Chapter 28

Bad Idea

Schoonderlogt, Holland;

Mourmelon-le-Grand, France

October- December 1944

The sunlight had barely begun to shine through the window above her pillow when Lina woke to a startled cry and the thumping of fleeing footsteps. She scooted out of bed, stopping only to pull on a crumpled pair of pants before she burst out of the linen closet and took the staircase two steps at a time towards Lew's room.

She pushed open the door with her shoulder, knife in hand. Lew and Winters jumped at her sudden appearance, and she took a step back towards the door, wrinkling her nose.

"What," she asked, covering her nose with her hand. "Is that smell?"

"I, uh." Winters gestured at Nixon, fighting a smile. "Nix wouldn't get up, so I tried-"

"He threw my own piss on me!"

Lina retreated to the doorway. "What?"

Lew snatched a crystal pitcher from the shelf by his bed and waved it at her. "Right in the face!"

She backed into the hallway, disgusted. "Why did you urinate in a vase?"

"It's a pitcher," Winters mumbled.

"It's too cold to go outside at night," Lew replied.

Lina blinked once. "There is a toilet down the hall."

The two men stared at her, and then Winters guffawed loudly, slapping his knee. Lew picked up a pillow from his bed and threw it on the floor before he stomped out of the room, his expression livid.

Lina pressed her back to the wall as he strode towards the bathroom. "Lesson learned?"

"This is why I hate having roommates!" Lew yelled, slamming the bathroom door behind him.

The company had been pulled out of Heteran after the remaining SS prisoners were transferred to a camp outside of Paris. They had been billeted in Schoonderlogt, yet another tiny village that the Allies commandeered from its residents as a retreat for men coming off the front.

Lina felt sorry for the locals, who were forced to open the door of their homes to strangers who ate their food, slept on their linens, and left cigarette ash on their couches. The men propped their dirty boots on coffee tables, leaving crumbled lumps of dried mud on the carpet and rugs. The one benefit of this arrangement was that for the first time in months, she had access to indoor plumbing and a bed of her own.

Perhaps it was less of a bed and more of a pallet shoved into a linen closet, but it suited her just fine.

Lew was not convinced. He stood in the doorway of her little retreat and gave the mattress and blankets piled on the floor a critical once-over. "This doesn't look comfortable."

"I like feeling..." She molded an invisible square with her hands. "Secure."

"It's definitely snug," he said, not convinced. "You could set up in our room, we have plenty of space."

She had no desire to listen to the symphony of snores Lew and Winters bellowed all night. "I will enjoy this privacy while it lasts," she replied.

And she did, grateful for her little space away from the men. She stacked her rations next to clean towels that she filched from the bathroom and collected stubs of white dinner candles to light at night so she could read in peace. Whoever had owned this house kept a small library in the downstairs parlor, and she had begun to work her way through a French copy of Marcus Aurelius' Meditations. An apple tree in the yard had begun to drop its fruit, and every afternoon she gathered the ripe apples in a wooden bowl that sat in the middle of a dilapidated dining table.

In the mornings, she would wake early and monopolize the bathroom before any of the officers could beat her to it. She was working on getting her hair color back to normal and doing general maintenance on her body, including but not limited to plucking the unibrow she had been sporting for far too long and trying to revitalize her skin. There was a time when she practically glowed from a good diet, hard runs in the morning and from creams and treatments that she bought from Berlin department stores. The best she could do now was a vigorous scrubbing with soap and cold water.

She forgot how much she enjoyed being clean and sleeping on soft surfaces. She resisted the urge to get too comfortable in the house - nothing this good ever lasted. But she would thoroughly enjoy herself while she was there.

Lewis' early morning baptism of piss was soon common knowledge among the officers. Lina had retreated to her hideaway afterwards and put on the rest of her clothes, tucking Meditations under her arm. Harry and Lipton were already downstairs drinking the half-coffee half-chicory concoction they liked so much, and she grabbed an apple from the table before claiming the overstuffed armchair by the fireplace.

"Morning," Harry called, craning his neck to look at her book. "Don't know how you can read this early."

"Mens sana in corpore sano," Lipton muttered over his tin of coffee. Harry gawked at him openly.

Lina took a bite of her apple and shrugged. "I deserve peace before I drown in paperwork," she mumbled between chews.

The back door opened, letting in the cool morning breeze and Luz, who was carrying a bundle of mail. "Knock, knock. Here for an apple."

"On the table," Lina pointed, glued to the pages of her book.

"Thanks," he said. Joe Toye and Johnny Martin filed in after him, nodding at the officers and helping themselves to coffee. "What's the news?"

"Strayer's here today," Lipton said. "Called up Winters and Nixon early for a meeting."

"Why?" asked Toye.

"Some mess with a group of stranded Brits on the other side of the river," Harry replied, grinding his cigarette in an ashtray. "Hear that, Lina?"

"Loud and clear," she mumbled, turning the to the next page.

"They sure fell on their ass after Market Garden," Johnny quipped.

"Oh, Lina," Luz said. He pulled a long manila envelope from his bag. "Nixon said to pass this along to you, said it came from Montlhèry." He walked across the room and tossed it into her lap.

She ripped open the adhesive seal and pulled out a thick stack of paper. "Ach, you have got to be kidding me," she groaned as she rose from her chair. "More!?" The men watched as she strode to the table and rifled through the stack. "This is ridiculous - look! Look at this!" She waved a ripped page of stenograph paper at Harry. "This is a shopping list."

He took it from her hands. "Highly classified information, this," he said seriously. "What does, uh... kartoffel mean?"

"Potato," Lina grumbled. Luz snorted behind her.

"Look, it has to be important if they're sending it to you to translate, right?" Lipton suggested. "It could be Hitler's girlfriend's shopping list."

Lina scoffed. "Trust me, Eva would never do her own shopping."

Winters ambled into the dining room from the hallway, a distant look in his eye. The men around her saluted quickly, and she followed a split-second after - Dick noticed and gave her a little grin before he returned their salutes. "I didn't know I was missing out on the party."

