered a brave attempt at a smile. Speirs merely nodded, "Ma'am. Can you spare one of the nurses?"

Teresa, the chief nurse, asked "Has something happened?" The fear of what else they could possible have found evident in her voice.

"Nothing ma'am." Captain Speirs removed his helmet and shoved his sweat soaked hair back, "Our medics are all still at the camp and, well," He exchanged a glance with Lip, "I'd just feel better if someone could take a look at a few of my men."

WIthout a single word every eye in the room turned on Elaine. With closed eyes she took a deep, fortifying breath. Then she pushed back from her untouched plate and stood on tired legs. "I'll go." She didn't spare a look at her fellow nurses as she walked past them all to grab her coat and bag from the hooks by the door. Shrugging into the jacket she turned to Speirs and Lipton, "Lead the way." The men both nodded and replaced their helmets on their heads.

~~~

If Laney thought she was exhausted after a day of assisting at the camp, then she was well and truly done for after the evening of taking care of the shocky servicemen.

There was no class or training they had been given to know how to care for the young men that saw the atrocities that had been found that day. She had done the best that she could but it felt wholly inadequate.

She had stopped in the sitting room of the home in use as the CP and dropped her bag and helmet on the floor by one of the overly ornate sofas before dropping herself onto it with a pathetic groan. Her intention had just been to sit for a moment, but then as she sat her muscles turned to jelly and her eyes became heavy. Almost without thought she stretched out to lay down.

Laney jumped awake a short while later with a start. Heart pounding in her chest and blood rushing in her ears, her eyes flew open. What had awoken her was the weight of a blanket settling over her. Once her vision cleared she saw that it was Speirs who was laying the blanket down.

"What's wrong?" She started but was cut short.

Speirs shook his head. "Nothing." and then put a firm, reassuring hand on her shoulder to keep her from sitting up. She had a fleeting thought that his eyes looked softer, almost sweeter than she'd ever seen them.

He was also closer to her than he'd ever been before. His hair was still a disheveled mess and his face looked as tired as she felt. For some reason, possibly the exhaustion, she did not argue or ask futher questions. Instead she closed her eyes and sunk back into the couch.

Before she drifted off to sleep again she felt the blanket as it was pulled back over her and the warmth of a hand smoothing over back.

When she woke she could tell she had not moved an inch, the blanket wrapped tight around her as she huddled on the couch that wasn't nearly as comfortable as it had felt when she first dozed off on it the night before. As she sat up the thin wool blanket pooled around her waist and every bone in her body ached.

Without much of a thought she draped the blanket over the back of the couch, collected her bag and helmet off the ground, and left to head back to the building where they had set up the hospital. It was when she ran into one of the other nurses in the street that she learned Hitler had committed suicide.

The end was in sight at last

~~~

Later, in the back of a jeep following along behind Easy company on their way to Berchtesgaden, Laney sat with with her knees bent and her boots braced against the back of the seat in front of her.

The country was beautiful and the morning chill in the air invigorating to their tired bodies and souls. For somethhing to do more than anythng she shoved her hands in the pockets of her jacket and tipped her head back, intending to take a nap.

There was something in her pocket she didn't immediatly recognize. At first she thought it might be a pair of scissors she forgot to put back in her bag. The touch of cool metal against her fingers led her to believe, but it didn't feel quite right. When she pulled the item from her pocket her breath actually caught in her throat.

In her palm lay the beautiful silver comb she had been admiring from among Captain Speirs loot back in Sturzelburg. The one with the intricate flower adorning the handle.

On reflex she cloesd her fingers around the comb and shoved it back in her pocket before the other girls in the jeep could see. The whole rest of the way to Germany her mind spun. Had he given it to her? When though? Surely she'd remember. Last she had seen it she had laid it carefully on the tray with the rest of his haul. He must of snuck it in her pocket. Then she remembered.

The night after they had found that camp, she had fallen asleep on the couch and woken up to him, Ron, giving her a blanket.

Inside her pocket she couldn't stop running her fingers over the intricate engraving on the body of the comb. She also could not stop herself from thinking about Captain Speirs.

Once they were in Berchesgarten everything went fast. Once the town itself was clear, an easy feat for the boys as it was mostly abondoned, the nurse corp got to work setting up the aid station in a floor of the hotel.

Laney hadn't seen Speirs since they arrived but she tracked him down easily enough that afternoon. She found him on a balcony of the hotel smoking a cigarette with his back to the railing and his thompson leaned up beside him. He looked up at her as she came out onto the balcony.

For a moment he looked like he was going to say something but with a smirk laney just leaned against the door and held the comb up for him to see. Instead of whatever he had been about to say he just smiled and dragged on his cigarette. "Where'd you get that?"

Her eyes flicked to the back of her head quickly before she put the comb back in her pocket. "That's what I've been wondering." She crossed the small balcony to lean against the railing beside him.

He held her gaze for a long moment. Smirking when she didn't look away from him. "Finders keepers."

Finishing the rest of his cigarette Speirs stood up straight. He was closer now and she had to look up slightly to look him in the eye.

Rather than say anything else Laney placed one hand on his jaw and stood on her toes to kiss him on the opposite cheek. "Thank you Ron."

When she pulled back Ron still had that easy smirk on his face as he gazed down at her. Rather than admit to anything he gave her a wink and headed back inside. At the doors he paused and turned back to her "We're down a medic."

Her blank stare was her only response.

"Easy is going up there." He nodded towards the Eagle's Nest and then back down to Laney. "Wanna come with us?" Speirs shrugged, "Just in case."

He was doing that thing again. Where his stare was dark and calculating but the very corner of his lips twitched like he was holding back a smile.

Laney slouched back against the railing, "Just in case." She repeated his own words back to him.

With a nod Speirs said, "C'mon." And so that was how she found herself in the back of a jeep as it climbed its way up the switchback roads of an Alpine mountain. Creeping ever closer to the supposed last Nazi stronghold.

At the top of the mountain the first few men of Easy company were at the door staging to enter by the time Laney jumped down out of the jeep behind Speirs. Halfway to the door Speirs put a hand to her elbow and stopped her in her tracks. "Here. Stay close," He left his hand on her a moment longer than necessary, "Just in case."

Laney snorted, "Yeah. Just in case."

Speirs gave her a nod, nudged her behind him and the others. After the first group of soldiers were through the door she followed them in.

For her part Laney just looked around. Keeping within sight of at least one of the men at all times. It was almost on accident that she stumbled upon the room with the three dead Nazi officers. She wasn't sure how long she had been standing in the doorway when Speirs appeared behind her.

She flinched a little, snapped out of her daze, but stilled when she felt his hand in the middle her back. He guided her further into the room so he could step past her and one by one kicked over the bodies, his pistol at the ready in one hand, though it was obvious he wouldn't need it.

As he knelt down by one of them Laney circled the room. She came to a stop in front of a desk to one side and decided to take a hint from the others, so she started rummaging. Not much caught her eye other than a silver cigarette case she found with the Nazi eagle on it and a set of fountain pens. The others could take the big stuff. At least this way she could say she brought something back with her.

When she turned back towards Speirs he was digging through the last German's pockets, but his eyes were on her and he had a smirk on his face.

Laney shoved her trinkets in an inside jacket pocket and shrugged, "Finders keepers. Right?"

WIth a nod he jerked something out from under the dead mans torso and stood up. Speirs took his own sidearm and slipped it into its holster before holding the luger up between them. As he walked back towards her he dropped the magazine out of a Luger he had apparently found, checked the chamber and slammed the magazine back home. "Here." He came to stand directly in front of her and offered her the pistol.

She must have looked as uncertain as she felt because he spoke up. "How many nurses you think get the chance to take a German officers sidearm home as a souvenir?" He nodded to her and gestured to the handgun again.

It felt strange in her hands. She was smart enough to know that the officer Ron had found this gun on had used it to take his own life. It felt wrong, but Ron was right. "You don't want it?"

He smirked, "I've got plenty." and took the Luger from her before grabbing her shoulder and spinning her around so he could stow it in her bag for her. When he spun her back around he kept his voice down, "Don't let anyone know you got that."

Laney nodded and without another word between them he led her out the door. At the door a loud, echoing pop caused Laney to flinch. Her hand jumped out to fist in Rons sleeve and she took half step backwards.

Ron tensed slightly but breathed out a sigh of exasperation, his right hand smoothing up and down her back as he coaxed her forward into the main hall. Where they found Malarkey swigging straight from a champagne bottle.

She couldn't help but laugh at herself as Ron sent the trooper out to guard the entrance until WInters could arrive. For a moment Laney couldn't help but get lost in his eyes and the way he turned back to look at her. There was something in them she couldn't put a finger on. She knew what she hoped it was and for a moment she felt her body lean in, caught the way those hard eyes softened, and then another loud pop had her heart jumping up into her throat again. Once again she flinched and grabbed ahold of Rons jacket, the front of it this time as she broke into giggles.

"Your boys are gonna kill me, I swear." She berated herself for being so jumpy.

Ron put his hand on her again and looked unmistakably irritated, "Not if I kill them first." He chewed on the inside of his cheek as he gave her side a comforting squeeze. When he saw her still smiling he relaxed a little. He heard Welsh and Nixon, their voices carrying well through the castle like halls. Eyes still just as dark, but with a little less murder in them, Ron spared her a grin. "Stay and celebrate?"

Her heart in her throat again Laney released her death grip on the front of his jacket and returned his smile. "I better head back. They were still setting up BAS when I left."

WIth a slow blink, as if to collect himself, Ron nodded and seemed to wait until the last possible second to remove his hand from her waist. He had just let her go when Nix entered the room to order all champagne bottles be rounded up for questioning, at once.

Laney chuckled and shook her head, "Y'all try not to have too much fun." She smiled at Ron and then turned to leave, patting Nixon on the shoulder as she passed by.

~~~

Ronald Speirs was not the kind of officer made to sit at a desk. He despised it and tried to avoid it at all costs. Now that the Nazis had surrendered however, he found he spent much more time doing exactly that than he did running into the fire. He'd prefer that.

He was leaning on his desk, staring at reports when there was a knock at his door. "Enter." He didn't look up when the door opened. He didn't look up until whoever had come into his office had gone a long moment without speaking. So, annoyed, he stood up straight to address them.

The sight of Lieutenant Elaine Walker in her dress uniform stopped him with his mouth hanging open. The scowl wiped right off his face.

She was biting back a smile by the time he squared himself away.

"Good to see you in proper attire finally, Lieutenant." If his gaze lingered a little too long anywhere she apparantly wasn't going to call him out on it.

"Glad you approve, Sir." She nearly chuckled as she stood before him.

It wasn't that Speirs wasn't used to seeing other nurses on the line in scrounged, patched, borrowed gear. It was also plenty common to see them running around in the more practical uniform of trousers and shirts. So common that Ron hadn't really stopped to consider the alternative.

"God, you are beautiful." He threw pretense out the window. The war was as good as over. They were safe in Austria.

To her credit, as surprised as she appeared to be, Laney laughed. Smiled bright with flushed cheeks. "Glad you finally noticed."

Speirs chuckled, leaned back to sit against the edge of his desk like he had been when she had first entered his office.

"Oh I noticed before but..." He trailed off, honestly not sure how to finish his thought.

Across the room Laney leaned against the doorjam, still smiling. "Amazing what a skirt and pair of heels can do. Isn't it?"

Ron licked his lips and looked down to the floor, chuckling softly. "Unless you prefer your girls in boots and baggy pants." She was poking fun at him now, enjoying her upperhand.

"Come up here just to torture me Lieutenant?" He looked back to her out the corner of his eye, doing his best to sound stern.

She stood up straight, "No Sir, but it is fun." Laney approached him and his desk. She came to a halt a respectable distance away. "The others are still too scared to talk to you." They shared a smile. "Came up to see if Easy was going to require our unit full time or if we could help out the hospital they have set up in town. They need help prepping wounded to relocate or ship back to the states."

Speirs sobered slightly and crossed his arms. "Don't think second Battalion will be seeing much action anytime soon. Surely the hospital needs you more than we do." He seemed regretful to say it, "I'll check with Winters, but I see no harm in it."

"Yes Sir, thank you." Laney nodded and stood up straight, gave him a small, sincere smile. "It's been an honor Captain. For all of us."

Speirs nodded. Looked her in the eye and returned her smile. With a final nod and a click of her heels she turned towards the door and headed to leave.

Ron decided to push his luck just a little further. He stood up straight and called after her, "Laney."

She stopped in her tracks and turned to face him, but didn't say anything. Just gave him that same, easy smile.

He closed the distance between them and appreciated the fact that even though his strides were purposeful she stood her ground. When he stood in front of her finally he looked her over once more and then settled his gaze on hers. He didn't say anything. He didn't have to.

By the time his hand had moved to cup her jaw, her gorgeous green eyes had slipped closed and her lips parted for him as soon as his mouth covered hers. He was about to pull back, keep it brief, when she moaned. A tiny, sweet little sound in the back of her throat and Ron decided he wasn't done yet. He slid his hand around from cupping her cheek to hold her by the back of the neck.

That action caused her to lean into him, her hands braced against his chest as their kiss escalated. Finally regaining the little bit control he'd let slip, Ron pulled away from her. Keeping her close with the hand still cradling the back of her neck.

WIth her eyes still closed Laney whined the slightest bit at the loss, the fingers of her right hand fisting into the fabric of his shirt. Ron had to close his eyes and breathe deep.

He allowed himself one more, a soft pass over her lips as he held her chin by his thumb and forfinger. This time when they seperated her eyes were open and she was smiling.

Her eyes locked on his for a moment before she licked her lips and chuckled, "I should go before they start to worry what you might have done to me."

All Ron could do was chuckle and nod. Then kiss her one more time.

"Ron..." She returned the kiss and then chased after another, "I really should go."

He hummed an affirmative just as he pulled her back into him. Smiling into this one, final, kiss as she started to laugh. "You better go."

Laney nodded, rolling her eyes a bit as she pushed away from him. "Y'know..." She backed towards the door, "It's only a five, maybe ten minute drive into town from here."

Ron wached her like a hawk as she backed away from him. Her pupils still dark and wide, her cheeks a pretty pink. He pursed his lips and nodded, "Good to know."

God help him and his unholy thoughts as he watched her wink and turn away from him to finally walk out of his office. He kept his eyes on her backside until all that remained was the sound of her heels clicking down the halls.

Mind spinning with the possibiliies he reached into his shirt pocket for his smokes and frowned when he came up empty handed. He swtiched and reached into his other pocket but no luck. He finally cracked a wide smile and laughed quietly to himself as he looked out the empty doorway. With a shake of his head he walked back around his desk and dropped into his chair, already formulating a plan to go steal them back.

