#justthinkingofwaystoavoidbusses

It was a relatively calm day at the hospital, which meant havoc would undoubtedly break when the wounded could finally be transported in. But for now you were glad for the calm, you made your rounds to your patients and only one died from his serious wounds. "N-nurse?" A crackly, dry voice caught your attention. You saw one of the soldiers blinking his eyes slowly open and trying to sit up. "Lie down," you ordered, pushing gently on his shoulders so he wouldn't attempt to sit up. "Do you want some water?" He nodded, seeming to be in a daze which was not uncommon. You quickly fetched a small glass of water and helped him drink it. "What's your name?" You prayed that war hadn't made him lose his memory or his mind, another common occurrence around here. "Hoosier." You frowned and glanced at the dog tags around his neck. "That a nickname?" You asked hopefully. 'Hoosier' nodded. "Yeah it's Bill. Smith. Bill Smith." "Good," you sighed in relief, "What's the last thing you remember?" "Cape Gloucester." "Excellent," you gave him a happy smile. "A mortar round hit your leg so you're at the hospital. It's your ticket home. Rest up and you'll be back to normal soon enough."

He blinked a few times, “I’m going home?”

You nodded and gave him a  comforting smile. A tired, relieved smile came across his face and the thought that he looked quite handsome crossed your mind but you quickly pushed that aside. “Soon enough, within the next few weeks. We’ll fix you up as best as we can then you’ll get the next boat out.”

---

You had just finished your rounds when you got called into the head doctors office, “Y/N, come in, come in.”

“What is it, sir?”

“I just received a letter from the hospital, they’re short staffed so I’m going to be sending you on the next ship over there to help.”

“But, sir, I’m needed here. There’s so many wounded men here, we’re at the front lines for god's sake, we can't spare any nurses!” you protested.

He sighed, “I’m sorry, it’s not my decision. They asked for one of the more experienced nurses and that’s you, if it was up to me I’d keep you here but it’s not. That’ll be all.”

“Yes, sir,” you swallowed and walked out of the office without another word. You had become a nurse to help at the front lines, or as close as you could get, not in the hospitals far out of danger where the wounded cases were no longer urgent, where most of them would already live. You wanted to help, to actively prevent the deaths of the soldiers and instead you were being pulled back to work in a safe hospital. By all accounts you should be relieved that you would be out of danger and under less stress but you felt like you were letting down your fellow nurses and yourself by leaving them behind on scattered Japanese islands.

---

You had been in a sour mood all week, thankfully you had kept yourself busy so as not to accidentally snap at someone and take your anger out on them. You were rewrapping Hoosiers bandage, “Your wounds looking better,” you commented dully.

“What’s got you down?” he asked.

“Hm?” you asked, surprised he noticed because no one else had.

“You’re quieter than usual,” he said, “You’re not as happy.”

You sighed and tied off his bandage, “I’m being shipped off with the next batch of soldiers to a hospital in Melbourne.”

“So?” he frowned.

“So it means I’m leaving behind the other nurses, my friends, and leaving this aid station understaffed, I won't be making a difference over there.”

“But you’ll be away from all of this,” he pointed out, having been on the front lines himself he couldn’t imagine anyone wanting to stay.

You sighed, you knew that a nurses and soldiers perspective where different, you hadn’t been on the front lines of combat but you saw the aftermath of what happened to the men. “You joined to serve your country, you were told of the bravery and respect, all the good things about joining the fight and when you got here you saw the reality. I joined the nurses to help, we were told from day one the true horrors of war and how badly wounded men would get, we couldn't afford to crack under it all when we got here. I've always wanted to be right here, in the thick of it, since the start to help out. As much as I wish I never had to see a wounded man again I don’t want to leave until it’s over for everyone.”

“Huh,” he raised his eyebrows, “That makes sense, I guess. I don’t relate, but I understand what you mean.”

You quirked a smile, “That’s more than most.”

“Hey doesn’t that mean you’ll be going back with me?”

“Yes, it does,” you smiled, “I imagine you’ll be sick of me by the time we get over there.”

“Never,” he smiled sincerely and you couldn’t help the blush.

“I’m holding you to that.”

He winked, “I hope you do.”

You swatted his arm with a barely resisted laugh, “I’ll see you at my next rounds.”

