#band of brothers series

[mads-weasley]

Summary: After (y/n) signs up for the WAC's Athena Program, she joins the war with Easy Company, unaware of how much her life will change over the next few years.

Enchanted

Out of the Woods

Haunted

Evermore

Breathe

Daylight

Paris

You Are In Love

Lover

State of Grace

Labyrinth

You’re On Your Own, Kid

Forever Winter

Soon You'll Get Better

Right Where You Left Me

Castles Crumbling

Innocent - currently on break!!

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[mads-nixon]

Epiphany Pt. 12: You're On Your Own, Kid

Lewis Nixon x Reader

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Title inspo - you're on your own, kid: taylor swift

A/N: this is my first post on my hbo war side-blog! yay! this chapter is the calm before the storm, y'all. this is about the fictional portrayal of easy company on the show. nothing but love and respect for veterans on this blog!

Word Count: 4.1k

Summary: Ill-equipped and poorly supplied, (y/n) and the rest of Easy do their best to survive in the frozen Ardennes Forest of Bastogne.

Warnings: description of injury, very soft lew

December 20, 1944: Ardennes Forest, Belgium

The forest lay under a heavy blanket of snow, the silence only broken by the occasional gust of icy wind, quiet conversations, and the all-to-familiar whistling of incoming shells. (Y/n) sat on the edge of her foxhole, her breath visible in the cold air as she gazed out at the German line. Through the veil of swirling snow, she couldn’t make out their silhouettes, but she knew they were there. It was a landscape of paradoxes: serene yet charged, beautiful yet deadly. 

With her gaze still fixed in the white haze, she felt a surge of frustration and anger rise in her. It was fueled by the knowledge that the Krauts had the supplies that they desperately needed. It was a cruel twist of fate that Easy was hungry, cold, and struggling, while the enemy, albeit just across the way, had the sustenance and warmth they lacked. They had a few missed supply drops to thank for that.

The air was frigid, cutting through layers of clothing and seeping into her very bones. (Y/n) hugged herself, arms wrapping tightly around her body in a futile attempt to capture a semblance of warmth. Her gloved fingers, numbed by the cold, clutched at the fabric of her uniform, seeking refuge in the familiar touch.

“(Y/n), remind me to never complain about the heat again,” Skip jested through chattering teeth, a weak smile attempting to mask his discomfort. 

“Yeah, this makes those Georgia summers seem downright pleasant,” Don added with a forced chuckle, the words barely leaving his blue-tinted lips.

Skip waved a hand in front of (y/n)’s distant gaze, breaking her trance and pulling her back to reality. “Earth to (y/n). You with us?”

Shaking from her thoughts, she turned towards the group, forcing a chapped smile. “Yeah,” she muttered, pushing herself up from where she sat in the foxhole, trying to get blood circulating in her numbed limbs. “I’ll be back.”

“Don’t get lost out there,” Malarkey called out, his voice tinged with concern as she swung her rifle onto her shoulder. 

“A walk in a winter wonderland,” Skip chimed in, his grin mischievous as he wiggled his eyebrows. “Is that code for, ‘going to see your favorite captain’ by any chance?”

A playful scoff escaped her lips in a huff. “Shut up, Muck. I can’t feel my toes, so I’m going for a walk to fix that.”

Malarkey shrugged, feigning innocence. “Yeah, sure. Have fun on your walk.”

The woman shook her head fondly at her friends as she slowly walked away from the foxhole. Her limbs didn’t want to work correctly, so she found herself doing a pitiful half-limp around the forest as she attempted to get some blood flowing to her feet. 

Despite her and Nix’s efforts to be discreet, the Toccoa men who had watched them from the beginning couldn’t be fooled. While nothing was openly acknowledged, there was a shared understanding that something was going on between the couple. Only Harry and Dick knew for certain, and only because they grilled Lew when he returned from Paris.

Maybe she would pay her favorite Captain a visit.

“Hey, Cripple!” someone called out. Groaning, (y/n) turned to face the voice, ready to retort when the very ground beneath her seemed to tremble and shudder violently. An explosion erupted from behind her, a deafening roar as the shockwave threw her off balance, sending her to the ground in a heap. 

She curled into a protective ball, her hands instinctively shielding her head as the world was swallowed by chaos. The relentless barrage of mortars painted the sky, their descent announced by menacing whistles. The once serene forest became a frenzied battleground, trees splintering and snow erupting into wild flurries. 

Amidst the disarray, a call pierced through the mayhem. “(Y/l/n)! Over here!”

Scrambling to her feet, her heart raced with adrenaline and drowned out the pounding explosions. She didn’t spare a moment to see who called, her focus solely on getting to cover. (Y/n) snatched up her rifle from the snow-covered ground and sprinted towards the direction of the voice, her heavy breaths misting in the frigid air.

As she ran, her foot caught a fallen tree branch and she was sent tumbling into the freezing embrace of the forest floor, awkwardly landing on her arm. Pain flared in her wrist as she fought to get to her feet, panicking at being exposed without cover. Then, like a savior, a hand extended towards her and hauled her into a nearby foxhole. 

Joe Liebgott’s face appeared in front of her, and his eyes reflected the same fear and helplessness that she felt. She let go of her rifle, allowing it to rest in the snow as she clamped her hands over her ears, desperate to drown out the deafening noise that assaulted her senses. (Y/n) clenched her eyes closed, seeing refuge in the darkness as Joe pulled her tightly into his body, shielding her from the relentless barrage. The concussive blasts continued, each one sending shockwaves through the ground and dirt, snow, and ice raining down on them. She held on, feeling the frantic rise and fall of Joe’s chest against her, praying that it would all stop soon.

Seconds, minutes, hours, (y/n) didn’t know how much time had passed when the earth-shattering blasts ceased. A few gentle pats on her helmet were the only indication it was over. Slowly, she released her grip on her ears, the painful ringing subsiding to the backdrop of her ragged breaths as she looked up at him with wide eyes.

“You alright?” Joe asked, his concerned gaze scanning her for injuries.

(Y/n) nodded, wincing as she flexed her wrist, attempting to brush off the debris clinging to her skin. “I’m okay.”

His eyes narrowed, shifting from her face to her arm and then back again. “You sure?”

“I just landed on it weird,” she replied, clenching her teeth against the searing pain that radiated up her arm with every movement.

“Let me get Doc, (y/n),” he offered, about to get up, but her good arm shot up and pulled him back down.

Sitting up, she carefully retrieved her rifle and climbed out of the foxhole, cradling her aching wrist to her chest. “I’m fine, Joe. Thank you, but I need to check on my foxhole.”

“Alright, be careful,” he called after her as she made her way back toward her foxhole, her chest tight with anxiety. As the shock and adrenaline from the bombardment began to fade, the reality of (y/n)’s situation settled in: her wrist was not just a minor discomfort. What had initially felt like a sharp jab upon impact turned into a persistent, gnawing pain radiating from her wrist and traveling up her arm like tendrils of fire.

Each movement she made, whether to clutch her rifle or steady herself against the uneven ground, sent surges of pain shooting through her hand and forearm. With each passing second, the pain seemed to intensify, becoming an unrelenting companion in the desolate frozen landscape. Her fingers, once nimble and deft in handling her rifle, now felt like lead, unresponsive and clumsy. The smallest tasks, like brushing off the clinging snow or gripping her canteen, became monumental efforts, each movement a harsh reminder of the shelling. A simple flex of her wrist, something that she took for granted in the past, was now an act that set off sharp jolts of pain. (Y/n) found herself trying to ignore the pain, focusing on the task at hand, but the throbbing in her arm seemed to pulse in sync with her heartbeat, making it impossible to overlook. She knew she should probably see Roe about it, but she heard he didn’t have much to work with. So, she made the choice not to burden their already diminished supplies on what was likely just a sprain.

