"Flawless Abandon, Irrevocable Surrender"
Disclaimer: I do not own 'Band of Brothers' – mini-series OR the book nor do I intend ANY disrespect to the real men of Easy Co. All that is mine is Grace Grant and a deep, profound respect for the real heroes.
I am certainly not going to make any excuses for my prolonged and egregious absence...but I absolutely adore every single one of you who are still with me. I appreciate your forgiveness for my self-imposed sabbatical. I have NO INTENTIONS of ever discontinuing this tale, I love it too much and I know how it feels to love a story you're reading only to have its author decide they're done. I won't ever do that. I re-read my entire story a couple times while I was 'off' and away for the holidays just to make sure I'm on the right track and I know where I'm going with this.
THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU to all who are reading and reviewing!
"There is neither happiness nor misery in the world; there is only the comparison of one state with another – nothing more. He who has felt the deepest grief is best able to experience supreme happiness."
- Alexandre Dumas, 'The Count of Monte Cristo'
She was following Chuck…it was cold and snowing…she didn't know where she was, for it was dark all around her save for the nearby trees and the crunching of dead pine needles underfoot.
"Where's Lew?" She called out, her voice sounded far away…like she was underwater.
Chuck didn't answer, he just kept walking ahead of her; Grace had to half-jog to keep up with him.
She wondered why she was so cold…she was shaking. She looked down to see herself exposed, completely bare and naked to the elements.
Initially horrified, Grace knelt down immediately, throwing her arms around herself to cover up her modesty. Shivering, she looked up…and instead of seeing Chuck, Ron was staring back at her lovingly.
Warmth spread across her pale skin, "Ron…", she whispered.
Ron smiled softly, erotically…then in a blur, lunged forward and grabbed her neck.
Gasping, Grace looked up pleadingly into his face….finding the large German Officer sneering back at her.
Jerking herself awake, Grace grabbed at her throat.
"Grace?" Ron softly spoke.
She looked to him, beside her in the jeep - catching her breath and casually dismissing her outburst, noticing his distressed expression, "sorry…it's alright…just a dream". She squeezed her eyes shut, pinching the bridge of her nose; she had only dozed off. Hearing Lip cough behind them, Grace shifted in the passenger seat, "you holding up ok, Lip?"
Lipton nodded, grimacing as his coughing fit slowed, "yeah, I'll be ok". He smiled in thanks as she handed over her canteen of water and turned back around.
The jeep skidded over muddy streets into the worn out town of Hagenau. The small town was nestled near a river; American forces occupied this side…Germans were on the other; the sound of the war was not far away. As they drove further in and past the trucks unloading the men, a mortar hit nearby, sending rubble trickling down a collapsed building.
Unflinching from another mortar blast hitting near them, Grace realized just how far they had made it into the war. She reached over stealthily and wove her fingers in with Ron's, keeping her face forward. Following Rechamps, a feeling of hope had flooded them all; they felt if they treaded carefully, they could live through this…they could experience life in a world without war.
"Here we are", Ron announced, squeezing her hand and pulling the jeep alongside a large, beat up building, "company CP".
Grace lithely jumped out of the jeep, turning immediately to help Lip out; he had gotten pneumonia and was slowly getting better…very slowly.
"You're too good to me, Gracie", Lip muttered to her. She smirked and shook her head, hooking his arm with hers.
"There are beds in there…with fresh sheets I'm told", Ron offered, "you should go and lay down, Lipton". His eyes looked to Grace, "I'm heading to the supply truck, I'll be back". Grace nodded to him, a soft smile on her lips as he quickly winked at her and walked away.
"'The Lieutenant and the Captain'…makes for a romantic sounding movie", Lip teased after a moment of silence as Grace snorted.
"Oh hush", she chided.
"Hey Gracie…Lip!" They both turned to George's voice as he bounded up to them. "Need a hand?"
"We always could, George", Lip answered.
"What's the craic, Georgie?" Grace asked as she followed him, Lip still on her arm, into the makeshift CP.
The three of them walked inside the large room, glancing around. A large grand piano sat to the left with a couple couches and armchairs decorated the rest of the room. It certainly had seen better days.
"You'll never guess who's back in town", George prompted, putting down a box of supplies. He turned to Grace, who was helping Lip settle down on the couch. "Good old Webster…back from the hospital".
"Really?" Lip inquired, his tone guarded. From above him, Grace turned to George and scrutinized his sarcastic expression.
