Hello my dear readers! I am so sorry for not updating last week, but I've ended up with the same illness that plagued my brother and so I've been a bit of a zombie these past few days... But since I'm feeling better now, I'm posting the next chapter.

As always, I cannot thank you guys enough for all your reviews! I'm so happy that you enjoy my writing and if you have any suggestions or ideas, feel free to leave me a review or send me a PM and I'll see about integrating them into the story.

And now, without further ado: On with the story.

Not more than a few days later, Sobel's ruthless training methods reached new heights. Many of them had been surprised to see two gold bars on his collar and everybody expected him to rub their noses in it, but this simply defied description.

"Who in God's name thought it a good idea to promote him?", Irene whispered to Helen, who just shrugged, equally helpless.

Sobel's promotion wasn't the only change of ranks among the officers of Easy Company, though. Lieutenant Richard Winters had been made First Lieutenant the same day. And to test his organisational skills and command potential, Captain Sobel had designated him mess officer.

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"I can't believe it", Frances gushed, plopping down onto a free spot and digging into her food with unusual fervour. "Spaghetti!"

Theresa shook her head. "Long noodles with something that maybe once was tomato sauce", she corrected. Not that she wasn't eating with just as much enthusiasm as anybody else. After all, a good, actually recognisable meal wasn't something one got to see every day in the Army.

"I don't care", Kathleen dismissed, "compared to the other stuff, this is delicious!"

Their joy and appetite were very short-lived unfortunately, because not even two minutes after the last person had found a seat, the door flew open and Captain Sobel, the Black Swan himself, barged in.

"Order's changed, get up!", he bellowed.

Everyone surged to their feet, some in the midst of chewing. Maxine hastily swallowed her mouthful of spaghetti, very nearly choking on it.

"Lectures are cancelled", the CO continued, "Easy Company is running up Currahee! Move! move!"

As they rushed out of the mess hall, Catherine could only think one thing: This is going to be a disaster.

And it was. People were throwing up everywhere, stumbling and staggering as their bodies were forced to reroute all energy from the digestive process to their muscles. To complete the picture of misery and add insult to injury, Sobel continuously bombarded them with mocking jeers, singling out soldiers and yelling taunts at them for the whole company to hear.

"Not looking so tough now, Fields!", he called, running alongside Louise, who was trying to coordinate running, breathing and bringing up her lunch. "You still think a woman can be a sniper?"

The young British woman viciously spat out another mouthful of bile and stubbornly kept her gaze trained on the person in front of her. She had half a mind to vomit onto his shoes Luckily, Sobel decided to move on to another soldier so he didn't catch the hate-filled glare she shot at his back.

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"What are you doing here, Helak?! Women will never be paratroopers, they do not have the right disposition!"

"You're a washout, Private Hoobler! You should pack up those ears and go home!"

"Getting tired, Vaughn? Huh? What about you, Griffith? You want it to stop? It can be over right now!"

"Looks like Gordon's done! Aren't you, Gordon, you finished?! You do not deserve to get your wings!"

"You're a disgrace to this outfit, Hernandez!"

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He moved on to Denver Randleman, aptly nicknamed "Bull" since he was one of the tallest, strongest and brawniest men in the company.

"Private Randleman, you look tired!", Sobel goaded.

Irene, who happened to be running next to Bull, glanced over and thought to herself: No, he doesn't.

Their company commander continued: "There's an ambulance waiting for you at the bottom of the hill. It can all be over right now. No more pain, no more Currahee…no more Captain Sobel."

Luz, bless his heart, started a marching cadence. "We pull upon the risers", he sang.

"We fall upon the grass", the rest of the company joined in. "We never land on our feet, we always hit our ass. Highty tighty Christ Almighty, who the hell are we? Zim Zam, god damn, we're Airborne infantry!"

They repeated the chant, their pace evening out. They continued their song as they fought their way up to the top, all running on sheer determination and spite.

The bonds within the company strengthened with each day. The men and women had all proven themselves capable and resilient. They had earned each other's respect and now learned more about each other on a personal level.

Everyone, including the more private, reserved and quiet members of the company, had formed friendships with their comrades.

They chatted over a cigarette, traded jokes and stories during latrine or KP duty, they laughed and talked at meal times, got to know each other while they sat together and shined their shoes or played cards.

That didn't mean that it was all smooth sailing. There were hick-ups from time to time, small disagreements or differences in opinion that were generally either resolved rather quickly or simply accepted and put aside.

On one occasion, however, a few thoughtless words were enough to jeopardise one particular friendship.

Mia was on her way to the women's billet to quickly fetch something before she was expected at the infirmary. She walked between the wooden huts that were the company barracks, enjoying the idle afternoon and the late November sun.

"Are you serious? How can she be German?"

She slowed when Perconte's voice came from inside the barracks she was passing.

Luz answered: "Well, Frank, her mother is from Germany." The young medic could just picture the flat look he was probably shooting the short Italian.

Eyes widening, she came to a dead stop. They were talking about her! Straining her hearing, she could hear the clacking of poker chips. Somebody said something she couldn't quite make out, the voice too low to identify the words or the speaker. Whatever it was, it made the men laugh.

Then, very clearly, Mia heard George's voice.

"Yeah, who knows", he quipped. "Maybe she's a double agent."

Her face fell. Hurt and sadness wrapped an iron hand around her throat and heart. How could he say that? Giving the side of the barrack one last, disappointed look, she hurried away. Tears began to prick at her eyes. She wiped them away. How could George say something like that?

