The smell of pine and moss was in his nose, and there was a soft breeze touching his face.
Richard opened his eyes to find himself staring at the night sky; the inky blackness filled with more stars than he'd ever seen in Brooklyn. In fact, the last time he'd seen a sky like this was during the war, on what had been a relatively peaceful night; even with the sound of shells exploding in the far distance.
Sitting up, he looked around. He was in a forest, he realised. Then he frowned.
What the hell was he doing in a forest?
And how in the hell was he supposed to get off the ground? He wasn't as young as he'd once been; he needed something to -
He looked at his hands and startled violently.
No longer were they gnarled and twisted, lined with wrinkles, and pockmarked with old scars and callouses. Instead, they were smooth and firm. A little weather worn, but not overly so.
He felt his face, and found it wrinkle free. He looked at his chest, peering inside his shirt, and found it was the same smooth, toned plains that he'd had during the war.
"I knew you checked yourself out when you thought no one was lookin'."
Richard looked up so quickly, he was surprised he didn't break his neck. "Bumpkin?!"
Jackson strolled up to him, hands in his pockets and a massive grin on his face. "It's about damn time you got here, Brooklyn!"
He jumped to his feet, running to close that final distance and pulled the young sniper into his arms, hugging him for dear life. Jackson laughed and returned the hug with equal fervour. "I... I don't... How?!" Pulling back, he looked the man up and down. Jackson was the same as he'd been in the war, right down to the smattering of fuzz on his face that had been growing in at a snail's pace since they'd left Omaha. "Wait, if you're here, then... I'm dead, aren't I?"
Jackson nodded. "You died in your sleep, if it helps. Your heart gave out, quick and painless. That pneumonia really kicked your ass these last few months, huh?"
He'd been in and out of hospital so much he'd felt like a goddam yo-yo. His family had been by his side every step of the way, but even he'd known the constant uncertainty surrounding his health had started to wear them down. "Tell me about it."
Jackson slung his arm around his shoulder, and Richard realised the sniper was leading him deeper into the forest where he could see a flickering light up ahead, and could hear other voices; soft at first, but growing louder the closer they got. "Not that I wanted you dyin' or anythin', but it's about damn time you got here. I'm lookin' forward to arguin' with you again!"
"Thanks Bumpkin," he laughed, shaking his head. Then a thought struck him, and he looked at the sniper curiously. "How'd you know my heart gave out on me?"
There was a dismissive wave of the hand, and a cheeky smile. "That's easy; I've always been with you, Reiben. Just like I've been with the rest of the lads, all through your lives. Then, when it was time, I was there to hold your hand as you passed on."
Age-old words drifted to the forefront of his mind, and he couldn't help but smile. "You were our guardian angel, huh?"
"Damn straight I was," the sniper replied, puffing his chest out proudly. "Someone had to watch your sorry asses, keep you out of trouble. Had my work cut out for me for most of you, that was for damn sure. I shoulda been chargin' you protection, bloody hell."
"Y'know, I think I heard you, a time or two." There'd been a voice that had followed him throughout his life, appearing every now and then when he needed guidance that had sounded suspiciously like his deceased friend. His wife had called it his inner voice, his conscience – something everyone supposedly had. He'd never believed it, simply because he didn't think his conscience would have any reason to have Southern drawl and call him a jackass on a regular basis unless it was the sniper.
Jackson smiled but stayed quiet; not bothering to confirm or deny his suspicions.
The voices grew louder the closer they got, and Richard ground to a halt at the edge of the trees when he realised the voices belonged to his old squad who were sitting around a campfire, talking and laughing seemingly without a care.
Sheltering in the darkness, he drunk in the sight of them all; his heart aching at the faces he'd not seen for many years, some longer than others, but all just as loved and just as mourned.
By some unfortunate happenstance, he'd been the last man standing from their group of eight. As he'd gotten older, he'd spent those lonely years regularly thinking about his long-lost family – and now they were here, sitting in front of him with smiles on their faces, all of them looking to be the same age as they had been back during the war.
