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.
England
Summer 1944
"You know he has a sweetheart, right?"
Lucille stirred, her eyes jerking down to her black heels. She noticed a run in her stocking at her ankle and winced, sitting hard in the chair directly in front of Ruby. Gingerly, she tucked the unseemly tear into her shoe.
"Did you hear me?"
"Yes, I did." Lucille narrowed her eyes into Ruby's disapproving glare, "I already knew it."
"This isn't going to end well."
Ruby's tone wasn't as much judgmental as it was wary. Lucille blew a stray strand of poker straight hair from her face as she sat up. She didn't reply, rather idly rifled through her purse for her lipstick.
"Do what you want," Ruby grunted, throwing a withering stare towards the dart game in the corner, "I don't want to see you get hurt."
"I know what I'm doing, Ruby." Lucille snapped without looking at her, "Please stop acting like my mother."
Ruby pulled her chair closer, "Look at me, Lucie."
Rolling her eyes, Lucille did as her friend requested.
"Whatever he has told you, I'm sure it all sounds very nice. But you need to be realistic." Ruby reached out and grasped Lucille's hand, "Still, whatever happens, I will be here."
"To say that you told me so?" Lucille smirked.
"No, to help you pick up the pieces if necessary. You would do the same for me." Ruby tucked a strand of jet black hair behind the shell of her ear, her eyes the color of syrup in the dim light of the pub.
Lucille's nodded with a faint smile, "I appreciate that."
Her gaze trailed over Ruby's shoulder. One of the uniformed paratroopers sneaked up behind her friend's chair. Lucille let go of Ruby's fingers as he knelt down beside the table.
"How lonely you ladies look over here," Corporal Donald Hoobler exclaimed, his boyish grin bringing a light shade of rose to Ruby's high cheek bones, "I can't imagine what any of these morons could be thinking leaving you on your lonesome."
"Maybe it's because I'm not interested in any of them." Ruby replied, reaching out and smoothing a thumb over his silver jump wings, "Where did you come from?"
"Busted through those last few soft jobs as fast as I could," He leaned forward and pressed his lips against Ruby's.
Ruby smiled, her eyes drifting closed, "Good thing too because I was just about to give you up for dead, Mister."
Lucille stood. The two of them had forgotten her presence; too wrapped up in the fling that had started two weeks earlier when the 101st had returned from Normandy.
"I need some air." She murmured without waiting for a reply as she made her way to the door.
She could feel his eyes on her as she passed by the dart game.
Stretching out her fingers, Lucille pushed open the front door of the pub and meandered out into the summer night. It was warm for England. She had become so used to the damp evenings. A tepid breeze raced along the lane in front of her, the towering hedges rustling in the dark.
Taking a deep breath, Lucille wondered what her mother would think of her decisions in the past week. She could hardly believe it had only been five days.
The door opened behind her; laughter, smoke and warmth rushing out briefly into the peace Lucille had been enjoying. He shut the door and paused a good six feet away. In the pitch night, the blackout silencing all light, Lucille could barely make out his broad silhouette. With one large hand in his pocket, he tapped the glowing end of his cigar.
"I wanted to make sure you were okay out here." He stated, his tone uneasy.
Lucille brushed the back of her fingers along her damp cheek. She hadn't realized that she had been crying. She was thankful there was no way for him to know it.
"I'm fine." She was relieved when her voice remained even despite the miserable ache in her throat, "It was just hot in there."
He brought the cigar to his mouth and took a long drag, "You seemed upset. Was your friend angry? I had gathered that she guessed what happened- you know, the other night."
"Yeah, I know." Lucille repeated, crossing her arms over her chest and kicking at the curb, "She doesn't want to see me get… confused."
"Confused?"
"It's nicer than saying hurt."
The lieutenant hadn't moved from the bar as his friends trudged towards the door. Lucille had shifted under his sharp blue gaze, looking down at her half empty pint. It had been her second and already she sensed the familiar lightness of the alcohol take hold in her veins.
