** GUARNERE POV **

I had to admit that I felt a little swell of pride when she took her place in formation to run Currahee that morning. I'd made the decision to run the hill because I saw the true conviction on Pat's face. I knew many of the men didn't actually expect her to show. They'd dressed and came out because they didn't want to face me if they didn't. Loyalty. All for one, and one for all.

Pat had been right about how worn out she looked, but the expression on her face when she saw us all standing there was kind of amazing… until I thought about the expressions on her face over the last few months. I overheard her telling Cobb that it didn't matter if we were her friends. Just that we were here. Wow. Had it been that bad? Yeah. We were jerks.

I stood back and watched when she took care of Malarkey during the march from Hell. I listened when she gracefully sidestepped the opportunity to gloat over him feeling better the following morning. She was trying. She was genuine. And she hadn't quit yet, despite all of the bullshit. I could at least respect that, even if I didn't have to like her.

And I didn't. I didn't have to like her. I could stop being a jerk to her and not like her. I could respect her and not like her. I could admire the way she went about her business without complaint and not like her. I could stand behind her in the plane, checking her equipment, and still not like her.

But how could I not like a woman who made me laugh when, on our first certification jump, she jumped out in front of me and started screaming, "Oh my God, Bill, we're flying!"

"You really do love this shit, don'tcha Chris?" I chuckled when we hit the ground, watching as she gathered her chute.

"Hell yeah! Don't you? What a rush!"

Before I could reply, Bull walked by, silently turning her so that she had less resistance as she gathered her chute before continuing on his way. She watched him go, and when she turned back to me, she pasted on a smile and tried to hide the sadness in her eyes.

"He'll come around, you know? Just keep doing what you're doing."

"I don't think so, Bill. Pretty sure he hates me."

"Oh, stop being so fucking dramatic!" I scolded. "Is he angry that you lied? Yeah. Is he hurt that you betrayed his trust? Probably. But that? That little gesture right there? That isn't a man who hates you. Look. I realize that none of us, including you, really handled this situation all that well. But it's just going to take some time. Jesus, Chris, have some patience with us! We spent a month telling embarrassing and crude stories in front of you without knowing you were a skirt! We're scraping our dignity back together here."

** CHRISTINA POV **

"Sorry. Got a little carried away," he apologized sheepishly as we walked toward the assembly area, but he looked relieved when I laughed and nudged his shoulder.

"Actually, I probably needed it. Thanks. You're right about the dramatics. I guess I'm just tired and grumpy. And even if half the company does hate me, there's really nothing I can do about it, is there?"

"That's the spirit, kid! To hell with 'em! I'm the only one you really gotta worry about anyway, because I'm the one in position to push you out of the airplane."

Four jumps later, I landed next to him and we popped our harnesses, still riding the adrenalin.

"You know what this means, don'tcha kid?" I didn't know what he was talking about. He was grinning from ear to ear at my puzzled expression and, at last, spread his arms out wide. "You just earned your wings."

The realization hit me. I'd been so busy worrying about everything else and getting through the jumps that when the moment came, I didn't even process it right away. I looked up at the sky, and down at my discarded harness. Then, I looked back at the smiling Philadelphian in front of me. His arms were still open. He waved me in as my eyes began to tear, and I walked into an unexpectedly tight hug.

"Listen, kid. Don't get used to this, okay? I'm just hugging ya because I'm glad I didn't have to throw you out of the plane or scrape you off of the ground."

"Funny. You're a funny guy, Bill. But let's be honest. You're just hugging me so that you don't feel so bad about copping feels during equipment check."

This time, I earned a belly laugh and he threw his arm around my shoulder as we made our way toward the assembly area to celebrate.

"You got some sass. I like that. Ya know, you're starting to grow on me, doll."

"Aww, Bill, that's the nicest damn thing anyone's ever said to me," I retorted, batting my eyelashes. "There's always been something about a man who talks about me like I'm some kind of fungus that just…"

"Yeah, yeah. Shut your yap."

The change in Bill's attitude toward me was a monumental step toward at least earning civility from a lot of the men. So much so that, that night at our party, I actually found myself seated in a group at Bill's table. Not everyone spoke to me, but it was a far cry from time spent in isolated corners trying not to be noticed.

Bill had just finished demonstrating his beer-swilling prowess by dropping his wings into a full glass and chugging it, catching the metal between his teeth. His comrades-in-intoxication were delighted by the feat, of course, cheering as though he'd just single-handedly delivered Hitler's mustache.

"Hi ho, Silver!" was his grinning war cry. I laughed and shook my head. "What?"

"Should've gone to Hollywood, Bill. You could've been Philadelphia's John Wayne. Do you know that? You've got at least that much swagger about you."

He puffed out his chest and straightened his shoulders a bit.

"You hear that, fellas? John fucking Wayne, she says. Told ya from the beginning that I liked this kid."

"Yeah, yeah," I laughed. "Don't let it go to your head there, Duke. You'll fall off your horse."

"Hey Bill, you think we're gonna have to put weights in BG's pockets to keep her from blowing out of the DZ when we jump?"

