#fic:blindsided

You trained separately to the company with the other nurses and occasionally the medics would join you, whenever you got the time you would seek out Skip and his new friends Penkala and Malarkey. He was always talking about Faye, it hurt but you kept a smile on your face - you didn’t want to ruin your best friend’s happiness. He talked about her so much that the whole company knew about sweet Faye Tanner.

Faye sent him a multitude of letters which would always have him gushing to you about her, you couldn’t stop the thoughts about what your life would be like if Skip felt the way he felt about Faye about you. You knew one thing for sure, Faye was the luckiest girl in the world.

—

The restaurant you had set up as a med bay was full of soldiers, most of which had been bandaged up by now. “I’m gonna go see if I can round anyone up,” you told Roe as you walked past and out into the streets of Carentan. You kept close to the walls lest there were any more German soldiers hidden.

You rounded a corner and saw a soldier holding another who was bloodied and lay on the floor. Rushing over you dropped next to them, “It’s Tipper,” you looked up and met Joe’s eyes. You pulled out some sulfa and began to sprinkle it over the wound on his face, eyeing his leg with concern.

“Go get a stretcher,” you order the other two soldiers who ran off quickly.

“Will he be okay?” Joe asked quietly.

“Of course,” you replied, though there was worry in your eyes. He needed some serious medical attention and soon. You patted Joe’s shoulder and helped him lift Tipper onto the stretcher the others had brought back and carry him back to the med bay.

—

You were laid out on the steps with Skip as the sun shined brightly on you, he and the guys were gossiping about Speirs who had supposedly gunned down 20 POW’s on D-Day. You were so enthralled by Skip’s story telling that you didn’t notice Liebgott looking at you from across the courtyard. “As long as he sticks to shooting POW’s then I don’t care,” you commented.

“Well I heard he shot his own sergeant,” Penkala countered.

“What?”

“No way!” you exclaimed, this was the first time since D-Day that everything felt almost normal again. Sitting around with Skip and your friends, laughing without a care in a world, though the absence of Faye did seem almost unsettling - you hated to admit that seeing Skip without her felt wrong now. You pushed the thought aside, this was the first time in forever that she hadn’t been at Skip’s side and you were going to enjoy this time together; it’d be like old times, with the notable addition of German artillery.

—

Everyone was going to London on 48 hour passes and Skip had saddled you into going with him, you managed to bag a window seat on the train with him and Malarkey before it got too jam packed. You paid half attention to their card game as you looked out the window, the two got on incredibly well - you didn’t even mind that Don could be considered Skip’s best friend because he was always so nice and genuine, plus Skip hadn’t edged you out because of him (he was too caring to do such a thing which was why you had fallen for him so hard).

London was busy and smoggy and so full of life, it was easy to get lost in the winding streets but somehow all of the easy boys had managed to end up in the same pub. A small live band played an uptempo tune, most of the guys were playing cards or flirting with the local girls. You stayed close to the bar as Skip and Penkala had a game of darts beside you and sipped at a beer, not your favourite drink but it was something to do. “We’re on leave, you’re supposed to look happy,” Joe smirked as he slid in next to you.

You shot him a smile and turned to face him, “Drinking beer at the back of a pub is hardly a girl’s idea of a good time.”

He smirked, “Well, then can I have this dance?”

You were a little shocked but nodded, “Sure thing.” You took his hand and let him lead you to the dance floor where a few other couples had congregated to dance to the band.

You swayed with him and let out a surprised squeal when he suddenly spun you outwards then tugged you back in, you gently collided with his chest. “Oh, that’s how you wanna play?” you laughed with a raised eyebrow.

“Yes, ma’am,” Joe smirked.

“Don’t call me ma’am,” you restored as you tugged him suddenly into a correct dancing position and he let out a surprised ‘oof’. “I’d let you lead but I don’t think you’d know what to do,” you teased.

“That so?” He stepped you back and you were shocked that he knew the right steps to the dance, the two of you stepped quickly in time to the beat of the music not noticing the attention you began to get from the patrons sitting at the tables. Joe spun you around effortlessly maneuver the two of you across the dance floor, this was a thousand times better than watching the dart game you had already forgotten about.

The song cane to an end just as Joe dipped you, you received a round of applause and a few whistles as he brought you back up causing you to smile and duck your head to hide your blush. “That was really fun,” you grinned, the band started up a new song and the bar returned to their previous activities and Joe les you off to the side. “You’re such a great friend, Joe.”

You didn’t see his smile falter. “No problem,” he gave you a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes, though you had no idea why.