"Lina was just complaining about her homework," Harry said, gesturing at the stack of papers on the table. "Some top-secret stuff."

"Glad everyone's taking a look at it," he replied. "I've got a few reports to write myself."

She grabbed the papers off the table and shuffled them into a neat stack. "My typewriter is in the attic, if you want to use it."

"I have my own," he said. "But I might come up and join you. I'm in for a few hours of work."

She pressed the papers to her chest and walked up the stairs to her room. She would have to put this new batch of intel at the bottom of her growing stack. She grabbed the carton from her closet shelf and dropped two new packs of cigarettes in with the paperwork before making her way up to the attic.

She had set up her office next to a window that looked down on the road in front of the house to keep an eye on who came and went. McMaster had mailed her an ancient and heavily abused Clemens Müller AG typewriter along with her first crate of papers to speed up her translations. She had made it known that she typed better in German than English, prompting him to request both a German typewritten copy of all the handwritten notes he sent as well as English duplicates. It doubled her workload and frustration with the old machine's sticky keys.

She cracked her neck as she sat down at the little table that served as a desk and sighed heavily as she picked up the first piece of paper.

Four hours later, she groaned and dropped her forehead onto the tabletop. Winters chuckled from across the room but kept up his slow and steady typing.

"My hands are numb," she mumbled. "I have to stop."

"Take a walk," he suggested. "Get some air."

She exhaled heavily and propped her head in her hands and stared at Winters. "What are you working on?"

"Report on the crossroads incident," he said, glancing up at her. "Eventful day."

She nodded absentmindedly, reaching into her jacket pocket and touching the photo of Phillippe. She had cut Dieter out of frame with a sharp pair of scissors after his body had been dragged from the woods. "Indeed."

"You type pretty fast," he remarked.

She shrugged. "I put in a lot of office hours in Berlin. Never went to school for it, but when you have to do it for the job... you learn quickly."

He paused and gave her an inquisitive look. "Sounds like you miss it."

"Hmmm," she said, avoiding his gaze. "I suppose it was..." She searched for the right word. "Easy, in a way."

"Easy," he repeated.

"It must seem wrong."

"No," he replied. "No, I think I understand."

"I had a schedule," she said, picking up the next piece of paper in her stack. "Every day I took the same bus to work, did the same things, went home and ate dinner with my brother." She paused for a moment, and then winked at Winter. "After hours were a little more interesting."

He furrowed his brow. "Do I want to know?"

"Honestly?" she laughed. "Probably not."

The door to the attic opened and Lew poked his head above the railing. "Wow, sure sounds like a lot of work is happening in here."

"We were taking a small break," Lina replied, waving at her pile which had by now been cut in half. "You arrived at the wrong time."

"Longshore is here and looking for you if you don't mind the interruption," Lew replied. "

"Mark!" Lina yelled. "Up here." She glanced at Winters, who had stopped working completely. "Sorry."

He held his hands up. "My fingers could use a rest."

Lew climbed the remaining steps and looked over Lina's desk, poking at her papers. "Whaddya got?" She swatted at his hand, and he withdrew it quickly. "Ow."

"Hi," Mark said, walking up the stairs. He stopped short when he caught sight of Winters and saluted quickly. "Oh, sorry, sir. Didn't know you were here."

"Don't mind me," Winters said with an eye roll aimed at Nix.

Mark dropped his hand and leaned against Lina's table. "Working hard?"

She grimaced. "I have so many papers that I'm swimming in them."

"I can take back the one's you've finished," he offered. "Might get McMaster to calm down a little."

"What's wrong?"

"Ah," he said, running a hand through his hair. "Missing bazooka in Paris."

She tapped her nails on the table. "There was the one in the tunnels," she mused. "And one under Pont Neuf."

"No, not that one," he said. "The one that was supposed to be delivered to the wine shop at Place de la Concorde."

"Oh, I never ran that," she said. "Sorry."

Mark groaned. "Damn," he said. "I was hoping that you stashed it somewhere. Anyway..." He put his helmet under his arm. "I'll be around if you remember anything, and I'll come get those papers before I leave tonight."

"Thank you," she said. "Help yourself to the apples on the table downstairs."

"Already have," he said with a grin. He saluted Winters and Lew before tromping down the stairs and disappearing around the doorway.

Lina sighed and rolled a blank sheet of onion paper into the typewriter. "Like I could hide a bazooka under my bed."

"Finish your novel yet?" Lew asked, meandering over to Winters' work area.

Winters held out two pages of freshly-typed notes. "Can you give that to Colonel Sink? With my compliments."

Lew scanned the words. "All that for two pages, huh? Guess that means that's gonna take a while."

Winters shot him an exasperated look. "Yeah, it is, you want a job?"

Lew sat down in a vacant chair and laughed to himself. "Hah, there it is. I think somebody wishes he was back in charge of Easy Company."

"Are you here to gloat?"

"No, just to rub it in a little," Nixon replied. "Moose is going to lead his first mission as company commander."

"Doing what?" Lina asked.

"Operation Pegasus is set to go off," Lew said. "Just wanted to give you a heads-up."

"Pegasus, yeah," Winters said, standing up at his desk. "Everybody know their job?"

"They drilled with the boats all day," Lew said. "Watched them do it on the riverbank. Lieutenant Welsh is coming along, and the Canadian engineers."

"The British are coming, the British are coming," Lina mumbled to herself, prying loose a staple.

"If there really are 140 Brits hiding over there, that's gonna be about three trips," Lew remarked.

"Speed is the key." Winters checked his wristwatch. "What time is jump-off?"

"0100," Lew said. "Dick, Easy's in good hands."

"Yeah," Winters nodded. "Yeah, well, tell them to hang tough."

"As for you," Lew said, turning to Lina. "Stay inside. Sink doesn't want you mixing with the Brits."

She threw up her hands. "I am too busy to risk arrest tonight."

"Glad to hear it," Lew said with a shake of his head. "Well, I'll leave both of you to it. Don't work too hard."

Winters sighed and looked out the window. "I'm going for a walk," he said wearily, turning towards the stairs. "Take a break to grab some chow, will you?"

