Sorry, as always, for the delay. I hope everyone is staying safe and healthy! This is not the final update, I have at least 1 or 2 more to go before we're done. I can't believe we're so close to the end!

The days in Zell Am See were long. Nora was reminded of their days in Aldbourne, which seemed a lifetime ago now. The men were growing restless, and large groups of restless men were a danger to everyone, especially Nora. There was, in general, more drinking, more fighting, and more mischief than ever before. While most Easy Company men Nora would trust with her life, the same couldn't be said about the other companies in the regiment, who were less likely to recognize her authority. Of course, the men of Easy Company made clear to everyone what would happen to anyone who messed with their Captain Price, but that didn't fully eliminate the looks and catcalls Nora was catching more and more.

On one such occasion, Nora had been out playing a round of horseshoes with Luz, Liebgott, and Webster. True to form, Liebgott and Webster were holding up the game with their bickering, while Nora and Luz shared exasperated and knowing looks across the sandpit they'd set up for the game. Webster, who stood next to Nora, was shouting the rules of the game across the gap at Liebgott, who scoffed periodically and insisted that Webster had "never played real horseshoes in his life."

"Web," Nora said, finally growing impatient, "it's your turn. If you want to forfeit it, I'm not complaining, but if you're going to go, then go."

Webster poised himself to throw, but they were interrupted by the snickers of a group of passersby from another company.

"Where can I get a gal to boss me around like that? I like the dominant ones," one of them called out. Nora's hands went to her hips, and she took a deep breath, frustrated that she would now have to handle paperwork involved with disciplining the soldier. She had been having a perfectly pleasant last day with her Easy Company men until now.

"How about I use this to ring your fucking neck?" Liebgott said, holding up his horseshoe and moving toward the man with purpose, "Would that do the trick?"

Luz was right behind Liebgott, who squared up with the private and gave him a shove when he was close enough, "you know who you're talking to? Huh?"

"Liebgott," Nora called firmly, making her way over to dispel the conflict, "don't."

"Yeah, Liebgott," one of the private's friends joined in with a smug expression, "don't."

"Enough," Nora continued, pushing her way between them and turning to the offenders. Webster stood at her side and at least had the sense to not engage, even though he glared daggers at the private, "what kind of moron harasses a captain with their name plastered right there on their uniform?" Nora asked, nodding at the private's name tape, "I suggest you walk away."

"And I suggest you go AWOL before Captain Speirs finds out," Liebgott chimed in over her shoulder.

"Enough, Lieb," Nora said sternly, shooting a look at Luz to entreat his help.

"If he wants to kick this guy's ass, I say let him," Luz replied. Nora ignored him and turned back to the private.

"You're already looking at KP assignments. I suggest you drop it before it turns into a summary court martial," she told him with a level tone. He kept eye contact for a minute, his eyes murder, and Nora briefly wondered if he was already drunk this early in the day. It wouldn't surprise her. Eventually, she won the staring contest, and the private retreated with his buddies. Nora immediately turned on her heel to face Liebgott and Luz.

"No fighting," she told them through a clenched jaw, "I mean it."

"Why are you looking at me?" Luz asked, pointing to Liebgott, "he's the one."

"Because you know better," Nora replied, eliciting an offended 'hey!' from Liebgott.

"What's the big deal, Nora?" Luz asked, "the guy deserved a beating."

"That may be so, but tempers are too high as it is. What if one of them pulled a knife? I can't bear for us to have anymore casualties. Not this close to the end," Nora said, her tone softening, "not after Janovec."

The men around her sobered, thinking about the company's most recent tragic loss.

"After tomorrow, I won't be around to watch out for you all, and I don't want you getting your heads busted while I'm gone," she added, her chest clenching tight like someone had reached into her ribs and squeezed the organs there.

"Okay," Luz said, finally, "no fighting. But throw the book at him, okay?"

"Of course," Nora replied with a small quirk of her lips. The smile fell, and she leveled a scowl at Liebgott, "and cut out that Speirs shit, you understand?"