---

You hadn’t quite found your sea legs just yet, you doubted you ever would, the ship was constantly rocking side to side and you swore the ocean was purposefully trying to make your life a living hell. Thankfully you had a strong stomach, many of the men did not and you were mopping up more vomit than you had before in your life. One good thing was that there weren't any new wounded men each day, which meant you got more free time to relax on the deck.

Currently, you were leaning against the railing under the shade of the large tarp which displayed a large red cross on the top. “Fancy seeing you here.”

You looked to your left and saw Hoosier standing a few feet away from you with crutches, “Who let you out of bed?”

“One of the nurses,” he grinned and came next to you, you were slightly jealous of his ability to keep steady on the rolling ship, especially in crutches.

“Glad to be going home?” you asked.

He nodded, closing his eyes to bask in the sunlight and breathe in the salty air, “More than anything. I suppose you’re not?”

“It’s too peaceful out here,” you replied, “But it’s not as bad as I thought it would be.”

All you could see for miles around was the ocean, the late evening sunlight reflected off the water casting you and Hoosier in a soft yellow glow.

---

The hospital in Melbourne was busy, all the men got sent here and while you missed the girls overseas you rarely had time to dwell on it. Although these injuries weren’t as pressing and urgent there was a hell of a lot more infections and men who had to be comforted through nightmares.

You spent most days on your feet, it was a light afternoon of work when you stumbled upon a familiar soldier. “I was beginning to think I wasn’t gonna see you around here,” Hoosier grinned up at you.

You couldn’t help the fond and relieved smile at the sight of him, “They’re keeping me busy.”

“I can see,” he smiled cheekily, “If anyone comes by I’ll pretend to be in pain to justify you being here.”

“Thanks,” you laughed. “How’s the leg doing?”

“Are we still doing that whole check up thing? It’s getting better. What are your plans for when you get home?”

“I don’t know,” you sighed, the war seemed destined to never end.

“Ever think about getting married?” he asked.

You raised an eyebrow, “Someday. Why? You asking?”

He smirked up at you, “Not yet, we haven’t gone on a date yet.”

“Is that so?”

“Mhm,” he nodded confidently, “When we’re both out of here I’m gonna take you to the finest place in town. We’ll dress up real nice, order the best wine and I’ll take you dancing.”

You blushed and ducked your head, “I’m holding you to that.”

---

You had been stuck in the hospital long after Hoosier finally got shipped back to the states and for several months after VJ-Day. Hoosier had kept in contact, surprisingly, you had little time to spare to write letters but you wrote to him as often as you could.

Now back in America and living an almost painfully slow life was beginning to grate on you, but tonight your heart was pumping in excitement. You carefully applied some rouge lipstick and blusher to your face and slipped on your jacket as the doorbell rang.

You swung open the door and saw Hoosier there, a bouquet of flowers in his hand and looking handsome dressed in a sharp suit. “You ready for that date?”

***

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.

****

—

By the time you were a few months along the Hermes was too far away for video calls. You didn’t want to send it in an email or a video. You wanted to see his face when you told him.

Your stomach was swelling with the small life growing inside you by now, you didn’t want to know the gender of the baby yet. It was going to be a surprise.

You couldn’t wait for their month stay to be over and on their way back so you could tell Mark.

—

He’s dead.

Your husband was dead.

Your baby’s father was dead.

Mark was dead and he was left on Mars to be covered in sand.

He didn’t ever find out you were pregnant.

—

If you thought you had been stressed before you didn’t know what this was. The doctor said that stress was bad for the baby but there was so much you hadn’t done.

The babys room wasn’t ready. Did you have enough clothes? What about diapers? What if you accidently drop it or poke its head?

You weren’t ready for this. Mark would have been an excellent father but you had to do this on your own and you would do the best you could.

—

After 54 hours of labour you were exhausted, the doctor placed a wriggling bundle in your arms with a soft smile. “It’s a boy.”

You had a huge smile on your face as you looked down at your baby, “Hello,” you whispered as he yawned and opened his eyes. This was the happiest you had been in months. He was the spitting image of his father.

“What are you gonna call him?” your mother asked.

“Mark. Mark Watney Jr.”

—

Having a newborn baby wasn’t all that it was cracked up to be. You didn’t have time to sleep, eat or shower. Still you loved that baby with all your heart.