She shrugged and watched him walk down the stairs. "Captain?" Winters paused. "They'll be fine."

He grunted and shook his head. "Yeah, let's hope so."

She had drifted off at some point, falling asleep with her head resting on her forearms, and woke to the sound of creaking floorboards. Ron was standing at the top of the stairs in the attic, holding a glass of water.

Lina groaned and sat up, rubbing her sore neck. "Shit."

"No wonder I didn't see you around this afternoon," Ron said, setting the water on her desk. "How long have you been up here?"

She rose from the uncomfortable wooden chair and looked at the dark sky outside of the window. "I don't know."

"Drink that," he said, pointing to the glass. "And then you're going to bed."

Her mouth was dry, come to think of it. She raised the glass to her lips and drank deeply, finishing it off in one go. "Did you go across the river?"

"No," he said, wrapping his arm around her shoulder and steering her towards the steps. "Sink wanted me over here in case the plan collapsed."

They descended carefully - her legs were locked from falling asleep, and Ron kept a firm grip around her waist. She nodded at the second-floor hallway. "My room is next to the bathroom."

He gave her a puzzled look. "But there isn't a bedroom next to the bathroom."

"Come and see," she said, leading him to her door. She twisted the doorknob and revealed her pallet.

Ron narrowed his eyes. "You're sleeping in a closet?"

She looked down at her blankets. "Yes."

"Why?"

She cracked her neck and sighed. "Where else would I sleep?"

He stepped into the doorway and looked around. "They didn't offer you a real room, with an actual bed?"

"No."

He scratched the back of his neck before turning around and giving her a frank look. "You're not sleeping here."

"Of course I am," she replied. "It's very cozy."

"Come back to my room," he said casually. Too casually. She studied him closely, and he frowned at his boots. "I mean, it's better than a closet."

"It might be a bad idea," she said slowly, and his frown deepened. "I mean, leaving here. There are British soldiers outside."

He scoffed. "They're all three sheets to the wind," he replied, placing a hand on her lower back, his thumb rubbing her skin through her shirt. "No one will notice."

Lina allowed him to escort her down the stairs and out the kitchen door into the balmy night. He stepped to her right, shielding her from the tipsy men finding their way back to the billets in the darkness. They walked on for a few minutes before arriving at an equally dilapidated farmhouse with one light shining from an upstairs window.

"Stay here," he said at the threshold, pivoting her into the shadows. He went inside, closing the door carefully behind him. She heard him walk through the downstairs before climbing the stairs. He reappeared in the doorway and guided her inside as he scanned the street in front of the house.

"No one's here," he said, closing the door behind them. "Someone left a light on is all." He ran his hand down her arm and clasped her hand, leading her towards the staircase. His palm was damp, and Lina bit her lip to hide her smile.

His room was tiny and sparse, holding only a double bed on a brass frame and one wardrobe. Some of his clothes lay on the floor, and he kicked them into the corner. "I'm the only one who doesn't have a roommate."

She walked in slowly and pressed her hand into the mattress, testing the springs before sitting down on the edge of the bed. "Ah, the privileges of rank," she sighed. She bent down to unlace her boots but looked up when Ron made no move to walk into the room. He stood against the closed door, his arms crossed, watching her carefully. "What?"

He shook his head, swallowing once. "Nothing."

She kicked off her boots and set them to the side of the bed before she rose and took a few steps towards him. "Captain Spiers," she said quietly, smothering her urge to giggle at his frozen expression. "Am I making you nervous?"

He blinked once and scowled. "Of course not."

She walked forward until they stood toe to toe, wiggling her feet in her filthy socks. She tilted her head to look into his eyes and watched his face soften. Lina placed a hand over his chest, seeking his heartbeat, then reached past him and twisted the lock on the door, grinning as she felt his pulse accelerate under her palm.

"What do we do now?" she asked.

He clenched his jaw and rested a hand against her waist. "What do you want to do?"

"Hmmm," she said, tracing the vein pulsing in his neck. She leaned forward and pressed her lips to his pulse, smiling at the way the air caught in his throat. "You decide."

That was enough permission for Ron - he melted away from the door, bringing up his hands to cradle her face. Ron chuckled to himself and pushed her towards the foot of the bed, and Lina grinned as the back of her knees met the mattress.

"Been dreaming about this," he muttered, pressing his lips to the corner of her mouth. "You, here, with me."

She wrapped her arms around his neck as he kissed his way down to her shirt collar. He grabbed the bunched fabric of her shirt near the small of her back and gave it a gentle tug, lifting his head to peck her once on the lips. His brown eyes were wide and dazed, drugged. "I want..." He stopped, thinking carefully. "I want to see you."

Lina took a deep breath and sat down on the bed. She peeled off her dirty socks and threw them across the room before inching backwards until she met the single pillow at the headboard. Her fingers played with the point of her shirt collar, her eyes never leaving his face.

"I have some scars," she said, twisting free the first button.

Ron yanked off his boots and moved onto the bed, resting his hands on either side of her shoulders. "I remember," he said gently. "From D-Day."

She huffed and shook her head. "Such a voyeur."

He placed his hand on top of hers. "May I?" She nodded and let her hands drop to the quilt, watching as he carefully undid the line of buttons, pushing the fabric away from her chest and ribs. He slid his hands under her back and lifted her up, pulling the shirt free and letting it fall off the side of the bed. His eyes ran up and down her chest, and he rubbed his thumb over a raised line of scar tissue on her ribs.

Lina detected the concern in his eyes and took a deep breath, willing herself to be brave. "I know it looks ugly."

He shook his head. "No," he said. "I just..." He splayed out his hand and stroked her skin, settling at her waist. "Who did this to you?"

She rotated her arms outward, exposing the slashes to her forearms and wrists. "Some are wounds. Some of it happened while I was at Wittlich, the prison," she said, and he looked up sharply. "Burns, cuts, punishments. And then..." Lina touched the white lines that ran up and down her arms. "I did that when I thought I would never leave. I couldn't stand the torture. But they stitched me up, put me back in the cell, and left me there for five days."

He closed a hand over her wrist and squeezed, his eyes dark. "Are they dead?"