Donald Hoobler was a sweet, round-faced guy with a contagious smile. Although we hadn't really spoken until this party, he was one of a handful who had never actually been outright disrespectful to me, and now that we were on speaking terms, I found him impossible not to like. He was that childhood best friend who always led you off on adventures that you knew would get you in trouble, but you couldn't resist because you also knew you'd come back with a tale to tell. He actually seemed relieved that the embargo on pleasantries with the skirt had been lifted, perhaps because he had someone new to tell all of his stories to. When he leaned around Bull, who had yet to make eye contact with me, to ask Bill his question, I noticed a couple of sideways glances after he used a nickname with which I was not yet familiar.

"BG? Where did that come from?" He seemed to realize a slip of some kind, his face flushing crimson, and I immediately assumed that this had, perhaps, been some sort of holdover from when things weren't quite as friendly. "Or do I even want to know what that stands for?"

Pat, seated next to me, saw that I had assumed the worst and rescued Hoobler as he stumbled over an explanation.

"No, no. Nothing like that. It's nothing bad. Just a play on a nickname that one of the other guys had for you."

"Oh. So what does it stand for then?"

A chair scraped across the floor and Denver Randleman unfolded himself from it, clearing his throat uncomfortably.

"I'm gonna go get another beer."

Skip Muck, seated on my other side, waited until he had walked away before throwing a cigarette butt at Hoobler. Pat sighed and leaned back in his chair, but I could see the silent conversation he was having with Bill written in their eyes. Bill gave a slight shake of his head. Pat clenched his jaw and put his elbows back on the table, finally turning back to me as I waited for an explanation.

"It stands for Blue Green. It's just a play on your name. You know how it is. Eventually everybody winds up with a nickname."

The group seemed to be watching my face to see if I'd accept the explanation. It felt strange to know that something was so obviously being held back, but to not feel as though I could ask, so I just nodded.

"Oh. Ok. That makes sense."

The sigh of relief was audible, and Bill was quick to change the subject, grabbing George Luz as he walked by the table.

"I negotiated with Luz to get you a cut of his take, since nobody won the bet on when you'd quit. Come on, George. Give the lady her money."

"Sorry, Bill. No can do."

"What? Why not? She's still here! She got her wings! Nobody thought she would!"

"Actually, as it so happens, one of the first guys in put a month's worth of pay on BG's wings. Said there was no way he'd bet against her. I'd have settled with him here, but he said he needed to pick something up in town earlier, so I went ahead and paid out."

"Who the hell…?" Bill started to ask.

George winked at me and looked across the pub at a tall bar table where two men were stoically sipping their beers and surveying the raucous crowd. Joe Toye saw me looking that way first and tipped his glass in my direction. I smiled and returned the acknowledgement. Could Joe really have…? No. Well, maybe? But if it wasn't him, the second trooper at the table was… Denver Randleman…

Beside me, Bill spoke aloud the thought that I couldn't yet quite verbalize.

"I don't fucking believe it. He never told me that! I even asked him if he put up any money! He really bet on her to finish from the get-go?"

Luz, never shy about spilling other people's gossip, quickly confirmed whatever suspicion Bill had. I still wasn't completely sure which of the two unlikely suspects I was supposed to be amazed at. Frankly, I'd have probably been equally baffled at either of them. But he and George just carried on like I wasn't even sitting there.

"Yep. I tried to give him an out several times. Offered him a chance to change days. Even offered his money back altogether. I felt guilty for taking advantage, but he didn't even consider wavering. He said he was totally confident in 'Blue.' Once he gave her a nickname, I figured he was a lost cause, so I quit asking."

"Sneaky son of a bitch," was Bill's amused response.

Mine was a round of confused glances, to Bill, to Luz, and to the table where my mystery supporter stood. No one moved to explain. For once, none of them seemed eager to spill the beans. Doubt crept in a bit, but before I could demand answers, I was interrupted by the appearance of Colonel Sink at our table.

"At ease, gentlemen. And lady. Private Green, I just wanted to take a moment and personally congratulate you on those wings. You have truly proven that you belong here, and I look forward to witnessing your career as a paratrooper. Take care of her, boys."

The party lasted until most everyone was too tired or too tipsy to continue. I never got a better answer from anyone about the bet, nor did I expect to. The change of subject when Sink walked away was not exactly subtle. By the time we drifted out and back toward our barracks, I'd tried to convince myself that it didn't matter who the mystery man was. I didn't have time for butterflies in my stomach anyway. The point was that someone had believed in me from the beginning. Then I stepped into the officers' barracks that were still my home.

I stopped so abruptly that Nixon, deep into the Vat69, bumped into the back of me, exclaiming, "What the hell? What's wrong?"

I said nothing. Stepping slowly toward my bunk, I stared with new confusion at the neatly arranged offering that had been placed in the middle. Glancing back at Nixon and Winters, now behind me, they both shrugged as if they knew nothing. I looked back down.

The rose was beautiful crimson and still fresh and fragrant, its stem having been placed in water, using a canteen as a makeshift vase. I lifted it to put it on the adjacent desk and saw a piece of paper tucked underneath. The neatly printed message was simple and short, but it was more than enough to awaken those butterflies that I didn't have time for. Reading over my shoulder, Nixon chuckled and Winters patted me on the shoulder.

"Uh oh. Looks like we may be losing a roommate sooner rather than later, Dick. Now who am I going to try to sneak peeks of in their skivvies?"

I blushed and read the note again one last time before tucking it into the journal I always kept close.

"I knew when you begged Sink to stay here that doubting you wasn't an option. You are something special and I really am proud of you, even if I don't show it. Congratulations, Blue."