A knock on the door roused you from your half dozing state. You were sure you looked a mess but you didn’t care.

Behind the door was the same NASA official who had told you Mark was dead. Mitch Henderson. “Can I help you?”

“Might I come in?” he asked.

You nodded and allowed him past and into the livingroom. It was messy as hell but you didn’t care, you just cared about the little bundle that was fast asleep in the baby bouncy chair.

Mitch walked past and looked down at Mark Jr, a small smile on his face. “He looks just like his dad.”

You nodded, “He does,” you agreed.

“There’s something I need to tell you, you might want to take a seat,” he gestured to the sofa and you obediently sat down.

“What is it?”

“There’s no easy way to say this, but Mark’s alive.”

Your heart skipped a beat. “How- what- but you said-?”

Mitch sighed and ran a hand over his face, “Somehow he survived the storm and he’s still on the HAB on Mars. We’re trying to set up a way to communicate and let him know that we know he’s alive. I’ve just been to see his parents, Teddy Sanders is telling the public later today and I thought you should know first.”

You nodded, letting that information sink in, “But the crew is on their way back. How will he get home?”

“We’re working on it,” he assured you. While you were overjoyed that Mark was still alive a small part in the back of your mind reminded you of everything Mark had told you in the run up to the mission - you were no mathematician but you knew that he would run out of food sooner rather than later.

—

You felt bad but you had to put thoughts of Mark out of your mind, worrying wouldn’t help get him back and it certainly wouldn’t help you raise a baby. Mark Jr was growing by the day it seemed, his little baby smile was enough to make your day, you were aware of the progress of getting Mark back. The media was all over it, it seemed everywhere you looked there was an article or campaign for it. Thankfully, by some miracle, the media seemed unaware of you and Mark Jr which was how you would have liked it to be kept.

You knew about the launch to send him more food supplies, you knew about it’s failure and the outcome that meant for Mark. It seemed no matter what he was destined to die on Mars, you didn’t want to get your hopes up.

—

NASA had set up a way to communicate with Mars, which meant he got data dumps again. Mitch Henderson came round again and asked if you would like to send him something. You did, but you had no idea what to say. ‘Hey, Mark it’s your wife. Oh also, this is your seven month old baby,’ didn’t seem like it would cut it.

You ended up filming a short video and giving it to Mitch to send in the next data dump.

—

A message popped up on the computer and Mark clicked to open up the next data dump, there were the usual messages of people asking for pictures or quotes about what he was doing up there and how he felt, stuff from NASA, but one thing caught his attention.

From Y/N Watney

His heart skipped a beat, this was the first he had heard from you since he had arrived on the HAB all that time ago, eagerly he clicked on the video and waited for it to load up.

“Hi Mark,” you appeared on the screen and his face spread into a grin, “Long time no see,” you laughed awkwardly. “I’m not quite sure what to say honestly. A lot has happened since you’ve been gone. A lot.”

He watched you briefly disappear from the screen and come back holding a baby, “This is your son.” His heart stopped. He had a son. He was on Mars and you and his son were on Earth.

“I found out I was pregnant just after you’d left for Mars. I was waiting for the first trimester to go smoothly before I told anyone, which it did, I didn’t want to tell you over a video,” you chuckled humorlessly, “I wanted to see your reaction, so I was planning to wait until you were close enough to skype again. Obviously that didn’t happen, which is why you’re only just finding out now. HIs name’s Mark, I named him after you. Though this was when I thought you were dead,” you joked a little.

“Anyway. I don’t know what much else to say. I love you, Mark, and I hope you make it home.”

The video shut off leaving Mark stunned. He had a son. If he thought he had incentive to get home before it had doubled now. He was going to make it and he was going to get back to you and Mark Jr.

—

You were sat in front of the television, they were broadcasting the rescue worldwide. The hermes had gone back for Mark and now it was the moment that decided whether or not he would make it home. There would be a 12 minute delay. Nothing could be done from Earth, it all came down to the crew.

You and Mark had been able to send messages to one another, he told you about the ‘modifications’ he would have to make to the MAV. You had little hope it would work, but you knew that Mark would find a way to save himself - he always did.

You listened with a bated breath, Mark Jr by your side also silent, listening to the crew get ready one by one.

“Watney?”

“Go.”