George nodded, "yep…he was shooting his mouth off…asking about Skip, Guarnere, and Toye, where they were and such".
"Are you kidding?" Grace asked, incredulous that a veteran like Web would be so careless.
"Oh yes", George confirmed, unloading the supplies he'd carried in as Grace skipped out the door to grab the rest from the jeep.
Leaning over the back of the jeep, Grace reached for the remaining box of supplies.
"Lieutenant Grant, I can get that for you", Grace turned to Private Vest's voice, Ron was walking beside him.
Grace yanked the box out of the back and nodded to Vest who scooped it up, "thank you, Vest". He nodded and walked inside CP and she turned to Ron, "what are the orders?"
Ron shook his head slowly, "nothing yet…but I'm sure they'll want something from us again". His eyes bored into hers as he took a breath and a step closer, "you are the leader of second platoon…and if they call on us, they're going to expect second platoon to go…"
"And I'll be there to lead them…I'm perfectly capable of doing that, and then some", Grace assured, "even though the men could use some rest".
"I know", he agreed, sighing and looking over the war-torn town. His jaw tensed slightly and his voice dipped low as he whispered, "you are more than capable, that I know, I've seen you in action…" his eyes landed on hers again, "I just need you to be careful".
She took a breath as her heart skipped a beat, "I will be". Her eyes held a promise that he wordlessly understood.
Standing on the haggard streets of Hagenau, Grace felt the physical distance between them stretch further. She longed to touch him…have him touch her…their obligation and stance in the paratroopers prevented any real privacy; of course his seniority above her didn't help either.
She knew he craved her as well. Grace could feel it in his gaze, in the way his hand held hers tightly, in the way he kissed her…always more desperate than the last; privacy being hard to come by.
Ron wanted greatly to reach out to her. His heart constricting, knowing he could not…at least not here, he would have to make sure her room was beside his. He smiled softly at her face as they both turned and walked inside CP.
This was what their fleeting private moments had turned into: a few precious minutes, spent keeping their distance, and exchanging loaded and heartfelt promises and words.
Grace walked toward George, grabbing a blanket for Lipton off the top of the supply box. George winked at her, seeing Speirs follow in after her. Ron stopped in front of Vest, inspecting the box in his arms, before walking into an adjacent room.
"Hey…look who it is", George started, "nice digs, huh Web?"
Grace strode across the room, blanket in arm, to cover Lip up as she looked to whom George was speaking to…Webster stood in the doorway.
Web nodded, "Lieutenant Grant…Sergeant Lipton…you feeling alright?"
"He's got pneumonia", Grace clarified, throwing the blanket over Lip and sitting on the table in front of him.
"Sorry to hear that", Web offered.
George scoffed, "what are you sorry about? He's alive; he's got a couch, a goddamned blanket…snug as a bug".
"Yeah", Lip agreed, smirking at Grace.
"Uh…Sergeant Malarkey sent me over here…said to check with the C.O. to see if I should be in second platoon", Web said.
Grace looked over her shoulder at him and nodded, "I'm in charge of second…but have a seat, Webster…we'll get you situated".
Taking a seat by the piano, Web looked over to Lip, "how long have you been sick?"
Lip rolled his eyes as he handed Grace a few report papers, "long enough".
Vest walked back in, another set of boots trailing behind him, "is this the company CP for Easy?" an unfamiliar voice asked over the room.
Grace put down the papers she was reading, Lip shifted and answered, "yes, sir".
"As you were", the voice commanded, "Lieutenant Jones looking for Captain Speirs".
Grace looked up at the young, fresh-faced Second Lieutenant who's attention was solely on Lip. Amused, Lipton looked to her and she spoke up, "he's on his way, Lieutenant Jones…why don't you sit down?" He looked incredibly nervous to find a woman in paratroopers.
Jones nodded slowly, his expression perplexed, "uh, thank you umm…" he trailed off, obviously unaware of what he should call her as he walked around the couch, his eyes on her, a frown on his face.
Grace pointedly looked down to the bars on her collar, "…First Lieutenant Grant", she clarified.
"First Lieutenant Grant", Jones nodded, his shoulders stiff. He walked over, took his rifle off his shoulders, and looked to Web, "what platoon are you in?"
"Oh we're about to find that out", Web said, a smile in his voice.
Grace turned back to Lip who wore a wry smile. She sighed, "you know you should head to the beds before Ron gets back…he'll give you hell", she whispered.
