Hello everybody! Lo and behold, it's me updating a week early. I unfortunately won't have time to upload anything next week, so I decided to post this ahead of schedule instead of making you wait three weeks.
That being said, please note that the next update will now be on the 20th or 21st December.
As always, I want to thank all of you wonderful people for reading this fic and leaving kind and funny reviews. I'm really pleased that you enjoy my writing and how much you like the characters. I already apologise for the Hell I'll be putting them through... gosh, I'm so not ready.
Meanwhile, in another part of the woods, Esther and Cassandra hiked through the snow, occasionally stumbling because in the dim, greyish light of the fog, it was near-impossible to tell where the ground might be uneven, especially since it was snowing quite heavily.
Fox Company had been in need of a translator, their own killed in the artillery attack of the night before. And since none of Easy's translators had been available at the time, they had turned to their other sister company.
Her brief temporary assignment over, Esther was now expected to return to Dog Company, Cassandra accompanying her since Fox's Lieutenant Rhodes absolutely refused to have anybody venture out into the woods alone.
"You're taking a jeep back, Jessup, understood?", he had instructed, jaw tense under a week's worth of stubble.
She had agreed without protest, grateful that she didn't have to walk back on her own.
.
Silence pressed against her ears and the blonde blinked a snowflake from her lashes, turning her head to survey her friend.
Esther had been oddly quiet all day. Their situation had everybody on edge, of course, and while some tried to dispel the glumness and apprehension by cracking jokes and telling silly stories, others were more subdued in the face of the nerve-wrecking back and forth between dull monotony and terrifying barrages.
But Esther, who had taken it in stride when they had sat in rain-filled foxholes for days on end in Holland, seemed to be in particularly low spirits.
"What's bothering you?", Cassandra asked. Her voice sounded slightly muffled, the fog lending it an almost cotton-like quality.
Esther lifted her head, dark eyes flicking over to her. "It's stupid."
Cassandra's eyebrow quirked up. "Since when has that been an issue?", she questioned. "It's bothering you so even if it is irrational or silly, it's obviously not stupid since you, my friend, aren't stupid."
The frown that had marked Esther's features all day softened a little and she dipped her head in acknowledgement. "It's just… I missed Hanukkah", she said quietly as she rubbed her hands together in a more or less futile attempt to warm them.
Her expression grew wistful, dark eyes straying into the white haze surrounding them while pleasant memories danced in the soft smile on her lips. "We, my family, we always celebrate together. It's a really big thing for us. Everyone comes together, we light the hanukkiah" – she chuckled – "well, the younger kids always argue about who gets to light it. There's songs and games and so much food."
.
Cassandra listened, smiling slightly at the picture her friend created with her words. Esther talked about the rapture on her little cousins' faces at the sight of the burning candles, the delight in their eyes when they won a few chocolate coins in a dreidel game, the pure joy when they were allowed to open their presents.
"Sounds a lot like Christmas", she commented, her heart growing a little heavier at the thought of not spending her favourite holiday with her own family.
"I suppose it is", Esther nodded. "Though we have 8 days, not just one or two." The smile faded and the frown returned.
Patting her friend on the shoulder, Cassandra offered: "It's not stupid to miss your family, you know?"
A disbelieving scoff preceded Esther's response. "We have a lot bigger problems, Cassandra. Don't you think it's a little selfish of me to be homesick now of all times?"
"No."
Esther's brows furrowed. "No?"
"No", Cassandra repeated with a shrug. "Just because we have bigger problems doesn't mean that you're not allowed to have your own worries, too."
.
There was a pregnant pause and Cassandra noticed that they had stopped. Esther was staring at her with a mixture of emotions, surprise shifting towards a more thoughtful expression before a shimmer of humour crept into the corners of her mouth.
"When did you become so wise?", she asked, turning to continue walking.
The blonde grinned. "I've always been wise, you just don't give me any credit."
Esther laughed and gave her a friendly shove. "Shut up."
Crack!
They started and dropped low. Cassandra looked around, once more frustrated to no end with the infernal fog.
Gripping her rifle, she squinted at the surrounding trees. There had only been one shot, so hopefully, there was only one person.
A second shot rent the air.
The bullet whizzed past them and hit a tree in a spray of bark and splintering wood. Cassandra turned and spotted the shooter crouched next to a tree. Twisting, she aimed and fired before he had time to react.