You sobbed a laugh, it was the first time you had heard his voice in over a year. The whole experience was a tense one, apparently there were some issues with the comms when bunch of static sounded over the speakers. The Hermes was too far from Mark, who was suggesting to punch a hole in his suit. The rest of the crew were close friends of yours - if you knew them like you thought you did then you knew they were considering some crazy plan that they didn’t want to be overheard.

The static cut off, “Housten please be advised we are going to blow up part of the Hermes.” Yup, crazy plan. Frickin’ astronauts.

“I have visual on the MAV,” Lewis’s voice sounded. You stopped breathing. This was it.

“312 meters.”

“DId you say 312? Great, I’ll wave at you guys as I go by.” You couldn’t help the small laugh, you still weren’t used to hearing his voice again even if he was being sarcastic about his own demise.

“I can’t get to you Mark, you’re too far.” You gulped, you knew you shouldn’t have gotten your hopes up.

“6 meters.”

You heard sounds of a struggle and you were on the edge of your seat, you had no idea what was happening up there.

“Housten this is Hermes actual. We got him. Watney is secure. Houston, six crew safely aboard.”

You cried with joy, tears running freely down your face and a wide smile and you laughed. He was safe, he was alive, he was coming home. Mark Jr gurgled and you scooped him up off the sofa and spun him round making him giggle, “He’s coming home. Your daddy’s coming home.”

—

This would be the first skype call you would have with Mark, you were anxiously bouncing in your seat as you waited for it to connect. Mark appeared on screen and you smiled wide and he grinned back, “Hey, you,” you greeted.

“You have no idea how good it is to see you,” he smiled.

“I think I have some idea.”

“Mark’s down for a nap right now,” you told him and he nodded.

“That’s fine, let him sleep.” You could see that he was skinnier than when he left, he didn’t look as bad as the photos you had seen of him when he first came aboard the Hermes but you knew there was a lot of recovery ahead. A diet or potatoes for well over a year and minimum calorie intake would have certainly took its toll on him. “I can’t wait to get back and see you for real again.”

“Me neither.”

—

The Ares crew was landing today, you were at NASA with the other families. Vogels wife and all his children were there as well as Martinez’s wife and their young son who was about four years old now. You had Mark Jr stepped to your chest as you eagerly awaited the decent. You were stood with Mark’s parents, who had been a great help with Mark Jr while you went back to work teaching at the university.

As they landed everyone rushed out to greet them, officials and doctors at the head of the crowd as the families trailed behind. There was a flash of cameras as the crew emerged, stepping on Earth for the first time in around two years.

Paramedics stepped forward to assess the crew for any damage, particularly Mark but he just pushed past them and through the small crew until his eyes landed on you. A wide grin spread across your face at the sight of him and you stepped forward to meet him in the middle as you hugged him tightly, careful not to crush Mark Jr too much.

Mark pulled back and crashed his lips into your, you were sure you were crying and were vaguely aware of the flashes of photos being taken but you didn’t care. You pulled away with wide smiles, “This is Mark Jr,” your son squirmed in his seat and you lifted him out and let Mark pick him up.

“Hello there,” Mark smiled, fascinated as his son moved in his arms happily looking around at all the new faces and excitement of the crowd.

Mark Jr wriggled and reached out to grab at Mark’s face, pressing his baby hand against Mark’s cheek and giggling. “Hi,” he said shyly, one of the few words he could now say and understand. Mark grinned and laughed in delight and happy tears filled your eyes as you watched them. Your family was together, finally united at last.

***

“And your jump?” he asked.

“Short,” you parroted with a smirk, noting the upturn in the corner of his lips. The C-47s had been so low and so fast you barely had enough time to register the prop blast before your feet were touching the ground. “Come across any Germans?”

“A few.” He didn’t elaborate. “Command’s got about 5 or 6 POW’s down the road.”

You frowned, “We were told not to take any prisoners.”

Speirs nodded, “Mhm.”

The two of you smoked the rest of your cigarettes in silence, the first calm since you got word of the jump. The calm before the storm.

Before long Compton drifted into camp then soon after Liebgott, it was a great relief to see that at least some of your guys had made it. They sought you out quickly and Speirs drifted away into the barn serving as HQ, you watched him go with mild interest, Speirs seemed like someone you could trust and from what you could tell you had just formed something resembling companionship.