About to retort, Lip stopped himself, looking past Grace, "Captain Speirs…this is Lieutenant…"
Jones shot up to attention from his seat as Grace looked over her shoulder.
Ron strode forward into the room, his eyes landing on Grace first then Lip near her. He held a large golden clock in his hand and his helmet in the other. Looting bastard, Grace thought sarcastically, a small smile on her lips as Ron cut Lip off mid-sentence, "listen, for Christ's sake will you go back and sack out…there's some beds back there with fresh sheets". Ignoring Jones, Ron turned to the piano, setting down the clock.
"I will", Lip muttered as Grace gave him an I-told-you-so smirk, "just tryin' to make myself useful".
"Listen up", Winters walked in then, Lew in tow, both their faces grave, "regiment wants a patrol…for prisoners."
Lew looked to Ron then to Grace, "this one comes straight from Colonel Sink so...it's not my idea".
Dick nodded and spoke to Ron and Grace, "since the river is the main line of resistance, we're gonna have to cross it to get to them."
Grace's heart fell a little…she knew there would be a patrol soon, she just wished it wasn't on their first night here.
"What do we need to do?" Ron asked dryly.
Dick turned to him, "there's a three story building on the enemy's side up the embankment…we know it's occupied. You can have fifteen men…think about who you want leading the patrol. We'll need a lead scout, a translator, and I've got the entire battalion on covering fire".
"When?" Ron flicked his gaze to Grace's contemplative expression.
"Tonight zero one hundred".
Ron nodded, "yes sir". He looked down, thinking…he knew who would be the best choice to lead the patrol…but his heart lurched at putting her back in the line of fire.
"Speirs", Winters called, "I want this to be as fool proof and as safe as possible".
Lew nodded, "yeah, don't take any chances on this one, we're too far along for that". He walked forward and spoke to Grace and Lip, "everybody doing ok?"
"We're grand, Lew", Grace responded, turning back to Lip, her eyes flickering to Ron and Dick in discussion.
Lew noticed the new Lieutenant then, still rigidly standing behind them, "who are you?"
"Lieutenant Jones, sir".
"Right…our West Pointer", Lew replied, walking over and looking his clean uniform up and down. "When did you graduate?"
"June sixth, sir".
Grace and Lip shared a knowing glance overhearing that. She could hear the exasperation in Lew's tone, "June sixth…of last year?"
"D-Day, yes sir", Jones said.
Lew let out an amused giggle, "alright…don't get hurt".
As Winters and Lew made to leave, Ron walked over to the back of the couch and leaned down against it; his eyes were tired as they searched Grace's face. She could feel the apprehension and exasperation rolling off his tensed shoulders.
From behind them, Jones spoke to Dick, "sir, I'd like to volunteer for the patrol".
Grace turned around discreetly and looked at Dick, who looked over Jones' form; his expression not amused, and then spoke directly to Ron, "Speirs…I'll talk to you in an hour?"
Ron nodded, "yep". He turned his attention to Grace and Lip, "we need to figure out who we're gonna send on this…we're a little short on officers…do you think a non-com could lead this?"
Grace set her eyes on Ron evenly, knowing he was trying to discourage any enthusiasm on her part, "I can think of a few options…" she offered, trying hard to understand where he was coming from in respect to how protective he had become over her.
Ron's eyes softened, thanking her, "Malarkey…Martin…"
"Grant", Lip added pointedly. Grace looked to him, her heart swelling in pride, knowing Lip was aware she wanted to lead the patrol. She turned her gaze back onto Ron, his eyes exploring hers despairingly. Lip continued, "honestly sir, most of the NCO's could use a rest".
"He's right", Grace murmured, attempting to impart her desire to lead this. She had had a rest, she sat out the siege on Novelle and Rechamps…the other men didn't have that luxury – it was only right that she lead…let alone that she was the platoon leader. By the resigned look on Ron's face, he knew they were right.
"Captain?" Jones called, stepping forward, "request permission to go on the patrol".
Grace clenched her jaw, looking up to Ron. "No", he said simply, his voice gravelly, "you don't have any experience." He sighed and stood up, "Grace?" He turned to her and nodded, "you're leading this patrol….tell Heffron, Ramirez and McClung they're going." He sighed, despising himself for having to put her in danger; he didn't know how to walk this line…how to love her yet lead her and expect himself not to have an emotional reaction to it.
"Yes sir", she replied, knowing by looking in his face that Ron didn't like the idea of her out on the front again. Grace pulled her bag over her shoulder, slung her rifle, and pointed to Webster, "uh, this is Private Webster".
