Beau.

Okay guys, I am back! I know I write way too many stories for Band of Brothers, so I'm working on putting some more chapters in for my Murdoch Mysteries story, and I'm starting a rough draft of a story for the Pacific, but I wouldn't expect anything before Christmas...

I don't own anything, just my story, and the image is of Margaret Sullavan, because in my head, she looks like my character.

Aaaaanyway, read, enjoy (hopefully) and review!

As I lay, dying in the freezing cold, I saw my life flash before me. My best times, my worst times all fluttered by in my mind.

Blood dripped from my nose and mouth. It gushed out of my chest, and around the splinters that protruded. My breathing became raspy and I knew I was going to die.

I was going to die, in a strange place, in a whole other world, with my head on the lap of someone I'd known for mere months, surrounded by the faces of those I'd know only a few years. I knew I was going to die for real this time.

I could feel my eyes slip, as Doc Roe picked the splinters and chunks of wood out of my body.

"I never thought I'd die twice..."

"We never thought you'd make it up that damn mountain when you just turned up at Toccoa, but you did. Yo can make it through dis too." Roe panicked, as I coughed blood up once again on to Hoob's arm, as he was slapping my face trying to keep my eyes open. I remembered my old life, as Johnny put me on the front of a jeep, before everything faded into darkness.

You know, dying really does inconvenience you. I mean, one minute, you're doing all the things you like, with the people you love, the next minute, you wake up in a whole other world, with strange faces, and you haven't even been thought about being made yet.

"Molly-Anne Beauclaire, hurry up or we go'n be late god-dammit!" My Southern mother shouted me from the bottom of the stairs.

"I coming mum!" I called back, hurrying out of my bedroom, almost tripping over the wrap I had with my dress and my large bag. We were in Louisiana for my cousin's wedding and we were going to be late if I didn't get my bum moving, and we couldn't afford that because we had to catch a flight home right after, so I'd have to bring my bag with my make up and stuff like that in it with me. I had to wear my grandmother's dress from when she was a kid, because my family insisted on wearing old stuff to every important event in our lives. My dad, a Shropshire born author, was waiting in the car and my mum was outside the door.

"C'mown honey, we go'n be late!"

I rushed out of the house, across the road to my dad waiting in the car. But I didn't see the car coming down the road. The last thing I heard was my mother screaming my name, as I tumbled into oblivion.

"Hey Doc, you think she's okay?" someone said. I cracked open my eyes and everything was wobbly, so I shut them again. Even the words sounded bleary.

"Yeah, I think, looks like she's go'n ta'ha' a real bad headache though." another voice replied, as my vision started to clear.

"Ohh, that's the last time I go to a fucking wedding." I groaned, lifting myself up off of the itchy wool beneath me. Rubbing my eyes and gazing at the curious faces, I knew I wasn't in the hospital. The room smelt of men and sweat, and I knew I was the only girl there without opening my eyes.

"Are you alright miss?" another voice asked. I opened my eyes once more and found myself face to face with a tall, red-headed man.

"Uh. Nope. I don't think so..." I replied holding my head.

"Ma'am how did you get here."

"How should I know? I didn't even see the car that hit me..." and then it dawned on me. "Holy crap on a cracker, I'm freaking dead!"

The three men in the room with me, shared a look of utter disbelief.

"Come again ma'am?" the first voice asked. I turned to the man it came from. He was taller than me, but not taller than the red-head. He had brown hair, a cigarette between his teeth and a worried look on his face.

"I was going to a wedding... and I got hit by a car.."

"You were getting married? You look kinda young.." He asked, still frowning.

"No you idiot, I'm 17!"

"Oh... so.. you got hit by a car?" he asked.

"Yeah... I know it's strange... but its true..."

The three men nodded and I stood up.

"So... where am I anyway?"

"Camp Toccoa ma'am."

I frowned. Toccoa? I'd only heard that name in my books and one of my dad's dvds. Easy company had trained there before they went to war. And that was in 1942.

"Oh my sweet baby Jesus... I died and ended up 70 years in the past..." my eyes opened wide at the three men stood before me. The three men looked at me like I'd just run over a puppy.

"Now ma'am I don't think that's possible..."

"It's the truth I swear!" I protested strongly. "My name is Molly-Anne Beauclaire, I was born in Shropshire, England in 1994 to Martha Mary Beauclaire and Jonathan Wilkinson, and I am not a liar."

The red-head looked at me with a thoughtful look, before shouting outside caught his attention. The two other men winced at the yells, and gave me one last look before they left the cabin.