The landings could be heard overhead and more guys drifted in. A few more from easy but most from other companies, everyone was itching for a fight and to see some real action. After that Winters found camp with more familiar faces, Guarnere, Lipton, Toye and Malarkey. You were beyond glad that these would be the men by your side.

Winters led you all on an assault team to take out the German guns firing on the beach, you followed behind Winters through the trenches. Your heart lept into your throat when Malarkey ran out to try and get a luger. Toye almost lost his life to a grenade twice. Popeye got shot. Nothing could have prepared you for the constant spike of adrenaline but you pushed that to the back of your mind and focused on shooting your gun at the enemy.

Halfway through Speirs arrived with some dog company men and a resupply of ammo. “Mind if dog takes a shot at that next gun?” he asked Winters.

“Go ahead,” Winters gave his consent. Speirs nodded, flicking his eyes and noticing you there, he gave you a small nod as well before bounding out of the trenches as his men followed. You and easy watched with awe and horror as they ran, exposed, to the next gun as bullets licked their heels and only lost two men. Within minutes the next gun was down.

Soon their objective was complete and you were on your way back, adrenaline coursing through you and your spirits high as you remained unscathed from your first combat battle.

Back at camp, safe behind the lines, you were working off the high. Your stomach was empty and your hands were shaking, not from fear but from the comedown of all the stress in the past 24 hours. The other guys were walking round trying to dig up some food supplies and any ammo they could find, they would be moving into town soon.

Speirs walked over you and it took you a moment to notice his presence, “Smoke?” he held out his pack and you gratefully took one and lit it up. This seemed like it would become a bad habit rather quickly.

He lit his own and watched you inhale the first lungful of smoke, “Watch out for yourself,” was all he said before he turned around and disappeared into the crowd.

You turned your head and caught sight of Malarkey looking at you with horror, “What?” you frowned.

“Are you crazy?”

“What?”

“Taking a smoke from Speirs?” he hissed.

“Yeah?” you still didn’t see the issue.

He pulled you to the side, eyes wide as he looked to make sure you were out of earshot, “When we were coming in we past a bunch of POW’s, I was walking away and walked last Speirs on his way in. I didn’t see it, but I heard the gunshots.”

You looked at him incredulously, “You’re saying Speirs shot the POW’s?”

Malarkey nodded eagerly, “I heard from some private that he handed out smokes first.” You took this with a pinch of salt, the boys were the biggest gossips you knew but you did remember Speirs mentioning the POW’s. It didn’t seem likely but it was possible, whether he did it or not didn’t matter - they weren’t allowed to take prisoners, they had to do something with them.

“Maybe,” you settled on which seemed to please him.

“C’mon, the guys are scrounging up something for me to cook for dinner,” he slung an arm around your shoulders as you walked to meet the others.

“God help us all,” you teased.

—

By now most of the company was back together. You were layed back with your hands behind your head and your eyes closed listening to the guys complain about the food and enjoy the downtime after taking Carentan.

“Berlin by Christmas that’s how I see it,” More said with confidence.

“Yeah, you’re full of it,” Malarkey countered.

It was a nice dream but the army’s plans rarely went well.

“Oh god this kraut cheese- it stinks!” Muck struggled to find an adequate word for how bad it tasted.

“So don’t eat the cheese,” you cut in without opening your eyes.

“Bread’s stale too,” Penkala added mournfully, the bread you had been able to stomach but the cheese had been a step too far.

Muck reached over you, “Gimme that.” You opened your eyes and squinted in the sun that beat down across the courtyard.

“Yessir, the way we came into town and took over?” More continued as if the others hadn’t gone off on one, “You know it don’t seem like Jerry got much fight left in ‘em.”

“Hey More, don’t get hit in the face when Jerry throws in the sponge, alright?” Malarkey teased. You noticed Blithe had been silent for the whole ordeal, he was in some state of shock it was clear to see and you just hoped it didn’t get him killed.

More shook his head, “You mark my words, Mal; Berlin by Christmas,” he insisted.

“Enjoy it while it lasts,” Speirs appeared out of nowhere, startling even you. “We’ll be moving out soon.”

“Out of town, lieutenant? Already?” More asked and you slumped your shoulders, it had been constant movement for days.

Speirs nodded, “That’s right,” he replied flatly, giving you a small nod as he moved.