~~~

Laney smiled up at him as soon as she opened the door. "Captain, odd seeing you here this late."

"Your friends downstairs think you're in some kind of trouble." Ron cocked his head at her, keeping up the charade of a disgruntled CO.

"Am I?" She leaned against the door and looked up at him expectantly. "Depends on if you used up all my smokes." He cracked a small smirk.

Laney stepped back, leaving the door open, and walked across her small hotel room to pick up a pack of cigarettes off the dressing table. She held them out at arms length and Speirs took the hint to come rest the way into the room.

He swung the door shut behind him and took the smokes from her. After a quick glance at the pack he looked back at her. "You didn't take any."

She shrugged, "Don't smoke."

Ron scoffed and tossed the pack back where she had grabbed it. Then he reached for the sleeve of her shirt. Tugging her closer as he looked her over.

She'd removed her jacket and tie, kicked off her heels and was walking around in stocking feet. Her hair was down too and Speirs realized he'd never seen it that way. It was a pretty auburn color and hung just past her shoulders.

Laney came easily when he pulled her to him, resting her hands on his torso as she stepped in close. Her voice was soft as she asked, "How long can you stay?"

His hands settled on her waist and pulled her the last little bit closer. "Awhile."

This time when he kissed her she stood up on her tiptoes and wrapped her arms around his neck. And this time he didn't have to stop.

~~~

Ron found he couldn't tell her no when she asked so sweet, voice soft and sleepy with her eyes fighting to stay open, for him to stay. She felt so good; naked and warm and relaxed as she lay beside him.

Laney had laid her head on his chest while he smoked a cigarette, her leg hooked over his and her fingers tangled in the chain of his dog tags.

He smiled when he felt her breathing get shallow and the unmistakeable twitches as she fought sleep. Ron switched his cigarette to the other hand and tipped her face up to his. His own eyes were growing heavy as he smiled at her softly, fondly. "I'll have to get up early."

She huffed out a snicker and pried her eyes open, "As long as you're quiet about it."

WIth a shake of his head Ron rolled his eyes and dropped his head back into the pillows, more relaxed than he'd been in too long. He took a long drag, hurrying to finish the last of the cigarette, "Oh you're waking up too, sweetheart,"

"No Sir." The humor in her voice was as thick as the exhaustion and the southern accent. "Not a chance."

Ron smiled around the end of his cigarette and let smoke roll out with his chuckle. He stretched one long arm out to snub it out in a dish on the table and tipped her face back to him as he settled into bed fully. "Darlin," He kissed her firmly and thouroughly and when he finished his sentence he did it a breath away from her lips, "If I wake up in bed with you I'm gonna have to have you again."

Ron kissed her again, before she could form a response and so it came out as a pleased little moan in the back of her throat. When he did pull away she was smiling, "I'll allow it."

God she made him smile. He had started to realize that, when it was just the two of them, he couldn't help himself. Especially now that they were kissing and falling into bed together. Speirs ran his fingers through her hair and cupped the back of her neck to kiss her once more, "Good night sweetheart."

Laney smiled into the kiss and her whole body seemed to melt, "Good night." She was asleep as soon as her head laid back on his chest and with a content sight Ron let his eyes fall closed and followed right behind her.

~~~

A few days later Laney was in a jeep with three other girls heading around the lake and up the hill to Batallion HQ. The hospital that had been set up was immediately flooded and was already low on supplies. They'd volunteered to make a run to batallion mostly just for an excuse to get out of the wards.

The nurse driving slowed down as they came to the guard gate. While the guard checked their papers Marge, the girl riding shotgun, pointed to a field ahead of them and off to the side. "Would ya look at that?" The guard let them through and they all looked where Marge was pointing.

Out in the field Easy Company was doing morning PT. Even from this distance Laney could recognize Ron standing at the front of the formation. As their jeep came closer they could hear him too.

Back in the jeep they had slowed to almost a crawl, all of the girls staring on with no shame. Marge spoke up, "Man what I'd give to be down there."

"Doing pushups?" the girl driving asked.

"No, on my back under one of those paratroopers." Marge joked, eyes still fixed on the company as they kept up their pushups.

"Jesus Christ Marge." Laney and the girl beside her both laughed.

Marge continued, "Have you seen some of these guys? I mean I can see their muscles from here."

Down on the field Speirs was yelling again. He had the men holding on an up and apparantly some of the replacements weren't performing up to his standards. From their spot on the road the nurses could see the backs of some of the men shifting, the strain of holding that position for too long too much on them.

Claire, usually one of the quieter ones, spoke up. "I'm half scared of him, but boy that Captain Speirs..." She didn't finish her thought beyond that.

Claire was a new addition to their unit, she hadn't been around for the early days when Speirs was more often covered in sweat, mud and blood. She only knew the clean cut, squared away Captain.

Up front Marge snorted, "I don't know what's got him in a mood today, but I tell you what, I'd let him yell at me like that all he wanted."

Laney laughed, "Marge you got somehin' wrong with you, y'know that right?" She knew it was the replacements that were grating on him. He had complained about them the night before. The newest of them had barely seen real combat and as far as he was concerned that meant they'd never be good enough. The training they'd received before shipping out was nowhere near enough and it showed.

"All I'm sayin' is, if he wanted to... he could." Marge winked at them all and left the rest up for interpretation.

Again Clare surprised them all a little, "I'd just be happy if he came in to get stitched up, even once. Just to see him with his shirt off."

She was glad none of them were looking at her when she had to bite her lip to keep from smiling. "You said the same thing about Nixon, and Major Winters."

"And Bull, and Lieutenant Lipton." Marge added on with a laugh. "But come on Elaine, you sayin' you wouldn't want to get some exercise with one of those strapping, young men?"

The jeep was moving again and Laney spared one more glance at Speirs, up on his feet again and giving orders. "I can't stand push-ups."

The girls all laughed and continued on towards the HQ. Laney thought to herself, still fighting back a smirk, she wasn't one to get overly crude or share gratuitous details with the girls, but there was a little part of her that would get some real enjoyment out of wiping that smirk off Marge's face.

Marge and Laney were two of the four nurses that still remained of their original unit and so they had known eachother since the beginning. They were good friends, but certainly had their differences. Marge had never hidden that she liked certain things about her men, and enjoyed certain activities in the bedroom other girls would balk at.

Laney knew this about her and one of these days she fully intended to ruin Marge's daydreams about Captain Ronald Speirs.

Her friend Marge had made poor Claire blush so red the other night Laney thougt they might have to get the poor girl a bag of ice and a rosary. Recounting a story of a rendevous she'd had with an RAF pilot that involved some ropeburns, plenty of bruises and if Laney were honest, if a man had said the things to her that pilot had said to Marge, well... she would have pistol whipped him. That was Marge though, she liked that kind of thing.

When Laney sat there in that jeep and thought about being with Ron the the last few weeks, especially the night before, she smirked.

He'd been waiting in her room for her when she'd come back from her last rounds of the night. She found him sitting in the chair by the window with his boots up on the sill and a cigarette in his hand. He hadn't even said anything when she came in, just watched her as she kicked off her heels and walked over towards him. WIth one last drag on his cigarette he tossed it out the window, then reached out for her waist and pulled her down onto his lap.

"Hey." She leaned down to kiss him. It was almost habit already.

His kissed her back and gave her hip a squeeze. Watching her as she immediately settled her weight into him and closed her eyes. "Tired?"

"Mhmm." was her only response.

Of his own accord Speirs began pulling the pins from her hair until he could comb his fingers through it. For such a violent and intimidating solider, with her he was a gentle man. Sure he'd given her a swat on the ass here and there if she talked back and he could certainly manhandle her around the bedroom, but he'd never hit her or hurt her, she knew that. They'd tease eachother, he'd whisper things in her ear that made her cheeks bloom red but he'd never disrespect her.

As she had sat there in his lap, his fingers combing out her hair Laney couldn't help the feeling that overtook her. The way he looked at her so intensely, so intently. He was a hard man, all muscle and backbone, no fear of death. He was a leader of hard men. An animal. A killer. Yet, as she leaned down to kiss him she had felt his hand so soft and careful at her cheek, his rough thumb stroking her delicate skin.

She was certain then and she was certain now, she was falling in love with Captain Ronald Speirs. The only reason that didn't scare the absolute hell out of her was because she was fairly certain he was falling in love with her too.

~~~

Laney lay in bed on her stomach, snuggled in blankets and her arms wrapped around the pillow where she rested her head. She was beyond comfortable and watched with a slight smile on her face as Ron reassembled the handgun he had just meticulously cleaned.

He sat on the couch across the small apartment from her, wearing only a pair of trousers he had pulled back on and his dog tags. His hair a dishevelled mess, a cigartte hung from his lips and smoke rolled out his nose as his steady and practiced hands moved through the pieces of his sidearm until it was whole again. Shiny, spotless and in perfect working order. He blew out a puff of smoke as he worked the slide back and forth a couple times, then squeezed the trigger and let it snap forward with finality. His thumb released the hammer before he set the .45 down on the table and grabbed the cigarette from his mouth to knock the ash off into a tray. "You're staring." His voice was soft and low and he grinned without looking her way.

Laney smiled wider and stretched slightly under the sheets. "You're fun to stare at."

Speirs snorted out a laugh as he reached for the rag and jar of polish also on the table. "Why don't you get some sleep sweetheart?" He prompted as he popped open the tin of polish and swiped the rag through it. Setting the tin down and picking up one of his boots.

"Mmmm, not all that tired yet." Finally Ron looked up at her, barely turning in her direction, with a hint of a smirk on his face, "Sayin' I didn't wear you out enough?"

Laney giggled and felt her cheeks flush. "Oh that's not what I'm sayin' at all." She bit her lip when Ron gave her a smile and a wink. "You just shine your boots and let me enjoy the view." He snorted out another chuckle and went to work polishing his boots while Laney burrowed in deeper and did just that.

She didn't think she'd ever get tired of seeing him like this. Half naked, skin still glowing with a sheen of sweat in the lamplight, scars and hard earned muscle on display certainly, but also relaxed, smiling, teasing. She also found she enjoyed when she got to watch him in his element, even when it was something as simple as getting himself squared away for the ceremony tomorrow.

"Ron?" Laney broke the silence a bit later.

"Hmm?" Was his only response. "You have any books to read?"

"Tired of the view already?" He poked at her as he worked a brush back and forth over the leather of a boot.

"No just askin' is all." She caught the look he gave her, a sideeyed smirk, and she bit her lip.

He had mentioned before how he liked that her southern accent got a little thicker when she was tired. Proof he had worn her out after all. Attention back on his boot Ron answered her, "Had a couple one of the boys loaned me, gave 'em to Lip the other day though."

Laney groaned a little disappointed.

"Just down the hall."

"I'm not gonna just knock on his door in the middle of the night." Laney scoffed.

"He's not there." Ron examined the boot carefully before going back to it, "Filling in at the checkpoint tonight." Laney stayed silent for awhile, weighing her options. "Just put some clothes on and go get one." Before she could respond Ron tossed his other boot at her, it bounced on the bed right in front of her and he grinned, "Either that or lend a hand."

She didn't see Ron stop what he was doing to watch her. Didn't see the way his eyes tracked her the second she was out from under the covers, as she walked to pick up the shirt draped over the back of a chair and then buttoned it as she padded to the door on bare feet. It wasn't until she was at the door that she stopped and caught him looking.

He gave her an easy smile for being caught out. "To the right, door across the hall."

She felt silly as she snuck the short way down the hall in nothing but a collared shirt. At the door she stopped and listened for a long moment. When she didn't hear anything she knocked softly and waited again. When there was still silence she twisted the doorknob and poked her head inside.

The room was dark so she had to flip the light on and a part of her still expected to accidentally wake up Lieutenant Lipton. That was not the case however and all she found was empty room and after some searching a small stack of books on a table by the bed. Carefully she picked one up and turned to head back out the door.

Only to be stopped dead in her tracks by the solider himself standing in the door. "Ma'am." For Liptons part he looked more embarrased the Laney did. His eyes darting everywhere but her.

"Lieutenant," Laney gave a smile and shuffled her feet, "Sorry to snoop, but..." She held up the book, "Tryin' to find somethin' to read."

Lip nodded meeting her eye finally, "Not a problem." He unslung his rifle and gestured to the stack of books, "To be honest with you though, the other one is better."

Laney chuckled at the awkwardness of it all and nodded, taking his advice she switched out the books and moved to sneak back out of the room. "Night Lip."

Behind her Lip smiled, "Night Elaine."

She lingered in the hall until she heard his door shut, and then she scurried across the hall and snuck back in to Ron's quarters. She barely had the door closed before she was laying into Speirs. "Why didn't you tell me he would be on his way back?"

Ron looked up, confused at first, and then chuckled. "Laney..."

"I'm glad you think it's funny!" She continued as she stalked across the rooms towards him, "I had to hide in the hall until I knew for sure he had his door closed. So, he didn't see what room I went back to!"

Still grinning Ron set his boot down on the floor and tossed the rag on the table. "Come here." He waved her over and she came, even though she was scowling. Once she was close enough he took her by the hips and pulled her down to straddle his lap. Ron held her there and gave her a kiss, "Baby," he gave her another kiss and then caught her eye, "Shirt you're wearin' still has my bars on the collar." He reached up to tug at the collar of his shirt for emphasis, unable to hold back his shit eating grin.

Laney turned bright red again. "Oh my God, wipe that stupid smirk off your face!" She smacked him in the chest, "I could literally kill you right now." She twisted her neck, first to look down at the bars in question and then to the shoulder to see for herself, the screaming eagle patch, the combination as good as a dead giveaway.

Ron just grinned and and pulled her to him for another kiss. "Looks good on you."

"I'm serious." She mumbled against his lips.

"So am I." He continued to kiss her, his hand at the collar slid up the side of her neck and carressed her there.

She relaxed a little, let herself sink further into him. When she pulled back her eyes were softer, but she still grumbled, "I'm mad at you."

Ron chuckled and dropped both hands back to her hips , "I know." He tugged her hips tighter against his own and kissed her slowly, "Someone must have relieved him early." With another soft, slow kiss he looked her in the eye, still with a smirk on his face and promised her, "Lipton won't say anything sweetheart."

Laney smacked him half-heartedly on the chest with the book. "Would you care if he did?"

Licking his lips he held her gaze, "Would you?"

He kissed her again, neither of them needing to answer the question outloud, before she laid down on the couch beside him, tucked her feet into his lap and picked up the book. Ron stroked a hand up her long, bare leg and watched her for a moment. Taking his turn to the enjoy the view, more than appreciating the sight of her in nothing but his shirt, captains bars and all.

"Boots aren't gonna polish themselves trooper." Laney admonished from behind her book, a smirk evident in her voice.

Speirs grinned and gave her calf a squueze before reaching for his boot and polish again.

That next morning when Laney woke up she was warm and comfortable in bed, light shining through the windows and Ron sitting next to her on the edge of the bed. He had his hand on her back to coax her awake. "Time to get up sweetheart" His voice was hoarse, like he hadn't got enough sleep.

Laney groaned and squinted against the sun. "What time is it?"

Ron repeated, "Time to get up." then gave her another shake.

She grumbled again, and wondered how late he had stayed up the night before. She didn't remember, but she must have fallen asleep on the couch. Which would mean Ron must have carried her to bed. That thought made her smile and she rolled over, stretching out her tired muscles and looking up at Ron.

He was freshly shaved and his hair was combed. His eyes still tired but his face looked soft, at ease. "You look good." Her half awake brain betrayed her and she let the words slip out aloud.

Ron smiled, breathed out a quiet chuckle, and leaned down to give her a quick kiss. "Sweet. You still gotta get up."

Laney chuckled a little at herself as she sat up with a groan. Her new position put them face to face and she smiled. "I'm up."

"Mhmm." His eyes looked her over before he kissed her again. With the last pass of his lips he reached up to the collar of his shirt she still wore and unpinned his insignia. "Need these." He stood up from the bed then and turned to go to the mirror.

"Here," Laney stopped him as she crawled out from under the covers. She took the pins from him and straightened his collar before she snapped them into place. FIrst his infantry insignia and then his captains bars. As she adjusted the bars Rons hands settled low on her hips, and then he slid them down to cup her ass with a smirk. Laney returned his smirk and looped her arms around his neck.

They stayed that way for a moment until Laney broke the silence. "Why'd you let me sleep so late?"

Ron pulled her closer, his eyes darted all over her face until he settled them on hers. "I like keepin' you here long as I can." When that made her smile he gave her one more kiss. "Get dressed. I'll call you a jeep up."