"You should stay here. I'll figure something out for you." he said kindly, turning to leave.

"Wait! Why can't I stay with you? I mean, I can help out I guess.. my mum was a doctor." I pleaded, standing up at the side of the bed. He looked me over, thinking and that's when he tossed me a small uniform from the corner of the room. He said he'd wait outside while I changed.

The uniform was a little too big for me. I had to roll it up on the arms for it to fit me properly. I walked out and met the red-head again.

"What do you know?"

"The basics... I know all the bones.. the arteries, where to find the veins in the arms... how to dress different wounds..."

"You'll do as a medic then. You're 17 right?"

"Yes."

"Don't you think you're a little... young?"

"Well I know that and you know that, but they don't." I replied, nodding to the men stood smartly in their ranks.

He smiled slightly, and told me to stand behind him.

"My name is Richard Winters, by the way. Call me Dick... I'll go talk to Sink later, to see if you can stay with the company." he smiled before he turned around to face the front.

I could feel all the eyes on me, and I hoped that no one would say anything. But I could hear someone whispering to my left. Another red-headed soldier was talking to his friend in front of him, looking at me a lot.

"Hey, Skip, what's a girl doing here?"

"How the hell should I know Don... I heard Luz and Doc Roe brought a kid back from the woods earlier... maybe that's her." the guy addressed as Skip replied.

"Oi, I can hear everything you're fucking saying. Learn how to whisper arse-holes." I hissed glaring at them. The guys around me looked shocked, that such a small young thing could use language like that.

"17 years old with language worse than Liebgott, Jesus Christ." the first guy in the hut with me said.

"Get used to it. I'm your new medic."

Before they had a chance to react, a shout pierce through the air.

"You people are at the position of attention!"

Oh Lord this guy was so anal! I winced as he went by everyone, criticizing their equipment, although I couldn't personally see anything wrong with it.

"Private Perconte, have you been blousing your trousers over your boots like a paratrooper?"

The soldier said no.

"Then how do you explain the creases on the bottom of your trousers?"

I could see the guys brain turning, before he finally replied, "No excuse sir."

He carried on his little rant, until he came to me.

"Name!"

"Beauclaire, Molly-Anne."

"What is a girl doing in my company?"

He bent his head closer to me, our noses now touching.

"I'm the new medic sir."

The guy sneered at me. This must have been captain Sobel. Arse-hole extroadinare. He looked me up and down, raving on about Currahee and how I'd never make it up the mountain.

I leant to the side, so I could see the mountain behind him. Oh holy crap.

"I think I can make it sir." that was a lie. But he didn't know.

He moved off, and went on about how he wouldn't take any of us to war. Then he said we were running Currahee.

"Second Platoon fall out!" Dick shouted, "Molly-Anne! Hoobler!"

"Sir?" I said, standing nervously. Another soldier waited by my side.

"Yes sir?" he asked. He was tall, and had a sweet accent that reminded me of my mum.

"Hoobler, I want you to look out for Private Beauclaire here."

The soldier called Hoobler studied me for a moment, before he beckoned me to follow him.

"So, you're the medic, huh?" he quizzed, uneasily.

"Yeah..." I replied, just as uneasily.

"What was your first name again?"

"Molly-Anne... What's yours?"

"Donald. Donald Brenton Hoobler, but everyone calls me Hoob."

I smiled at him, to try and relieve the tension between the two of us.

"That's a nice name."

He half scowled at me, not knowing what to make of me.

"Hey, there's no need to look at me like that... I was just trying to be friendly..." I replied with a scowl of my own.

"Private Beauclaire! Here! Now!" Sobel screeched at me. I trotted over to Sobel with a grimace. I thought Hoobler would have gone ahead without me, but he waited around, out of Sobel's sight.

"Sir?"

"How old are you Beauclaire?" he demanded.

"Uh.. 17 sir."

"You're jail-bait Beauclaire, and if I catch you trying to mess around with my men, you'll have hell to pay."

"Sir I wouldn't dream of going near your men, I'm mature enough to-"

His hand connected to the side of my cheek with a sickening noise. It was so sudden, forceful and unexpected, that it knocked me to the floor. I could feel my hot blood snake down my lip, as my cheek swelled and bruised.

"You're a child. And if you so much as act in a manner I don't like to think of the consequences. Now get up and change into your P.T gear."

