Hi guys! Sorry for the very late update, writer's block has been a doozy... I can't tell you how many times I've written and rewritten some sentences and how long I sometimes got stuck trying to figure out how to transition from one scene to another.
I hope you like the chapter, even if it is more of an interlude. The next part is already in the works and almost finished (brace yourselves, friends, tissues might be necessary), so I'm going to do my best to upload that in one or two weeks. Or maybe a bit earlier, to make up for all the time I have to keep you all waiting.
Splash! The truck hit a fresh pot hole and the dirty mixture of snow and mud splattered out to the side.
"Hey!", one of the soldiers on the back of the truck hollered towards the driver's cabin. Turning to the men next to him, he grumbled: "They tryin' to bounce us off or what? Can you imagine, coming back from the hospital only to break your neck falling off a damn truck."
A broad-shouldered fellow with a fresh scar below his ear deadpanned: "Would give you another Purple Heart, Rios."
Their small group, clustered at the tailgate, chuckled.
"You came from the hospital?", a fidgety kid butted in. He and his buddies eyed them with interest. "How'd you get injured?"
The group of veterans traded looks, annoyance and a small measure of disdain settling on their features. Heaving a sigh, Rios shrugged. "Ah what the hell, let's compare stories. I got a load of shrapnel in my leg in Bastogne." He pointed at his friend with the facial scar. "Moreira had a tree blowing up in his face" – The broad-shouldered man nodded, baring his teeth in a smirk – "and Nolan …"
"… took a shot to the shoulder in Foy, ricochet from sniper fire."
Jaws dropped as the replacements realised that the third soldier was a woman. The excited whispers of "that's one of the women soldiers" were summarily ignored. Moreira and Rios snorted with laughter. Theresa rolled her eyes, but was spared further shocked and awed stares when the truck groaned to a stop.
"Anyone for 2nd battalion of the 506, get off!", a voice bellowed from the next truck ahead.
Grabbing her things, Theresa jumped down from the truck bed and turned to say goodbye to her travelling companions. "See you around, guys!", she called, receiving a jaunty wave from Rios and a dry "Look out for snipers" from Moreira.
A bunch of replacements got off the convoy, along with a small number of veterans from Dog and Fox Company she vaguely recognised. Nobody else from Easy had returned from the hospital with her, so she hiked her rifle strap up her shoulder and turned down the road in search of her company.
Captain Speirs pinched the bridge of his nose as he walked away from the riverfront, reining in his aggravation only with great difficulty. He had a company to run, a fool's errand of a patrol to plan, in Sgt. Field's words, houses to scout for more loot and a pair of unwell soldiers back at the CP to worry about. He didn't have the patience to deal with an upstart, green-as-can-be lieutenant, some private that had come back from the hospital after 4 months and the company clerk of all people wanting to join the prisoner snatch.
"Captain Speirs, sir?"
He held back a growl of annoyance and turned to glare at the caller, who jogged across the street to catch up to him. To his credit, the soldier didn't break his stride.
"Sir, I'm Sergeant Theresa Nolan", the non-com introduced herself without preamble. "I was wounded in Foy, I'm a squad leader in 1st platoon. Permission to re-join my men?"
Speirs considered her, taking note of the way she favoured her left arm. "Report to Sergeant Martin", he decided, pointing her towards 1st platoon's billet.
A smile formed on her lips. "Thanks, sir."
He dismissed her and Nolan went off in the direction he'd indicated. When a few mortar shells zoomed past overhead, she looked up, shrugged, and continued on her way.
.
Returning to the CP, the CO had only a brief moment to take in the scene before Luz claimed his attention to pass along a handful of messages, a few papers and to get him to sign off on some more paperwork.
Footsteps descended on the stairs, but Speirs didn't pay them any mind. If he looked up every time somebody entered the room, he'd never get anything done. It was only when Luz didn't gather the signed orders and forms that he turned to find out what had the radioman distracted.
Through the doorway into the adjacent room, they could see Mia hand over a stack of papers to a runner, smothering a cough before giving him a few instructions. Once the man had left, the young medic's posture sagged and she raked a hand through her already messy hair. Her shoulders moved with a heavy sigh and it struck Speirs just how thin she'd become since going into Bastogne.
.
When she stepped through the door, intent on going back upstairs, Luz moved forward and asked with a lightly teasing air: "What are you still doing in those disgusting clothes? They look like they could stand on their own."
Mia shrugged. "I had to look after Lipton and Ana María."
Luz' smile faltered a little and Speirs stepped closer.
"They're asleep", she tacked on, aptly reading their concern and giving them a small smile that couldn't chase away the shadows in her eyes. "And Lip has been breathing a bit better after his shower."