~~~

Laney sat at the end of the couch reading a book she'd got second or third hand from one of the girls. One hand kept the book balanced on the armrest while the other rested on Rons chest. Her palm tucked inside his partially unbuttoned shirt with her fingers stroking idly back and forth as she read.

Ron laid stretched out over the length of the sofa, his head in her lap and his eyes closed. He'd dozed off with a cigarette still smoking in the ashtray.

It wasn't even midnight yet when pounding on the door startled them both. "Captain!" Bang! Bang! Bang! "Captain Speirs Sir!"

Laney's heart thudded in her ears as Ron shot up from her lap, "Jesus Christ," He laid a hand on her thigh as he stood up, "Stay."

Ron got off the couch and strode to the front door. "What?"

"It's Grant Sir, he's been shot. It's real bad Sir."

"Fuck. Give me a minute."

"Sir!" "

What?"

"I think it was one of our own guys." Speirs swung the door closed and went to grab his jacket and cap.

"Ron, what's going on?" Laney had walked out to the entryway behind him and was watching Ron with wide eyes.

He grabbed his gun belt off the chair, "Someone's been shot. Stay here."

"Jesus...I'll come with you." Laney moved to grab her jacket but the tone of his voice stopped her cold.

"No."

"Ron, I can help. I should go."

"No!" Ron stopped her as he strapped on his gun belt, "I said stay here."

Laney shrunk slightly, but did not argue. This was Captain Speirs, not Ron, giving her an order "Okay."

Once Ron made it down to the jeep and saw Grant however, he changed his mind. He grabbed the private that had driven the jeep up, "Go get Laney. Now!"

"Laney, sir?"

With one hand holding the plasma bottle for Doc Roe he grabbed the private by the collar with the other, "Liutenant Walker. She's upstairs, in my quarters. Go get her, now!"

As soon as the private returned with Elaine in tow her mouth dropped open at the sight of the man now laid on a stretcher on the hood of a jeep, "What the hell happened?" Without waiting for an answer she jumped in to help Eugene.

"He been shot." The cajun deadpanned as he tried to start an IV.

"God...." Laney stared at the mangled side of the boys head for a moment before she grabbed for Roe's bag and dug for a bandage, She turned to Ron, "The surgeon, they're set up at the school in town."

WIth a short nod Ron hoisted her up onto the hood of the jeep and turned to the privates, "Find Talbert, tell him where we're going."

In town the men had carried Grant inside while Laney ran to find the surgeon. She had found him asleep at his desk with an empty bottle of schnapps still in his lap. Throwing rules and regulations out the window she all but drug him to the gymnasium.

Where she stood there and watched Ron hold his young Sargents hand. "Jesus,"

"What?" Ron looked up at the surgeon.

"He's not gonna make it." The surgeon mumbled around a cigarette.

Roe questioned, "You can't operate on him?"

"Not me, you'd need a brain surgeon." The doctor pinched the bridge of his nose already walking away, "Even then I don't think he stands a chance."

Laney stood beside Doc Roe and watched their faces fall, watched Ron clench and unclench his jaw. As the surgeon walked away she breathed deep and caught Rons eye, "Ron."

He looked up, eyes hard and jaw set, even as he still stroked a thumb back and forth over Grants unmoving hand.

"There's a hospital, a German hospital, in the next town. A real hospital."

~~~

Unsure what else to do, Laney had gone back to Rons room and waited. She sat in the dark, in a chair in the corner of the room, and stared out the window until she heard the door knob turn.

Rons eye's were cold and distant when he walked through the door. His frame rigid and his stride very much that of the stoic commander and not his somestimes causual swagger. His eyes jumped to her briefly but did not stay. He first shut the door behind him and turned the lock and then unbuckled his gunbelt to hang it on the hook.

Speirs did not speak as he walked over to the table beside her and grabbed a cigarette from the pack he had left there.

It was when he raised the lighter to the end of the cigarette that she noticed the red on his hand. "Ron, there's blood on your hand."

She reached out to grab his wrist but he carefully tugged it away from her. "Let me see."

"It's not mine." His voice was low and as cold as the look in his eyes.

"Grant?" She probed, looking down at her own hands briefly. She did not think the blood was his either.

Ron inhaled a deep drag off the cigarette and finally spared her a look, "Kraut doctor says he'll make it."

Her gaze slid back to the blood on his hand, "Did they find the guy?"

He did not answer right away. Instead he walked to the wash basin and scrubbed the blood from his hands, cigarette hanging from his lips the whole time. Ron didn't even bother drying his hands before he shrugged out of this jacket, tossed his cover on a table and unbuttoned the top buttons of his shirt. Finally, as he sat on the bed to unlace his boots, he paused and leaned his elbows on his knees. "Yeah." After a moment he resumed unlacing his boots, "We found him."

Laney watched, mesmerized as Rons hands flew through the laces. The steady, back and forth motion of him unlacing first one boot and then the other gave her something to focus on. Rather than think about the blood on his hands. Once his boots were off and tossed towards they're normal spot Ron leaned his elbows on his knees again and hung his head. "MPs have him."

She did not expect the wave of relief that poured over her. Laney stood up then and moved to stand in front of Ron. She carefully, with a featherlight touch, stroked a hand over his dissheveled hair. She couldn't describe how grateful she was that Ron had not done something to the man. As much as he certainly deserved it. There was no doubt in her mind that Ron would murder the man for what he had done to Grant. The problem was they weren't on the front now, something like that couldn't just be written off as a tall tale anymore.

Ron hummed slightly at her touch and so she thredded her fingers through his hair and combed it back from his face. After the third or fourth pass he sat up straight and with one last, long drag he pulled the cigarette out of his lips. He tipped his head back to look up at her and with the hand not holding the cigarette he pulled Laney closer.

Unsure what else to do she combed her fingers through Ron's hair one more time and spoke softly. "Should try to get some rest."

His eyes closed briefly as her fingers passed through his hair and then he opened them again and nodded. He said nothing as he stood up. He moved to step away from the bed and Laney but he stopped, his hand still on her hip, and leaned down to press a kiss to her temple.

Later, in the early morning hours, once Laney had finally fallen asleep, Ron laid in bed and smoked the rest of his pack of cigarettes. The whole time he had stared at the far wall, seeing nothing, and stroking his free hand over Laney's bare shoulder.

~~~

"How come you've never asked?" Ron interrupted the silence one evening, letting smoke roll out through his nose as they lay in bed together.

"Asked what?" She had to tilt her head up to look at him from where she lay on his chest. Her thumb absentmindedly stroking a scar low on his hip from a machine gun round he'd caught while still a platoon leader with Dog Company. His second purple heart.

He looked down at Laney, eyes soft behind the hair hanging down over his brow. "If the stories are true."

Laney put her head back where it had been, her ear resting over his steady beating heart. "Well," She started out, "The way I see it, you shooting one of your guys is...unlikely, the Germans though. I figure that's probably true, whatever number it actually was."

His hand strocked up and down her back once before he settled it low on her hip where it had started. "That's it?"

She pushed herself up on one elbow so she could look him in the eye. "Am I wrong?"

Ron took another drag on his cigarette and turned his head to the side to exhale the smoke away from her. When he met her eyes again he reached up and swept a strand of hair out of her face. "What would you think of me if it was true?"

Laney plucked the cigarette from his lips and leaned across him to put it out in the bowl he'd been using as an ashtray. Though his hand smoothed over her bare back as she did so he looked less than pleased when she settled back next to him which just made her grin. "Little late to ask that now, don't ya think?" She leaned down to kiss him but pulled back before they could get carried away again.

They'd been in Austria long enough now Speirs was getting used to having a warm bed to sleep in everynight and a beautiful woman to share it with. There'd been plenty of times during their time on the line and then travelling through Germany when he'd wondered why she never seemed uncomfortable around him when so many others did.

These last few weeks when they'd been spending more time together, getting closer, sleeping together, the thought had been nagging at him more. "Kept expecting you to bring it up." He sat up a little further against the headboard, reached up to push some hair behind her ear and pulled her down to kiss him again, a little longer this time.

With a deep breath Laney licked her top lip and made certain he was looking her in the eye. "Ron," She paused to kiss him again, "You smoke like a chimney, you're a kleptomaniac,"

Ron snorted, "Kleptomaniac."

"You enjoy terrifying people, a little too much if we're being honest, you have no sense of self-preservation," She paused and tipped his chin back towards her as he had tipped it up and away to stare at the ceiling. Once he was looking at her again she added one final thing, "and you have this tiny little scar on your face right here." She poked at it, teasing, "But that's kinda growing on me."

His eyes were hard when he arched his brow at her, waiting for her to make her point, but the hand on the small of her back was still gentle as he stroked it up and down the base of her spine.

"These are all things about you that bother me."

Ron rolled his eyes again and shook his head.

"The fact that you are a soldier that has to do things, that has to follow and give orders, that I... and people like me could never imagine living with... that will never bother me. Doing what you had to do to survive this thing and to be a good solider, that will never bother me."

He didn't say anything at first. Just held her gaze intently. When he did speak it was under his breath, "Kleptomaniac." Followed by a snort of derision which just made Laney giggle as she settled back against his chest.

"That's the one that got you?" She toyed with his dog tags as she chuckled to herself.

With one arm wrapped around her waist to hold her firm he responded, "If it bothers you why don't you give it all back?" He pinched her side, taking the opportunity to tease her back. Ron knew good and well she had a stash in her foot locker of the trinkets he'd been acquiring for her. Including the silver comb wrapped safely in a silk scarf.

Raising up again to look him in the eye she feigned outrage, "Now Sparky, there's no need to be drastic."

"Oh," Ron nodded dramatically at the drop of the nickname, "I see how it is." He cracked a smirk and flipped her over onto her back and kissed her while she laughed. "Well, for the record..." He waited for her to focus up, "You snore."

Her eyes flew wide, "I do not!" She shoved at his chest and shoulders, his laughter only stoking her irritation.