After a while, she found herself approaching the spot she’d left Malarkey and Skip, scanning the area for signs of life. The once-snow-draped ground was now a maze of impact craters and debris. As she reached the foxhole, her heart swelled with relief seeing Skip and Don huddled inside, still in one piece. 

“Hey,” she called out, her voice cutting through the eerie calm. Relief washed over her as they looked up, their faces lighting up at the sight of her.

“(Y/n/n)!” Don exclaimed, a hand clutching his chest dramatically. “We were worried!”

Muck tossed his helmet towards her, a hint of concern on his face. The helmet collided with her wrist, causing her to stifle a cry. “Take a look at this crap, (y/n). They peppered my helmet!”

Gently cradling her wrist, she examined the shot-up helmet in her lap, a half smile playing on her lips. “Good thing you weren’t wearing it, Skip. Was everyone okay over here? I ended up in Lieb’s foxhole.”

“Wasted my dagum coffee,” Smokey lamented from the foxhole ahead of theirs. “It was a whole helmet-full, too.”

A chuckle bubbled from her lips as she watched him setting his contraption back up. “I’m sorry, Smoke. Next time, you should tell the krauts to wait until you’ve had your coffee to shell the crap out of us.”

“You know, I might just do that,” Smokey mused, staring out at the German line with a faraway look. “We need a break.”

“Oh, (y/n),” Don interjected, fishing for something in his pockets. “Do you have any morphine in your aid kit from Holland? Doc’s looking for some.”

“Mine got used up when I got hit,” she replied, her mind drifting back to that night outside Arnhem. “That feels like so long ago now.”

Skip, ever the calculating one, counted on his fingers thoughtfully. “It’s only been what, three months?”

“Yeah,” she murmured, staring into the forest as she contemplated the whirlwind of events since that time. Between getting shot, going to the hospital, then Paris with Lew, and now Bastogne, a lot happened in those three months.

Their conversation carried on, but (y/n) was lost in her thoughts. Her life had changed drastically in this span of time, the most significant development being her newfound relationship with Lewis. A mere week and a half had passed since Paris, yet it felt like a lifetime. Memories of the quaint cafes and charming streets danced in her mind, a reminder of what they were fighting for…a return to a life untouched by the horrors of war.

A crunch of snow behind her snapped her back to the present. She grabbed her rifle, swiftly turning, a surge of pain shooting up her arm. A grimace contorted her face as she eased the strain, her aim dropping as she recognized Lip.

“(Y/n), Winters wants to see you,” he relayed, crouching beside her.

“We’ll catch up later, alright?” Don patted her shoulder gently, a worried look in his gaze as he looked down at her wrist.

“Duty calls, boys. See ya later.”

She pushed herself off the snow with her good hand and started following Lip toward Captain Winter’s tent. As they walked, she saw the destruction the various shellings had left in their wake. Trees were downed everywhere, feet-long splinters littered the snow, and there was the occasional red stain of blood on the white ground.

“Can you believe it’s just a few days till Christmas?” Lip’s voice broke the silence, filled with nostalgia and yearning.

She nodded, a bittersweet smile playing on her lips. “It’s hard to believe, isn’t it? I remember my last Christmas home so vividly…and now, here we are two years later.”

He glanced at her, a fond smile on his face, despite the flicker of sorrow in his eyes. “My wife, JoAnne, makes the best gingerbread cookies on the planet, and I can just see her in the kitchen, working her tail off to make them for our family Christmas party.”

(Y/n)’s lips twitched into a faint smile. “What I wouldn’t give for some gingerbread cookies,” she sighed. “It’s just…well, being away from family at this time, it’s tough. But at least we have each other, right?”

“Yeah,” he replied, nodding ahead of him. “Here we are.”

“Thanks for walking with me, Lip,” (y/n) grinned, approaching the foxhole.

“You’re welcome,” Carwood grinned. “And (y/n), get that wrist checked out.”

Her mouth slightly agape, she looked at him in disbelief. “What?”

“I’m not as clueless as the others. Get it looked at.” His eyes held a genuine concern.

Nodding at him, she walked up to the hole where Dick was crouched, writing a letter. “Captain Winters, sir?”

He looked up from his letter, and an uncharacteristic smirk formed on his face when he recognized her. “(Y/n). Nix wanted to speak with you.”

A flush colored her cheeks as she stood there. “Oh, alright. Where is he?”

Winters nodded to the hole ahead of him. “I’m right here, so please don't try any-”

A blanket was thrown off the adjacent foxhole and Nixon popped out, his dark hair a mess atop his head. “Gosh, Dick, we’re not gonna do anything,” he hissed, rolling his eyes.

Embarrassment coursed through (y/n) at the implication, and she brought a hand to her face, wishing she could disappear. “Yes sir,” she stammered, her voice slightly uneasy as she walked over to Lewis. 

“Are you crazy?” she asked, casting anxious glances around the forest.

Nix shrugged and pointed to Winters. “We’re fine. Dick’s gonna keep a lookout…right Dick?”

“I’m going to be writing my letter,” Winters replied, not looking up. “And I’m not seeing this.”

“Thanks, pal,” Lew called, extending a hand to help (y/n) into the hole.

“Alright,” she muttered, unable to keep a nervous smile from playing on her lips a the thought of some time with him. She started to take his hand with her hurt one, but quickly switched hands, letting the other painfully dangle at her side. He gave her a questioning look as she took his hand, but (y/n) just shook her head, dismissing his concern. To her surprise, he seemed to let it go. 

Nix’s foxhole was a decent size, and (y/n) carefully tried to settle against his side without showing her injury. He pulled the blanket over the top of the hole, insulating the space and giving them a sliver of privacy. Looking around, she spotted an empty pack of Lucky Strikes and his silver flask in the dirt beside her.

“I really like what you did with the place,” she grinned, kicking the empty box with her foot.

Lew chuckled, snaking an arm around her waist and pulling her close, placing a soft kiss in her hair. “Yeah. Interior decorating was always Blanche’s thing.”

His warmth seeped through her frozen uniform, and she sighed contentedly, resting her head on her shoulder as she closed her eyes. The throbbing pain in her hand seemed to slightly fade in his comforting presence. 

“How are things on the line? We still get artillery back here, but it’s not as bad as up there,” he asked quietly, leaning his head atop hers.

“It’s not good, Lew,” she mumbled into his neck. “We’re running low on everything, and the krauts seem to have an endless stream of artillery. It’s like they’re not even affected by the cold or anything. We’re just holding our ground and doing what we can.”

He tightened his grip around her, attempting to offer some comfort. “But you’re holding up okay?”

A half-hearted smile tugged at her lips, tinged with sadness. “We’re surviving, but it’s getting harder every day. The men are tired, Lew. We’re all tired. We’re all hungry. We’re all cold.”

“I know, doll,” he sighed. “Sink and General McAuliffe stopped by earlier, and they didn’t have any good news. Last night, I took a walk on the line at about 0300 and I couldn’t find the 501st on our right flank. I had to pull in 2nd platoon to fill the gap, but the General seemed like he couldn't care less.”

(Y/n) groaned. “His relentless optimism kills me. At least Sink is realistic.”

“‘Hold the line and close the gaps’, was all he said. And that 1st battalion just pulled out of Foy with krauts on their tail…so there’s a bunch of crap coming our way.”

“Of course there is,” she grumbled, bringing her knees up to her chest.