“Hey, Y/N, come over here!” Skip yelled across the bar.

“I’m coming,” you yelled back over your shoulder, “Thanks for the dance,” you smiled at Joe once more before making your way over to Skip.

—

Winters came up to you after the attack, you were patching up a small wound on a man whose finger had gotten jammed in his gun. “Y/L/N, can I speak to you for a second?”

“Of course, sir,” you tightened the bandage and stood up to face him, “What is it?”

“I just sent Liebgott back to HQ, he has a gunshot wound that I don’t think he’ll get patched up.”

You nodded with a frown, “I’m on it, sir.”

You caught up with Joe just as he had dropped off the German POW’s and your eyes instantly hones in on the bloodied bandage tied badly around your neck. “What the hell is this?” you cried, hands flying to his neck to assess the damage but he brushed your hands off.

“It’s fine.”

You shot him your best unimpressed look that you had to use on soldiers reluctant to have their wounds looked at. “Sit,” you stated firmly, pointing at the wooden boxes that lay outside the building.

With a roll of his eyes he sat and you knelt in front of him, you could feel his eyes on you as you undid the bandage and sprinkled some sulfa over the wound. “You’re lucky, it’s not infected. It’ll leave a scar, though,” you told him and tied a clean bandage securely around his neck.

Leaning back you made eye contact with him, “Keep it clean.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“I thought I told you not to call me that,” you smiled as you packed up your aid kit.

His eyes flashed with something you couldn’t quite identify, “Must’ve forgot.”

—

You were sat next to Skip as you watched the film in front of you, it was your tenth time seeing it and Luz had been doing impressions for the last eight so you had learned by now sit as far away as possible from him.

“Skip! Come on! -Where you been?” Malarkey came into the screening, leaning over you to get to Skip and earning shushes from Lipton and Toye at the front.

“Well, l was at home in Tonawanda then Hitler started this, so now I’m here,” snarked Skip and you chuckled quietly.

“How’d you make out in craps?” you asked Malarkey.

He grinned and produced a wad of cash and handed over to Skip, “Here’s the $60 l borrowed.”

“You’re paying me back?” Skip asked incredulously, no one ever got the money back that they had borrowed other guys.

“And as thank-you,”

“Surprising.”

“A tip!” Malarkey gleefully handed over another handful of cash.

“Jesus!”

“Shut up!”

“Only $3600 left.”

“What’ll you do with that?” you asked.

“Blow most of it in Paris as soon as possible.”

“Give me a tip.”

It was not to be, the movie got shut off and you were told that you were going to be shuffled onto the front line again. You had no food supplies, ammo or winter clothing. You were fucked.

—

You were squished into the back of a truck, pressed against Joe’s side and desperately trying to steal warmth from the guys around you, you had tried to get in next to Skip but the truck had filled up too quickly leaving you exposed to the frosty air at the back of the truck with Joe.

“Christ I miss those C-47’s,” Guarnere complained and you were inclined to agree.

“Where are we going with no ammo?” someone question, as a combat nurse you couldn’t carry a gun but not that it would make much of a difference. You could feel it in your bones that you were all walking into something bad.

“Hey, kid, what’s your name?” another guy bothered a replacement.

“Suerth Jr.”

“You got any ammo junior?”

“Just what I’m carrying.”

“Any extra socks?”

“A pair.”

“You need four minimum,” Skip piped up, “Feet, neck, hands, balls.”

“Extra sock warms them all,” you chimed in with the rest of the guys with a small smile that was tucked away in your jacket collar.

Skip laughed, “Good, we all remember that one. But did we remember the socks!?”

“I want a cigarette.”

“I want ammo and socks.”

“I bet juniors got plenty of both.” The replacement protested but the guys were all throwing requests at him.

“A hat?”

“Extra ammo?”

“An aid kit?” you chipped in, knowing you’d need all you can get your hands on.

“How about a coat? You got a coat?” Joe asked.

Someone figured out he had smokes which quickly got passed around, you didn’t smoke yourself but you appreciated the hot smoke that was coming off the end of Joe’s right next to you even if it was only minuscule.

—

You shivered against a tree and scooped up a spoonful of beans, you were sick of Bastogne. As if the cold wasn’t bad enough you were called out of the safety of your foxhole during almost every barrage or after to treat another man severely wounded, with no aid kits to go around. You were using bed sheets from the hospital in the town.

The only thing you couldn’t complain about was the company, you watched with a grin as Skip narrated the wounds the guys had garnered since Normandy. “George Luz has never been hit, you’re one lucky bastard, George.”

“Takes one to know one.”