His muscle and bodyweight was no match for hers and so he continued to keep her pinned down, one hand keeping her hands at bay. "You do too, sweetheart. Mouth open and everything."

Laney struggled to get a hand free or any sort of leverage to push him off of her, even as Ron began kissing from her collar bone, up her neck to her ear. She had calmed down quite a bit by the time he sucked her earlobe into his mouth. When he heard her let out a soft sigh he kissed behind her ear and whisperd, "But that's ok, it's kind of growing on me."

She was giggling again and as soon as he released her hands they were on his back and pulling him closer.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

This time when she woke up the sun was peaking through the windows and Ron was still in bed with her. He'd fallen asleep with his arms around her and had kept her pulled close the rest of the night.

Laney could barely remember ever sleeping so good as she had the last month or so. Whether she came up to the house he and a few other officers had commendeared or Ron snuck off to the hotel in town where her and the other doctors and nurses were staying. Nobody that knew batted an eye anymore. It all felt a little surreal if she thought about it too much. Where they were, how they'd come to be here and what had brought them together. Something else she tried not to think about was what would happen when the 101st got shipped off to the Pacific and Ron would leave. Part of her sometimes feared that would be the end of this.

"I can hear you thinking." Rons voice was rough and gravelly. It often was when he first woke up. Too many cigarettes.

Laney scoffed and closed her eyes, pushing back into him and snuggling as close as she could before he'd have to get up for the day.

Behind her Ron coughed and then twisted her around until she was draped over his chest, her leg hooked over his waist and his hand stroking her thigh. "What's on your mind?"

For a long moment Laney didn't answer him. Ron just held her close and continued to play with her hair.

After she took a deep breath Laney shuffled up a little higher so her face was burrowed against his neck. The stubble on his jaw scratching pleasently against her temple. "You're going to stay in the Army aren't you?"

Ron took a deep breath of his own and when he answered his voice was stil rough, his lips brushing against the hair at the crown of her head. "Yeah." He nodded and then dropped a kiss there. When she didn't repond further, Speirs added. "That's what you're thinkin' about."

It wasn't a question and so she didn't say anything.

"Sweetheart, look at me a second." Ron kissed the top of her head again before tipping her chin up to look at him. "It's where I belong."

Laney was annoyed that her eyes were burning and she had to fight back the tears, "I know." She closed her eyes, trying not to embarass herself.

"Will you wait that long?" HIs voice was almost a whisper and Ron didn't even try to make her look at him.

Her eyes snapped open though as she twisted her head to look at him, confused.

"Until I get back from Japan?" His expression was unreadable and he continued on in her stupified silence. "I'd prefer to buy you a ring, do the church, class As, white gown and all that." His lips twitched but he fought it and kept going, "If you don't wanna wait I understand. We can always find a chaplain. I'm sure I can find a ring that'll fit but I figure you'll give me hell if I steal our wedding rings."

"What the hell are you talking about?" It came out much more aggressive than she meant but Laney was sitting up now wideeyed and staring at Speirs like he was delusional.

Licking his lips all he could do was smile, pry his eyes away from her exposed breasts as he sat up and leaned back against the headboad. The sheets pooled in his lap. His smile grew a touch wider when he watched her eyes dart from his face to the spot where his dogtags hung against his chest, then lower and then back. Once she was looking at him he clarifed, "Would you rather get married now, before Easy ships out to the Pacific or do you want to wait until I'm back? Do everything the right way?"

Laney could not stop staring at him blankly. This was not how she imagined this conversation going. "Don't you think you should be asking a different question first, Captain?"

Ron knew the title was a dig, payback for the trouble he was putting her through.

"Oh no, I already know the answer to that question sweetheart."

He looked so smug she wanted to smack him across the face. But as she sat there in bed glaring at him his words sank in, really sank in. Once she started to smile she couldn't stop it. Even as she shoved her finger in his face, "Ronald Speirs, if you steal me a wedding ring I will kill you. Do you understand me?"

Breaking out in laughter Ron reached for her and pulled her so that she straddled his lap. "Understood." He pulled her in for a kiss. Keeping her there until his hands on her hips coulld pull her tight and close. His chuckle was almost a growl when she rocked her hips against him once only for her to slip away and shake her head at him.

"No sir," She crawled off his lap, batted his hands away as she tugged the covers up around her, "You're still in the army so no funny business, you have to get up and report to PT." She pushed and shoved him out of the bed with laughter and a smile on her face ear to ear.

Accepting his fate Ron stopped at the edge of the bed and leaned over her. "Laney,"

Her smile softened as she looked up at him, eyes darting to the side as he twined his fingers through hers.

