Summary: Charise Raquin is posing as her brother, Micah, in the war so he didn't have to leave his family. When she gets moved to a new squad with a new mission, she thinks it's going to be routine-when in reality, it's anything but. Faced with new friendships, the death of a close friend, and her secret possibly being exposed; Charise has to decide if this is really the place for her-not to mention, she has to make sure Saving Private Ryan isn't the last thing she ever does.

Author's Note: I've been sick, so these will probably come out a bit slow Rate&Review please(:

Although at first it seemed that everybody was in a fine mood, the joking began to slow down and the company fell into silence. It seemed the severity of the situation-the fact they were in a midst of a war, and anybody could die any moment-weighed heavy on their minds. I knew it was heavy on mine, and the only thing that I could do to distract myself and make it seem okay was to think of Micah.

As much as I wished I had never enlisted by this point, I was consistent in reminding myself it was better me than Micah. I would get through this, I had already survived this far. Besides, we were on a rescue mission…we weren't going to get into any big, unnecessary battles, right? A company of eight nine would be target practice for the hordes of Germans I was positive were lurking about the country side, and I knew the Captain wasn't ignorant to this information.

I looked over at the rest of the men, they seemed weary and unsure. Gunfire could be heard in the distance, and a bit of a rumble resounded all about us. The sun seemed to have taken cover behind some clouds, leaving us to make our way along the dirt path by feeling rather than sight. I squeezed my eyes shut before looking up at the sky.

It seemed to be the only thing to remain the same the world over. Wherever you were, you could always glance up and see the same picture-the sun, a blue expanse that seemed to go on endlessly, and occasionally, fluffy clouds that varied from white to a dull gray. The thought calmed me-if it weren't for the surrounding noises and the heavy gear weighing me down, it would have been easy to imagine myself back home again. Shaking the thoughts from my head-I realized they were only depressing me-I turned my head and looked at the fast approaching silhouette of a town.

I licked my lips as the rain began to fall steadily, turning the formerly sturdy dirt road into a sea of mud. I managed to stumble my way through it, until we stepped up onto the road that was in shambles. Apparently, this was what was left of Neuville; it was clear the Germans had gotten here and taken control of the situation. Even though I had hesitations about pressing on, it was our duty as a regiment.

"Stay close, it's going to start getting dangerous," Horvath told me as we made our way through the city gates, and I gave a quick nod.

Immediately, I started to tune in on the noises-there was a German voice amplified through a loud speaker, still some crackling gunfire echoing around us. There was a group of soldiers I couldn't faintly see a bit off, and some French voices. Seeing as my mother is French, I had learned the basics of the language when I was younger; she said something about not wanting to lose my culture, or something like that. I concentrated on their words, trying to translate.

"Les Americaines! Les voila!" Americans, over here.

We pushed forward, creeping up incase the soldiers were in fact Germans. I followed along behind Mellish, and as we crept up to the main wall-which was, in fact, partially demolished-I crouched down to take cover, listening once more.

"Iis arrivent! Iis viennet nous sauver!" They've arrived, They've come to help us…I believe that's what they'd said. After a moment, a man's voice was added in.

"Nous sommes la! Viens par ici!"

Although I couldn't understand everything they'd said-I was a bit rusty with the language, after all-I definitely understood the call for help.

As we approached, the group of soldiers was more apparent, and in the darkness the accompanied the drilling rain, it was hard to tell which side they were affiliated with.

Captain Miller glanced around the corner, holding his gun, before returning to his former position so he was hidden from the soldiers. "Thunder!" he called out, hands tensed and an inch away from pulling the trigger…just in case.

In the split second before the answer, I saw how tensed up everyone had become-there was a chance we would have to fight again, and there was a possibility of losing another. However, as somebody called back "Flash!" they all relaxed noticeably. Miller pushed himself up, inching forward to the very edge of the wall. There was a bit of a gap between the wall we were behind, and those the other soldiers had taken cover near. There was a possibility we could be shot in crossing, so he must have decided it would be best to go a bit at a time.