Web strode forward, "yes, I'm Private Webster from first platoon, I just got back from the hospital and Lieutenant Foley told me to go to second, but Sergeant Malarkey said…"
"Fine, go to second…take uh…" he gestured to Jones, obviously having forgotten his name.
"Lieutenant Jones", Lip reminded him.
Ron nodded, feeling the room close in on him, feeling Grace's worried eyes on his face, "Grace, get to second and take Lieutenant and Webster with you…OP2".
Grace watched anxiously as Ron's eyes darted to the ground, avoiding hers. With a final square of his shoulders, he turned and walked outside.
Ooooooooo
Once outside, Grace turned to Jones and Web, "I know where OP2 is…stick close and follow me, the Krauts have been targeting moving objects all morning".
They stuck near to the buildings, rifles out. With every mortar hit and crack of an MG, Grace realized how green Jones was and how out-of-commission Webster was; they were both flailing and ducking with every sound.
"Are there any other officers in the platoon?" Jones inquired to Webster.
"Just Lieutenant Grant", Web answered, "she's the platoon leader…and Sergeant Malarkey who I hear is getting a battlefield commission".
"What?" Grace asked…she hadn't heard that.
ZIIINNNGGG
Knowing the sound of another mortar coming in, Grace pushed them forward, "they've got us zeroed, it's right over here".
"All clear! All clear!" a voice called out as the stopped beside a balcony leading to OP2.
She hoisted herself over the top of the stone railing, the two of them following right behind her.
Walking right into the building, she heard masculine voices from up the stairs. Taking the stairs by two, she came to a large room with bunk beds…all her men that were awake gathered around in groups, coffee in their hands, cigarettes on their lips.
"Hey fellas", Grace said softly, all of them greeting her in return.
"How's it goin' Lieutenant?" Heffron asked, a small smile on his lips.
"This taken?" Web pointed to a bunk.
Ramirez shook his head, "nope".
"Don", Grace said walking forward, gesturing to Jones, "Lieutenant Jones".
Don nodded, "Sergeant Malarkey, platoon sergeant".
Jones stuck his hand out, "congratulations on the battlefield commission".
Grace grimaced and turned to the one trooper who she thought was responsible for telling Web that lie. She knowingly looked back at Joe's smug grin, who sniggered with McClung and winked at her.
"What?" Don asked, perplexed.
"They're making you an officer, no?" Jones said.
Don looked to her, and Grace sighed, shaking her head. He caught Joe smirking at Web and he knew they had played a joke. "You must be thinking of first sergeant Lipton".
"My mistake", Jones offered. He looked to Grace, "how long have you been in the paratroopers, Lieutenant?" She looked up to Jones' blunt question; she couldn't help but hear the hue of condescension in his voice.
Feeling Don's stare along with the rest of the men, Grace answered smoothly, "I've been with Easy since 1942…and before that I jumped with the Brits in North Africa in '41".
His arrogant stare softened and he nodded, "so that's how many combat jumps?"
"That makes three for me", Grace said quietly, honestly…if not slightly offended.
Jones nodded and shared his attention with Don, "do you want to introduce me to the men?"
Don sighed, his patience obviously being tested, "well…some are sleeping downstairs…"
"And the rest are right here", Grace finished for him. When Jones turned away, Grace shared a heavy look with Don.
Frustrated with the new meat and feeling protective over Grace – even though she could hold her own – Joe, Babe and McClung fixed the young Lieutenant with a pointed stare, coffee cups in hand.
Growing uneasy with the stares of the men, Jones turned back to Don and Grace, "sergeant, a patrol's being planned for tonight…"
Grace snapped her gaze to him, wanting to remain discreet in front of her exhausted men, "Jones…I can take it from here". She nodded to him and Don, leading them over to the window; it was her patrol, her platoon…she needed to be the one giving orders here. She had been through too much now to be fighting for her platoon with an untrusting, inexperienced Lieutenant. Glancing up, she saw the men now gathered around Web's bunk, knowing the rest of the men were now badgering him for information. "Colonel Sink wants a patrol over the river tonight at zero one hundred…fifteen men." Don sighed, his eyes tired and disbelieving. Her heart sank with him and she nodded, "I know…this comes directly from Battalion. We go over the river, collect who we can, then set a delayed bomb in the building. The battalion will cover fire from our banks." Don nodded along with her explanation. "The entire patrol is being handled with the utmost care and should take no longer than fifteen minutes. Winters, Nixon, and Speirs want this as fool proof and as safe as possible".