"The guards?" she asked. "Yes."

"Good," he replied, raising her wrist to his lips. "Because I would be arrested for desertion tomorrow if they weren't."

The way he was looking at her, his face dazed as if he were suffering from a contact high, was enough to kill the nerves that fluttered in her stomach. She realized that for the first time, they had found a sliver of privacy, a moment where they didn't have to worry about someone turning a corner and catching them standing too close together. Something about that made her heart accelerate, made her hands itch to touch him, to drown every ounce of worry she had been carrying since leaving for Paris so many months ago.

She rose and wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him down to rest his weight on her body. He wove his fingers through her fading blonde hair and pulled gently, tilting her head backwards. She moaned, feeling the heat of it all searing her from the inside, rising to settle in her chest, and when she gasped for air he took full advantage of her open mouth, dominating it with his tongue.

He hadn't kissed her like this since Aldbourne, not with this much hunger and greed, touching every inch of her that she allowed him to have. She yanked on his shirt, and he paused briefly to let her scramble for the buttons. He was wearing a white PT shirt underneath and she groaned in frustration. "Too many clothes," she mumbled against his lips, trying her best to work the pesky shirt up and over his head. He broke away to let her tear it over his head and then resumed his attack on her body.

He was so warm, a miracle to someone who always felt so cold. His skin was surprisingly soft - she ran a hand over his lower back, feeling his muscles twist as he slipped an arm around her hips and pulled her onto her side to face him. She wrapped her leg around his waist and pressed closer to him, daring herself to let him take control.

He broke away from her, panting for air, but tightened his hold on her body. His hands found the clasp of her brassiere and paused, waiting for permission.

She touched his face with her fingertips and met his gaze. Be brave. "I have never done this."

"What?" he whispered.

She bit her lip and sighed. "Well," she said, hating the heat that spread across her face. "Intimacy. Sex."

He went still, tightening the grip he had on the flimsy brassiere. His mouth opened slightly, his eyes clouded over, and a borderline evil grin began to spread across his face. "Never?" he said quietly.

"Is that okay?" she asked, annoyed at the insecurity in her voice.

He stared at her, not registering her words, his eyes hazy. "I'm your first?"

It clicked for Lina then - his need to be the best, the toughest, the winner. If she were a finish line, he was close to claiming first prize. She nodded silently, dragging her fingernails through his hair.

He attacked the clasp of her bra, flinging it away from her body as he cupped her breast in his hand and kneaded it gently. She arched her back at the contact, surprised by how good his hands felt on her skin. "Perfect," he said to himself.

Then it was all happening in a rush - she reached for his belt, struggling to undo it as he unzipped her pants, lifting her hips to pull them off her legs; him laughing at her military-issued men's skivvies, her pretending to push him off the bed in retaliation; him sliding the ugly boxers off of her hips, and Lina feeling so exposed and vulnerable until he traced the stretch marks on the inside of her thigh and following his fingertips with kisses.

When he lowered his face between her legs, she yelped once and slapped a palm over her mouth reflexively. He paused and grabbed her arm, forcing her hand back to the bed. "No," he said roughly. "I want to hear you." He held onto her thighs, his fingers pressing into her skin as he tasted her and groaned.

"What if anyone else hears?"

He flicked his tongue upwards and laughed when she jolted. "Let them," he growled. "I want them to know I'm the only one who gets to touch you."

He worked at her slowly, taking his time, enjoying her, and letting her know with satisfied sighs. She was so preoccupied with everything he was doing that her she took herself by surprise when she came fast, her fingers gripping his hair, her back arched, her panting and moaning interrupted by a feral, guttural gasp that erupted from her chest, leaving her shaking. Ron crawled back up the bed, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand before leaning down to kiss her deeply and slowly. She tasted herself - sweet, like freshly baked bread - on his tongue and smiled against his lips. Her legs and arms felt like jelly, but she had enough energy and daring to reach down and palm him carefully.

He exhaled a long, satisfied breath as she stroked him. "If we do this," he said, his voice rough. "I'm not leaving. You're not walking away from me."

"I don't want to go anywhere," Lina replied with a kiss.

"No one else," he said. "Only me."

"Only you."

He rolled on his back and reached under the bed, pulling out a prophylactic from its hiding place. "Never thought I'd need these," he said with a shake of his head. "Thank Christ I kept them."

She watched him roll on the condom, suddenly self-conscious. She wasn't afraid of the pain - she'd felt it before, in all its forms - but she was hit with the ridiculous idea that somehow, she wouldn't be good enough at it for him. He must have seen the concern flit across her face, because he stroked her leg gently. "I'll be careful," he said.

"I trust you," she said simply. He grabbed the pillow and propped up her hips before he positioned himself over her. She could feel him pressing against her core, and she took a deep breath and buried her face in the crook of his neck.

To his credit, he was careful, patient, kissing her every other second and making sure it felt right, that it didn't hurt too much, stopping each time she winced. Lina willed her feet to relax, then her ankles, then her legs, until she was breathing deeply and nodding for him to push further, and finally, something inside of her shifted, and Ron was inside of her fully, dropping his head onto her shoulder and groaning.

She wound her legs around his waist and kissed his eyelids. "Fuck," he said tightly, as if he was in pain. "Jesus Christ. You feel so good."

He moved after another moment of stillness, and she closed her eyes and focused on the sensation, pushing her mind past the ache in her legs and the spasms of pain. At first it was bizarre, a new use of muscle that she was unaccustomed to, but then she craved more, needing the friction to accelerate.

She pressed her hips up to meet him the next time he thrust into her, and she gasped at the contact. Ron quickened his pace, sitting up to watch her writhe as he pushed in and out of her body, but soon he went back to cradling her head, whispering in her ear as he set the pace. Mine, mine, all mine.

That was just fine with Lina.

Too soon, he was nearing the edge - she could tell by the way he went faster, a little harder, groaning against her neck. She held on to him as he shuddered, letting out the most delightful noises that she had ever heard come from his mouth, and realizing, Me, he's doing that because of me. When he sank against her, he stayed inside of her body, his heartbeat rattling through her chest.