.
"Never interrupt your enemy when he's making a mistake", she mumbled absently with a last look at the crumpled form, climbing to her knees.
As a response, she received a groan from her companion. A low, pain-filled groan. Cassandra's stomach plummeted towards her boots.
Esther was still lying on the ground, hands clamped around her thigh, teeth grit and breaths panting. From between her pale fingers, blood spilled forth at an alarming rate, staining the snow a grotesque maroon.
"P-please tell me you got the bastard", the dark-haired translator ground out with a grunt.
Cassandra distractedly reassured her that the guy was dead, fumbling her aid kit out of her pocket with trembling hands. Finally managing to unfurl the bandage, she said, rather unnecessarily: "This is gonna hurt."
"Don't worry", Esther bit back, "it already is."
.
Bandaging the wound as best she could, Cassandra wasted no time hauling Esther upright. The injured woman just barely managed to stifle a scream when pain seared up and down her leg. A drawn-out whine slipped past her teeth though as they dug into her bottom lip.
"Argh, fuck", she gasped as Cassandra ducked under her arm to support her.
The South Dakotan studied her friend with unconcealed worry as they set off at the fastest pace possible. Which was still excruciatingly slow since Esther could put hardly any weight on her wounded leg without crying out and the fresh snow wasn't helping either.
The New Yorker was sheet-white and shaking, no doubt from the snow melting slowly on her clothes. Despite the freezing cold, however, a sheen of sweat glistened on her forehead. With each step, she sagged more against her and her eyes had that glazed, distant quality to it that Cassandra remembered from that gruelling march to Atlanta in basic training. It was an unmistakable sign that Esther was upright and moving only through sheer force of will.
Cassandra just prayed to God or whoever was listening that they weren't going to be waylaid by any more Krauts that had apparently lost their way. God I hope I haven't jinxed it, she thought, readjusting her hold on Esther. Her heart was beating in her throat, her stomach felt like it was filled with lead and twisting itself in knots.
.
"How's the leg, Esther?", she asked between two puffing breaths. Half-dragging, half-carrying a fully-grown woman in paratrooper gear through a good 8 inches of snow was exhausting on the best of days, even with proper food and enough sleep.
S'pose it's a good thing we don't have winter clothing now, she mused with a touch of sardonic amusement.
Realising that she had yet to get a reply to her question, Cassandra suddenly felt even colder. "Esther? Esther?" She gave her a rough shake and tried not to feel sick at the way her friend's head lolled. "Hey! You with me?"
"S'll here", Esther mumbled between two blinks that were much too slow for Cassandra's liking.
"Uh-huh. Remind me again where 'here' is?", she requested, breathing a sigh of partial relief as she saw that one tree with the weirdly bent branch start to take shape in the fog.
They were on the right track. Thank God for small miracles.
"Hell."
Cassandra frowned, momentarily caught off-guard. "Huh?"
"Hell", Esther repeated in a weak slur, eyelids at half-mast. "We… we're in Hell."
"Close enough", Cassandra agreed, catching her once more as she faltered. "C'mon, it's not too far anymore."
Twenty minutes later, Cassandra was ready to cry when the tarp-covered shape of Easy's CP came into sight.
"Help!", she shouted with what little air her lungs could spare. "I need a medic!"
Esther had passed out a few miles ago, forcing Cassandra to carry her on her back and leaving her terribly vulnerable. Her legs were aching, her sides burning with stitches.
Rushed footsteps approached and the fog spat Maxine into their direction, rifle in hand.
"She was hit in the thigh", Cassandra wheezed out in explanation as the other woman steadied her.
Maxine nodded curtly, calling: "O'Brien, get us another jeep!"
.
They set Esther down on the snow-free ground of the CP, Maxine draping a blanket over the unconscious woman's torso before kneeling down to inspect the wound. Cassandra collapsed onto an empty crate and raked shaky fingers through her sweaty blonde hair, bending forward to catch her breath. In the background, Lt O'Brien was busy hashing out logistics over the radio.
It was only then that Maxine's words properly registered in her brain and she frowned. "Another?", she asked. "Another jeep?"
She looked up to see Maxine looking back at her, hazel eyes solemn and slightly red-rimmed. Cassandra's throat closed as a curl of anxiety rose into her chest at the pronounced pallor of her face and the grim line of her mouth. "What happened?"