Lew’s thoughts became consumed by worry for (y/n) and what was going to be thrown her way. He gently traced circles on her back, trying to find the right words. “I can’t help but be worried about you, (y/n/n). Knowing you’re out there every time I hear a shelling, it’s…it’s tough.”

She sat up and turned to face him, her eyes reflecting the same fear. “I know, Lew. I’m scared, too. But I’m doing what I can to take care of myself and the guys. We watch out for each other.”

He ran a hand through his hair, frustration clear in his voice. “It’s just hard being here, not able to do much, not even being able to be with you when you’re out there facing the worst of it.”

“You’re doing more than you think,” she said, gently touching his arm. “This helps me so much.”

Lew brushed a loose strand of hair away from her face, his cold fingers gentle on her warm cheek. “Promise me you’ll be careful,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “Don’t take any extra risks…please.”

(Y/n) looked into his eyes, finding a sea of emotion. “I promise,” she replied, her voice equally soft.

Nix leaned in, slowly closing the distance between them, his eyes flickering to her lips before meeting her gaze once more. Their lips met in a soft, tender kiss as Lew cupped her cheek. Time seemed to slow down as they kissed, a sense of calm washing over them. As they pulled away, their foreheads rested against each other, their breaths mingling in the chilly air. 

“Have you been able to keep warm at all?” Lew asked softly, his fingers tracing over her gloved hand gently. 

(Y/n) nodded, trying to keep her discomfort at bay. “As warm as one can be out here.”

Lew noticed her wincing slightly and, concerned, his hand unintentionally brushed against her injured wrist. She gasped, tears brimming her eyes as pain shot through her arm.

His eyes widened, fear coursing through him as he quickly retracted his hand “(Y/n)? What’s wrong? Are you hurt?”

(Y/n) leaned her head back against the hard wall of dirt behind her with a thud. “I tripped during the shelling earlier and landed on it wrong,” she whispered, voice trembling as she cradled her wrist.

“(Y/n),” Lew sighed, his heart aching at her pain. “Have you seen Doc?”

She shook her head, tears welling up. “No, not yet.”

He reached for her hand slowly. “Let me see it, sweetheart. I’ll be careful.”

She hesitantly extended her gloved hand to him, a single tear leaking down her rosy cheek. “You’re okay,” he cooed, holding her forearm with one hand while the other carefully slid the glove off. 

“Shit,” Lew muttered, his brows furrowing at the sight of her wrist. “This is bad, (y/n).”

His concern deepened as he saw the extent of the injury. He had expected it to be sore, maybe a minor sprain, but what he saw made his heart clench with worry and anger. Her once delicate wrist was now swollen to nearly twice its usual size, the skin on her palm and wrist discolored in ominous hues of deep purple and angry black. 

“(Y/n/n),” he said gently, his voice soothing to her distress. “We need to get you to Doc. This could be broken.”

The tears finally fell from her eyes in a mixture of pain and frustration. “I know,” she whispered, her voice quivering. “But the medics are already low on supplies, and they need that for others that are worse off.”

Lew cupped her cheek tenderly, wiping away a tear with his thumb. “Just because someone may be worse, doesn’t mean you can’t be looked after, too. Let me take care of you, please.”

(Y/n)’s expression softened, touched by his sincerity. “Okay,” she nodded. “Thank you.”

He held her wrist gently, a tenderness in his eyes that melted her worries, even if just for a moment. He brushed a feather-light kiss on her injured wrist, a silent promise that he’d take care of her. Nix helped her slide the glove back on, ensuring it offered some support for her wrist. He then threw off the blanket and helped her to her feet, his arm securely around her for support. She wasn’t going to let her injury hold her back, but she knew she needed to get it checked before it got any worse.

Winter’s eyes widened at the pair’s dramatic exit from the foxhole. “You alright, (y/l/n)?” he asked, eyes furrowed in confusion.

“She hurt her wrist,” Lew replied, glancing at Dick who nodded in response. “We’re finding Roe.”

They found Gene in his foxhole, staring off into the forest, a cigarette hanging from his lips. “Hey Gene,” Nix called, catching the man off guard. He jumped slightly, turning around like a deer in headlights.

He sighed seeing who it was. “Captain Nixon, what can I do for ya, sir?”

“(Y/n) here took a tumble during the shelling. Her wrist is pretty banged up.”

Roe nodded, motioning for her to sit down on the edge of the foxhole. “Let’s have a look, chérie.

She did as told, taking a deep breath to brace herself for any pain. The cajun carefully peeled off the glove from her injured hand, revealing the purple and black bruises. The medic furrowed his brows at the sight, his experienced eyes evaluating the damage. He lightly prodded along the wrist, feeling for any unusual shifts in the bones beneath. 

“I’m worried there might be a hairline fracture here,” he explained, his voice carrying a tinge of concern. “But I can’t confirm it without a proper x-ray, and we don’t have any equipment like that back in Bastogne.”

(Y/n) nodded, bracing herself for what she knew was coming. “So, what can we do?”

Roe began to secure her wrist carefully with a makeshift splint, wrapping it snugly to provide some stability and reduce the risk of further damage. “Right now, we’ll immobilize it as best as we can. I’ll wrap it up, and you need to keep it still as much as possible. Ice will help with the swelling.”

Smirking at the situation, (y/n) couldn’t resist a touch of humor. “Well, at least we’ve got an abundance of ice around,” she quipped, waving her good hand at the frozen forest surrounding them. “Nature’s icebox, right?”

Lew chuckled at her attempt to lighten the mood. “The best ice supply in Bastogne,” he replied, playing along. 

As Gene finished the wrapping, she flexed her fingers slightly, testing the newfound stability. The pain had dulled a bit, and it was a relief, albeit a temporary one. They thanked Roe and went on their way.

“I’ve got to go back to the boys,” she said, peering up at him as they walked. 

Lew nodded. “Take it easy, alright? Your arm can’t heal if you keep using it.”

“Yes, sir, Doctor Nixon,” she grinned, fake saluting him with a playful twinkle in her eyes.

They made their way to her foxhole, and Lew resisted the urge to give her a kiss, aware of the many eyes watching. Instead, he gently patted her helmet, a gesture that he’d decided was his new favorite because it sent the front of it down past her eyes.

“Malarkey,” Nix called out, waving his over. “Don’t let this one overdo it. Roe said she needs to take it easy.”

Though he was confused, Don nodded. “Yes, sir.”

With a subtle wink, Lew turned and left for his own foxhole. 

“What happened to you?” Skip asked, eyeing her wrapped wrist as he appeared next to Don. “Did the Captain take care of you?”

(Y/n) laughed under her breath, watching Lew’s figure disappear into the white haze of the forest. “I’m alright.”

Malarkey’s eyes widened as he turned to Muck. “She’s not denying it, Skip!”

“I knew it!” Skip exclaimed triumphantly, the corners of his mouth curling into a grin. She began to walk away when Don gasped suddenly. 

“We have to tell you about Hinkle!”

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[footprintsinthesxnd]

Young Love and Old Money

Summary: this series follows the story of Lewis Nixon and Josephine Wills and their trials, tribulation and love throughout WW2, including stories of their friends in between. Warnings: swearing, mentions of war, heartbreak.

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Holland 1944

Josie’s hands screamed out in anguish as she submerged the broken skin in steaming hot water. The blisters and cuts protested as she did her best to clean the dried blood. Josie could barely remember the last time her hands had been free from the crimson, iron substance. The water very quickly had streams of red drifting across the white porcelain bowl. She wiped her hands dry carefully before emptying the water outside into the boggy path beside the entrance to the aid station. Her lungs burned as she inhaled deeply, breathing in the first fresh air she’d had in hours. The air inside the aid station was stale, thick with the smell of blood and the cries of men in agony. There had been many casualties after Market Garden, British and American troops came pouring in in droves. Each bringing with them at least a dozen wounded men at a time.