"Yes ma'am," Liebgott replied, though there was a look in his eyes that told her she hadn't heard the last of it. Nora gave a snort of derision and rolled her eyes.

"God help you all when I'm gone," she muttered, "can we please play horseshoes now? I know that this was a convenient distraction for the losing team, but some of us are ready to play."

"Okay, see now, you're gonna regret saying that," Liebgott replied as the teams returned to their posts.

"You alright?" Webster asked softly, watching as her mask went back up, and she became composed Nora again.

"As good as I will be," She replied with a shrug. Today was going to be hard. Tomorrow would be even harder.

Though Nora had insisted they not make a big deal of her going away, the men had arranged a get-together that night in the lobby of a hotel they'd been lodging in. Nora nursed a beer while the men carried on singing songs and periodically making drunken speeches about her that made her cringe and laugh at the same time. Nora was careful about her alcohol intake, not wanting to travel with a hangover in the morning, but the men around her had no such qualms and before long it was a lively party.

Nixon leaned next to her on a console table, watching her eyes flit across the room and to the door for the third time in the last hour.

"Planning your escape route?" He asked with that disarming smirk of his.

"And miss this?" Nora said, raising a challenging eyebrow, "of course not."

Nixon nodded before breaching his second theory, "I'm sure he'll drop in at some point."

"You think?" Nora replied after a moment, "because I doubt Sobel would bother to make the trip, even as badly as I'd like to see him here."

The quip earned a chuckle from Nixon, though he gave her a chastising look, "you know who I'm talking about."

"Yeah, I know," Nora said with a sigh, taking a sip of her beer. They sat in a comfortable silence for a few minutes, watching a tipsy Skinny Sisk make a fool of himself across the room.

"You still angry?" He asked finally.

"Who's asking?"

"Me."

Nora exhaled deeply for what felt like the hundredth time that day. She hadn't really spoken to Ron for a couple weeks now, "I don't know. Yes? I still resent it, but at the same time…it doesn't feel right to leave angry, knowing how quickly people can just…" she trailed off, her thoughts on Janovec again. It had really messed with her to discover that the men could keep dying, even now. The relief bubble she'd settled into when the Germans surrendered had popped so suddenly and violently. And now the men she loved would soon be in the Pacific, fighting new battles without her, "and I'm too tired to be angry, really."

"You look it," Nixon replied, earning an arch look from his friend.

"I'll miss that famous charm," Nora said, and though her tone was light, her expression was heavy. Nixon nudged her playfully with his elbow.

"Lighten up," he told her, "it's not like this is goodbye. I'll have plenty more opportunities to annoy you. I can feel it."

The atmosphere in the room changed almost immediately when Tab entered. The other men called to him excitedly, but he pushed past them and headed for Nora and Nixon. Worry knitted his brow.

"What's wrong?" She asked when he reached them.

"It's Grant," he said, his Adam's apple bobbing. Nora's heart dropped into her stomach, "he got shot when he was out patrolling tonight."

"Is he-" she began, as the room began to quiet down. Some of the men had caught on to the souring mood and were sobering up as they heard the news.

"He's alive, but…" Tab said, and his hesitation spoke volumes about the situation.

"Where's Speirs?" She asked, grabbing her jacket and slipping it on.

"He's with Grant at the med station," he said.

"Take me to them," she said. Several of the men stepped forward to help, but she brushed them off, following Tab toward the door, "stay here. That's an order. We'll send news when we know something."

When they arrived at the large, dimly lit building that was acting as a makeshift med station, Grant was lying on a table at the center of the room, and Speirs was standing at his side, fingers interlaced with the young sergeant's. Roe was standing at Grant's other side, administering fluids. Nora rushed forward to join them, placing a hand on Ron's shoulder and leaning forward to take a look at Grant's wound. The doctor had just finished looking at the gunshot wound himself and replaced the bandage on Grant's forehead. Nora's throat grew painfully tight.