“Don’t they know we’re just getting settled here?” More grouched, Speirs turned back to look but said nothing and soon walked away again.

Muck threw his bread at More, “Nice going, groucho.”

“What?”

“Real smart. You know, you’re taking your life in your own hands. Ain’t that right?” Muck nudged Don.

“I told you, I didn’t actually see it.”

You rolled your eyes, back to the POW story.

“What, Speirs shooting those prisoners or the sergeant in his own platoon?” Penkala asked, grabbing everyone’s attention. Even you sat upright at this new piece of gossip.

“Sergeant!?”

“What! I didn’t hear that!”

“Wait, wait, shot one of his own guys?”

Penkala nodded, “Well, supposedly this guy was drunk and refused to go on a patrol. Who knows if it’s true..”

It probably wasn’t. You didn’t know Speirs well, had only shared a few smokes, but you didn’t think he would shoot his own guy (at least not without good reason).

“Well I know a guy, who said an eyewitness told him Speirs hosed those prisoners.”

“Why? What for?” Blithe asked, startling you a little.

“On D-Day. Speirs comes across this group of kraut prisoners, digging a hole or some such, under guard and all,” Muck dived in, even if you didn’t believe the hype you could admit he was one he was one hell of a story teller. “He breaks out a pack of smokes, passes them out. He even gives them a light. Then, all of a sudden, he swings up his Thomson and,” Muck made a noise of a gun being fired rapidly, “He hoses them. I mean, goddamn he gives them smokes first!?” he cried.

“You see that’s why I don’t believe he did it,” Muck settled back, you were inclined to agree.

Malarkey shot him a look, “Oh you don’t believe it?”

“I heard he didn’t do it,” Penkala offered.

“No, no, it was him alright,” More countered, “But it was more than eight guys. More like 20.”

You knew that tidbit of information was wrong, Speirs had said himself before this all apparently took place that there were 5 to 6 POWs. You didn’t speak up, you let the guys have their fun gossiping.

“Hell of a shot.”

“All except one guy, who he left alone.”

At this you snorted, “Yeah. Sure.”

“What you don’t think he did it?” More asked.

“Course she doesn’t,” Malarkey piped up, “She’s taken smokes from Speirs before.”

The guys rounded on you, firing question after question over each other. “He offered his smokes, I’m hardly gonna turn that down,” you defended. “Look, I don’t know what the rumours say but he doesn’t seem all that bad.”

They looked at you like you’d sprouted a second head.

“Well all I know, he took that last 105 on D-Day all by himself, running through MG fire like a maniac.”

“Now that I did see,” Malarkey clarified and you nodded in agreement.

They kept talking but you tuned them out, trying to rest your eyes as much as possible before you got called out. Your eyes were shut barely a minute when you got the call to assemble, you were on the move again.

—

You didn’t see Speirs much after that, the different companies and difference in rank kept the two of you apart most of the time.

When you were eventually pulled off the line and back to England you had almost forgotten the smokes you had shared amongst the chaos of battle. You were promoted to sergeant which made you feel elated, it was more responsibility and you’d have to deal with replacements when they arrived but you didn’t care.

You were billeted with an older couple back in England, the street was small and quaint but what was shocking was that Speirs was billeted in the house next door. Now you ran into each other frequently, it became a kind of ritual to go outside and share a smoke in the evenings. You had been right, smoking had become a bad habit of yours.

The first few nights neither of you said much but soon you began to divulge more. Talk of home, letters, the battles you had taken part in so far, where you thought you would be sent next. It was odd friendship but you got on with Speirs spectacularly, it was a shame he wasn’t in easy company.

Word of your friendship didn’t get loose, it wasn’t forbidden but as the rumours about Speirs escalated, and you realised he privately enjoyed such things, you realised that letting on that he had something akin to a soft side wouldn’t win you any favours.

—

Bastogne was the coldest place you had been. Thick snow covered the ground and thick fog made it impossible to see more than a few feet in front of you. You had seen more friends did here than in the whole war so far.

You, Perconte, Christenson and a replacement named Webb had been ordered to stay in this position for another day before you caught up with the rest of the company. Behind you the guys were gossiping again, there was little else to do round here, you steadily ignored them and focused on organising the supplies you had been left with. The rest of the guys were walking past you to occupy their new position.

