Hey everyone. I'm so sorry for keeping you waiting all the time. I haven't been able to get any writing done as I'm still getting used to work. I'll try my best to write on the evenings and weekends, though, but it's pretty slow progress... Still, I'll do my best and I hope that I can upload a new chapter every two to three weeks until I get into a bit of a rhythm with work and hobbies and life.
As always, thank you all for reading and reviewing! I love reading your thoughts and ideas about this story, they are so exciting and interesting! Keep 'em coming :)
It took a while, but after about a week, the men and women of the 506 could finally sleep deeply again. They didn't startle awake after two or three hours, thinking that it was their turn to keep watch now. Not every little creak of a bunk or hoot of an owl jerked them to full alert.
But with deep sleep came dreams.
And with the dreams came the nightmares.
.
Jessica woke abruptly, heart hammering in her chest, nerves buzzing. Swallowing to dislodge the lump in her throat, she blinked several times in rapid succession to get rid of the image still haunting her mind.
A pair of pale, wide eyes staring up into the blue sky. Eyes that looked so lifeless even though the man they belonged to was still breathing.
"Bad dream?"
She nearly jumped out of her skin, whipping her head around towards the source of the whispered question. Hoobler, her muddled brain supplied eventually.
"Yeah", she whispered back, feeling her heartbeat slow down. She blew out a long breath as silently as possible. Her right hand uncurled, losing the vice grip it had on the edge of her bunk.
Bedding rustled as Hoobler shifted. "What was it about?"
Her throat felt tight again. She rolled onto her side and said: "I don't really remember."
"Hmm, hate it when that happens", he hummed sleepily, already burrowing back into the cocoon of his blanket.
Jessica closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "Mm-hm."
Liar, liar, hair on fire, a voice sing-songed in her head.
Elizabeth's voice.
.
Jessica frowned and tightly squeezed her eyes shut as if that would shut out her own mind's taunts. Can it, she sniped at herself...her conscience? Hardly, but definitely a part of herself that somehow mirrored her deceased best friend's knack for finding others' weak spots and calling them out on their bullshit.
What was I supposed to do?, she challenged when the voice just tittered in response. Tell the truth? You don't get anywhere in the world with touchy-feely stuff. 'If you show too much of your soft underbelly, you'll only get gutted', she quoted a sentence her father had used many times.
"You must be strong", her Papa had impressed on her time and again as she'd grown up. "Be strong for your brothers." Showing weakness, he'd taught her, would only lead to pain and heart-break.
"Tears will not help you, they will not save you from your enemy."
"Don't show your fear. It makes it easier to hurt you."
"Don't grow attached, it will only cause you pain. Friends will not be there forever, only trust your family with your heart."
.
But now, as she lay in her bunk, desperately trying to forget her dream and block out Elizabeth's whispering voice in her head, Jessica wondered if her father had been wrong. Theresa cries, she reasoned with herself, flopping onto her back to stare at the ceiling.
Theresa admits when she's scared. Theresa cares so much for her squad in spite of the pain it causes her when the new kids get killed.
Her mind drifted to the other women in the battalion. Frances, who made friends so easily. Maxine, who had been named "Mom No. 2" for a reason. Audrey and Cassandra, who were like two peas in a pod, never scared to show their affection. Ana. Louise. They have become attached to their friends, too. Even Mia, the oddly quiet girl with that unreadable expressions that Jessica had always found a bit unsettling, had formed bonds and friendships.
She rolled onto her side again, pushed her head down into the pillow to get comfortable.
Elizabeth died and left a gaping hole, there was no point in denying that. And it was also useless to pretend that it didn't hurt. It hurt and it made her angry at the thrice-cursed Nazis. Those bastards had killed her best friend. They would pay.
Elizabeth had been the sister she'd never had. Jessica had never trusted anybody as deeply, had never let herself be vulnerable as she had done around Elizabeth. And that connection they had shared, the memories she had of their time together as inseparable friends...it had been– it still was worth the pain she felt at the loss.
Allowing yourself to grow attached to other people isn't so bad, the blonde mused. And crying couldn't be that big a sign of weakness. After all, Theresa had burst into tears in front of her squad. Jessica couldn't imagine calling her squad sergeant weak and she knew for a fact that her fellow squad members didn't either.