The grin returned to Luz' face, along with a glint in his eye and he looped an arm around the girl's shoulders and gently nudged her towards Speirs. "Well, finally some good fucking news. Now why don't you go get cleaned up? I'll stay with Lip for a while."
Her gaze darted between Speirs and Luz for a second before she accepted. "Okay. Thank you, George."
"Eh", he waved off, giving her a pat on the back. "Gives me a reason to get away from all these supply boxes."
Her smile curved a little more and she looked to Speirs, who beckoned her to follow him with a tilt of his head.
Reassured by the fact that their tough-as-nails commander would look after Mia and make sure she looked after herself for a change, Luz climbed the stairs and checked on Ana María before tip-toeing into Lip's room.
As they walked down the road, automatically settling into a pace that was comfortable for both of them, Mia hiked her shoulders up against the chill of the wind and suppressed a shudder.
"You should get some sleep", Speirs broke the easy silence between them.
She knew him well enough to hear the admonishment and the concern beneath it. "I will." There was no doubt of that. Somebody – Luz was a likely candidate, as were Louise and Speirs himself – would make sure she got some rest.
A coughing spell worked its way up her throat. She quickly muffled the sound in the sleeve of her jacket. Feeling Speirs' piercing gaze on her, she glanced at him and said: "I'm fine."
"You're sick."
"I have a cough", she disagreed with a shake of her head, focusing on the uneven cobble stones beneath her feet. She jumped when a cool hand touched her forehead.
"And a fever."
The hand retreated.
"Oh. I don't feel sick."
Speirs made a non-committal, though clearly disbelieving noise. The young woman wasn't a liar, not per se. But she wasn't above casually telling white (or medium greyish) lies without batting an eyelid, so he didn't put it past her to bend the truth when it came to her own well-being. Plus, she was the unofficial champion in letting other people believe she was fine when she clearly and truly was anything but.
Mia shrugged. "I'm just tired." Of everything, she added in her thoughts, but didn't say it out loud. They were all running on weeks past empty, the medics on par with the NCOs in the lack of sleep department, and whining wouldn't change anything.
He huffed a soft chuckle. "Which is why you should get some sleep."
The corners of her mouth quirked up in a brief flash of amusement. "I will", she promised. "Later."
.
Only a handful of men were milling about by the shower tents and nobody payed the odd pair any mind. Most of them had had enough time to get used to seeing the two in each other's company and of the replacements, none were brave or stupid enough to make a comment.
Mia ducked into the separate shower stall without hesitation, trusting Speirs to keep watch. Stripping out of her filthy outer layers, followed by dirty and less than clean ones underneath, she quickly stepped under the warm spray.
The water ran rust-red and mud-brown in a second. She pulled her gaze away from the floor, closed her eyes and tipped her head back to scrub the gunk and grease out of her hair. There were chips of wood tangled in there, maybe also a few pieces of stone and brick rubble. Ash, earth, dust, blood… it all washed down the drain.
When Mia was done, she allowed herself a minute of soaking in the warmth, letting the water ease a few knotted muscles and forgotten bruises. She traced the little white scars on her hands and forearms, remnants of the road rash and gravel scrapes she'd gotten in Nuenen. Did the ones on her face look the same?
A coughing fit interrupted her musings and she reminded herself that it was rude to keep Speirs waiting any longer than necessary. The man had a company to run, after all. She shut off the water, dried herself and quickly got dressed.
After two months of being covered in grime, old sweat and her patients' bodily fluids, being clean felt almost foreign. Mia spent a moment frowning her fresh ODs, the fabric too stiff in comparison to her old clothes. The white brassard identifying her as a medic stood out almost too bright. Her hair felt strangely slick and soft without the crust of dirt, grease and blood. The warmth of the shower had dissolved already, the cold returning with a vengeance that left her teeth chattering like machine gun fire.
.
Speirs looked up when the brunette emerged from the shower stall and nearly frowned. She looked dead tired. Everyone was beyond exhausted, but Mia actually looked seconds away from keeling over. He'd hoped that the shower would help, but if anything, she now looked worse than before. Without the dirt and specks of blood, the pallor of her skin was all the more apparent, the black rings under her red-rimmed eyes pits of misery and pain.
Even her hair, which could be classified as unruly on the best of days, lacked its usual tendency to ignore the laws of gravity. The damp locks swooped low across her forehead, curled forward under her ears. But that was it. No errant strands sticking up in every direction imaginable. No stubborn ends poking out at the back of her head. It was almost unsettling.
Mia must have picked up on his malaise, because as she fell into step with him, she looked at him from the side, eyes soft and searching, and asked: "Are you alright?"
"I should be asking you that. You're the one who's sick."
"I'm fine. Just a little cold."