"I'll wash up so I can assist," she told the doctor, stepping back and pulling her hair into a bun away from her face, "where's the iodine?"

The doctor, who hadn't even bothered to put out his cigarette for the occasion, looked at her as if she had two heads.

"He's not gonna make it," he said.

"You can't operate on him?" Roe asked, his voice hitching.

"Not me. You'd need a brain surgeon," the doctor replied, "and even if you had one, I don't think there's any hope."

"So that's it?" Nora asked, her hackles rising, "you're just not gonna do anything?"

The man walked away without responding and the four E company members stood in silence for a moment, unsure what to do next. Ron burst with a sudden gust of energy, turning toward Nora.

"You find the shooter. I want him alive," he said. He then gestured to Roe and moved to the head of the stretcher, "come on, help me move him."

Nora turned to Tab, "Tab, you got that? Alive."

Tab nodded with arms crossed and a more serious look than she'd ever seen him wear.

"Nora," Ron protested, but Nora interrupted, catching his eyes with hers and holding his gaze.

"I'm staying with you."

Ron nodded after a moment, and Nora dismissed Tab, who ran to fulfill his orders.

"Where are you going?" the doctor asked from across the room.

"We're gonna go find a brain surgeon." Ron replied. Nora walked alongside the stretcher and held up Grant's blood bag as Roe and Ron loaded him onto the jeep waiting outside. When he was safely placed, Nora told the men to wait in the jeep and ran to the house across the street, banging on the front door.

"Wake up!" She called impatiently, continuing to bang even as the lights inside the house began to flicker on, "wake up! Open the door!"

The residents, who were probably used to American soldiers demanding their cooperation and attention by now, opened the door with startled faces. One was an older gentleman and the other a young woman, not much younger than Nora herself.

"We need a surgeon," Nora said breathlessly. The older man didn't seem to register what she was saying, "is there a surgeon? A brain surgeon? Here in town?"

The young woman, who spoke more English than her father, took a moment to translate the question, gesturing to her head in the process. Recognition lit in the old man's eyes and he replied with a few directional gestures of his own.

"He says there's a man who lives two streets over who might be able to help," she translated.

"Which house?" Nora asked. The horn of the jeep honked behind her, and she held up a hand to signal that she was coming, "which house?"

The man wasn't sure of the address, but he described enough features of the house to satisfy Nora's inquiry, and she thanked them before running back to the jeep.

"Go, go, go," she said, and the jeep began moving before she'd even fully climbed inside. Roe was in the back with Grant, administering the fluids, and Nora slid into the passenger seat beside Ron, who tore the jeep down the street like a bat out of hell in conjunction with Nora's directions.

"I think that's it," Nora said, pointing to a house and causing Ron to hit the brakes. He jumped out before her and marched up to the door, pulling his pistol, "Ron," she called, hot on his heels. By the time she caught up to him, he was knocking on the front door. He was calmer than she had been, resisting the urge to yell through the door, but Nora could tell he was feeling volatile.

The surgeon answered quickly, flipping on the light in the foyer and pulling back the lace curtain on the window by the door. Ron tapped his pistol against the window, right in front of the man's face.

"Open up."

The man obeyed.

"Come with me," Ron commanded him, nodding toward the jeep.

"Why?"

"Get in the jeep."

There was a tense silence, and the man looked to Nora for help. He found none in her stony face. He sighed, grabbing his coat and pulling it on over his night shirt.

"Where are we going?"

"To the hospital."

The man passed by Nora and walked to the jeep. Ron followed him with his pistol raised, and the surgeon eyed the weapon warily, "If you're going to shoot me, shoot me. If you're not, put the gun away."

On the whole, the man was being cooperative, and as much as Nora hated to trust someone she didn't know with Grant's life, she sensed that he was willing to help.

"Get in the jeep, now," Ron repeated. Nora touched Ron's elbow, and he lowered the pistol after a moment, though his gaze still sent unspoken threats to the man before him.

"What happened to him?" The surgeon asked, turning to look at Grant.

"Shot in the head," Roe replied.