Josie perched on one of the empty wooden crates outside, her legs groaning in relief as she took the weight off of them, stretching them out and feeling the muscles burn in anguish. She dug into her filthy apron pocket and pulled out a packet of lucky strikes, along with several pieces of paper that followed, drifting slowly to the floor before Josie could retrieve them. She lit her cigarette and began to read over the letter. The first one was from her husband. She’d been so relieved when Lewis returned from Normandy, maybe a little battered and bruised but still her Lewis. A large smile spread across his lips the second their eyes met and it was safe to say that neither of them left their bed for at least three days after his return. But their bliss was short-lived and soon Lewis was back at Littlecote in briefings, planning and training. Josie supposed it was the downside of being an Intelligence Officer but she couldn’t mind the situation because at least she knew he was safe all the time he was in meetings. Julian and George were pleased to be back in England and whenever they had passed would persuade Josie to join them on whatever escapade or trouble they were getting involved with. Despite Josie knowing what kind of chaos the pair could cause Josie willingly joined in, relishing in the feeling of the carefree nature they had as children. On one of these adventures, she met the charismatic David Webster. They had an instant connection bonding over their love of literature and whilst Julian and George were off frolicking somewhere Webster would discuss classic books and authors he enjoyed. Josie was delighted to tell him about her time and Oxford and it just so happens that Webster was going to Harvard and he planned to finish his studies after the war.

Aldbourne 1944 (pre Market Garden)

It was on one of the sunny afternoons when Webster and Josie were walking back through town, that Lewis and Dick drove past in a jeep. The jeep swerved past them, screeching on its brakes before reversing back up the road towards the pair. Josie smiled as she saw her husband approaching.

“Lewis!” She called out, waving excitedly but Lewis’ face was sour, his lips set in a thin line and his dark eyebrows scrunched together.

“WEBSTER!” He barked, “Haven’t you got latrine duty?”

“No, Sir. I think it’s Perconte, Muck and Malarkey’s turn.” David admitted, shuffling from foot to foot a little awkwardly under the Captain’s gaze.

“Run along, Webster,” Lewis glared as he watched Webster tell you goodbye before hurrying back towards the town of Aldbourne, glancing behind him as if he was afraid Lewis would try to run him down.

“Lew, what was that for,” Josie chided, climbing into the back of the jeep, placing a quick kiss on her husband’s cheek and giving Dick a quick hello. Lewis didn’t answer, instead, he chose to glare out the smeared windscreen and down the road where Webster had retreated.

“Lew?” Josie asked, placing a hand on his shoulder but withdrew when he flinched under her touch.

“How long have you known him?” Lewis demanded, turning in his seat to face her, his eyes wild and if Josie hadn’t known better she’d have thought he’d have run after Webster and beaten him to a pulp.

“A few weeks. Since you all returned from Normandy. I met him when I was out with George and Julian.” Josie replied, feeling anger build inside her at the question. What did it matter how long she had known David Webster for?

“How much time have you been spending with him?” Lewis didn't relent on his questions and Josie wasn’t prepared to stand for it.

“Not much. We’ve met up a few times. He also studied literature so we talked about books we like. What does it matter to you anyway? You’re never around anyway.”

Something in Lewis snapped and he threw his hands up in anguish, “Oh well I’m so sorry there’s a war on and I happen to be the Intelligence Officer. How stupid of me to think that you’d wait around for your husband when he’s helping with the war effort.”

Josie's blood boiled as she let rip all the pent-up feelings she’d been bottling up during her days of loneliness. “Well, you should be sorry! I understand you’re part of the war effort Lewis, I think you forget England has been fighting since 1939! Do you have any idea what it’s like to be left here alone not knowing if your husband and friends will return and when they do he doesn’t even have time for you.”

Josie could see Dick pulling at the sleeve of his uniform uncomfortably, his jaw working overtime as he ground his teeth anxiously. “Lewis, I…” but Lewis interrupted him.

“So when you’re so lonely you jump into the bed of the first man who looks at you.” Lewis retorted, his chest heaved from the effort, the brown material growing tight over his broad shoulders.

Josie gasped, her face was now bright red and scrunched as she tried to control the unshed tears building in her brown eyes. The last thing she needed was to break down in front of Lewis, it would make her look guilty in some way.

“HOW DARE YOU! You’ve got some damn nerve, Lewis Nixon. I’ll tell you this once and once only. I would never cheat on my husband. Never! I can’t believe you think so little of me. I thought you loved me,” Josie felt a strangled sob leave her lips at that last sentence and the look on Lewis’ face told her that he’d crossed the line.

“I do love you, Josie… I’m…” but Josie was already climbing back out of the jeep, hurriedly bunching her skirt into her hand and jumping down onto the pavement.

“Josie, please…” Lewis swallowed hard, blinking back the tears and began to climb out of the vehicle but she stopped him, her voice shaking and utterly broken.

“Don’t follow me.” Josie turned away from him, tears falling down her rosy cheeks and Lewis felt his heart break even more. He had never felt such a pain in his chest and had it been under any other circumstances he would have gone to Doc Roe thinking he was having a heart attack. But Lewis knew this pain all too well. It was the same pain he’d felt when he heard about Josie’s engagement to William, only this time it was his fault.

“Lew, come on we have to go. Colonel Sink is expecting us,” Dick called, his voice calm and collected as ever acting as though he hadn’t just watched the scene unfold before him.

“What have I done, Dick?” Lewis pleaded, his eyes watering and his distraught face resembling that of a puppy that had been left at home alone for the first time. “Do you think she will come back?”

“I don’t know, Lew,” Dick replied honestly because in truth he didn’t know. Josie was proud and headstrong but even she could be broken and by the looks of things Lewis had broken her. “I don’t know, Lew.”

Lewis stood on the steps to the house, a bunch of roses in his right hand and his other wrapped tightly around the door knocker. He waited, wondering if she would open the door if she’d let him inside. He’d been rehearsing what he was going to say all day. He’d paid very little attention during the meeting with Colonel Sink, much to Dick’s dismay who spent most of his time elbowing Lewis to keep him focused. A shuffling noise came from the other side of the door and Lewis waited with bated breath as it freaked open revealing Josie's tear-stained face.

“Lew?” Her voice was cracked and feebly, nothing like her normal lively tone. She sounded broken. “I hope you’re here to grovel because I have nothing else to say to you.”

“I am,” Lewis replied quickly, taking a small step forward. “I’m here to grovel so damn bad that the others would laugh at me but I don’t care. I’ll get down on my knees if I have to.”

Josie quickly grabbed his arm as Lewis went to kneel before her and for the first time in their relationship, he didn’t smell of whiskey.

“You haven’t been drinking?”

“No. Not a drop all day. I swear,” Lewis looked down at his scuffed leather boots, they were in dire need of polish, his uniform was also creased and his hair ruffled. He hasn’t shaved in several days either. “When I asked you to marry me I promised I’d be the best man for you but I haven’t been. You could do so much better than me but I promised I’d change for you and so far I’ve only broken my promise.” Josie watched as the tears began to fall down his unshaven cheeks, she wanted to reach out, to comfort him but she couldn’t bring herself to interrupt him. “I haven’t had a drink all day because I don’t want to keep breaking that promise. I had Dick clear out his footlocker. No more Vat 69 for Mrs Nixon’s baby boy.” He tried to joke but the laugh was caught in his throat.