“Ah, consider us blessed.”

“Better keep it that way gentlemen,” you tossed over, you smiled but it was the truth that you never wanted to treat another friend.

“You bet,” Skip winked at you and your heart fluttered, you ducked your head to hide your blush, glad that the cold made your cheeks flushed already.

—

“Hey, Y/N, can I talk to you for a second?” Lipton crouched at the edge of your foxhole.

“Sure, what is it?” you flashed him a smile. He sighed heavily and looked away and a bad feeling settled into your gut. “What is it? Is someone hurt?” You stood up in an instant.

You were halfway out of your foxhole when- “It’s Skip.” Your heart stopped cold.

“Is-is he okay? How bad is he hurt?” you asked frantically.

Lipton sighed heavily and shook his head, “I’m sorry.”

You swallowed hard, “Where?” your voice was thick and your eyes stung but no tears fell.

Lipton lead you over to a crater that was already being covered with a dusting of snow. This was where it had happened. This was his foxhole. Here one minute and gone the next. It was a direct hit. You vaguely registered the chatter of the men around you, Muck and Penkala.

In the corner of your eye you saw Luz hand Malarkey a piece of broken rosary but your eyes were fixed on the foxhole. He was supposed to be here. He was supposed to be alive and go home and marry Faye and have babies and live a long happy life.

Luz came and stood next to you, snapping your attention away from the ground. “I saw it happen.”

“Was he in pain?” you asked, you could barely hear yourself your mind was so full of grief.

“No,” Luz shook his head, “No, they didn’t feel a thing.”

Eventually they began to filter away until only you and Malarkey remained, both overcome with sorrow and unable to express it.

Malarkey held out the broken rosary, “You should have this, you were his best friend.”

You glanced at the rosary in his outstretched palm, thinking back of the perfect choir boy he had been when he wasn’t getting himself in danger, you closed Malarkey’s fingers back around the rosary and shook your head. “No, he would have wanted you to have it.” There was no way you could have faith in God after this.

You gave him a sad smile and patted his shoulder as you walked away, Malarkey was the only one who came close to knowing exactly what you were going through. The only difference being he wasn’t secretly in love with your mutual best friend, at least as far as you were aware. But you couldn’t bring yourself to stay with him, you had duties and now wasn’t a time to grieve.

Someone had to answer the calls for medic, someone had to tell Faye, someone had to make sure everyone was doing alright. It had to be you and you wouldn’t lose yourself to this loss, not now when you were on the front lines.

—

You heard snow crunch above you and you tensed, relaxing when you saw Joe’s silhouette appear at the edge of your foxhole and crouch. “Lieb? Do you need something?”

“You got a foxhole buddy?” he asked.

“No, hop in.” Joe jumped in and sat next to you, it wasn’t much but the extra warmth was appreciated as you tossed your blanket over him and squished into his side.

“How you doing?” he asked quietly and you instantly knew what he meant.

Despite your earlier promise to push off the grief you couldn’t stop your eyes welling up and your throat becoming thick, “It’s not fair.” That was the sentence that broke the dam, tears fell freely and you shook from the sobs and the cold.

Joe wrapped an arm around your shoulders and pulled you close to him as you sobbed silently against his chest, “It’s okay,” he murmured, “It’ll be okay.”

—

You don’t know how it happened but you found yourself coming back to Joe often, no matter which foxhole he was staying in. He was the only one of the guys (barring Skip) who had ever seen you cry, seen you so vulnerable and the fact that he didn’t blab about it sparked a connection.

It was easy to feel overcome with misery as you watched Foy endlessly and hid away during barrages, losing yet another friend in your arms. Joe was a comfort, a small relief from the horrors you faced daily.

“Hey, Joe,” you slid in next to him, your teeth chattering. After a moment’s hesitation Joe wrapped an arm around you and pulled you close to warm you up. You smirked, “Cuddling, Leib? Didn’t take you as the type.”

“Shut up, it’s cold,” he reasoned.

“Sure,” you rolled your eyes with a small smile, noting that your teeth had at least stopped chattering.

—

“Smoke?”

“Sure.”

Joe couldn’t contain his surprise when you plucked the lit cigarette from him and took a drag, by now so used to the smoke permeating from the boys that you only choked a little.

“What’s with the change of heart?”

“We might die today.”

“We might die every day,” Joe pointed out.

“Today in particular.”

“Ain’t that the truth,” Joe sighed as you looked out across the open field before Foy. Dike had asked you to stick with him and Luz during the assault, maybe it was because he didn’t trust you or maybe it was because he didn’t want to have to wait for a medic if he got hit. Either way you were unhappy with the choice.