"Upham, over there," Miller said, motioning towards the wall with the other men. "Reiben, Caparzo, Wade, Upham; you four go."

The men he pointed out across the opening, and as Miller motioned for us to follow, the rest of us also went on. We took cover next to the other group, some of us crouching down and some of us kneeling.

The sergeant in charge of them approached us, smiling a tiny bit-his face was weary, and he was clearly relieved at seeing us."Boy, are you guys a sight for sore eyes. Sergeant Hill, our relief showed up. How many are you?"

"Just nine of us," Miller said, before pausing. "We're not your relief, though. Sorry."

Hill frowned, clearly puzzled by the information. "What do you mean, sir?"

"We're here for a Private Ryan."

"Ryan? What for?"

"Is he here?," Miller questioned, the prospect of being done so soon clearly lightening his mood a bit.

"I don't know, maybe with a mixed unit on the other side of town. It's hard to get to. The Germans punched a hole in our center, cut us right in two. What's his name again?" Hill asked, looking about distractedly.

"Ryan. James Ryan. He dropped in with 101st," Miller answered, glancing around as well.

Hill turned to face one of the men nearby. "Goldman, get me a runner up here. Come on." He motioned for us to follow him forward, which our company did after receiving the okay from the Captain.

We stopped next to another sad excuse for a wall, glancing over it and towards a winding street. We all looked up at Hill, waiting for him to speak.

"We got stopped by some intense rifle action from the east ward. The Germans have been reinforcing two regiments all day. The streets have been quiet for about forty-five minutes-most of the German fire is concentrated towards the west."

"Who's on the loudspeaker?" Miller questioned, and Hill looked at him.

"That's 'Dagwood Dusseldorf', our friendly neighborhood morale officer," he replied, voice riddled with sarcasm.

Miller clearly was trying to listen in, and managed to make out a few of the words. "'The Statue of Liberty is kaput?' That's disconcerting," he scoffed, shaking his head a bit.

I glanced around, trying to see what the others were doing. I noticed some were having hushed conversations…and then, out of nowhere, Mellish. "Your father was circumcised by my Rabi, you prick!" I couldn't help but smile a bit as his words reached my ears, even if our current situation was rather serious.

I sat back against the wall, looking to my right at Upham. "You okay?" I asked, noticing he seemed a bit nervous. He nodded solemnly, saying, "Yeah. I'm just….just not used to all of this. I signed up and thought I would just be translating. Even if I went through basic. The theory of being out here, and actually being in the line of fire…it's a lot different," he said, and I could understand what he meant.

I never thought it would be this bad when I signed up. Clearly, I was wrong.

"Alright men, head to the east and take the long way around. But be careful!" Miller shouted, and we all stood up, beginning to head out along the winding alleyways.

It was rather silent again-it seemed hard to shake off the feelings of worry-but, leave it to Upham to attempt to start up conversation again. Clearly, the guy never learned.

"So, Reiben, where's the captain from?"

Reiben smirked, before looking back at him casually. "You figure that out, you got yourself a nice prize."

Jackson fixed his gun, a smirk tracing across his face as well. "Three hundred bucks, last I heard."

"You have a poll?" I questioned, looking at them disbelievingly. Didn't they have anything better to do with their time?

"Nothing else to do," Caparzo remarked, and I shook my head in spite of the smile that came to me.

"Five bucks gets you in." Jackson said, glancing from me to Upham.

"Somebody must know where he's from, what he did for a living." Upham pressed.

Horvath spoke up, saying, "I've been with him since Kasserine Pass, and I don't have a clue."

I was a bit curious now, why was the Captain so secretive? I could understand he didn't want his men to know his business, but if this many were in the poll-well, surely they were all annoying him to get the answer. Wouldn't it have been easier to just say it, and get them all off your back? That's what I would have done, anyway.

"Reiben…" Upham started up again. "…so you don't even know where he went to school?"

"Captain didn't go to school." Reiben mumbled as he followed Miller along the rocky, debris-filled path. "They assembled him at O.C.S. out of spare parts of dead G.I.s."

