Disclaimer: I don't own any of this and mean no disrespect to the veterans the miniseries was based on. I was merely inspired by the era and the story as told by HBO.

Haguenau, France
1945

The medical scissors were gleaming by the sink. Standing in front of the cracked medicine cabinet mirror, Cate cagily picked them up. The lightbulb buzzed overheard as she pulled the cord hanging from the ceiling.

She trembled from the chill in her threadbare slip. Cate picked the spice brown braid off of her shoulder and worked the dull bladed end through the heavy strands. It came off at the base of her neck. Her bare feet growing numb from the bitter tile floor, she let the braid fall from her fingers into the sink.

So it was done.

She exhaled slowly as she finished with the layers around her face. The deadened pieces drifted to the floor. Cate tossed the scissors with a resounding clang into the porcelain sink and ran her fingers through her shorn locks. There were uneven strands framing her face like the toothed branches outside framed the dove grey sky. She felt grey.

"Cate?"

She shuddered out of her thoughts and glanced over at the door as Mira appeared. She was holding the letter. Mira's pinched face blanched as she surveyed what Cate had done to herself.

"Why?" The young nurse sighed, folding the paper.

Cate shrugged lamely, "You are holding the reason."

Before they had left, one of the doggies from the 79th Infantry had given her a brand new Army commissioned scarf. Cate tightened it around her neck as she walked, her steps hugging the jagged remains of the store fronts that lined the broken pavement. There would be plenty of noise if something was incoming from the Krauts across the river.

Cate smirked as she trotted over a puddle. It wouldn't matter if she was inside or out anyway. Nurses died as easily as soldiers did in a place like Haguenau. Over the past few months, she had seen colleagues catch ricochets from mortars out in the open and others crushed to death hunkered down in ruined basements. It was all the luck of the draw.

Turning the corner, she drew her gaze up from her scuffed boots. She had heard the trucks earlier in the day but hadn't realized who it was occupying the town. There were faces she knew in the crowd of men gathered around waiting to rinse off in the makeshift showers that had been erected. After hearing the whispered news from Mira that morning and seeing what she had done to her hair, the girls had tiptoed around Cate most of the day. No one had mentioned it was the 101st Airborne moving into Haguenau.

She blinked as her memory tore her back to those few months in England. Faces, names, ranks; all melded into a sunlit mesh of foliage green and white toothed smiles. There had been pints bought for her and the other nurses at the local pub. Mira and Joan were the most popular with their brazen New York City attitudes. Catie Doyle from New Hampshire, unsullied and friendly, was considered ideal wife material. However, it soon became clear that she hadn't joined the Nurse Corps to snatch a husband.

Aldbourne, England
May, 1944

"A nice New England Catholic girl like you over here to tend the wolves?" Private Skip Muck had teased sitting down beside her at the bar, "Doesn't make much sense. How did your parents take it?"

Catie grinned down at the brimming, golden pint of beer, "Well, my mother wasn't too keen on it."

"How about your father?" Don Malarkey took a seat on her other side and leaned against the cherry wood bar.

"My father is dead actually."

An awkward silence descended. Skip shifted uncomfortably and looked towards the dart game commencing nearby. Don nodded and met her eyes thoughtfully.

"Don't worry," Catie brushed the cotton sleeves of her blouse down to her wrists with a causal shrug, "I barely remember him. It was polio when I was two years old."

Cate scanned the crowd of men, dreading it was the 2nd Battalion of the 506th. The men were in rough shape. She could only guess the slice of hell they had been handed since those honeyed days in Aldbourne. Ragged shells of men who looked like they had been living in gutters for months, they milled towards the steaming tents sucking on their cigarettes and gritting their teeth.

That was when Cate recognized Sergeant Lipton beneath his grimace and shadows of exhaustion. The gentle faced officer wearily glanced in her direction. Cate carefully pulled away, ducking back from the street and setting her back flat against the building.

"You still haven't said why you joined? Boyfriend over here or something?" Skip had stirred and turned back to their conversation, arching an eyebrow in Don's direction.

Cate shook her head, "Nothing that interesting. My three older brothers enlisted and I had hoped to be close to them. It's that simple."

"Where were they stationed?"

She took a sip from her beer, "The Pacific, of course. They all fought at Guadalcanal."

The men grew silent again.

"Not a scratch on any of them," She took another swig from her beer.

"They must be some tough bast- … men." Skip Muck commented, rubbing the back of his neck and facing the room.

"They are like my dad, at least that's what my mother has told me. He fought in the Great War in France. He was gutsy to say the least."

"Sounds like you take after him a bit as well, Catie Doyle." Don Malarkey motioned the bartender over, "Otherwise you'd be home taking your ma to mass right now and not having a pint with us in England."

Catie brought the glass to her mouth. She considered the red headed Private for a moment until he turned his attention back to her with a tentative smile. Catie's eyes fell as she set the pint down.

Cate surveyed the street leading to where they had been quartered. It was far enough away from the river to avoid the sights of snipers but they occasionally had to take cover below the splintering staircase when bombs fell. Danger had become so common place, she didn't shudder anymore when the vengeful explosions shook the earth.

Only a few of the men in clean uniforms, their damp hair steaming in the cold air, ambled out into the street. She didn't recognize any of them. Cate kept her head down, covering her frayed brown waves with the scarf. Her eyes on the ground, she barreled towards the stairs leading up to their apartment. She took a deep breath through her nose as she climbed the first couple concrete steps.

"Excuse me, miss? Nurse?"

She froze. Swallowing hard, she stopped but did not turn.

"Yes?"

"I'm looking for the Aid station, you wouldn't happen to know where it is?"