"I love you and I am going to marry you."

~~~The End~~~

[softguarnere]

Like A Girl (Like A Man)

Shifty Powers x OFC

Chapter 39 - Epilogue: Donadagohvi

Summary: She studies her husband’s face. It’s lined with age, but still as beautiful and as bright as the day she met him. A/N: Alright, y'all - we've made it! But before we get started, I've got some things I have to say. This fic was started during a very strange era. I hated what was going on in my life but didn't know how to fix any of it. Long story short, but I decided to run away one day, and ended up in Toccoa. While standing in the military museum there, I started thinking about Deborah Sampson (a childhood hero of mine), and wondered what would happen if a story like hers happened during WW2 - specifically, if she was a paratrooper. Thus, Zenie appeared in my brain, and this epilogue wrote itself in my mind as I went through the museum. I was never sure if I would share this fic until the second that I hit "post." Zenie was just a way for me to blow off steam, to escape - to fulfill my desire to be someone else for a bit. (Coincidentally, all themes throughout the fic.) I didn't know how people would respond to this story, or to this character, and I only ever had the courage to start uploading chapters because of friends like @latibvles and @liebgotts-lovergirl who showed enthusiasm for it. So I couldn't upload this chapter without a massive sgi (thank you) to them, as well as to everyone else who has read this fic and been so kind to it, and to me. Thank you for welcoming me into this fandom. Thank you for allowing me to share the Cherokee language with you. Thank you for all the support you've given me for both my writing, and as friends. Whether you knew it or not, all that kindness came at a time when I really needed it, and I appreciate you all. Without further ado, here's the last laglam update, in which the fic's title finally makes sense. Much love 💖 Warnings: language, alcohol Taglist: @latibvles @liebgotts-lovergirl @lady-cheeky @dcyllom @mads-weasley @ithinkabouttzu @mrs-murder-daddy @lieutenant-speirs

Eugene looks just the same as he did when Zenie first met him. So do all the other men on this side of the reunion. For her part, she also looks the way she did when she first met all of them – albeit like a girl rather than like a man. For now, her hair is long, and her chest unbound.

No one seems to have figured out why they all look young again, and it has only been mentioned in passing during the reunions. There are better things to do, like visit with those they can, and pass between the ones they left behind, feeling their hearts swell with love as they watch them laugh, watch them remember – watch them live.

Another thing that no one has figured out is why they seem able to come back to this world at certain times. David Webster says he once read that the veil between their worlds thins during certain times of the year, and that maybe this is true of the Easy Company reunions. Zenie, however, likes to believe that it’s the love of the people still living who allow them to come back. All that love with nowhere to go. Love so strong that remembering the people you felt it for brings them back.

No time to wonder now, though. Gene is already smiling at her in greeting.

“Hello again,” he greets as she joins him.

“Gene,” she teases him with an affectionate poke to his ribs. “You haven’t aged a day since I met you in forty-two!”

“Eh, I don’t know about that, Tommy Boy,” Luz’s confident drawl digresses as the radioman swaggers up beside her. “You look a little taller. What, did you finally hit puberty or something?”

Zenie rolls her eyes, but there’s no malice to it. She did, after all, keep him in the dark about her secret until her very last day in Europe. Instead of leading him on, she asks, “How does everyone look?”

“Us? The same as ever. Them? – “ Luz gestures towards the reunion that can’t see them. “ – Well, I guess they’re aging with grace.”

“Have you seen – “

“Bill and Babe are at the bar, as per usual. And your darling husband is somewhere around the middle.”

Zenie takes a step forward before turning quickly to face her friends. “Do y’all mind if I . . . ?”

Gene smiles. “Go ahead. That’s why we’re here.”

Grateful, Zenie takes off through the crowd. Visiting her friends like this is something she always looks forward to, but visiting those she left behind is a rarer treat, and she would like to check up on them. Especially Shifty. 

Bill and Babe – to no one’s surprise – are the easiest to find. They’ve got the bartender in stitches with their jokes, and their own accented guffaws are like a lighthouse cutting through the crowd that makes them easy to navigate towards.

“Siyo, boys!” Though they can’t see or hear her, Zenie takes a seat beside them at the bar. “What’s new with y’all?”  

“They’re drinking everyone under the table, as usual,” a familiar voice beside her announces as none other than Joe Toye takes a seat beside her. His expression is just as relaxed and confident as when they were young, but as he watches their living friends, something like longing flickers behind his eyes. “Too bad that we can’t show them who the real champs are anymore.”

“At least we can visit them.”

Joe nods, smiling sadly. “You made your rounds yet?”

“Not yet.”

“Well, we got time,” her friend assures her. They have nothing but time, actually. And they use it to sit with their friends, laughing along with their jokes and making their own, even though Bill and Babe can’t hear them.

As their jokes turn to remembrances, Zenie finds herself swept up in Babe’s retelling of the time she chucked an apple at Cobb’s head back in Holland. She barely remembers the scene, able to recall only a flash of anger and a split-second decision. Babe’s version is far better – he paints her out to be some sort of knight in shining armor coming to defend the honor of her friends.

Bill shakes his head and chuckles into his drink. “Goddamn. Zee sure could make a scene.”

“You weren’t even there when her secret got out,” Babe notes. “Now that was a scene!”

“No one ever brings it up,” Bill marvels, his eyes roaming over the crowd, searching for something. “You would think everyone would talk about it all the time. I mean – shit! A woman disguised herself as a man and made it from Toccoa to the bitter end before she got found out, and no one at the reunions brings it up.”

Zenie can’t help but smile at that. It’s true – her secret got out, she had to leave in a state of semi-disgrace, but at the Easy reunions, she was usually only acknowledged as Shifty’s wife. Sure, every now and then someone would tell a funny story about Sergeant Driver before throwing a knowing wink in her direction, but after all this time, it’s like they’re still keeping her secret for her. For her own part, she never brings up her service, except to mention in passing that she met her husband during the war. Even her own children seem to be under the impression that she must have been a nurse or a WAC, using that explanation to fill in the story’s blanks. Zenie never confirmed or denied their suspicions.

“Wish she were here,” Babe sighs. He orders another round of drinks, three this time, before placing one in front of the seemingly empty bar stool beside him – unknowingly, right in front of Zenie. He raises his own glass as he offers the last one to Bill. “To Zenie.”

Bill clinks his glass against Babe’s in a toast. “To Zenie.”

“To the best friends I ever had,” Zenie adds. During her last reunion – and even during the last year or so of her life – she could sometimes swear that she could feel a presence that she couldn’t explain. An unshakable feeling that those she loved who were already gone were somehow watching her would wash over her, though she could never explain why she felt that way. Now, she wonders if her friends feel that way about her. Just in case they do, she channels all her love into those words, hoping and praying that they can feel it.

As if on cue, the bittersweet moment ends when a woman with sleek, dark hair approaches the bar, smiling. “Uncle Babe! Are you ready?”

“Luna.” Zenie watches as her daughter throws an arm around each of the men at the bar, her smile just as bright as her father’s, outshining the sun itself.

“The real question is, are you?” Bill teases his goddaughter, cocking an eyebrow. “Don’t forget, kid, that your uncle is a champion jitterbug dancer.”

Luna sizes up the man in question. “Well, I’ve been practicing.”

“Don’t worry about her.” Babe takes one last sip of his drink and waves off Bill’s concerns. “Her mom could have been a champ, too. It’s in her genes; she’ll be fine.”

“The DJ said it’ll be the next song . . .” Luna begins explaining as she hooks her arm through her uncle’s and leads him towards the small dance floor.

Bill watches them go, chuckling to himself. “Real firecracker.” He glances at the drink set out in honor of Zenie. “God, I wish you were here, little brother. It’s not the same without you.”

“I am,” Zenie assures him. She’s only been gone for two years, but things have changed. That might have scared her once. Not anymore. “I have to go find Shifty. You don’t mind, do you?”

Bill doesn’t answer, of course, but it’s polite to ask all the same. Granny didn’t teach her to mind her manners for nothing.

Zenie weaves her way through the crowd of both the living and the dead. She greets several people, stops to exchange a handshake and a kind word, and sends a nod to those who she catches lurking at the edges of the room – people like Liebgott and Captain Speirs, who only show up in the margins of the reunions, watching, but never joining in. She needs to thank those two specifically at some point. But it’s like Joe said – they’ve got time.

As Luz promised, Shifty is seated at a table in the middle of the room. Their sons, Wayne and Willie, sit on either side of him, laughing along with some story that he, McClung, and Popeye are in the middle of telling. Zenie finds a space to stand behind her husband, being as present as she can. She places one hand on Wayne’s shoulder, and the other on Shifty’s.

At the moment of contact, Shifty’s posture stiffens, and his head turns slightly. Zenie freezes, like she’s just disrupted something. Has she? Can he feel her here?

Shifty only listens to the story being told halfheartedly now. He smiles and laughs in all the right places, but it’s obvious that he’s distracted. These reunions are supposed to be fun. Sure, they can get a little emotional at times, but she doesn’t want her husband missing out on her account. He’s still got a life to live. He needs to be in the present moment and enjoy it.

Zenie bends slightly so that she’s close to Shifty’s ear. She doubts anyone else at the table knows that she’s here, but she wants this to be a private moment for the two of them.

“Shifty,” she whispers. “I’m here. I just wanted to make sure that you’re okay.” She has to pause for a moment to think about what she wants to say. It’s one thing to plan what you’re going to tell somebody, and another thing entirely to deliver the message. Sometimes things get lost in translation. She learned that during their break back in the war.

She studies her husband’s face. It’s lined with age, but still as beautiful and as bright as the day she met him. God, she misses him. She misses all of them.

“The boys look well,” she continues, looking between their sons. “I hope they’re taking care of you for me. They’ve always adored you.” She pats Shifty’s shoulder. She shouldn’t take up his attention too much longer. “Take your time. Enjoy it. I’ll be waiting for you, okay? I’ll see you soon, Shifty.”

Not sure if it will work, she plants a kiss on his cheek. When she pulls away, she watches as Shifty’s hand comes up to touch the place where they made contact. Maybe he really can feel her here.

“Gvgeyui,” Zenie says. I love you.

Gene is waiting at the edge of the crowd when she finds him again.

“How’d it go?” He asks.

Zenie nods. “Good. You?”

“Good.” Gene’s dark eyes flick over the crowd. “It’s nice we get to do this.”

It is nice. Bittersweet, mostly, but it’s good to see their loved ones again, even for a short time before they have to go back. But returning isn’t bad, either. The weather is always warm. And there are people she loves waiting for her there.

In fact, she should get going for exactly that reason. Granny wants to dig ramps soon, and Mama informed her that there would be a pie waiting upon her return. No matter which side of the gauzy veil she’s on, there is always someone waiting for her, and always a place that she belongs.

For strength, Zenie takes Gene’s hand and gives it a squeeze. He returns the gesture, and they begin to walk away from the crowd. But before they go, Zenie can’t help but glance back at Easy Company one last time. Her eyes, as always, land on Shifty. She’ll see him again. She’ll see them all again, in one way or another.

“Until we meet again,” Zenie informs them all, whether they can hear her or not. “Donadagohvi.”

[coco-bean-1218]

Well-Behaved Women Never Make History

Chapter Three: California Love & Louisiana Charm (And Baseball Dreams)

Chapter Soundtrack

Summary: Claire's first day at Camp Toccoa continues, where she meets some interesting people.

A/N: Hi, everyone! I'm back again with another chapter of Well-Behaved Women Never Make History. This took longer than I had hoped, but here we are, nevertheless! Just a heads up for the soundtrack, it includes one modern song amongst the instrumentals usually played. It's just to get a good vibe going. I hope everyone enjoys this chapter, and feel free to like, comment, and reblog!

Warnings: Swearing, period-typical behavior, crude behavior towards Claire

Taglist: @whollyjoly @footprintsinthesxnd @panzershrike-pretz @xxluckystrike

June 6, 1942 Camp Toccoa, Georgia 6 p.m. Eastern Time ---

Claire let out a deep sigh as she put her luggage on top of her bed and began to unpack. She felt a sense of unease settle over her. The stares from the other soldiers became more intense, and whispers followed her every move. She knew that being the only woman in their midst would draw attention, but the hostility in their eyes was unnerving. She tried to ignore it, focusing instead on organizing her belongings and settling into her new surroundings.

Back outside, as Grant walked away, the reality of his vulnerability set in. He had never felt such a strong connection with someone before, and it scared him.

"I can't believe I actually did that," he groaned, "I must've sounded so stupid to her!"

Grant's mind was filled with self-doubt as he replayed his conversation with Claire over and over again. He couldn't shake the feeling that he had put himself out there too much, revealing more of himself than he had ever intended. It was a side of him that he rarely showed to anyone, let alone a stranger.

As he made his way back to his group of friends, the weight of his decisions and actions settled heavily on his shoulders. He cringed at the memory of his clumsy attempt at humor, wondering if it had fallen flat or made her think less of him. Maybe he had come across as too eager, too desperate to make a connection.

"I barely know her," he muttered to himself, frustration etched on his face. "What was I thinking, opening up to her like that?" He ran a hand through his sweaty hair in exasperation.

Grant rejoined his friends, hoping their camaraderie would distract him from the doubts swirling in his mind. They were still huddled in a group near the edge of the camp. As soon as they saw him approaching, they broke out into raucous laughter.

"There he is, Romeo himself!" Luz shouted.

"Looks like Grant found himself a lady friend," Malarkey teased.

"Well, well, well, Grant, you sly dog. I didn't know you had it in you!" Talbert exclaimed, throwing his arm around Grant's shoulders.

Liebgott, always quick with a witty remark, chimed in, "So, Grant, when's the wedding?"

The group erupted into laughter again, causing Grant's cheeks to turn a shade of crimson. He rolled his eyes but couldn't help but chuckle along with them.

"Yeah, yeah, very funny," Grant replied, shaking his head.

"He's giving Tab, here, a run for his money," Guarnere joked, nudging Talbert in the side.

"Never, I'm the real ladies' man," Talbert quipped back, shoving Guarnere.

"Alright, enough already," Toye chimed in, sensing Grant's discomfort. "Let the poor guy breathe."

"Thank you, Toye," Grant said, "See, this is why Toye is my favorite out of all of you."

Grant's friends erupted into playful protests, each vying for the title of his favorite.

Talbert chimed in again, nudging Grant with a smirk. "You've got it pretty bad, huh?"

"Tab..." Grant rolled his eyes, "What are you talking about? I just met her today. It's not like that."

Liebgott raised an eyebrow, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. "Oh, come on, Grant. You practically sprinted after her. Don't try to deny it."

Grant tried to play off his feelings, "Maybe I was just being a good Samaritan. We're all new here; we don't know each other. I was just tryna help. No need to read too much into it."

Guarnere elbowed Luz, "Are you hearing this guy?"

Luz nodded, a smirk playing on his lips. "Who? Hollywood over here? California's finest? Yeah, Golden Boy's fooling no one."

"So," Talbert piped up once more, "When are you gonna introduce us to her?" he asked flirtatiously.

"Jesus, the girl just got here. She doesn't need you Neanderthals harassing her," Grant snapped back defensively, "Besides, I'd be afraid of what you'd say to her."

"I'll try and behave myself," Talbert winked," But, I can't make any promises."

In the meantime, Claire focused on unpacking her belongings and making herself at home. Yet, despite her best efforts to ignore the intense gazes from others, she couldn't shake off the discomfort. She could practically feel their eyes scanning her body, inspecting every detail of her appearance.

She turned her attention next to her to see Roe quickly setting up his bed and organizing his belongings.

He appeared to be a quiet, reserved man with fair skin and jet-black hair. As Claire watched him, she noticed that he, too, seemed uneasy. She tried to gauge his reaction to her arrival, but his face remained neutral. Roe glanced over at Claire, his eyes flickering between her and their adjacent beds. He seemed to be considering something before finally approaching her.

He stood up from his bed and walked over to Claire, a hesitant smile on his face. "I'm Eugene. Eugene Roe," he said, extending a hand towards her. He had a thick Cajun accent, which added a touch of charm to his introduction.