"Half hour ago," Ron added. Nora couldn't believe it had only been half an hour. It felt like they'd been fumbling around for at least the past hour. Growing impatient, Ron reached out and nudged the man with his pistol.

"If you want him to live, you'll help me. First, by putting that thing away," the surgeon said diplomatically, gesturing toward the gun. Ron submitted after a moment and moved toward the driver's seat.

"Let me drive," the surgeon said, "we'll get there faster."

They considered the proposal for only a moment before allowing him to take the wheel. Nora and Ron piled into the cramped passenger seat together, too preoccupied with Grant to care about the discomfort or impropriety of it. Without thinking, Nora grabbed Ron's hand and squeezed it with assurance, and he responded with equal ease, turning his palm over to tighten the hold while chewing worriedly at his bottom lip. Nora prayed that Grant would make it, and the harder she squeezed Ron's fingers, the more she felt it was possible he would.

Ron, Nora, and Roe had watched for several hours as the surgeon worked on Grant. When they finally returned to the hotel, dark circles had formed under Nora's eyes, and she felt in desperate need of a shower, having sweat nervously through her shirt the entire time. There was no telling yet how this would effect Grant's future, but he would make it. Somehow, the relief of this revelation hadn't managed to untwist the knots in her stomach.

She followed Ron into the lobby.

"Where is he?" Ron asked, still wound tight with nervous energy. He had drawn his pistol again and held it stiffly at his side as he walked.

"How's grant?" Tab asked as he and Luz stood to greet them, "is he okay?"

"Where is he?" Ron shouted, pushing past them to the set of French doors at the far side of the room. The sounds coming from inside indicated that the culprit was inside, and he wasn't alone.

"Nora, hold on," Luz said, grabbing her arm gently, "you should wait out here."

Nora gave him a tired look that clearly said have you met me? And Luz released her with a sigh. Nora approached the open French doors with Tab and saw that the men were silently gathered around a bloody, bound private. Ron stood before him, and everyone in the room waited with bated breath to see what he would do.

Nora crossed her arms and leaned against the door frame, watching. She exchanged a look with Tab, who looked wary and uncertain, as if he wanted her to intervene. She looped a reassuring arm through his.

"Grant's gonna make it," she whispered. The relief on his face was palpable.

"Where's the weapon?" Ron asked.

The private coughed and sputtered on blood before responding, "what weapon?"

Ron pistol-whipped him across the face, sending blood spraying across the room.

"When you talk to an officer, you say sir," He said. His tone was deadly, but Nora remained calm. She had known from the beginning that Ronald Speirs was not the man they always rumored him to be. She didn't expect him to become that man now. The private continued to cough and choke on his own blood, and the men began to wince and avert their eyes, suddenly uncomfortable, but not so uncomfortable that they were willing to step in and defend this asshole.

Ron cocked the pistol and leveled it at the private's head. The men stepped back. A couple of them glanced at Nora, expecting her to say something, but she kept her composure. Ron would make the right choice, she felt sure of it. The pistol began to shake in his hand. After an agonizing few moments, he lowered the pistol, instead choosing to wipe the blood from his hand on the private's uniform. Everyone in the room let out a collective breath. Ron pulled off his cap and turned to walk out, brushing past Nora and Tab.

"Have the MPs take care of this piece of shit."

Nora and Ron had walked in silence back to the boarding house where the officers were lodging. Nobody had been much in the mood for festivities after the dark turn the night had taken, and Nora needed to get some rest for her departure in the morning, so the group had disbanded after word of Grant's successful surgery was spread.

Ronald Speirs was a vortex of pent up emotions and anxiety after the close call, and even a happy ending for Grant couldn't fully dispel those feelings. Nora would be leaving in a few short hours. They split at the top of the stairs and went their separate ways to their rooms.

"Ron?" A quiet voice asked, and Ron's head whipped up too quickly, a bi-product of his still tightly-wound nerves. Nora had paused outside her door and turned to face him, "are you okay?"