She knew his voice, though it was coated in gritty exhaustion. There was an edge to him that had not been there before when they had met in England. Of all the people to happen upon her in Haguenau, of course Don Malarkey would have to be the one. Cate sighed, her breath turning to diaphanous plumes in the musky twilight. She turned and peered down at him.

Don was altogether a different man from the one she remembered. He took an astonished step up and stopped, laying his gloved hand on the rod iron railing. His mouth dropped slightly as he ran his fingers over his wet hair. There were heavy lines on his brow, a vacancy in his hickory brown eyes and a thick layer of ruddy scruff lining his jaw. Moreover, his shoulders seemed to bear an unseen weight. She refused to muse why.

"Catie Doyle?" He gaped and made a move to take another step up but stopped when she visibly pulled away, "How did you get here?"

"We were moved with the 79th Infantry but ended up staying behind after they left." Cate tugged her scarf slightly down her forehead and let her gaze drop to the ground, "I'm not sure when we are getting moved out."

"But I- we haven't seen your corps since England."

"Yes, we were deployed soon after D-Day," Cate nodded and looked back up at him.

"I remember you were gone when we returned." His voice dropped off at the end as though recalling the moment, "We didn't know they would send you off so soon."

One pint was enough. Her heated blood thrumming with the first alcohol she had ever drank, Catie and her friends were escorted back from town by a few of the troopers from Easy Company. She shivered beneath her navy blue, rayon princess coat, one hand twisting a coin in her pocket. She absently tried to remember if it was called a sixpence or shilling.

"So these brothers of yours, they wouldn't happen to be big guys, would they?" Don asked, walking in pace beside her as the others hooted and hollered down the lane ahead.

"You could say that I suppose."

"So are we talking six feet tall? A little over?" He bumped her shoulder with his, glancing over amiably.

"My eldest brother James is six foot and five inches."

Don let out a low whistle, adjusting his cap, "I'm scared to ask about the others."

"James is the tallest. Though Patrick is the brother right above me and he was the burliest offensive tackle our high school ever saw," She joined in on a chuckle with him.

"So it's safe to say most of the guys in your hometown were scared to ask you out for a soda."

"Yes," Catie rolled her eyes as he sped up and walked backwards to face her, "But to be honest, there were no boys I wanted to get a soda with. We grew up in a very small pond."

Don nodded seriously, looking down the country road towards the village, "I can understand that. After all, what do those guys from New England have on us pioneers from the wild Northwest?"

"Quit trying to impress the girl, Malark. I'd hardly call Astoria, Oregon the frontier." Joe Liebgott barked from nearby, his arm around Joan's slender shoulders and a half smoked cigarette hanging from his generous mouth.

"Shut up, Liebgott." Don replied without looking over.

"To be honest, I didn't notice the guys because school was too important to me. I joined the Nurse Corps for more than just trying to be close to my brothers." Catie cupped her hands in front of her with a half nod.

"What is that then?" Don pressed, walking beside her once more. Their pace slowed.

Catie let out a nervous laugh as her voice dropped, "Well… there is a medical school down in Pennsylvania that accepts women."

"Medical school?"

Catie nodded, her cheeks tingling as a blush ran up them, "I want to become a doctor."

Don was quiet a moment, "Well… that's something."

"Did I just offend you? Or terrify you?"

"Neither actually. I'm just very impressed." Don studied his shoes.

"I know it's kind of a pipe dream. If my mother knew, she'd probably faint dead away. She has her heart set on me giving her plenty of grandchildren." Catie bit her lip to stop her babbling.

"I think that's what most Irish Catholic mothers expect, mine included." Don offered, "But why can't you do both? Have a family and become a doctor?"

Before Catie could answer, she was struck silent as he reached out for her fingers. His hand was warm as he grasped hers completely.

"I don't see why not." She managed, trying to organize her fuzzy thoughts.

Cate breathed in sharply as a high pitched whistle cut through the quiet, early evening. A shell from across the river came sailing into the ruins of the city. Her mouth dropped open as she backed up a step. Don moved quickly.

"Get low!" He shouted, pushing her up the rest of the steps into the outcropping of the doorway.

The two of them crouched down. Don shoved Cate into the corner, his back facing the street as the shell hit the building across the street. With her arms knitted over her head, she peered past his shoulder as the chimney and roof tiles cascaded down onto the road. A jeep that hadn't had a chance to stop skidded out of the way just in time and harmlessly into a wall of sand bags. After a moment, Cate relaxed as no more shells were fired.

She let her arms drop with an audible exhale. Don crouched, his arms resting on his knees as he rubbed his face with the heel of his hand. Cate looked up at him. His hands were trembling slightly. His face lifted. Even in the shadows, his exhaustion was clearly more than just physical. His weariness penetrated to his heart. It was almost palpable.

Impulsively, she reached out and took his hand as he had taken hers all those months earlier. She rubbed her thumb over his worn knuckles.

"I wish I had been able to tell you goodbye before we left for Europe." She whispered, meeting his eyes with a sad twinge around her mouth.

"Me too." He nodded.

The moment of vulnerability faded and the edge he had acquired returned as he let go of her hand and stood. He walked over to the edge of the step and looked over at the wreck of the jeep, the driver wandering away from it bewildered by his luck. Cate pushed herself to her feet.

"Do you have orders for tonight?"

"Not until later," His shoulders visibly stiffened at the memory.

Cate stood next to him. She inhaled and looked up into the water colored horizon. Shades of coin grey, heather and mauve poured into the river water in the distance.

"Could you meet me here in a half hour?"

Don snorted and glanced over at her in the half light. The side of her mouth lifted slightly as she shrugged.

"I can try. Why?"

"I'll see you back here then." Cate turned and walked into the building.