Claire returned his handshake, noting the softness of his grip. "Nice to meet you, Eugene. I'm Claire," she replied with a warm smile.

Eugene's eyes sparkled with relief as he let out a small sigh. "Pleasure to meet you, Claire," he replied in the softest of whispers. 

"I heard you're also a medic," Claire began, her voice filled with curiosity.

"Yes, that's right," Eugene replied, "I must admit, it's a bit of a relief to finally meet another medic."

Claire smiled, feeling a sense of relief wash over her as well. "How long have you been here?" she asked.

"I only got here a couple of hours ago, not long after Grant," Eugene admitted, his eyes glancing around the room nervously. 

Claire sighed in relief, "Okay, so at least I'm not the only one who got here today."

"No, you're definitely not alone," he reassured her, "Basic training starts tomorrow, so most people actually got here this morning."

Claire nodded, a bond forming between her and Eugene; he reminded her of herself. She could tell that he was genuine, kind-hearted, and just as nervous as she was about the challenges that lay ahead. There was something undeniably attractive about his modesty and the way he carried himself with quiet confidence, "I think you and I will make a great team. We'll stick together and help each other out." 

Claire was surprised by her own admission; she had made a vow to stay closed off, to protect herself from getting hurt. But, there was something about Eugene that made her want to trust him, to let down her walls.

As the words left her lips, a genuine smile spread across Eugene's face. His eyes lit up with gratitude, and he nodded in agreement. "I couldn't have said it better myself. We'll make quite the team, you and I."

"Do you wanna go for a walk with me? You know, find everything, get familiar with the camp." Claire asked.

Eugene's eyes lit up with enthusiasm at the suggestion. "I'd love to," he replied, eager to explore their new surroundings. Together, they ventured out of the crowded barracks and into the open air.

The air was still humid in the early evening, the sun casting a golden glow over the camp. 

As they walked side by side, Claire noticed her once black heels were now dusty gray from the dirt paths. "My mom's not gonna be happy when I send these back home," Claire laughed.

Eugene chuckled, his soft Cajun drawl adding a musical quality to his laughter. "Well, Claire, I reckon your mom will just have to forgive you for getting a little dirt on those fancy shoes of yours."

"Changing out this skirt and blouse combo for PT gear, I suppose." Claire shrugged.

The pair kept walking along the paths, their conversation flowing effortlessly. Claire found herself opening up to Eugene, sharing stories from her life back home, while he listened attentively and shared snippets of his own experiences growing up in Louisiana. She could tell they were going to be inseparable already.

"You know," Claire began, "I feel like I've known you my whole life. And we've known each other what? Twenty minutes, if that?"

Eugene smiled, his eyes twinkling with a mixture of amusement and affection. "It's funny how some people just have that effect on you, isn't it? It's like we were destined to meet here at this very moment."

But, much to Claire's dismay, they soon came upon the group of boys she had a run-in with earlier. "Don't make eye contact, Eugene. Just keep walking." Claire whispered urgently, pulling him along with a tight grip on his arm.

"Why? What happened?" Eugene asked, sensing Claire's uneasiness.

Her eyes darted around nervously as she spoke, and she unconsciously picked up her pace, her feet pounding against the ground in a hurried rhythm. "It's a long story. I'll explain later," she managed to say between breaths.

"You know, for being in heels, you sure can move in them," Eugene chuckled as he tried to keep up with her.

"Yeah, and I won't be afraid to use them as a weapon," She mumbled under her breath, drawing a small laugh from Eugene.

"Hey, is that her?" Talbert shouted.

Claire rolled her eyes and groaned. She instinctively clutched Eugene's arm, her grip tightening.

"No, Tab. She's one of the five hundred other girls here," Guarnere sneered. 

"No need to be a smartass, Bill," Talbert replied. "But, is that her?" he asked again.

Grant sighed in defeat, "Uh...yeah, that's her."

"Well, what are you waiting for? Introduce us!" Luz bellowed, clapping Grant on the back.

Grant shook his head, "I'm not gonna bother her. She's talking with someone."

"Well, if you don't, then I will!" Talbert yelled back as he ran off towards Claire.

"Tab!" Grant shouted.

"You know, you can't hide us from her. We're gonna meet her anyways." Malarkey pointed out to Grant.

Grant rolled his eyes, "Yeah, obviously, but Tab hitting on her isn't going to help, that's for sure," he replied as he sprinted after Talbert.

Claire was practically running away by now, with Eugene hot on her heels. They heard running footsteps behind them and Claire sighed in defeat, knowing it was inevitable that the boys would catch up to them. Eugene and Claire shared a knowing glance before turning to watch Talbert and Grant approaching them. Grant looked at Claire sympathetically, bracing himself for whatever Talbert had to say. 

"You know, I was feeling a little off today, but you've turned me on again!" Talbert exclaimed, a smirk on his face.

Claire, amused, tried to stifle a laugh, putting her hands on her hips, while Eugene winced at Talbert's attempt at a pick-up line.

"Oh my God..." Grant muttered as he pinched the bridge of his nose.

"The name's Floyd Talbert," he continued on, "You must be Claire. Grant, here, hasn't shut up about you. And from what I see, he's not wrong; you ARE gorgeous!

Claire couldn't help but blush slightly under Talbert's compliment, especially at the mention of Grant. To think that Grant had already been talking about her to his friends was surprising, yet oddly endearing. Floyd Talbert was good-looking, no doubt about it, and she found herself flattered by his words, her cheeks tinged with a rosy hue. It wasn't every day that someone approached her with such confidence and admiration. 

"NO. CLAIRE, STOP. THIS IS NOT WHY YOU'RE HERE!" she internally screamed at herself.

Grant, on the other hand, could feel his face growing warm with embarrassment. "Please ignore him, Claire," Grant said apologetically. "Apparently, he's always like this."

Her eyes lingered on Grant as he spoke. There was something charming about Grant's blushing cheeks and his genuine concern for her. She noticed the way his brow furrowed as he tried to distance himself from Talbert's antics and the way his eyes softened when he looked back at her.

"Nice to meet you, Floyd," she replied, extending her hand for a handshake. "But I think Grant exaggerated a bit. I'm just an ordinary girl."

Talbert took Claire's hand and brought it to his lips, placing a light kiss on her knuckles. "Oh, I highly doubt that," he said with a wink. 

Grant's jaw dropped as he observed Talbert laying on the charm. He couldn't help but chuckle to himself, knowing that this was just Talbert's way of getting to know Claire. Grant had learned to expect the unexpected from his friend, and it seemed that everyone else was finding out the same thing.

"You know, Floyd," Claire said, a small smile playing on her lips, "I must say, your confidence is quite impressive. I am truly flattered. I guess meeting people like you three is a good start to my new life here."

"Well, Claire, I think we'll get along just fine. Talbert grinned widely, clearly pleased with his own charms. "And, with that, I'll be seeing you around." he winked at Claire once more and walked away, leaving Grant with her and Eugene.

Claire voiced her thoughts, "What the hell was that?" she laughed. Eugene raised an eyebrow and exchanged a concerned glance with Claire.

"I am so sorry about him, Claire," Grant apologized, "He can be a...character."

Claire's expression softened as she reached out and placed her hand on Grant's arm, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath her touch. "He's harmless." she smiled, "Besides, it's refreshing to meet someone like Talbert. He adds a certain...color to this place."

I'm glad you see it that way," Grant replied, a twinkle in his eyes. "Though I can't promise that he won't try to charm you again at some point," he grinned before walking away.

"You okay?" Eugene asked, placing a hand on Claire's shoulder.

"That was...something else, wasn't it?" Claire replied, still laughing slightly, "Let's keep walking."

"And that's how it's done!" Talbert's chest puffed out with pride as he strode towards the rest of their group, a smug smile on his face. Guarnere gave Talbert a playful shove, teasing him about his attempt at wooing Claire. 

"I swear, Tab, you're something else," Grant chuckled, shaking his head.

"I like it when they play hard to get," Talbert said with a flirtatious tone in his voice, "I'm gonna get that girl by the time we go to war."

"You know she has a name, right?" Grant quipped, rolling his eyes. 

Talbert paused for a moment, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Of course, I know her name, Grant. Claire. A name as beautiful as she is."

As Grant watched Claire and Eugene walking away, he smiled to himself, feeling his affection for her grow with each passing moment. He knew that he wanted to get to know her better, to understand her thoughts, her fears, her dreams. But, for now, he kept his feelings to himself, knowing that he had a long way to go before he could truly earn her trust.

Lost in his thoughts, he barely noticed when Luz approached him, clapping a hand on his shoulder. "Don't sweat it, Grant," Luz said with a knowing smile. "Tab might have made quite the impression on Claire, but she'll see through all of that eventually."

Grant sighed, trying to hide the turmoil within him. "I hope so," he murmured softly.

Luz leaned closer, his voice filled with wisdom beyond his years. "You've got something different, my friend. Talbert may know how to turn on the charm, but you...you've got the kind of genuine, steady presence that's rare to find," he said. "And I think that matters more than any flashy antics. You're the kind of guy that Claire will trust and rely on when the going gets tough. Talbert might be the life of the party, but it's people like you who make the party worth attending."

Grant couldn't help but smile at Luz's words, although he was still uncertain about his own feelings towards Claire. He knew that he had a lot to learn about her and that he needed to be patient.

Later on that day, Easy Company had their first meal together in the mess hall. Claire was sitting at a table with Eugene, Alley, Shifty Powers, and Skinny Sisk. 

Claire was trying to reconcile her feelings as well. Although she felt flattered by the attention and compliments from both Talbert and Grant, she couldn't help but feel a bit overwhelmed by the situation. And, of course, her table was right across from them.

"Great," she thought, "This oughta be fun."

It also didn't help that Talbert kept winking at her. She glanced around the mess hall, taking in the sea of males who were seemingly gazing at her from across the room. Some looked more interested than others, but she couldn't shake off that feeling of unease.

"What? Have they not seen a female before?" she thought.

Claire was glad that the boys she was sitting with didn't seem to mind her presence and were even engaging her in conversation, making her feel a bit more comfortable in the male-dominated environment. But, her eyes were drawn to Grant. His presence seemed to radiate a warmth that was inviting and comforting.

Eugene leaned closer to her, "You okay?"

"Huh? Oh! Yeah, I'm fine," Claire replied, her voice tinged with a hint of nervousness, "Just overwhelmed, I suppose."

"You sure? You seem really uncomfortable," Eugene asked, concern etched on his face.

Claire sighed, "Well, I mean, look around, Eugene. It's a bit of a sausage fest." 

Eugene chuckled, "Yeah, you've got a point there. But, don't worry, Claire. I'll protect you from the horde of testosterone," he winked at her.

Claire smiled gratefully at Eugene, "My hero." His lightheartedness eased her tension, even if only for a moment. The mess hall buzzed with the clatter of trays and the boisterous chatter of soldiers, but amidst the chaos, she found solace in his presence beside her.

Alley nudged Claire's shoulder, "Hey, don't worry about those horned-up fools across from us. Roe's right, we've got your back."

The rest of dinner was uneventful, as the conversation at their table flowed easily. Eugene and the others made Claire feel like an equal, not just a girl in a sea of boys—until she heard a rather unpleasant conversation from the table across from her.

"How much do you want to bet that she slept with some higher-up in order to get here?" Guarnere asked his companions at the table.

Grant looked up at him, surprised and disapproving, his eyes flashing with a mixture of anger and protectiveness. "What?" he asked.

"I mean, come on, Chuck." Guarnere continued, "Do you really think the army just let her join? She must've spread her legs for someone important."

Claire almost wanted to bust out laughing at Guarnere's absurd accusation, "That's funny," She thought, "Considering you're talking about a girl who hasn't even had her first kiss yet."

"What are you talking about?" Toye interjected. Liebgott and Talbert started laughing, but the rest of the table remained silent.

"Jesus, Bill, she could hear you!" Grant hissed at him.

"So?" Guarnere shrugged, "Why do you care anyways?" 

"Because she's one of us, that's why. We're all here fighting the same damn war," Grant's voice was steady, but there was an undeniable intensity behind his words. The atmosphere at the table grew heavy as Grant's words hung in the air. "She volunteered to be here, just like we all did. She left behind everything she knew, just like we all did. She's not a plaything for someone's twisted fantasies. She's a soldier, just like we all will be."

Toye, Liebgott, Talbert, Malarkey, Luz, and even Guarnere all went silent. The weight of Grant's words settled over the table, each man reflecting on their own thoughts. 

Eugene placed his hand on Claire's shoulder, "See, Claire, we've got your back."

She nodded as she placed her hand on top of Eugene's on her shoulder. She met Grant's gaze and mouthed a 'thank you' to him. Grant nodded in response, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. 

After dinner, Claire and Eugene returned to Second Platoon's barracks, their steps in sync and casually bumping shoulders with each other, already inseparable on their first day together. Claire had given up on trying to keep her heels clean and was now carrying them, walking barefoot in the soft grass of the field.

"You doing okay, Claire?" he asked softly, "Dinner was a little rough."

Claire paused for a moment, taking a deep breath to collect her thoughts. "Yeah, I'm alright," she replied with a grateful smile. "Thanks to you, Alley and Grant, I feel like I have a support system here. It means a lot to me."

Eugene smiled warmly. "Always, Claire. We're a team now, remember? We look out for each other."

As they approached the barracks, the voices of their fellow soldiers grew louder, blending together into a chaotic symphony of laughter and banter. Claire slipped her heels back on as Eugene held the door for her, "After you, mademoiselle," he said with a playful smile.

Claire made her way to her bed between Grant's and Eugene's, her footsteps echoing across the room as she moved through the space. Soldiers were scattered about, some huddled together playing cards, others polishing their boots or lazily flipping through magazines. 

Grant was lying on his stomach, reading some sort of sports magazine, deeply engrossed in the baseball section. His brows furrowed in concentration as he scanned the pages. It was almost as if he was back home, with the warm summer breeze rustling through the leaves and the crack of the bat echoing through the air.

"It just goes to show," Claire thought, "How much we all leave behind when we join this fight. How young we really are." 

"Whatcha reading? Joe DiMaggio's winning home runs?" Claire teased.

Grant looked over at her, laughing, "God, no. Not since he left the Seals and went to the Yankees. Only the LA Angels for me."

"Ooh, touchy subject," Claire muttered, settling down on her bed, instinctively tucking her legs under her as she kicked off her heels again. "You know, my home city is the home of one of the best teams, in my opinion," she grinned mischievously, "The Tigers."

"Ooh, Claire, those are some fightin' words," Skip Muck called out from across the room.

"Actually," Claire piped up, "None of the boys are playing baseball these days. The ladies are taking charge."

Grant raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Ladies taking charge? What are you talking about?"

Claire leaned back against her bed, crossing her arms. "Oh, you haven't heard? I'm quite surprised. Supposedly, while the men are at war, we ladies are playing in their place. There's an all-girl league in the making, my friend."

Grant's curiosity piqued as he leaned in closer, setting his magazine aside. "An all-girl league? You mean, like a professional baseball league?" he asked, his eyes wide with interest.

"Now, you've got it!" Claire exclaimed. 

"So, when does this league start?" Grant asked.

"They're still in the early stages of planning, but from what I've heard, it won't be long before they start recruiting players. Probably next year."

"So, are you a baseball fanatic or something?" Grant quipped back.

"Me? Oh, God, no, I don't even know how to play!" Claire laughed, shaking her head. "But, I am a fan of breaking rules and boundaries. Hell, that's why I'm here with all of you." Claire reached into her footlocker, got a pad of paper, and began writing a letter to her mother about her arrival at Camp Toccoa.

Dear Mom,

I finally arrived at Camp Toccoa today after the long-as-hell train ride, and let me tell you, it is unlike anything I have ever seen before. The camp is situated in the heart of the Georgia woods, surrounded by a majestic forest that stretches as far as the eye can see and a large hill, nearly as tall as a mountain.

When I first arrived, I met a boy my age named James Alley right outside the entrance. He's tall and lean with dark brown hair and brown eyes; he's handsome. He and I walked in together after both voicing our nervousness about the future. 