"Who do they want?" Don asked solemnly.
"For now, Speirs specifically wants Heffron, Ramirez, and McClung…and me leading the patrol…but if I could put money on it, they're gonna call on second to fill it out".
"That would leave us with just over fifteen".
"That's right." Grace nodded, "I want you sitting out this go 'round, Malark". He held her gaze and she could see the tension lift from his face at her request. Malarkey was the last person who should be going on a patrol.
"The Germans haven't made any attempts to cross the river themselves?" Jones asked.
Don shook his head, "they have roofs over their heads, sir, just like us…nobody wants to do anything stupid this late in the game, right?"
Grace stepped forward to the men, knowing it was time she tell them, "listen up! I've got some bad news…" she studied all the men's faces looking back at her, their eyes tired, "there is a patrol set for tonight…and so far, Speirs wants McClung…"
McClung spoke, "we know…"
"Yeah we just fuckin' heard", Heffron said.
"Webster here told us", Ramirez drawled.
Grace held a sarcastic smirk while appraising Webster's grimacing features, some things never change, as the phone rang and Don picked it up.
"Easy white…yeah, uh huh…ok…alright, out", he hung up and turned to the men and Grace, "PX rations just came in…including winter shoe packs".
"Beautiful", Grace snorted.
"I know…finally, right?" he snarked then continued, "also…we got showers", he finished, turning to Grace.
"Well….not all of us, right Lieutenant?" Joe joked, a wry smirk on his lips.
BOOM BOOM BOOM BOOM
Eighty eights…Grace had had her fill of fucking eighty eights.
"LET'S MOVE!" she called, grabbing her rifle, and pushing men in front of her.
"GO! GO! Hurry up!" Don hollered, pushing Jones in front of him and grabbing Grace's arm last.
Everyone pushing one another down the stairs, and calling to take cover, they reached the bottom floor and men filed under tables.
"Incoming!" Joe yelled.
"Keep low, keep down", Grace instructed.
The building shook and dust rained down on them as Don and Grace skidded to a stop right as the raid ceased.
Why were they running?...they were indoors…if they were hit, it wouldn't have mattered.
Looking ironically over to Don, they smirked at one another as the men on the floor began laughing, seeing the satire in the situation.
"That was a real good time", Joe snarked.
"Alright, alright…showers, guys, let's move", Grace said.
Oooooooo
Walking outside, Grace frowned, there were men beginning to gather in the street near a bombed out building.
"Somebody's been hit!" she heard someone call.
She took off running, grabbing at her pack around her shoulders and preparing for the worst; she heard her men running behind her.
Stopping next to a stunned Christianson, Grace saw Roe was already there…and he was plucking dog tags from the man on the ground…Bill Keane…a Toccoa man.
She walked forward and knelt beside Gene, "you ok?" she whispered.
Gene nodded, "casualty…he was gone when I got here".
Hearing a rushed set of footsteps, Grace looked up to see Ron run into the circle. His eyes landed on hers first as he caught his breath, then sighed and clenched his jaw seeing who was lying on the ground.
"Did you know him well?" Jones asked Web.
Web shrugged, "no…not really".
Grace sighed measurably; growing frustrated with the seeming insincerity of her two newest platoon members, and looked at Christianson as Gene gently handed over Keane's dog tags.
Oooooooo
She was on her way over to CP, envious of the men taking showers. Being in the paratroopers and the army, she had seen her fair share of naked and nearly naked men. She had been with these men for so long, they barely bat an eyelash when stripping off if she happened to be near. Shoving her hands into her pockets and shivering from the cold, she avoided looking at the shower tent with jealousy when she heard Lip call her name.
"Grace!" She turned to him and knew exactly what he was about to tell her as he leaned forward and spoke in her ear, "word from battalion…they want second platoon on this patrol, plus Shifty." She nodded at him, her face downcast. "You alright?" She nodded again as Lip patted her gently on the back, "also…Speirs wants you at CP after you deliver the message".
With that, Lip walked off and Grace walked down the slight slope near the shower tent to gather her men, "second platoon on me!" With the men around her, she began, "alright, I'm leading this patrol and I already knew that…but the C.O. wants the rest of everyone here plus Shifty from third."
"Do they want anyone from first?" Cobb snarked.
"No", Grace answered solemnly, nodding to her men and heading back again to CP.