He looked up at his wife with desperation, his hands clasped around hers. “Josie, I’m begging for your forgiveness. I’m so sorry for what I said about Webster and the accusations. I never meant them, I know you’d never do that to me.” Lewis let out a muffled cry and he knelt on the cold, concrete steps, “I’m such a mess Josie and you don’t deserve this but I need you. After my divorce, I turned to alcohol and I know I shouldn’t have but I’m weak. I’m so weak but you make me stronger, you make me better.”

Josie couldn't stand it anymore. She threw herself into Lewis’ arms, burying her head in his stubbly neck. “I love you but you're an idiot.”

“I know I am. I know I am. I love you too. More than anything else.” Josie pulled herself away from his body, cupping his cheeks in her hands.

“I love you, Lewis, please don’t break my heart again.”

“Never.” Their lips brushed softly together and as if by some higher power the heavens opened up. Rain poured in great torrents from the heavens, soaking the couple on their doorstep.

“What is it with you and your confessions in the rain?” Josie laughed, grabbing her husband's hand and dragging him inside.

Josie’s eyes scanned over Lewis' letter for what felt like the hundredth time. Each one of his loving words etched into her mind. The next letter was from David Webster. He spoke of the harsh conditions, life in their foxholes, and the casualties. His once bright light seemed to have dimmed since they had last spoken. Her next letter was frayed at the edges and severely crumpled from the times she had read it. It was from Julian and partly from George too, who had his input in the letter. It spoke mainly of their childhood, happier times in Aldbourne that brought them all joy. Josie smiled, running her fingers over Julian’s scruffy writing.

“NURSE! NURSE WE NEED SOME HELP!” One of the medics called, pulling abruptly to a halt, launching himself out of the jeep to help the wounded man in the back. Josie was quickly on her feet, discarding her cigarette and shoving the letters back into her apron pocket. Correspondence home would have to wait.

Tags: @georgieluz @iceman-kazansky @yeahcurrahhe-e @lieutenant-speirs @sharpshootershifty @liberteuniteegalite @msmercury84 @malarkgirlypop @mayhem24-7forever @blvestxr @dustyjumpwjngs @theflyingfin @jump-wings @kafka-ohdear @kmc1989 @mads-weasley @docroesmorphine @liptonsbabe @merriell-allesandro-shelton @sweetxvanixlla @hesbuckcompton-baby @ronsparky @allthingsimagines

[andromeddog]

bob requests 👍

[vietlad]

Band of Brothers, 2001

[pastlivesandpurplepuppets]

Frannie and I wanted to get married right away, but our families tried to talk us out of it. They didn’t want Frannie to marry a cripple. They gave us a lot of trouble. They told Frannie, “You’re going to have to take care of him. The older he gets, the worse it’s going to get.” But that wasn’t me. I knew I’d live a normal life. I never believed in saying “I can’t.” If someone else can do something, I can do it. I may do it different, it may be awkward, but I’ll do it. If you climb a ladder, I’ll climb a ladder. I may go up every rung on my ass, but I’ll do it. I have done it. April 23, 1945, Frannie and I ran away to Elkton, Maryland, and eloped. Not a penny between us, just each other. When you got something good you don’t let it get away. I married an angel. She put up with me and my crazy ways. Calmed me down. She understood me, helped me, never stopped me from doing anything I wanted to do. She was my leg, she was everything. Gotta give the gal credit. We went on our honeymoon in Columbus, Ohio. Drove to Johnny Martin’s house. Where were we gonna go, Hawaii? We didn’t have a damn dime. Johnny got discharged early for medical reasons, so we went to see him and Pat. We did things simple, but we had fun.

~ Bill Guarnere

[yourspeirs]

"Yeah well you oughta! You know you are officers, you are grown-ups, you oughta know!"

[0dahv11ng]

& words are futile devices

winnix - futile devices, sufjan stevens <3

[winnix85]

Speaking of the winnix eye fucking scene and irl Dick being fine with it, it’s not like he didn’t spot it bc he knew nothing about yaoi stuff. Actually I think he was over-sensitive to yaoi for he was mad at the scene with the french newsboy. He thought the way they exchanged eye contact looked like he was trying to pick him up!

[bleedingcoffee42]

Graduation photo of Ronald Speirs from 1941 from his accounting school.

[mads-weasley]

Epiphany Pt. 1: Enchanted

Lewis Nixon x Reader

Masterlist

Series Masterlist

A/N: heyyy guys! i've decided to start a lewis nixon series!! and yes, the chapter titles are all taylor swift songs. i'm super excited to post this first chapter! please enjoy and let me know what you think! hbo owns the rights, and this is about the fictional portrayal of easy company on the show. nothing but love and respect for veterans on this blog!

Word Count: 2.3k

Summary: Arriving at Camp Toccoa to join Easy Company, (y/n) (y/l/n), a participant in a new WAC program, has her first encounter with the men of Easy.

It was a hot and unbearable day under the Georgia sun when (y/n) (y/l/n) arrived at Camp Toccoa. She tried to ignore the looks she got from the men as she rumbled by in a jeep, but what she couldn’t ignore was the rambling of her driver.

“Hi,” he introduced, glancing over at her. “The name’s Lorraine. Well, it’s Gerald, but everyone calls me Lorraine.” 

She shot him a kind smile. “Nice to meet you, Gerald. (Y/n) (y/l/n). I’m part of the Athena program.

“I haven’t heard of that.”

“Well,” (y/h/c) began. “it’s a new part of the WAC that’s sending a few women into the Army as a sort of trial run for the future.”

A look of disbelief passed over his face before he reigned it in quickly. “What made you want to join up, then?”

“Well, who wouldn’t after Pearl Harbor?” She asked, wiping sweat from her forehead.

Lorraine simply nodded and kept his eyes on the road, almost as if he was contemplating a woman’s place in war. To (y/n)’s relief, he chose to keep his conclusion to himself. Vest turned down another long dirt road that seemed to lead directly to the base of a mountain she assumed was the famous Curahee. With a deep breath, (y/n) silently prayed she had the strength to prove to him and everyone else that women belonged in the army; that she belonged.

The morning after Sobel’s canteen tirade, Winters and Nixon were in line for breakfast in the mess hall, trying to figure out what to do about their CO.

“So, what did you do?” Lew asked, walking toward an empty table. There were times when he was thankful he was in intelligence instead of with the rest of the men, and most were because of the hell Sobel put them through.

Dick trailed him with a sigh. “Picked six men and gave them latrine duty.” 

“The lucky six?”

“McDonald, Toye, Perconte, Lipton, Muck, and Guarnere,” he stated, sitting across from Lew. 

“Why them?”

“It was their turn.”

Nix chuckled, looking down at his messy food in thought. It was his job to know things, and he happened to hear about a controversial topic flowing down the ranks. “Hey, have you heard about the new WAC program integrating women into the Army?”

“I’m glad you mentioned it. Our own Athena participant should be arriving at 16:00.”

Lew’s head shot up. “In Easy?”

“Yep.”

Lew didn’t have anything against women in the military but also didn’t know how the men would handle it. “What do you think about it?”

“Well,” Dick began, putting down his utensils softly. “I’m trying to have an open mind, but I’m worried about some of the men.”

Nix nodded and took a sip of coffee with a smirk. “We’ll just have to wait and see, then.”

Little did he know that later that day, his life would change forever.

Lorraine and (y/n) arrived at Colonel Sink’s office a few minutes after 16:00, and the woman was almost sick to her stomach with anxiety. While Lorraine was inside informing Sink of their arrival, she tried to calm herself down. All she wanted was to make an excellent first impression on the Colonel and her superiors.