More than half of her hair had fallen from the bun she'd fixed earlier, long wisps framing her wearied face. Her dark eyes shone as she looked at him, and for a painstaking moment, it occurred to him that this might be the last time he would ever hold her attention. From the moment he'd met her on D-Day, she had never looked at him with anything but implicit trust, an undeserved gift, and even after he'd proven that he couldn't earn it, she continued to look at him with those big, calm, doe-eyes.

"Yeah," he rasped, with a short nod. She nodded as well, and when she broke eye contact, Ron couldn't stop himself from exhaling his disappointment. She turned away, grabbing the door knob and twisting it, but Ron stood unmoving, wanting to keep the tension of this moment as long as he could. Nora stopped and turned to him again at the last moment to find him still waiting, still watching.

"Are you…" she began, clearing her throat, "will you be there tomorrow? To see me off?"

Ron swallowed and a crinkle formed between his eyebrows. He had no right to be upset that she was leaving, after what he'd done. He had no right to be there for the tearful goodbyes. But she wanted him there, and it taught him to hope.

"Of course," he said softly.

Nora forced a smile and told him goodnight before disappearing behind the door.

Nora had only had time to kick off her boots and pull the rest of her hair from her lopsided bun before the knock came. She jumped, startled by the urgency and by her still-close proximity to the door. She swung the door open, eyes wide and hair tumbling the wrong way over her part.

"I should've trusted you to make the right decision for yourself," Ron was immediately saying, the words tumbling out in one breath as if he were afraid his nerve would run out in the following seconds, "you've always trusted me."

Nora stared at him without response, so he continued, shifting on his feet. Nora stepped aside, allowing him to pace into the room.

"I'm sorry," he said, "I know it doesn't change what I did, but I just want you to know how much I regret it. I don't…" he paused, swallowing the rising lump in his throat, "I don't want you to go."

Nora, just as frazzled from the night's events as him, felt her nerve-endings spark and allowed herself to feel them, standing on her tip toes to meet his lips with her own. He didn't move for a few moments, hands hovering uncertainly behind her shoulders, but when she didn't pull away, he leaned into the kiss earnestly, cupping the small of her back. Nora placed one hand on his jaw and the other on the side of his neck under his ear. Ron broke into goosebumps at the contact, exhaling into her mouth as the tension in his shoulders began to unwind. Nora took his open mouth as an invitation and deepened the kiss, pulling him down further to gain access.

Ron's hands slid from the small of her back to her hips, and his grip tightened. Nora kicked the open door behind her, slamming it shut louder than she intended, and the urgency of it ignited something in Ron's blood. He pressed her against the door and closed the distance between their bodies, just as he had done in the empty street in Hagenau months ago. One hand snaked under her hair to hold the nape of her neck and he tilted her head to a new angle to explore her mouth even deeper. She sighed into his lips, and then gasped when one of his thighs pressed between her legs. They stayed content this way for several moments, tracking each others breaths and sighs as they continued the tentative worship they'd begun during the enemy's blitz after the patrol.

Nora snaked her arms around Ron's neck for stability as she pulled herself up and wrapped her legs around his waist. Ron welcomed the weight of her, grabbing the back of her thighs and moving toward the bed. Nora's back met the duvet, and Ron leaned over her, his weight pressing into her in a way that made her toes curl into the mattress. She slid a calf around the back of one of his thighs, using the leverage to pull him closer, and Ron groaned into her mouth. They stopped kissing, open mouths still pressed close, and looked into each other's eyes, momentarily stunned by the feel of their hips fitting together. Even through layers of fabric, the tension was electric. Nora had a moment of clarity and doubt, but she pushed it away in favor of another kiss and a thrust of the hips. Ron groaned and returned the gesture, eliciting a gasp from Nora. A few moments later, when Ron slid a hand under her shirt, the clarity returned.

"Ron," she breathed. Ron hummed against her lips, tracing his fingers along a seam on her bra, "Ron."