"Is there anyone they don't want from second?" Joe muttered, "Jesus Christ". As Grace walked away, heading directly to CP, Joe turned to Web, Heffron, and Ramirez, "it's always second platoon. I swear to God if there was only three guys, they'd still make us go".
Heffron shook his head, "I can't believe they're making Grace lead it".
Joe nodded, "I know…the poor girl don't even get a shower".
Shoving her cold hands back into her pockets, Grace marched on over to CP. Nearing the building, she looked up and saw Lewis heading her way.
"Hey stranger", he quipped measurably.
"Hey yourself", she replied, slowing to a stop once they met across the road from CP's doors. "You hear the word?"
He nodded, "oh yeah…I know." Looking her up and down discreetly, he continued, "you up to this?"
"You know I am", she countered casually.
Lew nodded, his eyes tight, "you know you've got nothing to prove".
Growing slightly exasperated, Grace nodded back, "yes…I know that."
"Ok…just want to make sure".
"I sat out the last two raids on Novelle and Rechamps; it's my platoon going across the river…I can handle a patrol."
Lew smirked, "just wanted to make sure." He looked her over again, "don't let the West Pointer get under your skin, Gracie…he'll learn about you soon enough".
"He's not the only one under my skin at this moment", she suggested lightly with a slight pang of remorse, irritated that he knew Jones had annoyed her. She understands the concern…but good Jesus…how long until they realized she could do her job without supervision?
Smiling fully and raising his eyebrows, he nodded, "I can take a hint. You be safe tonight". He squeezed her shoulder and walked past her, down the road.
Gathering herself, she walked quickly across the street and into CP.
Inside, Lip was standing with Vest and a few other privates, sorting through papers and the like. He smiled at her when she walked in.
She took a breath, about to ask him where Speirs was, "Grace". Looking to an adjacent door in the large room, she met eyes with Ron, "follow me", he requested. Nodding, she followed him down a hallway. Judging by the tattered wall paper and dusty light fixtures on the walls, the beaten up artwork and nick-knacks, Grace knew whoever had lived here were well off before the war started. Ron led her into a good-sized room with high ceilings. Closing the door behind him, Grace walked in and immediately took note of the one full-sized bed near the window and against the wall. There was a fireplace and a chaise lounge, along with a desk; it was all tattered, but nonetheless, it was the best thing she'd seen since walking into Bastogne. "This is your room", Ron announced, then gestured to a second door near the fireplace, "my room is through that door".
"Thank you", she nodded staring at the door, her heart beating quicker at the sight of it, and then turned back to him, "I'm assuming this is all officers' quarters?"
He nodded back, "yes…thankfully, we're able to all have private rooms. I don't know how long we'll be here, how long they'll expect us to hold this side of the line".
"Good to know", she whispered, absently walking over to the bed, noticing the sheets, pillows, and blankets had been changed to Army-issued standards. She hadn't slept in an actual bed since before Bastogne. She looked back to Ron, "I told my men we are going on the patrol tonight…we'll begin preparation after the briefing this afternoon". Taking notice of his posture, she continued, "Lieutenant Jones is being persistent about going this evening".
"He will be going…as an observer", Ron clarified quickly.
"Will he be the sixteenth man?"
"No…he'll round out the fifteen…and he'll be there in case you need someone".
"Do I need a chaperone?" The nippy remark flew out of her mouth before she could stop herself…and she immediately regretted it. What a fool, she thought, as she lowered her face to the hardwood floors.
"Grace…" His voice was low and hushed.
She interrupted him, bringing her face back up, "I'm sorry…I apologize, that was unnecessary".
Ron took in her remorseful expression, understanding why she had reacted that way. He wished to impart his longing for her safety without making her feel like he doubted her…and he didn't know how to begin. "It's alright. I just want to make sure the patrol goes smoothly".
Initially wondering if he had hesitated in trusting her to lead the patrol because of what happened in Foy; Grace took a moment to respond, feeling very small, "I understand…it'll be good experience for him."
Fearing he offended her, Ron took a step forward…the sudden awkwardness between them had nothing to do with Jones…and they both knew that. "Just tell me you can do this tonight".
Her heart in her throat, Grace held his attention, "I can do this tonight", she said fervently. "Ron?" She said after a moment and squinted as he nodded, "say it…just say it".
"Say what?" he wondered aloud, worried. "I know you can lead this patrol…I'm not worried about that".