"Patrol hit the enemy line", the tall lieutenant replied, somehow managing to sound composed, angry and exhausted at the same time. "Two casualties. One fatal. He was just a boy."
Her gaze dropped down to Esther and she changed the subject. "Looks like the bleeding has stopped", she said, offering Cassandra a small smile.
.
The blonde gave only a vague twitch of her lips, eyes drifting to her wounded friend. She felt sick to her stomach. Was this what Audrey had felt like when she, Cassandra, had been wounded in Normandy?
There was blood drying on the side of her sleeve, where Esther's leg had pushed against it. She swallowed, a lump lodged in her throat. Esther's complexion matched the snow and fog surrounding them, closing in on them. Her bottom lip was bloodied, almost as if she'd bit on it. Maybe she had, clamping her teeth down against the pain.
Cassandra didn't know and couldn't really get her mind to focus on anything past the roiling of her stomach and the feeling of Esther's dried blood caking her fingers.
"-sandra?"
A voice reached her ears, seeping through between the resounding beats of her heart. A familiar voice.
"Cassandra?"
There it was again. A bit more sharply. It sounded worried. Had something happened? Did she get hurt? … Her legs burned like she'd been made to run Currahee three times in a row. Her shoulders and neck also ached quite a bit, the knotted muscles giving her a headache. But nothing that felt like she'd been wounded.
A body settled next to her.
"Esther's gonna be alright, Cassandra", the voice said, kind and sympathetic.
Esther? Recognition prickled the back of her head and a weird sensation swept through her, like a colony of ants crawling up her skull towards her forehead.
The memories came rushing back.
She blinked, returning to herself.
.
Maxine was sitting by her side, watching her closely with unmasked concern twisting her elegant brow. A smile brightened her face when she saw awareness filtering back into Cassandra's expression.
"There you are", she said, releasing a breath that Cassandra knew was sheer relief. Her gut twisted even tighter in the knowledge that she had seriously worried the caring Washingtonian. "You got a little lost in your head for a bit, hm?"
"Yeah. Sorry."
Maxine rubbed her arm. "Don't be."
She made an ambivalent noise that might be construed as acceptance when it really was just self-scorn. "You said Esther's going to be okay", she said, curious as well as desperate to avoid any further discussion of her lapse.
The lieutenant nodded, the tension around her mouth and along the line of her jaw easing. "Yes. At least that's what Mampre said."
"Mampre?" She frowned. How long had she been 'lost in her head'? Was she losing her mind that she hadn't even registered the medic arriving and taking Esther away?
"He was at HQ when O'Brien called for the second jeep", Maxine explained. "He wasn't too concerned, especially after Esther woke up."
And she had missed her wounded friend regaining consciousness because she had been too busy … freaking out? panicking? breaking down? She shoved a hand through her hair and blew out a breath. It came out more shuddery than she'd expected.
.
An arm wrapped itself around her and pulled her into Maxine's side.
"Hush, it's alright now", the lieutenant murmured, her tone low and soothing.
It was only then that Cassandra noticed she was crying. And it only served to make her more miserable. What right did she have to sit in another company's CP and sob into an officer's shoulder when Esther was the one that had a bullet tear through her thigh?
"You were ambushed and had to carry your wounded friend who was in a lot of pain and losing blood."
Shit. Did I say it out loud?
Cassandra sniffled and replied: "It's not the first time I had to drag a wounded soldier to cover."
"And it's not the first time I've lost one of my men", Maxine returned without missing a beat, "but sometimes, it just hits you harder."
Cassandra didn't really know what to say to that so she settled on a mute shrug.
.
Thankfully, Maxine seemed to understand and didn't press the issue further. Instead, she reached to the side and pulled the radio over. "I'll just let Fox know where you're at", she said, checking the frequency. "Wouldn't want Audrey to worry, would we?"
A stupid smile settled on Cassandra's features. "Ray", she mumbled distractedly, nothing but fondness in her tone. "I love her, you know."
Maxine stilled. "I know, Cassandra. We all do."
She shook her head. "No, I mean …", she trailed off, breath catching in her throat.
"I know what you mean", Maxine spoke up, turning her head to regard her very seriously. "But you need to be careful."