"I have really enjoyed tonight, Lucille."
"Me too." She answered, feeling Ruby's inquisitive glance as she and Hoobler ambled past.
"Come on, you two." The bartender barked, running a damp cloth along the bar, "You don't have to go home but you can't stay here."
He was silent, his breath hissing with smoke, "I don't want to see you hurt either."
"Then please Buck, let's just call this whole week by its rightful name; a mistake." Lucille's voice cracked.
She cringed as he rapidly closed the distance between them. Lieutenant Buck Compton let the half lit cigar drop to the ground. He didn't even bother taking the time to crush it under his heel, rather cradled her face in his hands.
"Christ, Lucie are you-"
"Crying?" Lucille snorted, closing her eyes as he laced his fingers through her hair, "Maybe."
"If you like, you can come in for a night cap and a cigarette." Lucille bit her lip, her heart pounding as she stood with one foot on the front walk and the other on the step, "There is a radio on the back porch too."
They had only been innocently talking for hours now. After walking the quaint country lanes by the light of the full moon, it was almost one in the morning. She could tell he wasn't ready for the night to be over either. However, she felt his hesitation in the dark. He had a sweetheart back in California. Her name was Celia. The memory stung so she buried it deep. They had only been talking, nothing more.
Buck took a step backwards then paused, "Just for one drink. My legs are getting tired."
Lucille let out a relieved chuckle and opened the front door, "I'm not surprised. It's been almost two hours since the pub closed."
"Two hours? Christ, I hadn't even realized."
Lucille wrapped her fingers around the sleeves of his uniform, trying to gather the gumption to push away his hands.
He exhaled slowly, "Please don't be upset. God, it just rips me up."
"Why did you come in for that night cap anyway?"
Buck shifted, "I thought it was because I was lonely."
"Wasn't it? Loneliness?" She breathed.
The soft glow of the radio shone on the floorboards of the small back porch. The fluid tones of Glenn Miller's 'Moonlight Serenade' poured over them as smooth as the unfinished glasses of whiskey on the wicker table.
He unhooked one of her stockings and peeled it down her thigh. She could hear the faint sound of lovers' laughter drift down from Ruby's room where she and Hoobler were cozied up. If anything it drove her need for Buck even more. His breathing grew huskier as she pressed herself into his solid form. He kissed her hard.
"I thought it was at the time," Buck reasoned slowly, lifting his face, "But then after that first night-"
"Buck, you can't possibly know what you are feeling right now." Lucille pushed his hands away, "Loneliness, guilt-"
"Love?"
Lucille's train of thought stopped cold, "What are you saying?"
"I'm saying what if what has been happening between us is more than just a cure for loneliness?"
"Is that what you will tell her when you write to California to break it off?" Lucille couldn't help snapping. She took a wide step back, roughly rubbing her cheeks with the heel of her hand, "Don't talk to me about love until you can without guilt."
Buck's dark figure was motionless. Shaking her head, Lucille strode down the lane away from him into the starless night.
It was four in the morning but Buck Compton still hadn't slept. Lucie was curled up next to him under a worn yellow quilt. Propping his head up on his hand, he reached out and brushed the veil of coffee brown hair over her shoulder. She hadn't told him but he knew it had been her first time. Why she had chosen to share it with him was beyond his understanding.
Celia had been with him since they were freshmen in college. Things had become strained before he left for training but they had been doing better since he had arrived in England. The letters back and forth over the Atlantic were consistent and he carried the picture he had of them in his jacket pocket into combat. But there was more than just a physical distance growing between them. He could feel it in her words, in the very penmanship of her letters. His own heart had grown weary. He knew they weren't the same people they had been at 18.
Buck reached out and wrapped an arm around Lucille's waist, pulling her in to fit the cavity of his body. They knitted together so well, it was almost uncanny. Somewhere out in the trees beyond the open window, the purr of a dove was rising as the light shifted to grey. Dawn was close. Closing his hand on the curve of her hip, Buck slept soundly.