The Sarge had been the first of them to go, suffering a heart attack after a long battle against drugs and alcohol, and dealing with a failed marriage because of them. It happened ten years after the war ended, and despite what they'd all tried to do for their Sarge, the demons that followed him had run too deep. Here, now, he looked young and carefree; the severity of the substance abuse no longer visible on his skin or in his eyes, for which Richard was glad.
Upham, surprisingly, had been the one after that, about eight years later. The interpreter had published two bestselling books after the war ended: The Band of Brotherhood, and Saving Private Ryan. Their squad, despite their initial animosity towards the man when he'd joined them, had adopted him into the fold and had been fully supportive of the books, particularly the second one. Not only did it detail their journey to find Ryan and all it had entailed, but it was the perfect way to ensure their dead brother's actions and sacrifice wasn't forgotten.
Sadly, for the interpreter, he'd been killed in a car accident when a drunk driver ran a red light on their way home from a weekend away. His wife and sons had escaped with their lives, but he and his daughter hadn't been so lucky. At the campfire he was a little older than he had been in the war; a few lines on his face and the faintest streak of silver in his hair, but he was with them, smiling and laughing, and that was all that mattered.
Miller was next, suffering a particularly brutal battle with Alzheimer's towards the end. Richard had visited as often as he could, his loyalty to his captain remaining long after the man's ability to recognise him disappeared.
On his more lucid days, he recognised Richard, even if he couldn't quite remember who he was, and on the not so lucid days, he found himself listening to Miller's war stories; amused at the retelling of events he'd been a part of, even if Miller didn't remember it. He'd been devastated when Miller died, but glad too, because it meant an end to the man's suffering. His captain was sitting beside Horvath, the pair laughing at something one of them had said, and he was pleased to see the tremble in Miller's hands, which had plagued the man for the rest of his life, was no longer there.
On Miller's right was a chortling Wade, and seeing the quiet medic was like a kick to the gut. Wade had been the next one of their unit to go, and it was his loss that had hit him the hardest when it happened.
The Jacksons had adopted Roy's squad into their close-knit family immediately and without question; ensuring they all knew that they didn't blame them for the sniper's death – only that they were grateful they'd returned home and could tell them what happened. By some small miracle, rather than being shipped out to the front lines once again the higher ups decided to keep them all at the camp to train the new soldiers coming through, given their extensive battlefield knowledge. It was because of this that seven months after Ramelle, Wade proposed to Mary-Anne; Roy's beautiful sister that was so much like the blond sniper, Richard spent several months struggling to think of them as separate people whenever he saw her.
They'd all sat with the family at the front of the church as the pair promised themselves to each other, and they had all been in the waiting room in the hospital when they welcomed their first child, a son they named RJ in honour of Mary-Anne's late brother, into the world. They, along with Mr and Mrs Jackson had given the squad an open invite to turn up whenever they wanted, no questions asked; which they all took up, at one time or another.
Whether they turned up with smiles on their faces and their hearts and minds worry free, just wanting to check in and update each other on their lives; or stumbling drunk, faces gaunt from nightmares and memories, they were taken in and offered a soft bed, warm food, and a gentle pat on the shoulder. Then the next morning, regardless of their state, they were sent out into the fields to work; either enjoying the sun or working out the demons that dogged their footsteps until they were more at peace.
Wade and Mary-Anne had always been a loving, cohesive unit; inseparable even up to death. After battling cancer, Mary-Anne died in her sleep, and Wade, in his grief, followed a few minutes later – passing on between one breath and the next from where he lay at her side. The only peace their seven children had found when they lost their parents in the same day, was that they were together once again.
"My only regret was not bein' there for them through all those milestones," Jackson said quietly as he followed Reiben's eye-line, both of them spying Wade fiddling with his wedding ring, a soft smile on his face as he listened to the two men goofing off next to him.