Once inside, I encountered a group of rowdy boys and knew they would be trouble. They started causing a raucous, whistling, cat-calling, immature foolishness if you ask me. There were seven in the group, to be exact. So, knowing me, I walked over and stood up for myself. I figured I'm on my own here. Who's going to stand up for me? Anyway, after I told them off, I walked away with Alley. But, much to our dismay, one of the boys, Joe Liebgott, called him back to the group, I guess to ask about me or something.

As I kept walking, I suddenly heard footsteps running toward me, and I thought, "Oh, great. Now what?" But when I turned around, it was one of the boys that wasn't acting like a fool. His name is Charles Grant and he's from California. He's got these bright blue eyes, sandy-brown hair neatly side-parted, not a hair out of place. I will be frank with you, Mom, my immediate reaction was, "Oh my God! He's drop-dead gorgeous!" He looks like a movie star right out of a magazine! I think you'd like him.

Claire couldn't contain her laughter as she wrote the last sentence. 

"What's so funny?" Grant asked, lying on his stomach, propping himself up on his elbows.

Claire's attention snapped to him, but unable to look him in the eyes, "Oh, nothing, just writing a letter to my parents. We're very close."

But, I had to remind myself that this isn't why I'm here. I didn't give in and asked what he wanted. And he told me, "I just wanted to apologize on behalf of my friends. They're idiots and shouldn't have acted that way. I wasn't impressed, though, and I asked him why they weren't apologizing. He said that he felt his apology would be more sincere. He offered to show me where check-in was. As we walked along, we talked about where we were from. Once he showed me the office to check in, I walked in, leaving him outside. But, guess what, Mom? He waited for me.

In the office, I met two of my commanding officers, Lieutenants Winters and Nixon. Lieutenant Nixon seems like a fun time, a good person to go out partying with. When I left the office, I now had a stack of gear piled high above my head. Grant offered to help, and, at first, I told him I could handle it. But, something about him made me give in and eventually let him help me.

I thanked him and explained my reasoning for saying 'no' at first. He asked me what platoon I was in, and it turns out we're both in second. He and I walked along over to the barracks, casually talking. He had gotten here just this morning and was still as lost as I was. I told him he didn't need to wait for me back at check-in and that I could have made it around myself, but he told me he wanted to. That was shocking. I don't think any boy has shown me that kindness before. 

Inside the barracks, there was one bed left, ironically between his and another medic's. After he left, I noticed the other medic and he introduced himself to me. His name is Eugene Roe. He's half Cajun, from Louisiana, a true southern boy. He has jet-black hair and dark blue eyes; he's very cute. I felt a real connection starting right there. I could tell we would be inseparable. I offered him to go on a walk with me to get familiar with the area. I have to say, Mom, our conversation flowed effortlessly, like we had known each other for years. 

On our walk, we ran back into Grant and his group, much to my dismay. One of the boys, Floyd Talbert, used this horrible pick-up line that made me want to bust out laughing right there. He even kissed my hand after introducing himself! I noticed, though, that it made Grant a tad uncomfortable. 

Later on that day at dinner, I was sitting with Eugene and Alley when I heard an unpleasant conversation across from our table at Grant and his friend's. One of the men, Bill Guarnere, suggested that I had slept my way to the top in order to get here. Can you believe that? I nearly fell off the bench! And the best part was that Grant stood up for me and told him off. Again, I was in shock!

After dinner, we all returned to our barracks, and here I am writing to you. Grant and I just finished a riveting conversation about the all-girls baseball league that's starting soon. He's supposedly a baseball fanatic, but never heard about it? Anyway, tell Dad we've got an LA Angels fan on our hands!

Tomorrow basic training starts. I'm nervous, but I knew what I was getting into. I'll write to you again tomorrow night and tell you how it went. Wish me luck!

Love always, 

Claire

With a heavy sigh, Claire meticulously folded the letter and slipped it into a plain white envelope. She quickly stashed the envelope in her footlocker, hiding it away from anyone who might try to snoop.

She tiptoed to the cramped bathroom, to change into her sleepwear and clean her makeup off. She then climbed the small bunk, laying her head down on the pillow, hoping for a peaceful night's sleep despite the unknowns of the next morning. Just as she was about to close her eyes, Claire heard a sleepy voice coming from the adjacent bed. 

"Goodnight, Claire."

And that first 'goodnight' would be one of many said to Claire for years to come.

---

[latibvles]

SAD, BEAUTIFUL, TRAGIC.

beautiful, tragic // amen, amen, amen.

sometimes i can’t help blaming you for leaving me here, what am i supposed to do?

masterlist | gallery | taglist

TAGLIST: @liebgotts-lovergirl , @softguarnere , @monalisastwin , @brassknucklespeirs , @mads-weasley

WARNINGS: major character death , descriptions of bombings , civilian death , gore , etc.

SUMMARY: As Christmas Eve comes around, it proves challenging for the battered medics of Bastogne to find reason to celebrate — as General McAuliffe’s response reaps lethal consequence.

She used to love Christmas

Well… used to love wouldn’t be the right term. She still does — but Christmases at home, with her brother, with Ron, with warm fires and a belly full of food. It nearly slipped her mind that Christmas was tomorrow, until Laura slipped a coin on a string to her with a soft smile and a “Merry Christmas Eve, Lieutenant.” Daisy put it on, took note of the matching one hanging from Laura’s neck — and it was the first time she smiled that morning.

It’s been four days since they were cut off, and three days since another Aid Station opened down the road with staff from 82nd Airborne and 705th Tank Destroyer. Ironically, the opening of it is an astute reminder of the Army’s lackluster medical training — filled with green replacements who make mistakes that Daisy has to amend. She doesn’t know when it was agreed upon by the officers that the enlisted would come to her for any and all questions, but she has a feeling it has to do with the ones who don’t like her very much. Now it’s just another thing on the long list of responsibilities she has to shoulder.

When the skies cleared yesterday it did little to lift her mood — but the supply drop certainly helped. Still, with men coming up to her for questions on even the most self-explanatory of procedure or direction, her patience ran thin. Poor Sergeant Lipton became victim to her outburst;  she mistook him for another doe-eyed medic, but he took it in stride. He’d even cracked a joke, flashed her a smile, no harm, no foul.

“It’s bullshit and you know it, Charles.” Daisy spits out, her words sharp as they make their way down the street of the bombed out town. Lieutenant Phalen, or rather, Charles Phalen, as he asked her to call him, says nothing — so she continues. “I swear to God it’s like all those men learned was how to pester their goddamn nurses. And if Evans gives me that sideways glance one more time I’m gonna—”

“Tug his ear?” Daisy looks at him and shakes her head.

“Break his glasses.”

Charles takes a tentative glance towards the sky as an engine whirrs overhead, and Daisy looks up at it too. To her reluctant relief, she recognizes the black and white stars and stripes of the C-47. For two nights they’ve been getting hit with bombs all over town, and Daisy finds herself praying way more frequently now that the bombs don’t hit the church.

“Wonder where he’s headed,” Charles muses.

“Fiji, probably. Holiday vacations and all that.” She hears him snort beside her.

“You know a lot about vacations, Daisy?”

“Oh yeah — I’ve actually got a holiday foot massage in an hour with my best friend George Evans.” She fires back dryly, garnering another small laugh.

She can laugh and rant and curse all she likes, but none of it shakes this helpless feeling that’s long-since festered in her heart and taken root like a weed. There’s not much any of them can do, and Daisy hates that especially. That feeling that no matter how many people get back on their feet — it’ll never be enough. Trying not to give in to her own despair has proven harder as of late, with the crumbling buildings and civilian casualties demanding her attention.

The streets reek of rot. The air smells like smoke. The once-clear roads are littered with debris. It looks like the end of the world. She can only imagine what it’s like out on the line.

As they return to the Church, Daisy watches for a moment as they carry Smokey Gordon out by stretcher. They’d been so busy when he was brought in that morning, she couldn’t give Eugene more than a sympathetic look before she was being whisked away by her other duties. His eyes are half-lidded and his skin is sallow, but he’s alive, and he might get to go home. She feels Charles clap her shoulder and give it a squeeze.

“I’m gonna be with 82nd tonight, if you need anything.” He offers, and Daisy gives him a stiff nod.

“I’ll keep that in mind.” She puts a hand over his and gives it a squeeze, before shaking it off to head back down into the stuffy Church, bursting at the seams with civilians and soldiers all in desperate need of a relief Daisy doesn’t know how to provide.

 

“There you go. Take this. Couverture? Couverture?” The French in Laura’s thick accent sounds a little strange rolling off her tongue, but something’s better than nothing. In the supplies had been some extra blankets, and they’d scavenged for what they could in the ruined buildings, washing the sheets until their fingers pruned and the water ran black with dirt and grime. Now they pass them out to the people finding shelter — elderly and women and children with dirt-smudged faces and tired eyes.

Daisy tries not to stare for too long as mothers wrap their children in the scratchy wool-covers, kissing their heads as the children let out wet coughs.

Christ, she misses her mother.

They’d be getting ready for Christmas Eve service right about how. Her mother, in her red-brown church dress and her father in a cable-knit sweater vest. And her eldest cousin, Mary, would be trying to wrangle in the other two, Abigail and Joseph. Her mother would be fretting over her father’s Christmas tie while her Aunt Marie desperately tries to calm her mother’s nerves. And the house would be warm — from Christmas lights and dinner cooking in the kitchen. It’s been two years since she walked the halls of her aunt’s stately Maryland colonial, and the thought makes her chest ache.

“Rogers, come with me. I wanna head to 82nd and see if they have any extra blankets. For the little ones.” Laura looks at her and nods.

“Sure thing!”

They make their way up the stairs and out into the frigid night quickly, and Laura hums to herself thoughtfully. Daisy looks at her with a raised brow.

“I’ve been thinkin’...” she starts out, “Tomorrow maybe a few of us could go n’ poke around, see if there’s any toys lying about that the kids might want. Since it’s Christmas n’ all. Somethin’ nice for the little ones,” The blonde suggests. Daisy smiles at that — her friend’s idea making her feel a little warmer.

“Wouldn’t be such a bad idea. Could see what we can scrounge liquor-wise for the guys. Something nicer than moonshine, maybe?” Laura’s grin grows wider at the thought.

“I like the way you think, Dais,” She throws her arm over Daisy’s shoulder, pulling her into her side as the lights from the other Aid station come into view around the corner. “That really oughta—”

Pop! Pop! Pop!

Their eyes snap up as 88s light up the sky, and make out the silhouette of planes. Then, there’s the familiar orange glow further in town — just like the one in Holland. Her blood turns to ice. A whistle pierces through the air and then…

She watches as a building goes up in a burst of brilliant orange flames. Her heartbeat picks up. It’s dangerously close to the Church and before she can register it, Laura’s taking off down the road.

“Rogers! Rogers!” Daisy calls out. The girl whips her head back, eyes lit up with courage.

“We’ve gotta get ‘em out of there, Dais!” Another whistle. Another explosion that shakes the ground. Daisy can’t look away. She takes a breath and nods. She’s right. No matter how much she wants to keep this woman close to her — she knows she’s right.

“I’m getting Phalen and some other guys and we’re gonna get everybody out, okay?”

“Yes ma’am!”

Daisy turns and takes off into the Aid Station. The able-bodied are ducked under tables and other means of cover. Her head whips around in search of Charles, calling out his name until the man comes from one of the off rooms of this building.

Another boom.

“What is it, Clarke?” he asks. Her face feels hot.

“We’re evacuating the people in the Church. Bombs are hitting way too close and I—,” Whistle. Boom. “Look. I just need guys, alright?! And a jeep.” Charles nods, his expression changing from concern to determination. He barks out a few names, and a couple medics spring up as he gives orders to each of them.

“I’ll get you that jeep.” He decides on, giving her shoulder another squeeze.

“Thank you.” Daisy responds, and she’s dashing out the door once again.

There’s fire, a lot of it. And screaming. Cries for people to clear the roads and get out mixed with the popping sound of 88s and the powerful groans of jet engines. She lifts her arms to cover her head as she runs, heart pounding in her ears, drowning out the cacophony. Gotta get back, she repeats, gotta make it back. As she approaches she sees specks in the distance rushing out of the building. She thinks she can make out those precious red crosses, and Laura’s blonde head as she rushes inside when—

Whistle. Boom.

The force of the explosion on her left is enough to thrust her into the opposing wall. Her head slams into the brick. Her ears are ringing. Glass and debris slice her skin and sting her eyes. Everything is muffled. She can’t see through the cloud of dust — she shuts her eyes. For a moment, Daisy just sits there in a daze. When she lifts her fingers to her temple, it’s warm and wet. She can taste blood in her mouth and her tongue aches.

“Get out! Quickly!”

“Clear the road! Outta the way!”

A flash of orange behind her eyelids, the screeching of tires. Her legs feel a little shaky. Gotta get up, she desperately tries to will herself into it. Stand up. Keep pushing forward. She holds her breath for a moment, pressing her palm into the brick and pushing herself up on trembling legs, squinting to see through the clouds of dust. Daisy takes a tentative step forward, and then another, forcing herself through the cloud and opening her eyes fully as she does so.

As three men stumble out of the Church, scattering to the wind, she brings a hand to her mouth.

It’s completely caved in — glass shattered and littering the ground. Dust pluming. A lump forms in her throat as she stumbles forward.

“Laura..?” Daisy whispers, her voice cracking as she approaches the entryway.

“Daisy?” Daisy whips her head around, only for her eyes to meet Eugene’s. He rushes forward, towards her and the debris as a medic warns them against it, falling to his knees and pulling out a familiar blue scarf. Daisy’s fingers ghost the coin hanging from her neck with trembling hands. She feels like she might be drowning. The throbbing of her head becomes a distant pain in comparison to the piercing pain in her chest.

“Gene, I—” Daisy struggles to find the words, grasping at something, anything, praying it isn’t real. “Renee and— Laura was right here. I saw her go inside and— and my nurses, and the women and the children. They were all…” she trails off, staring at the rubble with a quivering lip.

She feels a hand curl around her own in a death-grip. Squeezing tight enough for it to hurt. She doesn’t care. She looks at Eugene — his eyes aren’t glassy, but they hold the same grief that’s splitting her apart.

“Easy needs a medic.” He murmurs. Despite his grip, she squeezes back with all the strength she can muster, giving him a nod.

“Medic! Get your ass out here!” Eugene turns his head to look, and she follows, watching a man as he darts away. Then he’s climbing down the pile of rubble, and leading her with him. She doesn’t let go of his hand, not until they pile into a jeep headed back out onto the line, and even then she says nothing. She and Gene exchange looks, but nothing more. She wants to hold his hand again — but doesn’t. Daisy doesn’t even cry.

She says nothing when the jeep pulls into the woods she’s never been in before — not when they get out, and not when Liebgott practically springs out of his foxhole, scruffier with a bright red nose and a look of excitement that immediately shifts to worry upon seeing the state of her.

“Holy shit, Dais, what’re you doing out here?” He whispers. Eugene clears his throat.

“Can she share your foxhole t’night, Liebgott?” And then, shifting his eyes back to Daisy, “We can… talk to Captain Winters in the morning.” Daisy nods at that, weakly, as Joe places his hands on her shoulders, guiding her back towards the hole he sprung up from. When was the last time she’d slept in a foxhole? It had to be Normandy.

They slump into it, Joe placing an arm around her shoulders, pulling her into his side. He’s warm, and familiar, and Daisy finds herself leaning into him.

“I slapped my father,” she whispers, her voice cracking in all the wrong places. Joe turns to look at her. She can feel his gaze on the top of her head, burning through her. “I almost died tonight and… and his last memory would’ve been of me slapping him before I got on the train.” There’s a heavy silence for a moment, before his fingers dig into her arm a little bit.

“But you made it.” Joe responds, definitive, in a way that makes her ache for home.

She stares at the dirt wall — and sees a dreamlike woman, with soft blonde hair and sky blue eyes. A smile to die for, an ability to charm almost everybody she ever met. A kid brother at home, a father, so determined to make it — she remembers that first day, when Daisy pressed her fingers into her back to push her over the finish line. Their first night out. The first time she followed Daisy without question, back in Holland. They were supposed to find toys and whiskey tomorrow, for the kids and the men.