Lorraine returned and ushered her into the small building serving as Sink’s quarters. (Y/n) followed him down a hallway to a single office room. He nodded and closed the door behind her once she entered. The woman turned and raised her hand to salute him.

“Ah, Miss (y/l/n),” Sink called, words dripping with his North Carolina drawl as he held his hand out. “At ease. Welcome to Camp Toccoa.”

She shook it firmly, praying he overlooked their clamminess. “Thank you, sir. I’m happy to be here.”

Sink gestured for her to sit as he took a seat at his desk, which was neatly arranged in piles of folders and other stationery. “When I first heard about the Athena Project, I didn’t know what to think. My wife was the one who showed me that women have the same right to serve their country as us men. She’s a modern Abigail Adams if you understand my meaning.”

“Yes sir,” (y/n) replied.

He interlocked his fingers above the desk. “If I may ask, what made you volunteer for the program?”

“Well, sir,” she spoke softly, willing her voice to stay strong. “My brother was stationed on the Arizona at Pearl Harbor. He was 20. I couldn’t let the opportunity to follow his footsteps pass by.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. Thank you for your family’s sacrifice.”

(Y/n) wanted to respond, but her throat seemed to close up on her. Unable to answer, she nodded stiffly, willing the tears from her waterline.

He noticed her distress and cleared his throat suddenly. “Let’s get to it, shall we? You’ll be in Easy Company of the 101st Airborne. You won’t get any special treatment, but we’ll try to accommodate you as much as possible.”

The door scraped open behind (y/n), and she resisted looking back at the newcomer. The footsteps sounded like a single person, and she hoped they wouldn’t catch on to her moment of emotion. Luckily, Sink addressed them, giving her time to gain control of herself.

“ Winters, where’s Lieutenant Sobel?” He asked with furrowed brows. “He’s supposed to be here.”

 Dick spoke up. “I don’t know, sir. I last saw him in the mess hall around noon.”

With a huff, Sink rose and introduced her. “Lieutenant, this is (y/n) (y/l/n), our Athena participant.”

The redhead smiled politely. “Dick Winters. Nice to have you with us, (y/l/n).”

“Hi,” she nodded, shaking his hand. “Nice to meet you, Lieutenant. Call me (y/n).”

Sink led them out of the office and into the main room of the building. “Lieutenant Winters here is going to show you around camp before supper.”

From there, the pair walked around the camp, and Dick informed her of their daily training routine, as well as the expectations of Easy company. Toward the end of their tour, he asked about her family back home and was surprised that she dodged the subject before having to answer. Sensing her discomfort, he made a mental note to not bring it up anymore. 

Before they knew it, it was 18:00, and supper was being served at the mess hall. Dick led her to the large building and ushered them inside. When (y/n) walked into the room, the stench of sweat and body odor mixed with food hit her like a bus. Bile rose in her throat, and it was all she could do to keep from throwing up. 

‘Don’t throw up. Don’t throw up,’ her mind repeated, eyes sinking to the floor.

Dick chuckled beside her. “You get used to the smell,” he quipped. “Let me introduce you to some of the men.”

Before he could take her to them, a shorter brunette man with a boyish look walked up to them, a sly grin on his face. “Lieutenant Winters, sir,” he saluted. “George Luz, ma’am. We’re all glad to have you.”

Two faces popped out from behind his shoulder with smiles of their own. Without missing a beat, George rolled his eyes and pointed at them. “These two idiots are Skip Muck and Alex Penkala.”

Skip smacked him on the back of the head with an aggravated look on his face. “You’re the one that had to be the first to meet her, George, so really, we’re not the idiots here.”

She squinted her eyes as giggles burst from her lips when Luz’s face turned beet red at the comment. She knew immediately that she liked the trio.

“Nice to meet you, too, boys. You can call me (y/n).”

Penkala’s eyes widened and glanced at the two in faux horror. “She called us boys.”

“We are boys.”

“We’re boys,” George mocked. “No, Skip, were men.” 

“How old are you three anyways?” She asked, curiosity getting the better of her.

Alex was 18, Skip was 20, and George was 21. After hearing about their ages, she realized that they were just boys. They still had most of their lives to live, much like millions of other soldiers in their position. Much like her.

Dick left (y/n) with the trio and went to attend to his other duties. Once they took a seat, the boys started rambling on about everything from their terrible CO to the best types of slop they were given at mealtimes. (Y/n)’s eyes wandered around the room for a moment before another pair caught hers. When their eyes met across the crowded mess hall, everything around them seemed to vanish as time slowed to a standstill.

The soft, warm gaze in his eyes felt like a long-lost memory, a memory that had been tucked away in the depths of her heart, waiting for the perfect moment to resurface. (Y/n)’s heart fluttered as she felt an undeniable pull toward him, and she couldn’t help but be captivated by the genuine curiosity and surprise that emanated from his gaze. The man was, without a doubt, the most attractive man she’d ever laid eyes on, and her heart skipped a beat at the realization.

His eyes seemed to whisper, “Have we met?” And (y/n) found herself asking the same question.

She held the stranger’s gaze for a few seconds before he slowly got up and started making his way to her. As he approached her, she noticed him anxiously tousling his well-groomed dark chestnut hair with his hand. (Y/n) was suddenly self-conscious and did the same, taming her hair ruined by the southern humidity. Her heart was racing in her chest, almost anticipating the life-changing moment that was about to happen. 

Making it to her table, Lewis grinned and sat beside her, his smile making her blush slightly. “It seems George likes you almost as much as he likes Rita Hayworth,” he said.

The soldier scoffed, ”No offense, (y/n), but Rita is the love of my life. She may not know who I am, but I plan to change that someday. It’s going to happen. Just wait and see, right Penk?”

Alex raised his eyebrows and nodded reluctantly, “Absolutely, buddy. You’ll show her what she’s been missing.”

(Y/n) pressed her lips tightly together, stifling the sound of her impending laughter. She scrunched her nose slightly as if trying to hold back a giggle. Her efforts, though valiant, were ultimately futile as a few muted snickers managed to slip through her defenses.

She soon gave up, and her laughter filled the air. He couldn’t help but be mesmerized by the sight before him. (Y/n)'s face lit up with joy, and her eyes sparkled with delight. The sound of her laughter was infectious, and he found himself chuckling along, almost entranced by how she expressed her happiness so freely.

“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up, (y/l/n),” George said, getting up from the table. “See you all at breakfast.”

Skip and Alex bid their goodbyes as well, following him out of the mess hall. Realizing it was just her and the handsome soldier beside her, (y/n) turned to him with a smile.

Nix stuck out his hand. “Lewis Nixon. As an intelligence officer, it’s my job to know things, so I can’t believe I don’t know your name.”

(Y/n) couldn’t help but notice a subtle nervousness in his eyes matched with a hint of mischief. “Pleasure to meet you, Lewis. I’m (y/n) (y/l/n), Easy’s Athena.”

“Call me Lew,” he charmed, still shaking her hand softly. “We’re happy to have you, (y/n).”

When the realization dawned upon them that they were still holding hands, shy smiles spread across their faces. Lewis cleared his throat and rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly.

"Have you met Captain Sobel yet?" He asked, grimacing.

"I don't think so. Is he over Easy Company?"

"Yeah. He's also the biggest jacka-"

"There's no way he's that bad," she interrupted, eyes widening.

Lewis chuckled under his breath. "Trust me. Every Friday night, he makes Easy march twelve miles in full gear, just out of spite."

"Do any other companies march?"

“Nope. Just Easy. And after marching last night, he made Dick make up six infractions and punish the men for it. He ended up giving latrine duty to the men who were on this week’s rotation.”