“Good luck ladies,” Guarnere taunted, winking at you.

“Been nice knowing you,” Toye chipped in.

“Wouldn’t drink too much if I were you.”

“Hey be careful if he offers you a cigarette.” You resisted the urge to roll your eyes, you had heard this story a thousand times in a thousand different ways.

“Who?” Webb asked in confusion.

“Lieutenant Speirs,” Christenson clarified. “The stories about Speirs are probably bullshit anyway.”

You hummed in agreement.

“What stories?” Webb asked looking between you all like a dog with a bone. “What stories?”

“Well, supposedly Speirs shot one of his own men for being drunk,” Perconte supplied.

That was partially true, but having heard that story straight from Speirs you knew it had been in self defence. He had also sworn you to secrecy on that. He definitely enjoyed the guys shitting their pants when he spoke to them.

“You’re kidding, that’s unbelievable!”

“It’s true,” you piped up quietly with a small smirk, not glancing up from your supplies, it was always a bit of fun to add fuel to this fire.

“Yeah and there’s another story about him giving cigarettes to 20 German POW’s, before killing them,” Christensen told the other story.

“He shot 20 POW’s!?”

Perconte nodded, “Actually, I heard it was more like thirty.”

You barely contained an eye roll at that.

“Christensen.” A voice called put from the fog as Speirs emerged, his voice flat and his face blank but he had no doubt heard the whole conversation.

“Lieutenant Speirs,” Christenson greeted, his whole body rigid.

Speirs crouched at the edge of their foxhole almost casually, “I got the name right, didn’t I? Christenson?”

“Yes, sir,” Christenson gulped.

You turned round to watch, the three men in front of you tense with fear. None of them were looking at you so you let an amused smirk slip onto your face as you watched, Speirs met your eyes for a split second and you were sure you were the only one who could see the amusement in them.

“What are you men doing out here?” Speirs asked, eyes boring back into Christenson.

“We’re watching the line, sir.”

Speirs nodded, pretending to mull this information over to prolong the torture. “Keep up the good work. While you’re at it you might want to reinforce your cover.”

“Told you,” you muttered under your breath but the guys paid no attention.

“Oh, actually sir, Lieutenant Dike said not to bother. That we’re only gonna be here one day,” Perconte jumped in.

You rolled your eyes at the mention of Dike, one day was enough for the Germans to shell the area and without reinforcements the risk of getting hit was even higher.

“Lieutenant Dike said that, huh?” he briefly met your gaze again, you had spent many a night complaining about Dike’s leadership when he first became CO and had you all marching textbook drills each day. “Then forget what I said. Carry on,” he stood up and the boys relaxed a bit.

“Oh,” he turned back like he had forgotten something and they tensed again, “Anyone care for a smoke?”

Their eyes widened and you could barely choke back your laughter. “You?” he asked Webb who looked scared shitless. He had definitely overheard them earlier.

“Don’t mind if I do, sir,” you replied casually, reaching past Perconte who was furiously brushing his teeth to pluck a smoke from the pack. “Thanks,” you nodded at him as you lit it up, sharing an unnoticeable smile with him before he walked off into the fog.

Christenson was staring at you wide eyed. “What?” you asked around your smoke.

“You- you just took it,” he spluttered.

“You’re crazy,” Perconte shook his head.

Webb said nothing, still quaking in his boots a little from his first interaction with the infamous Speirs.

“Hell, I knew you had a death wish signing up for this but Speirs?” Christenson shook his head in disbelief, “Something is definately loose in your head.”

Perconte nodded in agreement.

You smirked, “This is coming from the men who have jumped out of two perfectly good airplanes?” You shrugged, “Whatever you say boys.”

—

Never had you been more thankful than when Speirs came sprinting across that field to relieve Dike. Usually you were terrified when your friends nearly died but when Speirs ran across Foy you could only feel awe, something in your gut told you he would make it out alive. Which he did.

You didn’t have any time to talk to your new CO when you took Noville and Rachamps. The church pews were the comfiest bed you’d had in over a month, with the soft singing of the choir you were soon on your way to sleep.

Vaguely you were aware of Speirs sitting next to you, his presence a familiar feeling after all those nights in Aldbourne. You were too tired to open your eyes and actually engage in conversation with your friend.

“What is it?” he asked.