She kissed the sweat on his forehead, licking the salt from her lips, and he took his time sliding out of her. They both groaned when they broke the contact, and after he disposed of the condom in a wastebasket near the bed, he gathered Lina into his chest, their legs tangling together as they regained their breath.

He held her tightly, silently, so quiet that she began to worry. "Hey," she said, her voice gravelly.

"Yeah?" he replied, kissing the top of her head.

"I liked that," she whispered.

His embrace tightened around her ribs. "It didn't hurt?"

"A little," she admitted. "But it was worth it."

His fingers tilted her chin upwards, and she closed her eyes, feeling a bizarre wave of bashfulness wash over her. "Look at me," he commanded, and she obeyed, meeting his gaze. "Stay here tonight."

She stretched her legs, pointing her toes. "I don't think I could walk, anyway."

He laughed and pushed the hair away from her eyes. "All part of my plan to have you all for myself." He kissed the palm of her hand. "I want to have you in my bed every night."

She pushed away so he could see the smile on her face. "Can we do it every day?"

His face went blank for a moment before he ran a hand up her bare leg. "If we don't, I think I might lose my mind," he replied. He lifted the edge of the quilt for her, and she slipped under the cool sheets. He stared at her for a moment, tracing a finger down the slope of her nose. "I think I'm addicted."

Lina, already high, tugged him down to her so he could get his fix again.

Lew made his way back to his room, wasted from a late night and early morning with the Red Devils. He didn't particular like the British, but they did share their alcohol, and that was always a good reason to make a friend.

The house was dark and quiet in the early dawn, and he opened the kitchen door and took in the depleted bowl of apples and the coffee cups that Lip and Harry hadn't bothered to empty. Dick was certainly asleep, and he'd have to pay close attention to his steps on the creaking floorboards.

A little glow caught his eye as he walked past the living room, and he paused in the doorway. A figure lounged across the couch, cigarette smoke swirling upwards into the air. He walked into the room and saw Lina's tangled hair draping over the armrest of the settee.

"Lina?"

She sat up quickly, looking over her shoulder. Her clothes were rumpled, and she looked like she hadn't slept all night. "Lewis," she said quietly. "What are you doing?"

"Going to bed," he said, leaning against the doorframe. "What are you doing?"

"Couldn't sleep," she said. "Did everything go to plan?"

"Yeah, thank God," he replied. "Come on, let's go up."

She rose from the couch and nodded once, making her way past him and towards the stairs. He stopped her with a palm. "Wait."

Circles under the eyes, rosy cheeks, one button missing from her shirt... He took in the self-satisfied look on her face and groaned in misery. "No," he said. "You did not. Tell me you didn't."

She put on a mask of confusion and shook her head. "What are you talking about?" she said. "You had too much again." She patted him on the shoulder and climbed the stairs carefully, avoiding the one step that squeaked.

He was too drunk for this. He'd think about it in the morning over his coffee. He couldn't remember the consequences of fraternization between male and female service members or if those stipulations even existed. There was no return from this, not for Spiers, not for Lina, not for the people around them.

And if they decided to explode, Lew was sure that he and every member of Easy Company would feel the impact.

December 1944

Mourmelon-le-Grand, France

"One more time!" Mark wheezed in the mud, holding up a hand.

"No," Lina panted, resting her hands on her knees. She had flecks of mud on her face, in her ears and in her hair, and she was angry at him for dragging her out on a perfectly horrible day to practice hand-to-hand combat. "Absolutely not."

"One more round," he said, glaring at her as he scrambled to his knees.

She spat on the ground and rolled up her sleeves. "Fine," she said. "Get up."

It was drizzly winter day in Mourmelon-le-Grand, and Lina hadn't slept a wink the night before. She had stayed awake with Ron to stargaze, meeting him in the clearing next to the medic's tent. He had pointed out Cassiopeia, Orion's Belt and Andromeda, the closest galaxy. She had bundled herself under a blanket as he cradled her against his chest and whispered her the mythology, and after her toes went numb, she led him to an equipment tent full of crates, and, well...

"Focus," Mark said, snapping his fingers in her face.

"I am, you ass," she snapped, squaring up to him. He swung at her wildly and she ducked it easily. "Try harder."

"Ugh!" he grunted, kicking out a leg that she slapped away. " You need to take this seriously, Lina. You've gotten rusty."

Longshore was convinced that they were about to be sent to the front again and that they had to be prepared for physical altercations at the drop of a hat. Lina didn't necessarily want to pass the morning hours wrestling with Mark in the mud, but she also had no desire to be endlessly marched up and down the one landing strip in Mourmelon by Lieutenants Dike and Peacock.

Mark lunged for her, and she kneed him in the stomach, sending him back down into the muck. "Remind me again who is rusty?" she said, nudging him in the side with her boot.

"Dammit," he sighed. "You win."

She looked down at her new wristwatch. "I've got to find Lewis anyway," she said. "He had intel deliver a report in German and needs a translation. Something to do with the Ardennes."

"McMaster liked your last batch of reports, by the way," Mark grumbled as he got to his feet. "Helped him fish out some Free French impersonators who were actually collaborators."

She twirled her hand through the air and gave Mark a pert little bow. "I am His Majesty's servant."

"Damn right you are," he replied, and she patted him on the back before she headed towards Company HQ, dodging the sound of marching boots echoing from her left.

She knew she straddled some strange lines - Nazi intelligence agent, British spy, American fighter - that sent men into a tizzy, but she had never met someone who hated her on sight like Norman Dike. From the moment he had stepped out of a jeep in his brand- new leather jump boots, he had gone out of his way to insult her to her face.

The first instance had been around the NCOs in the temporary mess hall. She had been eating beans and ripping apart a piece of bread when Dike had approached their table. The men immediately rose and saluted, and Lina lagged thanks to the bread in her mouth.

Dike had looked her up and down, distaste splashed across his face. "You men like to eat with Krauts, huh?"

Johnny Martin had blinked once and arranged his face into a neutral glare, the most impassive face he could muster. "Sir?"

