Disclaimer: I don't own Band of Brothers or anything relating to them and I base my fiction entirely on the actors and their portrayals.

But Emilie Ramos is mine, homes.

People I will never not have as a main character in a Band of Brothers story: Lewis Nixon. FYI.

...it's just so difficult when Em doesn't drink. I need someone. Also, I like the end of this one.

Two - Nixon

She's half-heartedly listening to Nix and Harry, because she's already trying to organize the files of her mind in preparation for the next step, when Blithe gets the concentrated bullet from a sniper's rifle. She surrenders her hands to the wound quickly the moment they pull him back but she can't do much good because she didn't actually keep supplies, just lists, and now she was beginning to realize that that was probably her first mistake. Her second was not realizing that Doc had shown up in the first place, and though he never looked at her when he'd growled out orders for her to move and let him work, she'd still been taken aback.

Later, she holds her blood stained hands away from her body, staring at the farmhouse but in all actuality seeing Blithe's eyes staring back at her and hearing the rumble of a Cajun dialect, livid with fury, in her ears.

"Hey, Ramos, been looking for you," Nix states as he pulls up next to her, and she knows he's there to tell her that they're moving out and she spares a curious glance his way.

"Dick didn't tell you?"

"Tell me what?" He asks, as she begins to fumble in her pockets, smearing Blithe's blood permanently on her uniform, which she registers as something harrowingly poetic, though it's gruesome and morbid, and later when she sees those stains she'll remember him as her first loss and the idea of it will always sting and not just because of him but because of a medic from Louisiana.

"I'm staying here. There's nothing for me in England," she replies, coming up with a flask, which she tosses his way, adding, "Next time you want to smuggle Vat 69 with me, I'd appreciate it if you let me know first." Nix is surprised she even had the flask, that she'd found it buried in her pack and that she'd kept it for him.

"That's funny," he takes a swig, comforted by the taste and the texture of the liquor as it snakes its way down his throat, "Thought I heard Speirs saying something about how Easy was your favorite." Her brow creases as he says this, because she couldn't imagine any situation in which he and Speirs would be interacting enough to have talked about her, because no one should be talking about her, anyway.

"I'm more useless on that island than I am in this country," she states and he unexpectedly pulls her toward him and she naturally lets her head fall to his shoulder as they're both staring at the farmhouse but he really has to go and she really should be finding another set of officers.

"I expect you to be right there waiting when I get back," he says and she's not sure if he's joking or if it's an order or if he just cares about her in all the ways that he shouldn't. But whatever the case, he's leaving and she's staying and she still can't quite see the farmhouse for the eyes and the voice that are overwhelming her senses.

"I don't believe it," Nix whistles, and she pulls at the reins, bringing herself and the horse around. She hadn't even noticed him, she was too busy trying to bring all the faces to the forefront of her mind and she kept thinking she was seeing people she'd left behind and it was like there was some sort of barrier standing in between her and all of them, because she'd run off with another division for a while and everything was more muddled and murky than it was before she'd left. And if she was honest with herself, she never quite got past the voice in her ear and she hadn't really slept in all the time since then.

"Nix," she nods toward him and he thinks what an awful shame it was that she was here because her face had none of the feminine glow that it used to have and instead was coated with dirt and grime and even a scar or two and the hair that once was hidden away and tightly bundled was now loosely tied together but falling down over her shoulder and he couldn't even be entirely sure that she was wearing the proper uniform because there were blood stains and dirt stains and rips and tears here and there and everywhere. But worst of all, she hadn't even offered him any sort of smile.

"I hope they always shoot you in the head, your head's too thick to penetrate," she mutters, though, and he grins at her because she's leaned over the horse to find the pocket on her leg and she's got a flask again and he doesn't have any idea how she manages that all the time. Her lips twitch, though she doesn't exactly smile but she does roll her eyes because she hadn't gotten to express her displeasure at him slipping it back into her pocket as they stood outside the farmhouse. Other officers she'd met weren't as okay with her carrying around a flask of Vat 69, regardless of whether she drank it or not.

"You heard about that?" he takes the flask and it's not long before he's got a pile of papers, too. "Where'd you get the horse?" The question makes her wince.

"Technically, it's the property of any U.S. Army runner, so I did not steal it," she answers, patting its neck because it was a pretty good ride and she didn't think she'd made a wiser decision in all her life.

"Are you AWOL right now, Ramos?" He asks, eyeing her lanky, grimy frame that didn't fit with the horse's shiny, solid coat.

"Point me toward Dick?" She lifts her brow and Nix wants to pull her down from the horse because he's sure he'd be a lot more imposing if she were shorter than he was, but instead he points her in the proper direction. "Besides, you're the one who told me to be here when you got back."

He can't help but smirk as she gives the reins a tug and is off again.

"Hey," he states, quietly, but she jerks awake anyway, silently cursing herself for falling asleep half bent over her knees because her body wasn't what it used to be and she was exhausted in every way. She doesn't notice until his hand touches her shoulder that he's really there because she'd woken up to his voice so many times since the farmhouse that she just assumes it's her mind playing tricks on itself though really she should have realized this time because the tone wasn't angry but soft instead.

"Don't you know everyone's asleep?" she asks, and her voice is rough and not at all like he remembers, but though she's war torn, the face is still the same one he sees in his mind standing on the airfield just before D-Day and something about that seems to make his hands a little steadier.

"Heard you were back," he offers when silence has encased them again and she shakes her head.

"Think you got that backwards, Gene." It's more like a whisper than anything else because she doesn't know how to reconcile the real Gene with the ferocity of the Gene inside her head.

"Yeah," he looks up toward the open night as she looks down, her fingers curled into her helmet. "Yeah, I guess you're right." And here he wonders what could have happened to her between the time he'd seen her last and now that could make her the way she is and she thinks that, if anything, things had only gotten more uncomfortable but she'd take it over not seeing him at all because there was something about Eugene Roe that she couldn't quite put her finger on.

"How's the ankle?" He asks, and it takes her a minute to even register the question because she's long since forgotten about the swelling and the constant dull ache of it.

"It's just a sprain, Doc," she replies, but they both know it's not getting any better though she had genuinely tried what with stealing a horse and all.

"Even if you lie to yourself," he begins, locking eyes with her for the first time, "Don't lie to me." And something about him in that moment lets her begin to reconcile the two Genes because, really, they were the same person and even if she was taken aback and haunted by one the other was still there.

For the first time in what feels like years she sleeps heavily, with the soft tones of his voice soothing her the whole time.

She spends most of her time in Dick's room, so that's she's on hand whenever he needs something taken somewhere, and when she's not there she's roaming through the men, trying to re-familiarize the faces and learn the new ones, but, really, she spends a lot her time sitting with Doc, though neither of them talk to one another and eventually it seems she spends the whole of days with him because Dick's gone to Paris and Nix is in England and there's not much to do.

Gene doesn't mind, though, because it lets him study her as she studies everyone that passes and at least this way she's not running around and there's no pressure on her ankle and he doesn't know why he's investing so much in her. All he knows is that sometimes, when the light is fading and the boys are disappearing from the streets, she'll look at him and smile a sort of half smile like she's not sure she's doing it and he finds that he likes the way it looks on her.

Done. I'm thinking I'll post every other day and be completely finished by next Thursday. What do you think?

Thanks for the reviews and the favorites and the alerts, y'all. I really appreciate them. :)

-Piper