“Nothing,” Lipton replied.

“Well, I better get these back to battalion before they disappear,” Speirs stood up and you mourned the loss of warmth from your side. “You wanna ask me, don’t you.”

Ah, so it would seem even First Sergeant Lipton wasn’t even immune to speculation on certain officers.

“Ask you what, sir?” Lipton played dumb.

“You want to know if the stories are true or not. You ever notice with those stories that everyone says they heard it from someone who was there but if you were to ask that person then they heard it from someone who was there.” Speirs began talking about Romans and your mind was too tired to make sense of it but understood the sentiment - people have always loved to gossip.

“Well maybe they kept talking about it because they never heard Tertius deny it.”

“Maybe that’s because Tertius knew there was some value in having the men think he was the meanest, toughest son of a bitch in the entire Roman legion.” This confirmed your theory that he definitely did enjoy those rumours spreading.

“Sir? These men really aren’t concerned about those stories. I don’t think Y/N ever was,” Lipton chuckled quietly.

You could feel the gaze of both men but your eyes remained firmly shut.

Speirs gave a small smile, “Of course not. She knows I’d never kill a friend.”

It warmed your heart to hear Speirs admit you were friends out loud.

Lipton wasn’t shocked at the news, he’d guessed as much, though he was shocked to hear Speirs say it.

“What I’m trying to say sir, is these men are just glad to have you as our CO. They’re glad to have a good leader again.”

Exhaustion took you over and you fell asleep to Speirs’ soft voice as he spoke of everything Lip did for you all in Bastogne. The last thing you heard was he was being promoted to Lieutenant, you made a mental note to congratulate him when he woke up.

—

After Speirs became CO it was easier to see each other but it was hard to catch him at a time he wasn’t busy as captain or you weren’t busy with your squad.

Still, whenever you both had free time you took it to share some smokes. The guys still thought you were risking your life but the fear of Speirs had settled somewhat since he became your CO. They just thought you were a thrill seeker rather than just friends with the Captain, that worked just as well for you as a captain and sergeant weren’t exactly supposed to be friends.

—

The war was over. VE day.

There was still Japan which you would most likely get roped into, you had 80 points. But for now you were content to enjoy these celebratory days in Germany interspersed with basic training as you pushed an upcoming drop from your mind.

“Smoking without me?”

You looked over your shoulder and found Speirs coming out of the hotel he was staying in. Wordlessly you held out your pack for him to pluck one from. “When do you think we’ll make a jump on Japan?”

“I don’t know. 13th airborne are going straight away. Winters applied for a transfer, Nixon too.”

Your eyes widened, “Did it go through?” Winters may be a major now but easy company still needed him.

“I don’t think so,” Speirs shook his head and you sighed a little in relief.

You took a long drag of your smoke, “I have 80 points. Looks like I’ll be jumping in on Japan with all the replacements we’ve got in.”

Speirs nodded, “I have enough to go home.”

You froze.

You couldn’t imagine Speirs not going with you. It was entirely selfish and while the reasonable part of your brain told you to be happy that he could get away from it all the other half of you knew that the future looked grim if you, if the company, lost Speirs as its CO.

“I’ll be staying.”

Your entire body sagged in relief and you inhaled another lungful of smoke. “I’m glad.”

—

You were off to the sidelines watching the game, you had been batted out pretty soon in the game but you were more than happy to watch. Compton had returned to see you all, the distant look gone from his eyes, the boys were smiles all round. You were elated to see everyone so happy, particularly after Bastogne, you only hoped it last.

“Easy company! School circle!”

You ran over to join the men as they gathered in front of Major Winters who told you that the war in Japan was over. There would be no drop on Japan. No more death. No more battles. It was all officially over and you could all go home, points be damned.

The news shocked everyone into silence until laughs of joy began to break out, you were swept into hugs and handshakes. You even hugged Speirs but you didn’t think anyone noticed in all the commotion.

You were going home.

—

Speirs continued in the army to go career, that wasn’t something you ever wanted to do but you supported his decision. He was your best friend after all.

You kept in contact through letters, he fought in Korea and in 1958 he returned to Germany to be a governor of a prison. Though you didn’t see each other as often as you would have liked that bond still remained, you were ever grateful that you had asked to stick with him and shared a smoke all that time ago on D-Day.

***