"Tell me you want me to be safe…I know that's what you're really worried about".
"I would rather be taking the men out than you…and yes, I want you to be safe".
Feeling guilty for everything, Grace nodded. While she understood where Ron was coming from – the thought of him out on the front again was enough to turn her stomach – she was tired of defending her ability to lead, her ability to perform in the field.
First Jones, then Lew, and now Ron…she expected it from someone like Jones, but Ron knows her, has seen her in battle. She was being a stubborn jackass for thinking this way and allowing herself to fall into this mind trap. Grace knew damn well that the stress of the impending patrol, her mounting frustration with being unable to touch Ron was getting to her…and the temporary distraction of this stupid argument was too tempting to not act upon.
With tonight's patrol, Grace knew Jones would be off her back once he saw her in action…but what about Ron? She didn't know how much longer the war would carry on…will every future patrol, every future obligation on her part be accompanied by this scene; this doubt she receives from Ron and the guilt her conscious thrusts upon her because of it?
Ron watched her face carefully, knowing full well that she was being obstinate on purpose. He knew she could do the job…he trusts her implicitly, he trusted her with his own life. Ultimately, he despised not being able to do the job himself…he didn't like not being in control…and after the acknowledgment they shared of being in love, an inexplicable weight had nudged itself into his heart. It was his job to protect and love her…not send her into a potential firefight with Germans.
"I can't lose you", he confessed, "I will not tolerate a world without you. I tried…I looked for your face everywhere." He walked up to her, sliding his arms around her waist and enjoying the freedom in being able to do so.
"I'm right here", she whispered, knowing he was referring to Foy.
"You scare the shit out of me", he admitted. "Do you know that I still cannot shake the image of you and that damn bazooka in France?" He studied her pensive face, "you make me feel as if I'm not alone…and with the war not being over, I'll be goddamned if the universe rips you away from me now".
Meeting his gaze, she breathed, "since I have met you, everything I have done has been in part because of you. If you were gone…if I had to endure the thought of you not being here, the world and everyone in it would become a stranger." Ron sighed internally; when she said sweet things, they slid right down into his heart. Grace's gaze wandered over Ron's handsome features. "You have nothing to worry about…all will be well. I'll get everybody back on this shore after the job is done", she whispered. The worry line between his eyebrows disappeared and he nodded, a soft smile gracing his lips. She took in his untidy hair, a few pieces swept over his forehead; his face had a nice five o'clock shadow on it, defining his masculine jaw. "I like the scruff", she whispered, gesturing to her own cheek.
"Do you?" he said, smirking.
Grace bit her lip and nodded, a sheepish smile forming; her arms lifting as he embraced her, she brought her hands up and placed her fingers gently on his jaw, "I do…it's a shame the Army makes officers shave". They smiled softly at one another, the tension in their postures melting at their closeness. Leaning towards one another, their lips met in a yielding, reassuring kiss. Molding her body against his, Grace snuck her fingers through his messy hair, enjoying the rub of his scruff against her skin. Feeling her press herself against him, one of Ron's arms slid up her back, holding her tightly to him. He kissed a heated trail down the column of her pale neck, her catching breath egging him on. Returning the favor, Grace gently moved his face slightly to the side as she gently planted kisses along his jaw, nipping once; down the side of his neck, her lips pausing on his pulse, pausing again on his adam's apple as he lightly moaned, and then kissing back up to his slackened lips. "I've always wanted to do that to you", she murmured against his lips before pulling away slightly.
He grinned at her, "I'm honored…you have my permission to do that whenever you'd like".
"I'll make sure to do it again…when Colonel Sink is in the room", she joked as he laughed; his deep laugh vibrating through her body. She brushed the hair lovingly off his forehead and touched her nose to his, "you should go take a shower…they're set up near OP2".
Ron's eyes lit up, "that reminds me". He pulled away and took her hand, "I have something to show you". Turning to the door that led to his room, he walked to it and opened it, walking in and pulling her with him. Grace's eyes darted around. The room resembled hers in size, same full sized-bed with two armchairs in front of a fireplace, a large desk under the window. She spotted a pile of his belongings on the floor next to the bed. When she slept at night, how was she going to restrain herself from wanting to be in his bed? He stopped them at a door across his room. "It's completely useable", he said turning the handle and unveiling a large bathroom…complete with freestanding sink, toilette…and a large shower, with the floral patterned curtain pushed to the side.
Grace's eyes widened along with Ron's grin, "are you kidding?" she whispered.