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Bypassing her own billet, the young medic headed straight for the infirmary. It was her turn to do the inventory. Which was just fine with her since it gave her some much-needed solitude.

Her chest heavy with feelings of betrayal and disappointment, she smiled at the doctor on duty, picked up the clipboard and went through to the storage room, closing the door behind her.

As she started counting and cataloguing the supplies, her mind kept replaying George's words. "Maybe she's a double agent." That single sentence echoed inside her head, pounding against her skull and driving claws into her heart.

Mia wasn't even aware that she was crying until her vision blurred and she noticed something wet on her face.

"Great", she sniffled, sitting back on her haunches and swiping a hand across her cheeks. New tears quickly followed the ones she had dashed away and eventually, she gave up and let them fall.

If they could see you now, a tiny voice mocked her. How pathetic you are.

"Yeah, that's what I am, I guess", she mumbled, taking a shaky breath and jotting down the number of bottles of rubbing alcohol. Molten glass was beginning to bubble in her stomach, anger at herself rising in her. "Pathetic and stupid" – she pushed a box of bandages back into its place, the entire shelf jiggling – "and blind and-"

An empty glass container slipped and fell to the ground, breaking with an almighty crash.

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The young woman turned and simply closed her eyes for a moment. One part of her really felt like screaming while the other was just numb.

"Toll", she huffed with a wobbly, humourless laugh. "Ganz toll." She knelt down and began gathering the shards, making sure to brush even the smallest pieces to the pile.

"Is everything alright in here?"

Mia startled with a full-body flinch, holding back a frightened squeak as her head swivelled around to the voice.

Apparently, in her distracted, upset state, she had forgotten that the back door of the storage room had been left ajar to let in some fresh air. Standing in the doorway was none other than Lieutenant Speirs, looking down at her with a blank expression.

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He studied the medic, who smiled and offered "Yes sir. Nothing to worry about." before going back to cleaning up the broken glass. He couldn't help but frown at her words which were so at odds with the tear tracks he could see on her cheeks.

He had seen the young woman around camp and they had sat or stood next to each other in quiet company enough times for him to get to know her personality and habits at least a little. And while it was no secret that Mia wasn't a big talker, he had never seen her this silent.

After a moment's consideration, Speirs decided: "You should take a break, private."

He turned and stepped outside.

Blinking at the open door, Mia sighed and gave a shrug. Throwing away the pieces of broken glass, she followed the lieutenant, finding him leaning against the side of the building, cigarette between his fingers. Silently, he offered her one.

With a dip of her head, she took it.

George Luz couldn't shake the feeling that he had done something wrong. He knew that Mia was a quiet and mellow girl whose presence spread a sense of calm. As they grew closer, though, she always had a smile for him and listened to even his most inane ramblings. But suddenly, she was guarded and clammed up again.

And only towards him.

It was almost an entire day later that he finally managed to catch her alone. He hadn't expected his friend to be so skilled at avoiding him. Which made him only more confused and uneasy. He racked his brains, but he couldn't figure out what he had done to drive her away.

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"Mia, wait!"

The young medic stopped and half-turned back. Frances and Ana María lingered for a moment, looking at their friend, who gave them a smile and a nod. They nodded back and continued on their way.

Luz didn't miss the deep breath she took, almost as if she was bracing herself for something. "Listen", he began, "um, did something happen? You seem different." He cleared his throat. "I really thought about it, because it's obviously something I did, but…I just don't know. So, please tell me what I did so I can make it up to you. Because…whatever I did, I'm sorry."

Mia had listened silently, her expression changing from blank to attentive to sad. She shook her head, her brows furrowed and her eyes dark. "A blanket apology doesn't really make it sound all that sincere", she remarked. "How can you say sorry if you don't even know what you're apologising for?"

Her tone, the hurt in her voice, felt like a knife in his gut.

"Because it clearly hurt you", he answered. "And I'd never want that. You're my friend."

A crumpled, smudged copy of a smile flitted across her face. "I thought we were friends, too", she said softly, gaze falling away.

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It seemed to George that his heart and stomach had just sunk to knee-level. All he could get out was a lame "What?"

The young woman raised her head and looked him dead in the eye. He almost recoiled, unused to seeing so much pure vulnerability in her eyes.

"'Maybe she's a double agent'", she recited hollowly.

Realisation dawned on Luz' features, his gut twisting with horror and guilt. "It…it was a joke", he stammered out, even though he knew that was beside the point. The words tasted stale on his tongue.

"But what if somebody thought it wasn't?", Mia challenged, voice wavering. "Luz, I would be in deep shit. My family- God, I don't even want to think about it." She shook her head, raking a hand through her hair.

Silence stretched between them.

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"I shouldn't have said it." George ran a hand down his face, regarding her with guilt clearly etched into his features. "It was stupid and thoughtless and I know saying sorry isn't going to make it right. But… for what it's worth, I really like you and I still want to us to be friends, so- " He paused to find the right words and to offer her a contrite, genuinely apologetic smile. "I hope you can forgive me and if you do, I'll be there."

Her expression had softened, her lip curled into a sad half-smile. She nodded and he nodded back.

Holding her gaze for another beat, George turned to leave.

He had taken maybe four steps when he heard her call.

"Luz?"

He turned. "Yeah?"

Mia's smile, barely more than a bleak tilt of the corner of her mouth, did nothing to ease the pain in his chest. "Thanks", she said.

Now feeling even more miserable, Luz didn't find it in him to smile back. "Yeah", he replied softly.

Then, he walked away, shoulders hunched under the weight of the knowledge that his flippant joke might have just ruined the budding friendship he'd initiated and cultivated so carefully.