Cassandra blinked, oscillating between confused and, irrationally, hurt. "Careful?", she asked, maybe a tad more defiant than she'd intended.
A sigh heaved Maxine's shoulders up before letting them slump back down. There was compassion in her knowing gaze and Cassandra could see her carefully measure her words before she said: "Look, I just don't want you to get hurt. You are both great people and I honestly don't see why your… feelings would change that, but others do."
The blonde looked away, ducked her head. "I know. I know. I'm sorry."
"You have nothing to apologise for." Maxine squeezed her shoulder. "Just, promise me that you're careful?"
She managed a smile and nodded. "Promise."
Night fell once more, the temperatures dropping past freezing towards absolutely glacial. The snow had picked up again in the afternoon, gentle flurries turning into heavy drifts that swallowed what little visibility the fog had left them with.
Catherine massaged her temples as she shuffled past a smattering of foxholes. She'd developed a rather annoying headache five minutes into the meeting she'd had with Winters, Nixon and Dike. Their CO's pointless and nonsensical ramblings never failed to try her patience. Judging from the politely clipped way Winters had spoken to the alarmingly incapable man, he hadn't been too impressed either.
Blowing out a long breath that curled into grey vapor, the ranking medic crouched down at the lip of the foxhole she'd been looking for and lifted the tarp. "Mind some company?", she asked quietly.
The glare aimed at her chipped away to reveal frustrated guilt. Johnny shrugged. "Suit yourself."
She smiled sadly and slid inside. The tarp settled back against the snow with a soft rustle.
"What's eating you?" With Johnny, the direct approach always worked best.
He scowled at her. "Gee, Mom, I don't know?", he snarked, voice dripping with sarcasm. "Maybe that I had a kid bleed out right in front of me today on patrol?" His glare switched from frosty to heated.
"Or maybe that Babe screamed himself hoarse trying to get Julian to stop moving so the Krauts would stop firing? Or that we got no food, no winter clothing and only about seven rounds of ammo each? Or maybe the fact that our CO is a useless idiot that keeps disappearing to the fuck knows where?!"
Several more grievances joined the list that furiously spilled past Johnny's lips. Catherine listened quietly, meeting his famously piercing glare with unflinching steadiness.
.
When the tirade wound down and he stared at her, expecting an indignant reaction to some of the more unfair things he'd just thrown at her, she just tilted her head and asked: "Feel any better?"
Begrudgingly, he nodded. "Yeah", he admitted reluctantly. "Kinda."
Catherine smiled. "Look, I know how hard it is", she said, leaning forward to rest her hands on her crossed legs. "Losing people, not being able to do anything to help them. But you need to remind yourself that it wasn't you who killed Julian."
"I should have noticed the enemy line", he muttered, frowning at the ground.
"In this weather? Johnny, it's a miracle if you can see more than two feet in this snow and fog."
"Yeah, well", he floundered, "I should have- I should have tried harder to reach him."
She shot him a look and pointed out: "You were under fire. You would have been dead before you got to him."
He threw up his hands in agitation, huffed out a breath. "I shouldn't have told Doc Roe to stay back." He was grasping at straws now, he knew that, but it was easier to feel guilty than accepting it for the random stroke of terrible luck, of 'wrong place, wrong time' it had been.
"Gene wouldn't have been able to help any more than you", Catherine said calmly, adding a gentle "You know that".
With a heavy sigh, Johnny deflated and hung his head. "Yeah. I… I know."
Silence settled over them as neither knew what more there was to say.
.
Trying to get his mind off Julian, Johnny asked: "Louise back yet?"
Catherine shook her head. "No. But they're not overdue yet."
Late last night, their resident sniper and her preferred spotter, Ryan Gambrill, had been sent on a mission from HQ. With the current weather situation, Winters expected them to return early in the morning.
"Tell that to Liebgott", Johnny harrumphed. "He's been in a funk since mid-afternoon."
She shrugged. "He's worried."
"Yeah, no shit."
Catherine shifted. "I'll talk to him." She gave him a smile. "Try to get some rest, okay?"
He raised an eyebrow at her, but his "Okay, Mom" was completely without venom. The faint traces of a smile echoed in his tone.
Smiling softly at the fond moniker, the ranking medic climbed out of the foxhole and disappeared into the night.