Dike had gestured at her. "What's your rank, anyway?"

Lina had taken her time to chew, swallow, and reach down for a sip of water. "Second lieutenant," she replied. It was only after the words left her mouth that she had forgotten to call him 'sir'.

Dike had snorted and walked away, leaving them to their sad meal.

The second time had been inside of Company HQ. Ron had come over with a variety of maps that needed to be organized, and he and Lina had monopolized the long table in the foyer. Dike had wandered in, taken off his helmet, and sat it on the map that Lina was actively trying to measure. Before she could say anything, he had walked away in search of Winters.

Lina had turned to look at Ron, who was staring at Dike's retreating shadow. "Told you he doesn't like me," she replied.

Ron ran his tongue over his teeth, and then nodded towards the coat closet off the entrance. "Go stand in there. I want to try something."

She had raised her eyebrows, but he had taken her by the arm and steered her away from the table. "Okay, I will hide," she said with a laugh. She winked at him before pulling the door closed.

She heard Ron walk over to her side of the table, and a moment later there was a distant metallic clatter. Ron walked away from the door and settled in over his maps. Lina held her breath even though she wasn't in danger, shaking her head in the dark closet. What was the phrase she was looking for? Oh, yes: shit stirrer.

There were footsteps stomping down the hall that stopped abruptly in front of the table. "Where's my helmet?"

There was a beat of silence. "What helmet?" Ron said passively.

"I left my helmet on this table," Dike said, heating up. "And now it's gone." Total quiet from Ron's end of the table - Lina could imagine the icy wall he had thrown up between him and Dike, the kind that made you feel stupid for even drawing a breath in his presence.

Then Dike really nailed his own coffin shut. "Bet that Kraut bitch took it," he said.

Lina heard the pencil clatter to the table. "Excuse me?" Ron said quietly.

"You know, that German spy," Dike said dismissively, ignorant of his impending doom. "The one that follows Easy Company around."

"Lieutenant Schütze is an intelligence agent for the United States Army," Ron said, his tone black with loathing.

Dike finally seemed to register Ron's mood. "You don't have to deal with her," he said defensively. "What's your name, anyway?"

"Captain Speirs of Dog Company," Ron replied. Lina could imagine him rolling his shoulders back, drawing himself up to his full height.

Dike backpedaled. "Oh, I haven't made your acquaintance," he said smoothly. "My apologies, sir. I'm- "

"I know who you are," Ron said. "We all do."

Ooof, Lina grimaced.

Dike shifted on his feet. "If you see Schütze, tell her that I'm looking for her," he said imperiously. The man walked quickly out the front door, and a minute later Ron opened the closet.

"Like I said," Lina muttered. "Not my best friend."

Ron pulled her out of the closet and glared at the front door. "If he ever, ever, uses his rank against you..."

"I'll let you know," she said, laying a hand on his arm. "But for now, let's finish plotting those maps."

That had been two weeks ago, and Dike had reverted to a policy of total silence when she was around, ignoring the fact that she lived and breathed in the same room as he did. She pushed open the door to Company HQ with her hip and headed up the stairs to Lew's lair, where she could hear voices rumbling behind the glass door.

"Easy still has only sixty-five percent strength and most of those are replacements," Winters said. "Including their new CO." He waved Lina in when she hesitated at the door, and she slipped in behind Harry, who gave her a sly wink.

She helped herself to a mug of coffee from the buffet on the far wall. "How's Lieutenant Dike doing?" Lew asked, grabbing the mug of coffee from Lina's hand.

"Three weeks in Holland and the guys are already calling him Foxhole Norman," Harry replied.

Lina snorted and poured herself another cup of coffee.

Lew's eyes lingered on her for a moment before turning his attention back to the matter at hand. "Well, they're talking about a mid-March action at the earliest, so, we train the guys for three months, we jump into Berlin, we end the war."

"Unlikely," Lina mumbled into the steam of her cup.

Lew shook his head at her. "Oh, ye of little faith."

"The only thing holding Easy together is the NCO's, Toccoa men," Winters said, bristling.

One of the small orderlies opened the door. "Sir, there's a Sergeant Guarnere here to see you." He barely had the words out of his mouth before Bill shoved his way into the room, giving everyone present a salute.

"Look what the train brought in," Harry said.

"Hiya, captain," Bill said, shaking Winters' hand before turning and throwing his arms open wide for Lina. "And you, doll - give me some sugar."

"This is against military code," she replied, but allowed Bill to kiss her on the cheek. "Happy to see you."

"And I never thought I'd see you behind a desk, sir," Bill remarked to Winters, leaning back to shake Lew's hand.

"Someday he'll sit behind it," Lew quipped.

"Well, I just went AWOL from the hospital to get back to you here, sir. Hope that's not going to cause you a problem."

"Would you care if it did?" Winters said slyly.

"Not a bit, sir," Bill replied with a smirk. "Got a letter here for you from Moose... Lieutenant Heyliger, sir." Winters took the envelope from Bill's hand. "He's recovering, but it's going to be a long haul."

"Thanks, Bill," Winters said.

"Yeah, you're welcome," Bill replied. He hesitated for a moment, looking Lina up and down, his eyes glittering as she stepped closer to where Harry and Lew were chatting. She watched him walk out the door and shook her head.

"Well, I guess now's as good of a time as any," Lew said, pulling out an envelope from his jacket.

"What's that, a piece of paper?" Winters said. "I don't want to see another piece of paper."

"You, my friend, are headed to Paris," Lew said, throwing the paper down on his desk. "That's a forty-eight-hour pass."

"City of Light," quipped Harry.

"It's been decided that you need a little dose of civilization," Lew continued as Winters stared at the pass. "Bon voyage."

"Paris is beautiful in the winter," Lina said with a smile.

"And I am off to Aldbourne to look up a young lady," said Lew. "Might as well take advantage of the free time we've got."

"I second that," Harry said.

Lina frowned. "So, everyone is leaving for the weekend except me?"

"Lip and Harry are staying here," Winters said.

"Someone has to make sure Easy doesn't crumble," Harry said.