(Y/n) rubbed a hand down her face, groaning. “Lieutenant Winters didn’t say anything about Sobel when he was showing me around.”

“Well, Dick is pretty straight-laced,” Lewis said shrugging with a smirk. “Not everyone can be a cool, calm, and collected intelligence officer.”

"Someone's ego is a little over-inflated," she laughed, raising her eyebrows at him.

“So, how’re you liki-,” he started to ask but was interrupted by someone calling his name. Following the voice, he looked behind him to see Dick near the doors, motioning him over.

“Well,” Nix sighed, looking back at (y/n) with a sheepish smile. “Duty calls.”

As he got up, she called after him. “See you later, Nix.”

She didn’t miss the lack of a ring on his hand, and for the rest of the night, she replayed the enchanting encounter in her mind. How could a stranger seem so familiar? 

Tag List: @softguarnere @mrsgeorgeluz @flowers-and-fichte @inglourious-imagines @peggyvan @rebeccapearson @hxad-ovxr-hxart

Let me know if you want to be added to the tag list!

[saintmalosunsets]

BAND OF BROTHERS | BASTOGNE

Doc Roe in the background of scenes (pt. 11/26)

[historicboii]

Some things i found out while rewatching some Bob scenes on the spanish dub part 1 feat winnix.

In the 'i' ll take you to Chicago ' scene Nix says 'vendrás a Chicago ' so its an order, also its not like well go toguether, its you WILL go because its an order, its using the imperative.

In the lake scene, Nix says "my dad expects me to make something of myself". Okay i see you Mr daddy issues.

So so far the conclusion is winnix is canon in the spanish dub. Also someone in the translations department is a shipper cause some of these changes are more romantic coded than platonic.

[antigonenikk]

Band of Brothers- Ep. 7 The Breaking Point

[malarkgirlypop]

MEDIC! Part 42 (Donald Malarkey x Fem!OC)

Fucking hell im sobbing, this is it, the last chapter! Thank you everyone for sticking along with me you are all amazing! I'm so sad this is finished, I feel kinda lost without Em and Don. I'm so sad but also wow I wrote and finished a whole story that's impressive for me. LOVE YOU ALL!!!

For the last time ever, this is based on the HBO show and the actors who portray the characters, no hate to anyone involved.

Tag list: @imusicaddict, @b00ks1ut, @mstiemountainhop, @awaterfalls, @lovememadly92, @lucyfromtheoldhouse, @blueberry-ovaries, @next-autopsy, @saintmalosunsets, @anaso12 anyone else please let me know.

Time stood still for a split second before the clock ticked forward again. I stood exactly where I had left, my items I had dropped when I was struggling to free myself from the shimmer still laid perfectly where they had landed many months ago. 

I whipped around but all that greeted me was the dark street. 

No shimmer. 

No Don. 

It was as if I was on autopilot, I gathered my belongings into my arms and made my way back to my apartment. I fumbled with my keys before slotting them into the lock and twisting open the door. 

I placed my keys down on the bench with the rest of my belongings before trudging to the bathroom. There in the mirror stood a girl I hardly recognised. 

Her hair was windswept and unkempt, her face was blotchy and red, she wore an army uniform from the 40’s. 

She was out of place and lost. 

Shedding my clothes I stepped into the shower. Unlike before I was more aware of the damage on my skin. Cuts and bruises scattered my arms and legs. Scars and faded injuries covered me from head to toe. The last time I was in this shower I had been a different person. 

I washed myself until my skin turned red from the heat of the water and the scrubbing from my hands. 

Walking to my room, I slumped down in my bed and shut my eyes wishing to never wake again. 

—------------------------------------

The months flew by, I did my best to heal what was broken. I had promised myself that when I retired I would live life to the fullest, if not for me, for Don. 

I threw myself back into my studies, working hard towards my degree. It seemed to be the only thing that could distract me. I also went to therapy, I didn’t speak about the war I had lived through, it would’ve been too hard to explain, also maybe slightly crazy. 

We spoke mostly about the attack that had happened the night before I had left, it impacted me in more ways than I thought, it had closed me off to everyone again. 

My therapist encouraged me to form more bonds and have people in my life who I could trust. But it felt wrong trying to find people to fill the void of the ones I had left behind. So I kept to myself. 

I had tried my hardest to forget and move forward, I didn’t want to linger on the what if’s but the urge was too strong. I would spend weeks in the library scouring World War II books and reports, trying to find the names of the men I had lost. 

But the odd thing was that there was always a 101st Airborne, always an Easy company, but never the names of the men I had served with. 

They appeared to take the same course of action, the events that happened to us, had happened to them. But the men pictured and named were not my Easy men. 

It drove me to the point of insanity. I rushed home and dug all of the things I had brought back with me from the back of my closet. Just to ensure that it had happened, that I didn’t just imagine it all. 

Sitting on the floor surrounded by the items I had stowed away. My uniform, medic bag and phone all were proof that it was real. 

The medic bag sat unopened. I hadn’t been through it at all since I had arrived back. I sat gnawing on my lip, did I open it or not? 

“Fuck it.” I muttered, leaning forward and unbuckling the clasps that held it shut. I pulled it closer, sitting the bag on my lap. 

My fingers brushed over an unfamiliar material, I thought I knew exactly what I had brought back but this felt different. I hastily dragged the item from the bag. 

A gasp left my lips and tears almost immediately streaked down my face. My thumb brushed over the metal, Donald G. Malarkey. It was his dog tag. He had somehow snuck it into my bag and didn’t tell me. 

I could feel rough metal on the other side of the smooth metal. I flipped it over to find, ‘My Love, forever’. The words had been scratched into the back of the tag, Don had done it. I knew his hand writing anywhere. 

Clutching the thin piece of metal to my chest I rocked myself back and forward as I sobbed. It was the closest I was ever going to feel to him ever again. The thought that he wore this so close to his heart for all the time we had been together made me cry even harder. 

I upturned the bag letting the contents spill onto the floor, I rummaged through the belongings like a mad woman. 

Was there anything else he had put in?  

A paper I didn’t recognise was hidden under bandages, I hastily pushed everything else aside grabbing the paper as if it was going to disappear.  

I shook as I stroked my fingers along the unopened parchment that had been folded in half. His scrawly handwriting grace the blank paper. 

‘To Em.’

A shaky breath left my lips as I slowly unfolded the letter. My heart smashed against my ribcage but it felt nice to feel again, even if it was just pain. I had been so numb on autopilot. I couldn’t wait anymore, I needed to know what he had written. 

 My beloved Em,

I don’t know when you are reading this, but I hope that you are well. Know that I miss you dearly, and that I think of you always. 

I write this now after you had left to go and say your goodbyes. 

It took me a while to understand, but I do now. I know you inside and out, I know you as kind and gentle. You only want to share your love and happiness. 

You made the brave decision to give up everything so that we might have a chance to live and be free. You have made a sacrifice I never think I could do, and for that I admire you dearly, Em. You’re so courageous, your heart is unshakable. 

That is why I love you. Your soul is pure and good. I love your being and essence and everything that makes you, you. 

I love the way your curls fall into your face when you laugh, and the way your eyes crinkle at the sides when you smile. I will miss the sound of your melodic voice, and soft lips. I’ll miss the way you tell stories and the hugs you give. I miss you even now, when I know you’re only mere metres away. 

There will not be a day that will go by that you won’t be on my mind. Sleeping or awake you will forever be at the forefront of my thoughts. When I am sad, happy, excited, depressed, lonely, or content I wish to only share my thoughts with you. I will never not talk about you, your name will forever be on my lips.   