But she didn’t, is what she says, except it comes out as a strangled sob. And then another one, that lurches her body forward, and before she knows it, she’s sobbing and hiccuping and Joe’s pulling her fully into his arms — so she’s sobbing into his chest now, incoherent and blubbering. Daisy can barely breathe, gripping onto him for dear life and trying to stifle her cries into his jacket. It hurts. She feels like she's drowning and scrambling for air, only for a hand to maliciously shove her down again and hold her under the water until her lungs cry out. Over and over, just when she thinks things could be a little okay, something happens for her to be proven stupidly, horrifically, wrong. And she hates it.

Joe says nothing, rubbing circles into her back, kissing the top of her head and keeping her close in a way that's so familiar it makes her cry harder. It's only then, that he tells her, soft as ever, to just breathe. Daisy doesn't know if she can do that.

She doesn’t know when she falls asleep — but it’s somewhere between the sobbing and a prayer

[hesbuckcompton-baby]

When You Know, You Know - Ronald Speirs x OC

Summary: A night of drinking with Valerie and the men leads Ron to realise that he's in much deeper than he thought

Warnings: Language, alcohol consumption/intoxication

Word count: 2.8k

Tags (Mostly using the taglist from the original fic): @50svibes @cagzzz107 @yentroucnagol @mads-weasley @mrsalwayswrite @dcyllom

A/N: This oneshot is building on from the characters/storyline established in my fic Just Come Home, which you can read in its entirety here. For those of you who have read it already, this is set roughly between chapters 5 and 6. Enjoy!

I can't even tell if this is good, I just needed to write for them again, I miss them so much

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

"I win again!"

"God dammit!" George Luz cried, throwing down his hand of cards upon the table as Valerie laughed, taking a sip of her drink and revelling in his distress. Easy Company had been in Berchtesgaden for almost a week, and already boredom was beginning to set in, remedied seemingly only by late nights of drinking, card games, and music which they had begun to host almost daily in the huge abandoned hotel at the end of the main street.

The huge dining hall was bathed in a low, golden glow, a refuge from the darkness outside, and a gramophone crackled away in the corner, playing record after record of German music only a few among them could understand. A few portraits of prominent officials hung on the walls - survivors of the initial scourge which had seen the men clear out anything of value - their faces vandalised beyond recognition, drooping unevenly on their hooks. The large, circular tables that had once hosted wealthy guests to the town were now used for rowdy games of all kinds, stacks of empty glasses growing taller by the hour.

It had been almost two hours since Valerie had found herself dragged into one of these games. The men had clearly thought her light competition, but in those two hours, not one of them had won a single round. As the night wore on, and she continued to prevail, they grew only more determined to continue, to find a hole in her strategy to exploit, to finally beat her, for God's sake.

"I mean, Jesus, I just don't understand it," Tab sighed, frowning as he poured himself another glass of whiskey, staring wearily at his own hand in the realisation that he never could have won. "How can you win every goddamn time?"

Val chuckled, patting him on the arm in consolation. "I think it might be time to call it a night, eh gents?"

Luz shook his head. "No. Nuh-uh. We're not leaving until I win."

"You better be careful you don't run outta money first."

Tutting, he reached into his pocket for some more cash. "You better donate this shit to a charity or something when you get home, God knows you don't fucking need it," He lamented, muttering something to himself about big fucking houses and rich fucking parents.

With a grin, she accepted her winnings, sliding the money into the pocket of the coat she draped over the back of her chair. It was not her own coat - none of Valerie's clothes were her own, all of them pilfered from the abandoned closets of rich German wives, fleeing in a hurry with their rich Nazi husbands. But in the grand scheme of things, she hardly felt guilty. "Pleasure doing business with ya, Georgie." Val teased, her tongue drawn between her teeth.

A wide archway separated the main dining room from the smaller, private hall next door - a more intimate space for what had once been the wealthiest of hotel guests, but which now belonged to the officers of Easy Company, a huge central table proving the perfect place for late night games of poker.

Ron stared at the unimpressive cards in his hand, suppressing a frown, his infamous stony gaze playing in his favour once again. He would not win this game, but as long as Harry continued to play as badly as he had so far, he would not lose either. The sound of laughter in the next room pulled his gaze - and there she was. Valerie's face flushed red as she laughed, her cheeks creased as she tilted her head back, George Luz chuckling beside her at whatever he had said that was so damn funny. He wasn't sure he had ever made her laugh like that - but Ron knew he wasn't a funny guy, not like Luz at least. A few months ago, he might have felt the inkling of insecurity bubbling in his chest, but not now. Despite all the things that made him seem so intimidating to the other men, it seemed Ron was stuck with Valerie whether he liked it or not.

He did.

The sound of someone noisily clearing their throat pulled his attention away from the next room, and as Ron looked across the table, he noticed Nixon staring straight at him, brow raised. "Hm?" He asked, mirroring his expression.

"You gonna take your turn?" Nixon asked. "Or you gonna keep staring?"

Ron decided not to acknowledge this second question, instead swiftly taking his turn, placing his cards down forcefully, as if making a performance out of it. He wasn't staring. Just... watching.

In the corner of the dining hall, the record that had been playing stopped with a crackle, and Valerie stood up to change it, sliding her cards into her pocket to prevent Luz from cheating. The man scoffed at the mere suggestion, but they both knew he wasn't above taking a peek. As she neared the gramophone in the corner, Chuck Grant came passing the other way, their shoulders brushing against each other as he headed back to his own table. "Ooh, Val," He spoke, stepping up behind her as she flicked through the box of records. "You gotta try this."

Looking up, she accepted the glass in his hand, stifling a cough after her first sip as the liquid burned her throat. "Oh, fucking Christ, what is that?"

"No idea. Malark's recipe - good though, right?"

"Good, but I think it'll kill me," Val confessed, flicking through the box of records with her free hand.

"That's the spirit," He chuckled, patting her on the shoulder before turning to return to his table. "Drink up."

She grinned as he left, taking another sip of Malarkey's dangerous concoction before selecting a record. Their titles had all been in German, so Valerie had been forced to make a decision based off of the covers alone, and as such was slightly taken aback when upbeat folk music came blasting through the gramophone's horn, although the men around her seemed too engrossed in their games to even notice.

Returning to the table, interrupting Luz and Tab as they talked strategy, she put down her drink, taking a seat. "What's that?" George asked, nodding towards her glass.

"No idea. Malarkey's makin' 'em over there apparently."

He paused momentarily, slowly sliding his cards into his pocket as if Val actually needed to cheat to win. "...Don't mind if I do."

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Just over an hour had passed since the last time Ron had looked over at Valerie - Harry had lost their last game, predictably, and the officers had been darting between conversation and cards ever since, the energy slowly draining from the room as the night wore on and they began to find it harder to focus on the more technical games. The group had noticed the main dining hall growing steadily louder as the night progressed, but the disturbance had not been enough to warrant their attention until suddenly a smash rang out, accompanied by a series of whoops and laughter.

Craning his neck to see what was happening, Ron's gaze fell upon the portrait of Hitler that Valerie had taken a knife to on their first day in town, his face now stained with dark red wine, a few shards of glass embedded in the canvas. Still seated at her table, Val let out a hearty laugh, her cheeks flushed bright red as if she had caught a chill. But he knew it wasn't that.

Of the men of Easy Company still occupying the hall, not a single one of them appeared sober, the scent of alcohol lingering on the very air. Sitting across the table from Valerie, it appeared George Luz had actually fallen asleep, suddenly roused by the sound of the wine bottle exploding into hundreds of fragments the moment it struck the wall.

"Aw, shit," Nixon sighed. "Looks like they found the good stuff."

Across the room, Skinny Sisk tripped on the edge of a tablecloth that had been left dragging across the floor, tumbling to the ground in a mass of flailing limbs. Val let out a guffaw of laughter, clapping her hands in delight as she slumped further in her seat, reaching for another sip of whatever the hell was in her glass.

"Alright, ok," Ron muttered, rising from his seat and crossing the room in a moment, prying the drink from her hand before it could reach her lips. Val opened her mouth in objection, brow drawn with outrage, but the sudden appearance of the infamous Captain Speirs seemed to sober up the rest of the room, the other men taking the hint to calm themselves and begin shuffling out the door to return to their billets and sleep off their drunkenness.

"I wasn't done with that, yunno," She drawled, barely noticing as Luz drifted away from the table, rubbing at his temples in an attempt to nurse an already developing headache.

"Yeah, you're not gonna be, either," Raising the glass, Ron took a sniff, expression twisting into a grimace. "Jesus. How many of these did you have?"

"I... do not know."

"Hey, Speirs?" Harry called from the next room, clearly impatient to get back to their game.

"Uh, yeah - deal me out, ok? See you fellas tomorrow," He nodded, placing a gentle hand on Valerie's arm to help her to her feet. She swayed slightly, but could certainly walk, and as Ron helped her to the door, he emptied her glass into an unused ice bucket as they passed.

She probably could have made it back up to her room entirely unscathed, even the wobble in her step ebbing away as they exited into the night air, but Ron wasn't sure he'd be able to live with himself if he let her go anywhere alone. "I'm not plastered by the way - I've been plastered, this ain't that."

"Whatever you say," He breathed, arm still secure around her as they descended the front steps to the hotel.

"I'm serious."

"I believe you, dear," Ron nodded, and a giddy grin made its way across her face at the term of endearment. It had slipped out before he could stop it, and he was suddenly grateful for the minuscule chance that she would remember it the next day - he did not in fact believe her.

It was quiet out on the street, the men who had scattered returning promptly to their nearby billets, turning Berchtesgaden back into the ghost town it had been when they had found it. The street lamps cast puddles of golden light as they passed beneath them, his gaze momentarily wandering to Val's face. Her hair had come loose, a strand hanging limply in her face, and the tip of her nose flushed pink in the cool air. Without a word, Ron shrugged off his jacket, slinging it over her shoulders. She did not hesitate to slide her arms into the sleeves, wrapping the jacket tightly around herself, and playing it off as a yawn when she took a deep breath, smelling the scent of his cigarettes that permeated the fabric.

They were mere feet from the front door when Ron felt Valerie slide from his grip, turning to watch as she took a seat on a nearby bench, one foot tucked behind the other, hands in her lap as she looked up at the night sky above.

"Almost there, c'mon," He urged, gesturing for her to follow.

"Come sit down."

Ron didn't move, shifting his weight from foot to foot. "Val, come on, you'll catch a cold out here, let's get you insi-"

"Just sit down, Ronald!" Val demanded, almost laughing. She always seemed so ceaselessly amused by him - he wouldn't pretend not to enjoy it, but it struck him as odd sometimes.

Folding his hands awkwardly in his lap, Ron took a seat beside her on the bench, a polite gap left between them. It couldn't have been more than a couple of inches, but it might as well have been a mile for how tempted he felt to move closer.

Her gaze had not shifted from the sky above since the moment he sat down, and after a while spent sitting in silence, he allowed himself to do the same, peering up at the stars above. There was a full moon out that night, hanging like a beacon above them, never quite allowing the town to fall into total darkness as it bathed the ground below in its glow. It was quite marvellous, really.

As weight pressed down on his shoulder, Ron felt his breath catch in his throat, so desperate was he to preserve the serenity of this moment as Valerie leant over, resting her head against him. He scarcely dared more, for fear that he would shrug her off - it was almost comical, the battle-hardened Captain Speirs, who ran past half a dozen tanks at Foy twice over without fear, suddenly paralysed at the prospect of pushing her away.

"Our families are looking at the same moon back home," Valerie said, her voice muffled against the fabric of Ron's jacket as she turned her chin into the collar. "I like thinkin' about that." When she spoke it sounded drowsy, exhaustion tugging downwards at her eyelids.

"C'mon," He urged again, matching her softness. "You can't sleep out here, you'll freeze to death."

Val nodded slowly, her hair catching on his shirt. "That'd be very inconvenient for you."

"Out the the two of us, I don't think I'm the one getting the short end of the stick in this scenario, Val."

"Ah, but you'd miss me," She sighed with a dramatic flourish of her hand, pushing herself up from the bench with a grunt. Ron had not had the chance to stand up himself before Valerie started walking, the sway in her step settled as she confidently made her way down the street.

"You're going the wrong way, dear," He pointed out, gesturing to the front door, mere feet away from them.

"I know that," Val rolled her eyes, turning sharply on her heel and marching up to the front step as he chuckled. Taking the step up, she looked back at him. "C'mere," She ordered.

"What do you want now?" Ron teased, already moving to do her bidding. Taking a step up to stand beside her, they faced each other, shoulders pressed against the front door to the house they were billeted in. Leaning forward, Val pressed her body flat against his, her chin resting on his chest, face tilted up towards him. He could feel her breath, escaping through parted lips and fanning his neck as he peered down at her. Their faces were mere inches apart, and oh, how he had wanted to give in at that moment - give in to the months they had spent together, growing ever more enamoured by her with each passing day. Putting her weight on her toes, she began to push herself up towards him, their lips barely parted, so close their noses brushed against each other.

She was drunk. Ron knew this - could see it in her flushed cheeks, could hear it in her slow words. It would not happen like this. Placing soft hands to either side of her face, he held her back as gently, as tenderly as he could, his thumb skirting across the soft flesh of her cheek as Valerie eased herself back onto her heels, her eyes like dark pools under the light of the street lamp, as wide as he had ever seen them.

"Goodnight Cap'n," Her voice was scarcely a whisper as her hand found the door handle, opening it onto the great foyer inside, the heels of her shoes clacking against the floorboards as she trailed inside. Ron would follow soon - would climb the stairs to his own room along the hall from her own - but for now, he held back, watching on as Val headed upstairs, his jacket still hanging off her back as she disappeared down the hall, the sound of humming trailing after her even after she was gone from sight, fading away with the sound of a closing door. It wasn't until now, when Ron was alone in the foyer, did he realise he was smiling - beaming even. It was very... un-ron-like. But she had wanted to kiss him.

He had done the right thing. He knew this.

But Jesus Christ, was he in deeper than he thought.

[noneedtoamputate]

So @basilone tagged me two weeks ago (sorry this is so late!) and @mercurygray tagged me tonight to post the last sentence of a current WIP, and wouldn't you know, I am working on Chapter 2 of my Band of Brothers Olympic AU featuring several of her Girl Gang characters from The Darkening Sky. This is more than a few sentences, but I want to share because I'm excited to share.

-

“I’m sorry,” he said, looking directly at Eileen. “It was a terrible thing to do. Yes, Irene and I were just about to break up, but we hadn’t yet, and I shouldn’t have done that to her, and I shouldn’t have done that to you.”

They stared at each other for a few seconds before Eileen looked away first. 

“Thank you,” she said earnestly. 

Lew felt some kind of weird energy between them that he couldn’t describe. He didn’t know what it was, only that he somehow knew that she felt it, too.

And that’s why her next words hurt so much.

“You know what they say. Like father, like son,” she said sarcastically.

He was still looking at Eileen, but he heard Blanche let out a small gasp. 

“I am nothing - nothing - like my father,” he said quietly. 

He stood up, took his wallet out of his jeans pocket, and threw one hundred euros down on the table without a second thought.

“Coffees are on me. Enjoy, ladies.” 

He walked off, not knowing where he was going, only knowing that wherever it was, he wouldn’t have to see look at Eileen Hammond for the rest of the day.

Tagging @kindsummer @almost-a-class-act and @lostloveletters (no pressure) or anyone else who wants to do it.

[stfrancisprayer]

when texas was still mexico ☆ chambear (verb) ☆ singing from your chest ☆ ay, jalisco, no te rajes ☆ weekends at the USO ☆ amor prohibido ☆ longing for something just out of reach ☆ la media vuelta ☆ from america to europe and back again ☆ y volveré

[playlist]