Blowing out a soft sigh, she closed her eyes again. She should sleep. Moral dilemmas and soul-searching could wait until morning.
Johnny was on his way back from the latrine when he saw Theresa sitting on a makeshift bench, doing a crossword puzzle in the dim light of her crookneck flashlight. She turned her head when she heard his footsteps approach, muffled in the grass.
"Can't sleep either?", he asked once he was settled next to her.
Her loose brown hair danced as she shook her head, shoulders curving in to ward off the chill of the night. He moved closer until their arms touched. She was shivering.
He was pretty sure it didn't have to do with the temperature.
.
"I keep seeing them", she admitted softly after a long moment of silence, voice thick from the tears that trickled down her cheeks. Her left knee bounced up and down. "Alley. Boyle. Tipper." Her throat bobbed. A puff of vapour shuddered into the air as she exhaled. "Maitland."
"Yeah", Johnny murmured, raking a hand through his mop of curls.
Theresa's gentle eyes studied him from the side. "You too?"
He nodded. The corners of her mouth curled up in understanding.
He sighed, pointed at the crossword puzzle still lying in her lap. "Want some help?"
.
Twenty minutes later, they headed back inside to give sleeping another shot. The crossword – finished – was tucked into Theresa's jacket.
"Thanks, Johnny."
"You, too, Reese."
Catherine shot bolt upright, her face wet with tears. Her heart slammed against the walls of her throat. Her stomach was cartwheeling, nausea sloshing around behind her navel.
Sucking in a breath, her brain caught up with her eyes and started processing what they were seeing instead of what her mind was conjuring.
Mia was sitting on the edge of her bunk, watching her carefully. There was a scratch on her cheek that hadn't been there when they had gone to bed. Behind her hovered Lipton, warm concern etched into his kind face.
.
Slowly getting her erratic breathing under control, Catherine came to the horrified realisation that the entire billet was awake and staring at her. Concern was the most prominent emotion on their features, but several people also looked rather spooked.
"You screamed", Mia explained, correctly interpreting her friend's expression.
"Loud enough to raise the dead", came the quip from somewhere at the back. It might have been Skip.
"And scare us all to death", another voice – possibly Penkala – added.
Lip turned to give them a reproachful look.
Catherine wiped her face and cleared her throat. "I'm sorry", she said, "I didn't mean to wake you." Her voice wasn't as steady as she'd hoped it would be. She scrubbed a hand up her forehead. A few strands of her hair clung to it, sticky with sweat.
Everyone was quick to reassure her that it was okay, that she couldn't help it.
"Nothing to apologise for, Mom", Malarkey spoke up, the yawn not dampening his sincerity. "We've all been there."
Smiling fondly, the First Sergeant told them to get back to sleep.
.
Seconds later, the first snores filled the billet again. Sitting down on the edge of his bunk, conveniently the one right next to Catherine's, Lip offered: "That must have been some nightmare."
The Hawaiian nodded shakily, nausea rising in her oesophagus as flashes of the dream zipped through before her inner eye. Mia's hand brushed over her knee, the touch fleeting but comforting nonetheless.
"It was so absurd", she began, speaking quietly so as not to disturb those that had already found their way back into sleep. "And at the same time, it felt so real." An involuntary shudder ran through her.
"Do you want to talk about it?"
Catherine smiled despite herself. God bless Carwood Lipton. The man had a heart of gold and compassion in spades. She shook her head. "Thanks, Lip, but...I think I'll just try and go back to sleep." She lay down and shifted to settle in a comfortable position.
"Alright." He tapped the mattress and looked to Mia, then to her. "Sleep well."
"You too, Lip."
"Good night, Lip", Mia whispered with a grateful smile.
The First Sergeant wasn't the only one who was still awake when the reserved young medic finally snuck back to her own bunk after Catherine had fallen asleep. And he wasn't the only one who smiled at her inconspicuous, selfless way of showing affection.
Nobody mentioned it when one of their friends gasped awake in cold sweat.
Nobody looked twice when a fellow reached over to wake their bunk neighbour that whimpered and moaned from the terrors plaguing them.
Nobody batted an eyelid at pale, shaken troopers comforting one another, huddled together, talking in hushed whispers or sitting in silence.
They looked after each other, helped each other cope with the nightmares and the emotions tied to them. And their already close-knit units grew even tighter, the bonds strengthened by the shared experiences.