This story is based chiefly on the Band of Brothers miniseries and the characters as they are portrayed therein, which are owned by Spielberg, Hanks et all. I have nothing but the deepest respect and admiration for the real veterans and this is not in anyway intended to portray them or their experiences.
It's the spring of 1946, and Babe Heffron has the sudden urge to go to California.
It's been almost eight months since he came home and longer still since the war ended, but he reckons he's settled back into civilian life well enough. Of course, it hasn't always been easy - New Year's was somewhat of a nightmare, the memory of Julian's death still fresh on his mind a year after it happened - but overall, he's happy. He's got a job, a place to stay, has even been out on a date or two. There's plenty of veterans around who are less fortunate, and Babe's well aware of that fact.
Perhaps most importantly, though, he's got his friends - the ones from the old neighborhood, but also the men from Easy Company. One of the first things he did once he'd arrived back was wander down to Bill's street where, sure enough, he'd found his old foxhole buddy out on the stoop playing dice with one of the local kids. They've been inseparable ever since. Besides Bill, he's seen Ralphie Spina and Joe Toye, and he's in touch with Gene Roe and planning to visit him in Louisiana come the summer; then of course there's the rumor that Lieutenant Welsh is getting married soon, and despite the difference in rank, Babe wouldn't think of missing his wedding.
(Free booze and a chance to see his buddies? No way he's passing up on that. He also just likes Welsh. Always has.)
Anyway, there's really no good reason for him to go to California. Sure, he's got some leave coming up (vacation time - he's got to remind himself to call it that, damn it), but there's so many other things he could be doing with it. He remembers how Chuck Grant used to tease him that he was welcome to come visit if he ever tired of the east coast snow, but winter has come and gone and Babe's endured everything the Philly climate decided to hurl his way. Christ, the cold had bothered him a lot less than he'd expected it to, and the possibility of warmer weather is really no justification now that the sun had come out again and all the parks were in bloom again.
Then why is he so tempted to borrow his Pop's car and drive across the damn country?
His mind veers back to Grant, and it dawns on him that maybe he's the reason he's so eager to get to Cali. (No, not like that. He isn't a goddamn broad and this isn't some sappy romance novel like the ones his sisters used to read.) Chuck has been a good friend throughout the war and Babe still shivers to think of what happened to him, the kindhearted sergeant with the warm smile and, despite his talent for card games, what has to be the shittiest luck in the world. He's been told that he's recovering as well as can be expected for someone who got shot in the head, but Babe has this nagging feeling that he needs to go and see Chuck for himself, to make sure he's all right.
Call it gut instinct or simple delusion - he can't seem to shake it, let alone explain it, so he does what he usually does in cases like these: he goes to the Guarneres for advise.
Somehow, Bill understands. Of course he does. The moment Babe tells him about it he exchanges a look with his wife across the table and gets up, skipping out of the room without so much as a word. (Losing half his leg hasn't slowed Wild Bill down in the slightest. No sir.) When Babe turns to Frannie, eyebrows raised, she merely smiles and asks if he'd like some more coffee, though she barely has time to pour it before Bill returns and tosses a weekend bag at Heffron's feet, staring at the younger man expectantly.
Babe sighs and picks it up, knowing better than to argue with Bill when he gets like this. There's nothing in the bag besides a spare Screaming Eagles cap - Bill's been hoarding them of late, and he's got plenty go around - and the unspoken message that he ought to give it to Chuck. He's told outright that he needs to get his ass on a train and though he'll have to travel alone since Bill's got some kind of work thing coming up, he'd better call when he gets there. Finally, as if on cue, Fran presents him with a tin of cannoli to take along for the trip and pats him on the cheek fondly- and that's that. He's going to California.
There's no denying the Guarneres.
So the next day Babe's on a train due west and wondering if he should have sent word ahead or looked up where Chuck even lives, but the Pennsylvania landscape is already rushing by at a steady pace and there's really no turning back now. To hell with it, he figures, leaning back in his seat and letting his eyes fall closed. It isn't long before his thoughts stray to another time, another place; a world away and ages ago and yet as vividly recalled as if it were only yesterday.
It was the summer of 1944, and he had just arrived in England.
I should probably note that this fic is entirely separate from my other WIP, Femme Des Ombres. Hope you enjoy it regardless - more to follow soon! Please read & review!