The Silence
"Pain is the overwhelming emotion of losing." –Unknown
Nat woke up in an empty room.
There was nothing.
Only a window, displaying a sweet June morning. The blue was a slick with cloud whips, while tree's swung about with lush branches.
There weren't even curtains on said window.
Nat stirred, her legs kicking uncomfortably under the thin sheets of the room. She moaned, blinking, her head pounding and her ears ringing. Something felt off, and as Nat reached up to rub her face, she screamed.
Her vision went red.
Bandages were sprawled across the right side of her face, matted and blood soaked. She took a deep breath and went to go sit up, yelling out in pain again. Nat tore at the sheets on her legs, now realizing her dress, torn and bloody was nowhere to be seen. She looked down, surveying her underclothing.
She felt naked, and exposed, and in pain.
So, she did what any of girl would do. She began to cry.
She cried for her mother and her father and the bar and all of the other things that had gone wrong. There were footsteps, and the door flew open. Swallowing and sobbing slightly, Nat jumped as she felt a hand on her back.
"Shhh, mon cheri. Il sera bein," the voice was deep and low and comforting. Nat continued to cry, watching more soldiers appear in the doorway. Their boots clattered upon the wooden floor as they watched her.
"They are calling you an angel," he whispered, "It is a miracle you are alive."
She turned to him.
He had dark hair and dark eyes and dark circles under the gentle orbs. His hands were strong. Used. Stained. They had a reddish tint to them, and as Nat's gaze lingered on him, she spotted the red cross on his upper arm. He was a medic. He was an angel, not her. He saved her. She knew it.
"I'm Eugene Roe. You can call me Gene, if ya' like."
Nat went to go wipe the tears from her face.
He grabbed her hands.
"Non, ne fais pas ça."
She looked at her hands and then sniffed.
"Oui," she croaked. She wouldn't touch her face. He didn't want her to worsen the injury.
"Lie down, belle femme. I will change yo' bandages. Yo'll be more comfortable."
He was gentle and helped her lie back down. Her blue eyes were glued to the doorway full of men who watched the medic with curiosity. Eugene ignored them. He held Natalie's hand and began to remove the bandages with his other hand.
There was a sudden clatter of boots in the hallway.
"Where is she? Is she alright?"
"George, calm down!"
It was George. He was standing in the doorway now, his brothers crowded around him. Nat only watched him as he pushed through and watched her.
There was a lingering stare and then Nat cried out in pain.
"Shhh, belle femme. It's alrigh'."
The medic continued to work, but this time, George was by her side. He was next to her, opposite of Gene. A few men stepped inside the room now, the tension in the air subsiding. She saw Edward, who was at the foot of the bed with Liebgott and Skip. She saw Webster clutching a small red book in his hands. She saw Bill Gonorrhea who was standing with some of the older soldiers. She saw the tall lanky man from at the bar, who was now helmet-less and donning a bright mess of red hair.
"George. Where are my parents?" she was panicked, terrified, skittish. George knew by the wavering confidence in her voice.
"I, uh, I'm not sure, Nat."
There were tears again. Nat was handed a handkerchief by Gene, who continued to work at the bandages on her face. She dabbed at her face.
"Did you kill the Germans?"
Soft laughter echoed in the room.
"I was being serious. I do not like them. They have ruined too much of my life."
"You're not the only one, sweetie," Bill frowned. The man next to him, the redheaded one, stepped forward and was followed by a shorter, darker haired man.
Nat winced again, and Gene apologized.
"I'm Richard Winters, and this is my intelligence officer Lewis Nixon," he paused, his hands wringing themselves, "We have taken Carentan successfully. So to answer your question, we did kill the Germans."
He stopped and Natalie nodded.
"Oui? Why are you not happy?"
"They will return. We have been ordered to stay here for as long as it takes to win this fight," Lewis Nixon picked up.
Natalie hissed.
"Thank you."
"Just doing our job, miss."
And they left.
The room was silent once more, and the only sound was the tinkering of Gene and his Medical kit. He put the scissors down, and peeled away the last bit of bandages. Nat winced and tried not to cry out in pain. George shifted on his feet.
"You got lucky, kiddo."
"I do not feel lucky."
"Well, y'are," Gene sighed, eyeing the lacerations to the side of her face, "The glass was all imbedded in ya'. I was surprised you didn't lose an eye."
Nat frowned.
"It is bad?"
Gene leaned back a bit, looking over the side of her face. Nat kept her head straight forward, blinking away tears,
"Oui. I am going to be honest," Gene muttered, "It is not going to heal completely."
"May I see?"
"Non."
George grabbed her hand, and that stupid smile was on his face again, "I think you look beautiful. Just a little cut up tha's all."
"That's all?" Nat's voice rose and the room shuffled awkwardly, "So it is not that bad, Eugene?"
"…"
"Gene is bein' a drama queen. You're tha' finest dame out there," Babe piped up, smiling.
Nat was glad Babe was alright. She had not seen or heard what had happened to him after the incident with the tank. She was just glad the redhead was alright, standing among the others.
Still, this did not make Nat feel any better. She did not want to be scarred. She moved, shifting her weight and sat up straight. The sheets were irritating. They were not soft. They were starchy and stiff and itchy. So Natalie went to get up. The room stiffened.
"Where is my dress? I would like to go down stairs, monsieur. I am uncomfortable."
George stood, tossing her a smile, "I'll be right back, dollface. I've got the perfect thing fah' ya."
And so, while Luz left, Gene ushered everyone out, and returned to his business, putting the bandages back on Natalie's face gently. It only took him a few minutes, gently taping small bandages on the woman's face. By the time he was done, the room reeked of disinfecting agent and George was back with a dress.
Gene collected his things, leaving the room quickly.
"Here," Luz smiled, offering a polka-dotted dress, "I found it. I hope you like it."
Nat sat up in the bed, taking it softly. It was a beautiful dress, with a bow around the waist and a light blue color painting it. She smiled up at Luz, laughing a bit.
"It is beautiful."
"Jus' like you."
"Non. I am 'cut-up'. This dress is not."
Luz laughed, "I'll let you put it on."
George made his way to the door, but stopped mid-step as Nat called out.
"Monsieur. I need help."
Nat did not care if he saw her. She was wearing her undergarments. Sure, it was unlady-like. But so was drinking and letting the soldiers be your friends. It was not like she was bare in front of him. She trusted Luz, so she wiggled into the dress quickly, before backing up to him.
"Can you tie the bow?"
Luz swallowed and nodded.
Quickly grabbing either side of the fabric, he tugged it back behind her.
"Tight enough?"
"Oui."
Luz pulled the two ends of the white ribbon together, letting his hands work quickly to tie a neat bow. Nat rocked on her bare feet silently, making Luz laugh a bit at her childish actions. Luz straightened the ribbon on her sides, making her straighten a bit. His hands resting on her hips, and the soldier was suddenly resisting the urge to kiss the blonde right then and there.
Nat froze. It was a different feeling. Luz had touched her before, of course. They had danced and he had held her hand and many other things but this was different. Her stomach dropped and she felt light and to be honest, she didn't like it. It gave her jitters, and her face was suddenly flush. She swallowed as Luz kept his hands there for a moment.
"Nat?"
"O-Oui?"
She turned her head a bit, catching a glimpse of his cocky smile out of the corner of her blue eyes. The blonde smiled back, calmed by the silliness of the soldier. Luz spun her about, making a funny face, causing the woman to laugh. He was humming now, most likely Sinatra, and spinning her around.
"You're the next Vera!"
"George, Vous êtes un idiot."
And so the two left the room, Nat trying to ignore the pain in her face from smiling.