Ron shook his head, "nope…it's all yours, love. There's a fresh uniform for you in there as well. I'll take one after you".
She looked to his satisfied expression tenderly, "I love you".
He sighed and smiled, "I love you too".
Getting bold, she brought their entwined hands up and kissed the back of his palm while keeping her eyes on his, "perhaps sometime…we could save the water", she held his gaze as his eyes darkened, "…and take one together". Feeling giddy at saying that, she could not believe her audacity.
Ron's heart pounded in his chest, having just thought the same thing. He smirked as she bit her lip and laughed, "you took the words right out of my head", he husked to her. She leaned in and kissed him quickly, one hand reaching up and curling her fingers into his hair; holding him against her, he felt her tongue dart out softly, teasing him as she let him go and walked into the bathroom. "You tease", he joked as she smiled and softly shut the door. Teasing him further, Ron took notice that he didn't hear the lock 'click' into place.
Turning away from the door once he heard the shower turn on, Ron walked back and flopped gracefully onto his bed. After a minute, his eyes skipped back to the closed door. How was he going to control himself with her in such close proximity? The smell of her hair, the taste of her lips, the feeling of her skin had gotten inside of him, into the air, all around him; she had become a physical necessity to him.
Carefully setting her old clothes on the floor and away from the new ones, Grace gingerly stepped into the steamy shower.
She sighed contentedly, her skin breaking out in goose bumps as she slid the curtain shut and stepped fully under the warm stream. Beside the soap was a razor and she nearly cried at the sight. She hadn't showered in forever…she looked down at the sullied water, thinking abstractly of how all the grime washing off her skin was the last physical reminder of the men they had lost…that this very silt and soil was accumulated in their lost ones' presence.
She felt something catch in her throat, a sudden surge of sadness that caught her unaware, almost taking her breath away. That was the thing…you never got used to it, the idea of someone being gone. Just when you think it was reconciled, accepted, something pointed it out to you and it hit you all over again. She wondered what part of the darkened water was the evidence of her time inside Foy. Squeezing her eyes shut as she rinsed the soap from her hair and her skin, she hoped any nightmares that may come to her wouldn't prompt her to cry out in her sleep.
Relaxing her shoulders and she turned off the water, Grace tried her best to dispel the cloud of melancholy in her heart. Pulling the shower curtain back, her heart fell through her chest realizing there was no familiar army issued towel on the counter.
"Ron?" Pulled from his thoughts, Ron heard Grace call his name through the closed door.
He got up quickly and walked to the door, his hand on the knob, "you ok?"
He heard a guarded amusement in her voice as she spoke again, "there's no towel in here. If there aren't any, that's ok."
Ron looked to his bed…the towel was perched on the end of it, "I have one for you…forgot to put it in there". He walked over and grabbed it and resumed his place by the door, "I've got it…should I…"
"You can come in…I'm still in here", she answered. Gently opening the door, Ron let himself in, kept his eyes down, and set the towel on the counter near the curtain. "Thank you", her voice came from directly above him. Startled, he looked up to her; she held the curtain in front of her, her face peeking from behind it. Her hair and lashes darkened, water clinging to her face, neck and shoulders. "Come here?" she breathed, she couldn't help herself. Being this close to his body, the only thing keeping him from her was a thin sheet of plastic; Grace felt her heart thud erotically. He walked forward, eyes darkened and pressed his lips against hers, groaning at the wet warmth of her skin. Bringing a tentative hand up, he stroked her cheek and cupped her face. As his fingers caressed down her neck and onto her naked shoulder, she shivered into his touch, her breath shaking.
Calming his own breath, he sighed into her mouth, "I should let you get dressed".
"Yeah…you should", she smiled against his lips. "Will I see you at the briefing?"
He shook his head, "no…Winters wants to do it himself. Company CP." She nodded as he pulled away and took in her flushed skin and pink lips, "you're a good leader…the patrol is going to be fine".
"Thank you".
"I love you", he responded ardently.
"I love you too".
Today is January 10th…today is the day that Skip Muck and Alex Penkala passed away in the Ardennes forest in Belgium. Along with the two of those brave men, I want to thank all of those who lost their lives in the Battle of the Bulge and the subsequent raids on Foy, Novelle, and Rechamps in the winter of 1944-45. Not a winter goes by where I am not thankful for my warm home and family by my side.
I hope EVERYONE had a lovely holiday and a happy new year.
More IS coming soon.
Review and let me know what you think.