"If Lieutenant Dike continues to drill the men every day, they just might," she said, exchanging a glance with Lew.

"He doesn't like her," Lew said, answering Winters' curious look.

"Well, to be fair," said Harry, lighting a cigarette. "You're not very likeable."

"How dare you," she replied. "I am a peach."

"Yeah," Harry replied. "A rotten one."

She threw a pen at his head.

Lina rolled over onto her stomach, holding her copy of Meditations in one hand and a lit cigarette in the other. She opened the book on the quilt beneath her and brought the cigarette to her lips. "Let me see," she mused aloud. "'Accept the things to which fate binds you, and love the people with whom fate brings you together, but do so with all your heart...'"

"Wise words," Ron said, running a hand up her leg and squeezing the curve of her ass. She looked over her shoulder and took in his hungry gaze. Lina took a drag from her cigarette and shook her head. He was insatiable.

"Marcus Aurelius would hate me," she said. Ron planted a kiss on the bare skin at the small of her back and hummed his agreement. "'If it is not right, do not do it; if it is not true, do not say it.'" He ran the heel of his hands up her back and she sank down onto the book, letting out a groan. "Oh, that feels nice."

Ron paused at her shoulder blades. "Where did these bruises come from?"

"Sparring with Mark."

He kneaded them gently. "Did he punch you in the back?"

"He tried," she replied, closing her eyes. "He isn't good at hand-to-hand combat."

Ron sighed and trailed a finger down her spine. "You bruise so easily."

It was true - little green dots were beginning to form on her hipbones where Ron had grabbed her from behind the previous evening. After Nixon and Winters had cleared out for the weekend, he had arrived at her bedroom door at midnight holding a stolen bottle of Lew's whiskey. She had met him at the threshold of her room wrapped in a blanket and nothing else, and he had lifted her up and taken her against the door, knocking a framed oil painting of a pasture from its hook and breaking a wall sconce in the process.

Lina sighed and closed her book. "I keep thinking about what Lew said the other day," she muttered. She flipped over and squinted at the cracks in her ceiling, lost in thought. "He thinks we are going to jump on Berlin after Christmas."

Ron scoffed and settled in beside her. "Wouldn't that be nice," he said. She passed him her cigarette and he took a deep drag.

She shook her head and grimaced. "They would burn the city down before they allowed the Allies inside."

"Agreed," Ron said, reaching down to his coat beside the bed. He withdrew a folded handkerchief and set it on her chest. She felt the weight of metal underneath the bundled cotton and looked at him in surprise. "Merry Christmas."

She plucked open the fabric and spied a silver chain. She pinched the necklace and held it up to the light, peering at the round stone embedded in the teardrop pendant. When she realized what it was, she sat up and cradled it in her hand. "Wait, is this...?"

"Your birthstone," he replied, failing to hide his grin.

She blinked at him. "My birthstone is a diamond." When his expression didn't change, she slapped him lightly on the arm. "Ron!"

He shrugged, unbothered. "It reminded me of you," he said, taking it from her hand. "Turn around."

Flabbergasted, she obeyed, and he secured the clasp around her neck. It was long enough for her to hide it under the collar of her fatigues, thank goodness. She wasn't sure how to explain the sudden appearance of a diamond around her neck. Ron smiled in a self-satisfied way and leaned back, admiring his work.

"You have to stop giving me things," she said. "It's not Christmas! It's the tenth of December."

"Early Christmas Present, then," he amended. "Do you like it?"

"Of course," she said, pinching the stone between her thumb and forefinger. "I love it."

"Good," he replied. "That's all that matters to me."

"That, and the fact that anyone who sees me wearing it will be reminded that I have an admirer," she said with a raised eyebrow.

He grinned widely, basking in his success. "Precisely."

She checked the wristwatch that he had given her - a silver Longines women's timepiece, no doubt filched from some poor French woman's abandoned jewelry box - and stood up. "Want to go see a movie?"

They walked towards the mess hall together, noting the rare quiet that had dropped over the camp. The film was some John Wayne affair, one the men had seen a hundred times, but Lina hadn't watched an American film in a decade and wanted to experience the old allure of the theater, even if it was hosted in a building that stank of onions.

The film was already rolling when they entered the room, and no one spared them a second glance as they settled into the back row of chairs that had been set up in lieu of theater seats.

"Look at me, I'm John Wayne," Luz intoned in a poor imitation of the man on screen. "The costume department set me up with these great Navy whites."

Ron snorted lightly as Toye and Lipton turned to glare at the radioman. "Nothing worse than someone who talks during movies."

Lina poked his arm. "And you're one of them," she whispered.

"Shhh," he hushed, plastering on a fake look of annoyance. "I'm trying to watch this."

Winters ambled down the row, pausing when he saw Lina and Ron sitting together. She gave him a small wave and he pursed his lips in disapproval before he continued forward, settling in behind -

"Is that Buck?" she whispered to Ron, nodding at the man that Winters had tapped on the back.

Ron leaned forward, squinting through the dim light. "Think so," he replied. "Looks worse for wear."

She had been wondering about Buck ever since he'd been shot through the ass and sent to a field hospital in Rheims. No one had received a letter from him, a rare occurrence when a man went off the line for a wound. She watched as he glanced back at Winters, his eyes glazed over, his cheekbones defined in the silver light emanating from the wall.

"I should go say hello," she said.

Ron rolled his eyes. "Give him a kiss from me." She pinched his arm and he pinched the side of her thigh in retaliation.

The door behind them banged open, and two men strode into the hall. "Lights!" someone called, and the projector was cut off. The men around them whined their complaints

"Quiet!" Dike called, facing the crowd. "Elements of the 1st and the 6th SS Panzer Division have broken through in the Ardennes Forest."

Lina groaned and dropped her head into her hands. Of course.

"Now they've overrun the 28th Infantry an elements of the 4th," Dike continued. "All officers report to respective HQs, and all passes are cancelled."

Ron rose to his feet, ignoring the yells of protest around them. "Come on," he said quietly. "Let's get out of here while we can."

She followed him out the door, taking a mental inventory of all her things. "Do you have a winter coat?"