Said goofs were Caparzo and Mellish; the source of the medic's laughter. Caparzo had led a good life, becoming a mechanic who was devoted to his family and community, and who died six years back from a massive heart attack while he'd been at the World War Two memorial with his children and grandchildren.
Mellish had died a couple months after that, incidentally at the same place and of the same thing. The man had also surrounded himself with his family, and they'd all been a driving force behind helping displaced Jewish citizens around the world in honour of those that had died.
It was at Fish's funeral, surrounded by strangers that the fact he was the last survivor - was alone – really hit home. But he'd lived on, for his family and the friends long gone, doing what he could for as long as he could, until his body started to fail him.
He was pleased with the life he'd led. He had a wonderful wife – thanks to Mary-Anne introducing them – who'd been his rock when he'd struggled with the horrors of his past; lending a sympathetic ear, but also taking none of his shit when he'd imbibed more than he should've. He had three wonderful children that had done him proud, and the various grandchildren he'd doted on as they come along.
He was pleased with his life, but there were also regrets that he knew he'd need to come to terms with eventually. It seemed he had all the time in the world to do this, now.
It was as this thought crossed his mind that his squad looked up at him, all of them smiling softly. An arm nudged his, and he looked at the man beside him.
"You see that light, through them trees there?" Jackson asked. Richard nodded when he saw where the sniper was pointing. "That's where you need to go."
He frowned. "Why?" he asked, confused. "What's over there?"
"Peace."
"But my peace is here, with you guys," he said, still confused. "I don't need to go anywhere else." All he wanted was to sit amongst his friends and enjoy their company for a while. He'd missed them, and the realisation of how lonely he'd been hadn't been obvious until now.
"You'd be surprised by how much you need to go there," Horvath said, and Richard turned, surprised. His Sarge was smiling fondly at him as he leaned back on his hands. "You feel peaceful here, but you haven't found your peace, kid. Not yet. Trust Jackson to know what he's talkin' about. He's been here longer than us."
He grimaced at that. As though he needed the reminder.
"Reiben, we'll be here when you get back," Miller added. "We never left you, just like Jackson never left us. When you've made your peace, you'll be able to come back here and join us, but for now there's a bit more for you to do."
"That an order, Cap?"
Miller snorted, grinning widely. "It can be if it'll make you feel better. But think of it as a friendly suggestion."
"You'd be surprised by how much baggage is on your shoulders," Upham said. "And you'd be surprised by the weight that vanishes when you deal with it."
"For the love of God, stop being a wuss about it, would you?" Mellish groused, ducking Caparzo's hand when he swat at him. "Go, deal with your shit then get back here, okay? We've got things to catch up on, man!"
Caparzo was glaring at Mellish. "You're lucky he's the last one here. Your dead-side manner is terrible." He turned to Richard. "But you do need to deal with your shit, Reiben. Because we do have things to catch up on."
"It's okay, Reiben," Wade said, his warm smile convincing him more than the reasons the others had given him had. "It's okay."
He was nudged again. "We never left each other, Reiben," Jackson reminded him, clapping his shoulder. "We're brothers. Family. This fire will always burn, and will be here whenever you need us. But for now, you need to go there and find your peace."
The sniper left his side, wandering over to the campfire and dropping into the now empty spot between Wade and Caparzo, and sharing a grin with the medic.
Richard looked at his brothers, his heart full at the sight of them all together again. He was back where he belonged, and somewhere deep inside, he knew they were right. They'd always be there for him.
Squaring his shoulders, he nodded to himself and walked towards the light, ready to find his peace.
A/N: Should anyone read this, I hope you enjoyed it! It was one of those 'must write or it'll bug me forever' stories, that now it's done I can focus on my other works.
All this was also inspired by that Wade's death in the movie, how he's propped on Jackson's lap, and Jackson is trying to comfort him as he dies. The final nail in the coffin was when Jackson rested his head on Wades, and was carding his fingers through his hair. Watching that made me realise 'hey these guys are close friends' the same moment my brain went NEW STORY IDEA!
Ergo, this.