He stopped, leaning back to look her in the eyes. The two of them shared a long, silent moment, and Ron, understanding that the moment was over, climbed off of her to sit on the edge of the bed.

"I'm sorry," he said, "I shouldn't have-"

"No," Nora interrupted, moving to sit beside him, "I'm the one who…" she trailed off, feeling her face redden.

"Are you okay?" He asked.

"Yes," Nora nodded, "it's just…this doesn't change anything. When I wake up in the morning, I'm still leaving."

They sat in the uncomfortable silence, allowing this reality to set in. Whether Nora could forgive him or not, Ron had made his bed, and now he had to lie in it. She wasn't going to lie in it with him.

"So…this is it, then?" Ron asked after a moment, his voice thick.

"Who knows," Nora whispered, shrugging a shoulder, "maybe some time in the future, we'll meet again, and if we're lucky, maybe we can even start fresh."

Ron nodded, and Nora slid closer, wrapping her arms around him. He returned the embrace and held her there, still beating himself up over the pain he'd caused both of them.

"I should get some rest," Nora said, pulling away, "I'll see you tomorrow?"

Ron told Nora goodnight, and she walked him to the door. Ronald Speirs went to sleep that night with the sensation that he had ruined the best thing that had ever happened to him.

Nora was late for her departure the next morning, because she had spent too long looking at herself in the mirror and trying to gather some semblance of composure. When she had finally accepted that the morning would not likely pass without tears, she forced herself to emerge from the boarding house, where a jeep was waiting and most of the remaining Toccoa men, plus Babe Heffron, were already gathered.

Several of the men bombarded her with their hugs and good wishes, and while the mood was generally somber, most everyone was trying to keep things light. Nora handed off her luggage to Malarkey, who loaded it into the jeep, and then she moved down the line, saying her goodbyes.

She did an admirable job of keeping her composure until she was standing in front of Carwood Lipton. Of all the men she'd met in her life, she was certain he was the only one with whom she could spend every second of every day and never grow tired. Her chin quivered when he gave her one of his soft smiles.

"It's okay," he said with a gentle, knowing look. Nora shook her head and embraced him, burying her face in his shoulder to hide her tears. Lip ran a hand over her hair, murmuring encouragements to her until she was composed enough to show her face again. Her eyes were red-rimmed, and she had begun to sniffle.

When she moved on to Winters, she offered a salute that he brushed off in favor of an embrace. She cursed herself for not getting enough sleep the night prior, as it certainly wasn't helping her achieve the steely reserve she now desired.

Nixon, true to form, had chosen to avoid the sentiment of her farewell by teasing her mercilessly, and Nora was secretly thankful for it as she embraced him, her heart growing momentarily lighter.

When she separated from Nix, Ron was suddenly in front of her, and she felt her resolve return again. This goodbye, she had already said. She was happy to be leaving him on good terms, even if they hadn't been able to fix everything.

"Captain Speirs," she said with a lopsided smile.

"Captain Price," he replied with a nod. The men around them scoffed and rolled their eyes at the formality, obviously having hoped that they'd finally get a show. She pulled Ron into a friendly embrace, and he held her more tightly than she expected him to in front of the men. When she pulled back and looked over his shoulder, her heart dropped and a lump rose into her throat.

Luz.

She stepped closer and then hesitated, knowing that she was not emotionally prepared for this parting.

"I don't bite," Luz joked, but the nervous edge on his voice told her that he was having a hard time, too. Nora rushed forward into his arms and held him tightly, her breath shuddering. Luz comforted her, "hey, it's alright. It's not goodbye forever, you know. We'll meet again."

Nora pulled back, her cheeks tear-stained, "you promise you'll write?"

"Are you kidding?" Luz replied, "I've already sent two letters ahead of you."

Nora chuckled and wiped at her nose, stepping back to look at the men she'd spent the last three years fighting with, laughing with, and hurting with. She gathered what little courage she had left and cleared her throat.

"Currahee!" she called. The men echoed the rallying chorus back at her, and she turned to climb into the jeep, forcing herself not to look back.