I would like to state that I do not own HBO's Band of Brothers nor do I intend any disrespect. I am basing this story on the HBO mini TV series.

Please keep reviewing, I love hearing what you think about the story. Good OR bad. Suggestions are always welcome!

Big thankyous to: Volleyball Babe22, Aleciaa, gothique4, bayumlikedayum, pianoplayer.

Previously on 'Angels with Dirty Faces'

When the shelling finally stopped, Babe climbed out of the foxhole to check the damage. The cry for medic had stopped, and it was all silent. Crawling off of Rose, George could see that she was still in shock. When Perconte came over to let them know that Skinny had been hit in the leg and taken to the hospital in Bastogne, Rose looked down at her hands which were trembling.

'He's my buddy..' was all that she said.

I will be your hope

when you feel like it's over

and I will pick you

when your whole world shatters

Not Alone by Red

Chapter Twenty-Six

George had managed to get Rose up and moving after hearing the bad news about Skinny. The radioman poked and prodded, nagged and joked until she had finally lost her temper with him and stalked off to find someone quiet to sit and think. Her head was pounding, all she could think about was Skinny and how he had screamed…and screamed and screamed. She felt guilty for not being there with him…to help him. It should've been her in that hole.

She was so engrossed in her thoughts that she walked straight into Muck who was pulling his rosary beads out of his pocket.

'Oompfh…watch where ya go…' peering under her helmet, Muck grinned, 'oh heya Rosie.'

'Where you goin Muck?' she asked curiously, glancing down at the religious beads clenched tightly in his hand.

'The priest is coming round to do Mass.' He said, looking closely at Rose's drawn face. 'hey, you wanna come with me?'

Rose had never been very religious. She had been to Church as a child and her parents were Anglican but she had never had any time for religion. She didn't think she believed in it.

'Why do you go Muck?' she asked, curiously, needing a reason to go.

He looked thoughtful for a moment, and then smiled.

'Well…people go to church for lotsa reasons Rosie. Some for appearances, some for community. But for some, it's a matter of true faith.' He said seriously.

'The simple fact is Rose, that life is hard for most people. The soul can take such a battering…especially in this hell hole.'

Rose nodded, enraptured with his words.

'I guess, for me…' he said, rubbing the shiny beads between his fingers. 'I come away from church with something more than what I went in with.'

Rose stared down at the white snow by her feet, her eyes glossy with unshed tears. For so long, she had felt like every bullet she shot, she was losing a part of herself. She felt with every friend that was killed, it was like she'd lost her spark; that irreplaceable thing that made her who she was. Maybe, if what Muck said was possible, she could start to put herself back together again.

'Rosie?' Muck said, taking a step towards her uncertainly at seeing her distress. She looked up and smiled weakly.

'Lead the way'

Feeling a little nervous as the service started, Rose found that her trepidation melted away as soon as the priest started prayer. She couldn't understand the latin that he was speaking but there was something so soothing about his voice, that kneeling in the cold snow, Rose found herself whispering a prayer for her friends; her brothers. As the priest blessed the small gathering in front of him, the men stood up

'Fight well for God and your country. God bless you all. Stay safe.' He spoke, looking at the men in front of him sadly.

Muck turned to Rose and smiled.

'Well, if we're gonna die now, we'll die in a state of grace.' Rose laughed, but it wasn't all that funny. There was something eerily prophetic about the way Muck had stated it, which put her on edge for the rest of the day.

Later that afternoon, Rose was standing behind George in the food line; not that you could class what they were eating as food. It was weighing heavily on everyone's minds that along with them having no ammo, nor winter clothing; their food supplies were starting to run out. They were being fed less and less each day. Along with the cold, an empty stomach had them all feeling miserable. Today, they were being given a small serve of stew that the cook had tried to put together.

Rose had her arms wrapped tightly around her torso, trying desperately to preserve her body heat. Her hands were shaking so badly, her food tins were rattling noisily as she waited her turn.

'It's cold.' Came a voice. Rose's head shot up and she looked around at the men with a glare.

'The next person who says that, will get shot.' Bill snapped fiercely from his place in line behind her 'for stating the fucking obvious.'

Some of the men started to laugh but Rose remained quiet. It was too cold to laugh..to talk. Chris it was too cold to even breathe. Rose couldn't remember ever being this cold in her whole life. As she sat huddled on a tree log, it started to snow. Bill and George's bodies were tucked in close to her on both sides of her and acted as a buffer to the icy wind; unfortunately, it did nothing for the cold flakes that fell from above. Suddenly losing her appetite, she got to her feet slowly.

'You shoul' finish that Rose.' Came a soft voice from behind her. Turning, she spotted Eugene sitting by himself, propped against a tree trunk.

Rose just shrugged at her friend and turned to walk back to her foxhole…she needed sleep. At least when she was sleeping, she didn't know she was cold.

'Rose!' she heard Babe's voice call from behind and she paused, letting the soldier catch up to her.

'Hey Babe' she muttered grimacing into the wind; it was like a razor through her jacket.

'Johnny Martin wants us for a combat patrol tomorrow morning.' Babe spoke through chattering teeth, his lips slightly blue. 'should be fairly quick and with minimal casualties.'

Rose swore, her teeth clenching on the cigarette dangling from her lips. Dike had been ordering him on patrols every couple of days. He never went on them himself, he was always disappearing; the NCO's could never find him. Rose personally believed that he was trying to dig to China to get himself out of Bastogne.