"Yep," he said. "Non-regulation, took it from a closet in Holland."

"It will be cold," she said to herself. "And none of us have the right gear."

"Do you have a scarf?" he asked, and she shook her head. "Gloves? Search the closets when you get back to Easy HQ, I'll do the same. See what you can find."

He squeezed her hand before she broke away from him and threw open the door to Easy's headquarters. Lewis was already inside, rifling through the kitchen cabinets. "Good, you've heard," he said shortly. "They pulled me out of Aldbourne for this. I've got a feeling that we're about to be dumped in the middle of the woods in Belgium without any supplies."

"Would they do that?" she called as she climbed the steps to the bedrooms.

"In an emergency?" he yelled. "Absolutely."

She wrenched open the hall closets, the bedroom wardrobes and the trunks at the ends of beds, grabbing blankets and a man's black woolen coat. She hurried down the stairs and dumped them on the couch, keeping the coat for herself. "Good thinking," Lew said.

The NCOs were filtering into the room now, looking at the pile of supplies that they had dumped together. "Take what you need and get packed," Lew called. "We're moving out in an hour."

Lina huddled between Malarkey and Roe, tucking her hands into her armpits. The canvas siding of their truck flapped in the wind, whipping the cold air through the cab. They had been riding in the back of the truck for what felt like hours, and the further north they travelled the more snow she spied on the ground outside.

She had distributed the blankets she found to the men in her platoon and to anyone else who looked like they could use an extra layer of protection against the winter air. Now the truck resembled a demented slumber party, or a camping trip gone wrong.

Buck stared at the truck behind them. "I guess the blackout's not in effect," he called out over the rumbling of the tires. "Luftwaffe must be asleep."

"What a difference a day makes, huh, Lieutenant?"

Bill shook his head. "Christ, I miss those C47s."

"We've got a tailgate jump here," Tab said.

"I just wanna know where they're sending us," Babe said, and she peered at him. "What the hell are we supposed to do with no ammo?"

Lina patted down the pockets of her fatigues. She had rounds for her pistol and maybe one clip for her rifle, but that was it. She drew out her silver knife and twisted it to the side, checking its sharpness in the moonlight. She caught Babe's horrified look and she bit back a smile as she put the knife away.

"Hey kid, you got a name?" Bill asked, and one of the replacements looked his way.

"Suerth," the guy replied.

"You got any ammo? What about socks, extra socks?" The men pestered the poor kid, who shrank back from their demands.

"You need four, minimum," Skip lectured. "Feet, neck, hands and balls - "

"Extra socks warms them alls," the platoon finished en masse. Lina shook her head.

"Okay, we all remember that one!" Skip said triumphantly. "But did we remember the socks?"

"You got a coat?" Liebgott asked from the back.

"Shut up with the coat, Liebgott, no one's got one."

They harassed the kid until he pulled a pack of cigarettes from his pocket, giving it over to the crowd. Lina steadied herself as the truck banked to the left and leaned forward to look out over the tailgate. She inhaled the scent of pine sap and snow deep into her lungs and exhaled slowly. "Smell that?" she asked Roe. He shook his head.

They ground to a halt and Buck unlatched the chain that held up the tailgate. When her boots hit the ground, she turned and looked past the lines of trucks to the shadows of the forest that loomed before them.

God, it might as well have been yesterday. She could still feel the pine needles piercing the soles of her feet, the cold air freezing her fingers, the howls of the bloodhounds chasing her.

"Lina," Luz said, slapping her on the shoulder. She opened her eyes. "Nixon wants to see you up front."

She wove her way past shivering men and towards the jeep that had parked beside the main thoroughfare, where Sink was pouring over a map with Lew and Winters. She saluted the colonel before stepping forward and looking down at the map. All she saw was a flurry of red lines intersecting each other, a complex mess of movement.

"Welcome to Belgium," Sink said. "This area is known as Bastogne. Seven roads leading in, seven roads leading out, which makes it ideal for Kraut armor."

"Ike wants to make sure that the Krauts can't use those roads, so we're going to put in a perimeter around Bastogne, dig in tight as a tick."

"Sir, we're a little short on ammunition," she said.

"How short?"

"There was a limited supply in camp, sir," Winters added.

"Cap'n, you beg, borrow, or steal ammo," Sink said, climbing into his jeep. "But you defend this area."

"Yes, sir," they replied, saluting him as he rode away. Lina sent a sideways glance at Lew, who was looking at Winters with plenty of apprehension himself.

"Cold as a mother," Lew said, staring at the road into the tree line. "Jesus, dig in outside, in this weather?"

Lina pointed at a crowd of men coming up the road. "Who is that?" They were staggering, dazed, in a trance as the men of Easy crowded around them, stripping them of their ammo and coats.

A jeep pulled through the melee, piled high with crates of ammo. "Make a hole!" the driver yelled.

"Lieutenant, you're a godsend," Winters said, approaching the man at the wheel. "What's the situation?"

"Well, I heard you guys were coming in, and there was an ammo dump, so..." Lew picked up a crate and passed it to Toye, who began to hand it off to Major Strayer. "Is it just you guys in the 101st?"

"Looks like," Lew replied, tossing a crate at Lina. She caught it and walked over to Liebgott and Babe, who tore into the wooden box. "What hit you guys?"

"Everything," the driver replied. "Krauts had Tigers, Panthers, SPs, Stukas, and infantry that just kept coming."

The man climbed back in the jeep and gave them a concerned look. "A Panzer division is about to cut you guys off to the south. Looks like you guys are gonna be surrounded."

"We're paratroopers, lieutenant," Winters said. "We're supposed to be surrounded."

"Good luck!" the man called before starting the jeep and easing his way onto the road. Lina watched him go, rubbing her hands together as the snow began to fall again.

Lew stepped towards her, and she slung her rifle off her arm and cradled it against her chest. "The last great push?" he muttered as they began to walk towards the woods.

"It seems they're throwing everything this way," she replied. The diamond pendant slid across her skin, and she reached up a hand to steady it under her fatigues.

"Desperate times call for desperate measures," Lew said.

And desperate men are capable of awful things.