You smoked the cigarette until it was burning your fingers and crushed it into the snow beneath your boot. You were not going to die today.

“I’ll see you on the other side, alright?” Joe squeezed your shoulder and went to join his platoon.

—

Speirs was a godsend, bat shit crazy but you were glad he was on your side. Morale was significantly raised, Dike was done for and we had captured the town we had been looking over for a month. You were stood next to the soldiers on the tank who were singing for the cameras when a gunshot sounded.

A man above you fell from the tank, just as you were about to check another shot sounded at the same time as you felt something embed in your stomach. You fell back to the ground as a searing pain spread through your abdomen.

You were unaware of the chaos as you stared up at the sky, it was grey and clouds swirled above. You couldn’t feel the cold, though you shivered and convulsed as warm blood spilled over your fingers, down your wrists, spread across your OD’s.

A muffled shot, applaud, then Joe’s face appeared above yours and blocked out the sky. His lips were moving but you couldn’t hear what he was saying, more faces gathered in your vision but you couldn’t focus on any other than Joe’s frantic face. You tried to speak but your tongue was heavy, you were so tired. You were going to die today. Your eyes slipped shut and someone patted your cheek gently, then hard.

Snapping your eyes open you saw Roe had taken Joe’s place, his eyes full of fury and worry at the same time.

At the same time as the voices could be heard again a sharp pain sparked through you. You screamed out in pain.

“Stop it! You’re hurting her!” Joe’s voice yelled near you.

“There’s no exit wound. Gotta get the bullet out,” Roe snapped back, jaw clenched as his fingers dug into your open wound.

The pain lasted for 15 more agonising seconds before he procured the bullet and tossed the crumpled bloodied metal aside. It was a strange relief and you sagged against someone who had propped you up into a sitting position. You could feel the blood pulsing heavier now.

Roe expertly sprinkled half a pack of sulfa, all he had left, and tied a bandage tightly around you. You glanced down and saw the pool of blood on your clothes and snow around you, you had gotten so used to seeing it but it still shocked you.

“Will she be okay?” You heard Joe ask, you realised he was the person who you were leaning back against.

Roe gave a nod, “She’ll live.”

—

Despite the thought that you would be taken off the line the company pressed on, Noville and Rachamps were next on the list. You weren’t allowed to take part, obviously, but there was no aid station nearby. You hung back with Perconte and a few others, unsettled by the sounds of the battle you couldn’t help with.

At the end of it all the company was given board in a church, the first time you had slept indoors in a month. Perconte was laid out on a stretcher near you and you were sat next to Joe on a pew. The bullet hadn’t hit anything major so you knew you’d be back soon, and the guys were getting pulled off the line tomorrow anyway.

All you wanted to do was sleep but you wanted to savour this moment, safe, warm and listening to the sweet voices of the choir. It reminded you of being dragged to church back home, sitting next to Faye as Skip sang in the boys choir. It still hurt to think of Skip, you wondered if Faye knew yet, what surprised you was that though the pain of his loss was deep for the first time you weren’t associating Faye with your unrequited love.

Skip would always be your first love but maybe now he was gone you could move on, maybe that sounded selfish but you knew that he wouldn’t want you or Faye to be hung up over him. Joe had played a big part in keeping you sane, you wished you could have done more to help Malarkey who was sinking into himself like you would have done if not for Joe.

“What are you thinking about?” Joe whispered.

“Everything.”

Nothing else needed to be said, the choir began another soft song that you didn’t know the words to. You reached an laced your fingers with Joe’s which layed on his leg. Out of the corner of your eye you saw Joe look at you in surprise but you kept your gaze forward on the choir until he too averted his eyes from you. Finally you let your eyes slip shut, warm and content with Joe’s hand in yours.

—

Webster walked along the line of trucks trying to find second platoon, finally he recognised the guys on the back. “This second platoon.” The men looked at him silently. “Some lieutenant from first told me to come here.”

“Yeah this is second.”

“Jackson, right? Help me up?” Jackson reluctantly helped pull him up onto the truck and he looked down at the few men on the back of the truck.

“So, you just got back from the from the hospital?” Jackson asked

“Yeah.”

“Must have liked that hospital, because we left Holland four months ago,” Liebgott inputted, not looking at him.

“l wasn’t only there. There was rehab, the replacement depot,” Webster tried to explain.

“I’m sure you tried to bust out and help us in Bastogne..”

“How would l have done that?”

“Popeye found a way. So did Alley, back in Holland. And Guarnere–”

“Where is Guarnere? He still platoon sergeant?” “No.”