'Dike thinks he's found a German outpost that's been poorly manned.' Babe continued as they trudged towards their separate foxholes.

'That asshole couldn't find a snowball in a blizzard.' Rose said bitterly breathing into her hands, trying desperately to warm them.

Babe attempted a chuckle and they parted ways with a nod.

Rose slid into her foxhole. The silence and emptiness overpowered her, making her breath catch in her chest. Curling herself into a ball, she pulled up the thin blanket and pressed her body into the frozen hard dirt below her.

Rose had never felt like this before. The cold was like a disease, it crept its way through her clothes, into her skin. She could feel the iciness spread through her veins, until her very insides were cold. Rose tried to wriggle her fingers through her gloves but found that although she strained, her fingers didn't move.

Her head dropped lower and lower onto her chest, shivers racking her small frame. She tried to close her eyes, but it felt like her eyelids were frozen open. It was so much colder since Skinny was gone. Rose tried to remember what it was like to be warm. So warm that she was sweating. She could remember sitting in front of the fire at Christmas time with her brother, roasting chestnuts...they had gotten too close and had burnt their faces from the heat of the fire. Now, Rose tried to draw the heat from that memory and wrap it around herself.

'Flower?' she heard dimly through the fog of sleep that was overtaking her. Trying fight her way to the surface, she tried to look up but found that her body wouldn't obey her. It didn't matter anyway. She knew who it was. It was always him.

Rose felt a body slid into the foxhole next to her and she could feel the glorious heat George's body was giving off.

'I'm not going on the patrol tomorrow Rose.' George said glumly. 'I've been assigned to Nixon temporarily.'

Rose wanted to answer him, to turn to him and crack a weak joke about an office job but she found that her body wouldn't let her. It was like she was frozen in place. George turned to her, his mouth open to ask her why she wasn't being a smart ass, when he finally noticed that she wasn't okay.

'Hey…Rose, you're trembling.' He said softly, touching her cheek.

She dragged her eyes up slowly and tiredly to meet his.

'I can't feel that…' She whispered through cracked and frozen lips. 'I can't feel anything George...the only thing I feel is cold.'

'Oh Rose.' He looked down at her in sympathy.

'This cold is going to kill me.'

George cocked his head at her, 'It's too cold to die.'

'Too cold to die? Is that even possible?' she asked quietly.

'It feels possible.' George replied and Rose made a noise in the back of her throat that was almost a laugh.

'I'm so tired. oh god, I'm so tired George..'hating herself for admitting it

George slid over and wrapped his arm around her and pulled her close. She could feel heat radiating off of his body and she unconsciously pressed herself closer into him. He could feel her body shuddering from the cold. Pulling the coarse blanket up and over them, he rubbed his hand up and down her arm, trying to get some blood flow through. He didn't notice that he was whispering to her, soothing her.

Through the cold, Rose could feel George's arm around her, desperately trying to keep her warm and she could hear his quiet voice blending together.

'What are you saying?' she whispered, her words broken up by her violent shivering. George looked surprised, not realising that he had said anything at all.

'It was something that my mother told me when Dad died.' He spoke, teeth chattering.

Looking up at him and the haunted look in his eyes, Rose turned her head to rest it against his chest, her arms hugging her body tightly to keep the warmth in. She watched him as he got lost in memories and nudged him with her leg to let him know she was still there.

'When things are bad, we take comfort in the thought that they could always get worse. And when they are, we find hope in the thought that things are so bad they have to get better' he quoted quietly.

Rose just looked down at the small gold watch on her thin wrist, staring at the minute hands that were frozen in time. As she slid into an uneasy sleep, Rose's breath evened out and she didn't feel a hand creep over and wrap its fingers around hers. And with his thumb stroking her wrist, George felt himself drift into a light doze, a content expression on his face.

Slight movement against his chest jolted George out of his dreams. Looking quickly down at Rose, he could see that she was having a nightmare. She was muttering and her eyes were fluttering beneath her lids; her body moving restlessly from side to side. George could see that she was obviously in distress and placed a hand on her icy cheek, trying to wake her slowly. She yelped suddenly and flinched, tears streaming down her face. George just pulled her in closer and lifted her onto his lap, her face cradling into his chest.

'Rose...Rosie..wake up!' he shook her gently by the shoulders gently as she gasped and her eyes flew open wildly.

'JAMES!' she cried out, looking around frantically.

'Shhhhhh Flower. Its okay.' He murmured, his hand tracing circles on her back, trying to calm her.

'it was just a dream?' Rose asked, her voice raw with emotion.

'Yeah Flower...' he answered, hugging her closer, 'it was just a dream.'

Rose seemed to be oblivious of her position in George's arms; and he was just happy to sit there holding her. She looked to be deep in thought, her head tucked under George's chin.

'I miss him.'

She spoke so quietly, George almost didn't hear her. He had a suspicion that she wasn't even aware that she was speaking aloud. She never really spoke about her brother.

He knew that she was still half dreaming, but he knew that she felt the cold a lot worse than the rest of the men because she was so small. He worried that she wasn't eating enough; hell, none of them were but Rosie looked half the weight that she was when they'd left Toccoa. George's chest tightened at the thought of losing her to Bastogne, she was starting to fade away. He sighed and tightened his hold around her small body and they sat there in silence, George listening to her heart beat against his chest.

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