Caparzo leaned towards Upham, a bit of a smirk plastered on his face. "You have to pay attention to detail. I know where he's from and exactly what he did 'cause I pay attention to detail."

Jackson lifted his leg, exaggerating a step over some piles of rocks. "Hey, Upham…careful you don't step in the bullshit."

We continued onward, and came upon another wall. We crouched down as we went forth, and next to a gate, Reiben-who was, for the most part, leading us-peered through as some voices were heard. Suddenly, they cut off. "Thunder!" he called, listening closely.

Silence.

"Thunder, or we will fire on you!"

"Ne tirez pas!," the woman called out, clearly distressed and worried. "On est Francais!"

I turned to peer through the gate, and saw a tiny family situated on the second floor of a building. Part of the wall was blown away, and the rain was pouring down on them, causing them all to be drenched. A little girl shivered, held in her father's arms, and I felt a pang of nostalgia. She reminded me of my neice, part of the reason I was here.

"Upham," The captain's command brought me back to the present. "Tell them to show themselves."

Upham peered through the gate as well, and shouted out, "Montrez-vous! Montrez-vous!"

A man's voice called back, saying, "On n'est pas armes!"

The little girl began to cry, and I bit my lip. It was sad to see her like this-the entire family in this situation-but there wasn't much we could do. They called out to us, my splintered French not fully understanding them. The only one who did was Upham.

"Ask them if they know where the Germans are," Mellish said. Upham complied, waiting for an answer; but the man who I supposed was the father yelled desperately at us. Miller finally asked Upham, "What is he saying?"

"Something about the children, " Upham said as he watched them, trying to figure out just what they wanted. He lifted his daughter from the floor, holding her out over the pile of rubble that made it easy to climb up into the room. "They want us to take the children."

The captain groaned. "No, no, no. We can't take the kids."

Upham tried to reason with them in French, but they were dead set on getting their children to safely. Miller, on the other hand, had no such plans. Even though it was useless seeing as they didn't understand us, he continued to yell, "We can't take the kids! NO!"

It really hit home, seeing them in this situation…I knew that if I was in the parent's position, I would do the same thing. "Sir…" I began to speak up, looking at the Captain, "It's only because they think the children will be safe with us."

Miller looked at me, clearly unhappy with the fact one of his soldiers was siding with the French civilians over their superior. "They aren't!" he said, flustered, not knowing what else to say.

I was getting prepared to charge in there myself, when I saw a movement. Caparzo stepped forward, reaching up and taking the girl from the father's hands.

"Are you nuts? Listen to the captain!" Horvath roared, clearly outraged somebody had stepped out of line when we were in clear danger.

"Caparzo! Put that kid back!" Miller growled

Caparzo reached around his neck, balancing the girl on his side with his other arm. He held out his rosary to her, mumbling "It's okay…it's okay…"

"CAPARZO!" Miller yelled, his temper growing thin.

"Upham, how do you say 'It's ok?'" Caparzo asked, as he started to descend back towards safety.

"PUT HER BACK!" By now, I couldn't tell who it was; there was a chorus of voices yelling to him.

"I can't. She reminds me of my niece, sir."

I bit my lip, knowing that we were in the same boat. The fact that he was risking his life for some little girl made me think twice about my previous, harsh judgment of him.

"GET THAT KID BACK UP THERE!"

"Captain, the decent thing to do is take her down the road to the next town."

"We're not here to do the decent thing!" Miller yelled, marching over to Caparzo and snatching the girl out of his arms. "We're here to follow fuckin' orders!"

Caparzo tried to move after the captain, but then paused. He seemed a bit angry, but at the same time, was stuck between following orders and doing what he felt was right.

"Someone, take this kid!" Miller shouted again, thrusting the girl into the nearest pair of arms-which just so happened to be mine.

Just as the girl was in my arms and I attempted to comfort her, I heard a bullet whiz through the air. In shock, I watched as Caparzo went down, trying to walk. He fell against the crushed piano next to us and tried to hopelessly stand up. It was clear he was trying to make his way to safety-to us-but it just wasn't going to happen. I held back a flurry of emotions as he sank into the mud.