“Well where’s Y/L/N? She get transferred?” Webster asked, noting the lack of their female combat medic.

He saw Joe tense up, “No,” he bit out, “She got shot. Sniper in Foy.”

“Is she going home?”

Joe scoffed, “She’ll be back.”

“Let’s go.”

“Bill got hit in January,” Babe said as they hopped off the truck.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, he got hit. Blew his whole leg off.”

—

The aid station was hell, there were hardly enough beds or supplies but thankfully you managed to stay with Perconte who was on the bed next to you.

You were both were healing nicely, well at least enough to go AWOL so you didn’t get lumped in with a new company. Easy hadn’t been pulled off the line and they needed whatever help they could get. You had been keeping an eye on the rounds the nurses made looking for the right opportunity, you were both dressed in clean uniforms and showered (what a fucking blessing) and you were anxious to get back to the guys, back to Joe.

You managed to sneak out of the hospital and hitch a ride to the city centre, badgering people on where Easy was until you caught word of a small town named Hagenau near the Rhine. That was where you had to go, you got a ride on the back of a runner’s truck and you bounced your leg the whole time.

The town was drab and grey, mortar damage evident. “Where shall we start?” Perconte asked.

“Supply room?”

“Of course.”

You heard squabbling coming from within, recognising the lilt of Joe’s voice, there was some very serious talk of hershey bars. Frank stepped into the room first and you followed after him, you were surprised to see Webster back amongst the men and a new Lieutenant which was less surprising. “Hey fellas.”

The group turned their attention to the two of you standing in the doorway. Joe’s face lit up at the sight of you and you gave him a beaming smile back. Martin came over and slung his arms around yours and Percontes shoulders, “Would you look at that? I try and get these two out of the war and they come straight back.”

“No kidding, I’d be lost without my boys,” you grinned and walked over to join the group. You stood next to Joe, “Hi,” you whispered.

“Hi back,” he whispered.

“Here’s a hershey bar,” George tossed Perconte a chocolate bar, “And for the lovely medic,” he passed you one and winked exaggeratedly.

“Such a charmer,” you flirted back, a large amused smirk on your face. George was the first one to break character and laugh, you followed seconds after.

“They get a fucking hershey bar?” Joe asked indignantly.

George shrugged unapologetically, “They got shot in combat.”

“I’ll share mine,” you told Joe quietly, glad to see a small smile slip back on his face.

“I heard the Germans are done for,” Perconte said as he waddled over.

You saw everyone shift. “Yeah well just to make sure they want us to row across the river tonight, grab a few and make sure.”

“You’re serious?”

“Wish I was. Welcome back Frank.”

You sighed, you were officially sick of war.

—

You watched Joe speak German to the prisoners of the camp, there were too many thin frail bodies in the crowd to get to him yourself. You saw him collapse onto the truck bench and the other soldiers began to herd them back into the camp, you pushed on through the crowd and sat next to Joe who was still sobbing.

You wrapped your arms around him and pulled him to you, Joe clung to you tightly as he cried for his people and what he just had to do. No words were said, they didn’t need to be, you would always be there to comfort one another without judgement. It was just how you worked.

—

“Do you have enough points?”

“No. You?”

“No.”

You sighed, you were sick of the waiting game to jump into Japan. You heard through the rumour mill that Winters had applied to transfer to the 13th airborne to get it over with and you were tempted to do the same but you couldn’t leave easy. You couldn’t leave Joe.

For months now you had been pushing aside your feelings towards Joe. Perhaps it was the relative peace you now lived in, the rolling hills and glistening lakes did little to quell these thoughts. You didn’t know when they began, was it Bastogne or even earlier? Either way they were here and didn’t seem to be going away anytime soon, you always did fall much too deeply.

“If we make it out of Japan what’ll you do?” Joe asked. The two of you were laying back in a field, enjoying the sun and cloud watching having just come off from patrol duty.

“I never really thought about it,” you admitted, “What about you?”

“Get my job back at the cab company.”

“What if we never see eachother again?” you thought out loud.

Joe turned his head to look at you, “We would if you moved to San Francisco.”

You huffed a laugh, “And where would I live in San Fran?”

Joe bit his lip, “You could live with me.”

“Are you serious?”

“Yeah,” Joe huffed, turning away from you, “Don’t act like it’s such a big deal.”

You rolled your eyes and tugged him back to look at you, before you could lose your nerve you planted a kiss on his lips. “I’d love to. I love you.”

“I love you, too,” Joe smiled, pulling you back so he could kiss you again.

****