I hope you have found my small gift, and that you hold it close to your heart and think of me. 

Know that I am well Em. 

I am content with your decision. I will live for you. 

I hope you do the same, I hope you reach all of your dreams. 

There’s a quote I love, “missing someone is your heart’s way of telling you that you love them.” 

I miss you more than life itself, so I’ll love you for infinity. May my love for you reach you in your time now and you feel me wrapping myself around you now. I wish I had a photo of you, it scares me that I might forget your face. 

But the men and I will keep you alive in our memories, I will share every story I have of you. I will go home and tell everyone that I was going to be wed to the most beautiful girl in the land but she made a decision that let us be here today, and in turn she couldn’t stay.  

Please Em, my only wish is for you to be happy. Surround yourself with people who love you like we loved you. I need to know that you are being loved and cared for.

I don’t want to finish this letter, I wish I could write you pages and pages and fill them with the love I have for you, but alas there are not enough words in the universe that could perfectly summarise my feelings for you. But I will leave you with this poem.

I will love you as long as the sun burns in the sky,

As long as the moon shines its light into the dark night, 

Until the raging blue oceans become calm and run dry. 

I will love you until the end of time. 

With all my love, I hope to find you again. I will wait for you in every lifetime. 

Donald Malarkey, your one true love now and forever. 

The sobs that left my mouth were short and sharp as I struggled to intake air. My tears landed on the paper as I clutched it to my chest. I had read the words over and over again, I could hear his voice in the writing. 

After my sobs had subsided I continued to search through the contents of the bag. A flash of metal caught my attention. A dry chuckle left my throat, Speirs’ lighter lay amongst my belongings. His initials were carved into the metal, it didn’t come with a note, but the act alone was heartbreaking. It was Ron’s trusty lighter, one that he didn’t part with easily, but still he had slipped it into my bag for me to have to remember him by. 

I woke up the next morning on the floor of my room surrounded by memories. I slipped Don’s tag around my neck and tucked it into my shirt. Just when I was losing faith they had given me the motivation to live again. 

So I did just that. I opened myself up again, I graduated and started a new job as a full time nurse. I did as they had asked and surrounded myself with people who loved and cared for me. But no one could ever take Don’s place, that part of my heart was tightly locked which he only had the key to. 

A year passed and the hurt lessened. Never did they leave my thoughts, the amount of times I went to share stories only to bite my tongue. But I wrote them all down in my diary to ensure that the memories I had of them were never forgotten. 

—--------------------------------

“Hey Em, patient in room 12 is wanting to speak to you.” Izzy, the nurse I had befriended when I had started, peered her head into the nurses office. 

“Sure.” I smiled brightly at her, getting up from the notes I was finishing. I made my way to the room, assisting the patient to unhook from the fluids they were getting so that they could go to the toilet. 

“Em!” I heard from behind me. I sat the patient back down on their bed as we had made our way back from the bathroom. 

“Yeah?” I turned to see an excitable Izzy. 

“The girls and I were going to go out for dinner tonight. Come!” It was a Friday for the group and  everyone seemed to be very thrilled for the weekend. 

“Um…” I teasingly thought about the offer. The brunette didn’t let me think long, rushing into the room to slap me on the shoulder. 

“You’re coming!” She tugged gently at my arm. 

“Says who?” I wound her up more. I had befriended her as she had reminded me of George. She was bright and funny, always with a big smile on her face. We had both started at the same time and bonded over being ‘new and dumb’, we joked. It was easy to make friends with her, it was as if they had known each other in a past life. 

“Emily Lane!” She full named me, causing me to giggle. 

“Shall I pick you up?” I asked as I sauntered away. 

“AHHHH!” Izzy squealed in delight, running after me to pounce on my back. “We are going to have so much fun!” 

I never picked up Izzy, she had followed me home. Demanding we got ready together. I watched her dance around the room singing into the hairbrush she had found lying around. She looked insane having half of her eye makeup on as she sung poorly into the makeshift microphone. 

“Thank you, thank you.” Izzy bowed to the non-existent crowd taking in her applause. 

We finished our makeup, mucking around wasting time we didn’t have doing a fashion show, which was basically Izzy prancing around like an idiot and me curled over in hysterics. 

“If you keep going not only are we going to be so late, my makeup is going to be ruined!” I chucked a pillow from the couch at her head. 

Finally we made it to dinner only ten minutes late. We shared good food and stories around the table. I smiled, glancing around the table at the people who were in my life. Don would’ve been proud of me. 

Izzy squeezed my hand from under the table as she lent her head on my shoulder. “I have a surprise and you can’t say no.” 

I pretended to be mad at her but the smile stuck to my lips as she fluttered her eyelashes at me. 

“What is it?” I asked, a huge grin broke onto her face. 

“Karaoke!” She cheered as did the rest of the table. “You have to come, I’ve invited some of my friends too.” Izzy elbowed me in the side. 

The older nurses with children and earlier bedtimes left, leaving the younger nurses with more energy to do karaoke. Izzy’s friends slowly trickled in joining us in our fun night out. All of them were lovely and so funny. I wiped the tears that leaked from my eyes as Izzy and Lyla sang a duet together, they were so off pitch but that didn’t stop them. 

They plonked down next to me out of breath. “Your turn!” The girls pushed me from my seat. I looked back into the crowd and they smiled excitedly up at me. I picked a random song.  

Stay by Rihanna played out from the speakers. I sang along as the group cheered and whooped. I didn’t care if I sounded bad. I sang loudly as I waved my hand in the air. 

The room door swung open and I lost my words. There in the doorway was a face that I couldn't forget. 

“SING!!” Lyla cheered. But I couldn’t, nothing worked, my mouth hung open and tears filled my eyes. 

I watched Izzy jump up from her seat and dragged the person into the room. 

“Em!” She ran towards me with the person in tow. “This is my friend, Don.” 

It was him, head to toe, he looked exactly like my Don. 

“Pleased to meet you, Izzy has told me a lot about you.” The man stuck out his hand for me to shake but I was still so frazzled. His voice was exactly the same. I blinked, pinching my leg to make sure I wasn’t in some weird dream. 

“Are you alright, you look like you’ve seen a ghost?” The modern Don tilted his head in concern. 

“I’m fine.” I uttered out in shock, I politely shook his hand, almost melting at his touch. It was the same. Had he come back to me? 

“Have we met before? You just seem familiar.” He asked. Izzy stood between us as we stared at with a confused look on her face. 

“I’ll leave you guys to it.” She departed the conversation, leaving us staring at each other with our hands still connected.   

“Do you want to come to the bar with me? It's a bit loud here.” He asked, never taking his hand from mine. I nodded, my mouth still hung open. 

We left the small karaoke room we occupied and made our way back over to the main bar. 

“So do we know each other?” Don asked again. 

“No we don’t.” I shook my head. 

“Well I want to change that.” His smile grew wide as he stepped closer to me. “I don’t know why but you feel important.” 

And at the moment I knew everything was going to be ok. 

Because he had found me again.

Just like he had promised. 

---------------------------------------------------

THE END!

[blood-mocha-latte]

franz kafka | letters to milena | ten band of brothers ships | ten lines | installment eight: renee/anna

preview | installment nine: garcia/hashey

previous installments: winnix, baberoe, webgott, speirton, luztoye, pat/chuck, and randlemartin

edits taglist below the cut (contact to be added/removed):

@frstcorinthians @lamialamia @ep6bastogne @whollyjoly @flashnthunder @dcyllom @mutantmanifesto

taglist for the kafka series: @impalachick @grumpy-liebgott