I scrambled to my feet with a 'yes sir', hurrying in the general direction of where Hoobler was. My cheeks burnt, not helping the fact that my left cheek ached from the slap I'd gotten. I sucked on my bottom lip, not wanting anyone to see the blood. Hoobler seemed to have noticed something was wrong with me, probably seeing the tears beginning to well in my eyes. But he didn't say anything. I though it was because he didn't really want to be friendly with me.

"Hey Hoob, where you been?" one guy called, as we both entered the room. It went a little quiet as I stepped in behind him.

"I got told to look out for Beau' here."

Beau? I though, looking behind me.

"You, you idiot..." he told me, suppressing a chuckle and smile, as he pushed me into the room.

"But that's not my name..."

"Beauclaire's too long." he pushed me over to a bed in the corner of the room. "This is my bed, so I'll be here to keep an eye on you."

"What for? I'm jail-bait, no point in me trying to sneak out to see someone..." I muttered, trying to keep it under my breath.

"What?"

"Nothing."

"Don't lie kid."

"I said, I'm jail bait, okay?" I replied, chewing the busted part of my lip harder. He didn't push me further, which I was very thankful for. Over in the corner, I saw the two guys who'd been talking about me earlier.

"Your name's Molly-Anne, right?" I nodded.

"Well Molly-Anne, welcome to Toccoa... eh.. sorry about earlier..." the red-head introduced himself as Don Malarkey. He shook my hand, before he left the hut to join the rest of Easy company. I was a little nervous about changing in front of all these older guys, and Hoobler who had an eye for people with discomforts, stood with his back to my back, so no one could see me. Maybe this guy was okay after all.

"You done changing Beau?"

"Yup." I replied, walking in front of him. Thankfully, the P.T uniform was loose, so no one would quite see anything.

"Good. Come on."

Almost as quickly as he had become friendlier to me, he became hostile again. I sighed, thinking I'd never make a friend here. I despaired at the thought of going through this alone, wishing I'd never pleaded with Dick to let me stay.

The moment I set foot at the bottom of Currahee mountain I groaned, thinking how much of an idiot I'd been in saying I'd make it up.

"I'm going to die..." I breathed, defeated even before I'd got anywhere near the top.

"Just don't think about it." Another Southern voice said from beside me. I knew it wasn't Hoobler, because he wasn't going to be friendly with me, and he was on the wrong side of where the voice came from.

The voice was softer, sweeter and kinder than the other guys, although Malarkey, from when I heard him talk seemed okay. Looking to my right, I set my eyes upon a sweet looking guy, with tanned skin and dark brown hair, with hazel eyes.

"It's kinda hard not to..." I moped, like the mardy teen I was.

"Well, if it helps just hum along to a song you like... it's how I get through."

I smiled at the man, who introduced himself as Darrell C. Powers. Or Shifty, as the guys called him.

"I'm Molly-Anne." I gasped, pushing myself up the mountain.

Suddenly, Sobel began hollering things, horrible things to people. God knows why. He quickly moved to me.

"Beauclaire, get your jail-bait backside to the front, or I will personally throw you out of the Airborne! You aren't fit to be here! You don't deserve to be here!"

I bit my lip, the pain coming back to my cheek as he raved at me. But I pushed and pushed myself, and soon enough, I was at the front of the company, putting a great distance between me and the men. I wasn't going to let him think I shouldn't be there.

I swallowed hard, biting back all the sick that I wanted to throw up from the sudden pick up in my pace. Sobel continued to hound me all the way up, much to my dismay. I dug my nails deep into the palms of my hands, drawing blood. I didn't care, it helped me block out the yells of 'whore' and other colourful words he found to call me.

When I got to the bottom of the mountain, I thought I was going to die. Again. I wheezed my way back to the billet I was in, trailing after some of the other guys who were in the same hut. Someone appeared at my side, but I was too knackered to look up and see who it was.

"How'd you get that nasty bruise?"

"Do you really care, or are you just worried that you'll get a bollocking for not watching out for me?" I gasped for air, as I neared the hut, Hoobler by my side.

"What makes you think that?"

"Well one minute you're okay, then the next, it's like I'm the worst person on the planet."

I looked up at the older man, as he scowled at me, again.

"See, there it is again. The look." I sighed.

Reaching the billet, the room became, once again, almost silent, save a few voices, muttering and occasionally looking at me. Hoobler once again, shielded me from view and I changed back into my original clothes. Some of the guys scowled at me, as I picked up my things from my time and made my way to the door.

"Where are you going?" Don asked, putting his shirt on.

"I know when I'm not wanted. Good luck... you're going to need it later."