He shook his head at that understatement and gave her a sidelong glance. "You also said you were fine after D-Day. And after Nuenen", he reminded her, his tone dry but not without fondness.
She conceded the point. A breeze blew down the street, sending a shower of a thousand icy needle pricks across her scalp and down her back. She shuddered and shrank deeper into her jacket. "Still", she said after a moment. "Are you alright?"
He nodded and was glad to see the corners of her mouth lift a fraction in response, something shifting ever so slightly on her pale, scar-freckled face. "Let's get you back to the CP and find you a blanket."
"M-hm."
.
By the time they reached the CP, Mia was trembling so badly that she could hardly talk. Speirs shooed her upstairs with a look that brooked no argument. Too miserable to consider protesting, Mia dragged herself up the steps, gripping the handrail for support when a vicious coughing fit nearly knocked her over.
The hallway was quiet, the footfalls of her jump boots muffled by the threadbare carpet. Maybe I should get some sleep, she thought to herself, rubbing at her eyes. It wasn't like she wouldn't wake up if Lipton or Ana María needed her; Sobel's medic response training and months of combat experience had made sure of that.
Luz took one look at her when she appeared in the doorway and jumped to his feet. He ushered her into the armchair he'd vacated and promptly piled a blanket on top of her. She let him fuss a little, curling up in the chair and tugging the blanket up to her chin.
"Lip's been asleep the whole time", he told her, keeping his voice low. He picked up the improvised heater from the nightstand, turned it on and tucked it into the hollow under Mia's bent knees. "And Ana María said the pain in her ear is getting better."
Her hum of acknowledgement got shaken up as it left her throat. Her eyelids slipped closed and the last thing she knew before she finally allowed herself to drift off was a hand gently tousling her hair and a soft "Sleep well, Mia".
The afternoon passed with intermittent mortar fire, all of it too distant to be a cause for concern. The briefing for the prisoner snatch, handled by Captain Winters with his usual efficiency and circumspection, luckily went over without any casualties in spite of the animosities and mistrust towards a few particular members of the patrol.
Though, if looks could kill, David K. Webster wouldn't be more than a pile of ash on the floor. As it stood, he had certainly felt rather hot under his collar when the full force of the two fiercest glares in the company hit him.
"Johnny", Louise muttered around a cigarette as they walked down the stairs, "if one more dumb thing comes out of Webster's mouth while I'm there to hear it, I swear I'll get very creative with a hatpin."
He snorted. "A hatpin? Where do you expect to find a hatpin around here?" He didn't doubt the sincerity of her threat, not for one second.
Her grin was right on the line between wicked and disturbing. "My pack?", she answered in such a guileless tone that would've made Johnny gulp if he didn't know her that well. "They're terribly useful, you know."
They split up outside, Johnny going to discuss details with Winters, Speirs and Jones while Louise leaned against the mostly intact wall and lit her cigarette. Grant and Liebgott joined her while the rest of the men dispersed. Webster made a beeline for the officers and Louise rolled her eyes.
"Alright", she sighed, pushing off the wall, "I'm off to the OP. If we're gonna be traipsing through enemy territory in the middle of the night, I might as well sleep until assembly time."
The two men agreed and followed suit.
As they passed the little strategy circle of officers, Johnny and Webster, Speirs called out Liebgott's name.
Grant and Louise hung back, Liebgott responding with a guarded "Yes sir?"
"Wanna sit this one out?"
Liebgott perked up and Louise didn't even have to look at his face to know that he was grinning from ear to ear. There were mirroring hints of a smile on Winters' lips and Johnny's frown had softened a little.
"Yes sir", Liebgott replied. Gaze shifting to Webster, he threw him a wink. "Thanks, buddy."
There was a spring in Liebgott's step as they walked to the outpost. Chuck and Louise traded a smile behind his back, both thinking the same thing.
.
Entering the OP, they were met by the smiling face of Theresa Nolan, who was chatting with Malarkey while they waited for the coffee to heat up. "Hi guys!", she greeted them with a wave.
"Reese!"
"When did you get here?", Liebgott wanted to know after giving her a hug, stepping aside to let Chuck and Louise have their own reunion with the Nebraskan.
"A couple of hours ago."
Nudging her friend with her elbow, Louise leaned in and said: "Do us a favour, Reese: next time you get yourself shot, maybe consider telling somebody right away instead of just dropping out of nowhere and giving us all a heart attack?"
"Oh spare me!", Theresa cried with a half-laugh. "I've already heard it from Johnny and Cobb."
The sniper shrugged. "Good, it needed saying."
The light-hearted atmosphere evaporated when Theresa mentioned seeing Frances and Maxine at the hospital. "I'm not gonna lie, it was pretty bad at first", she said plainly, looking up from her cup of coffee. "But they were doing better when I left." The smile returned to her face as she added: "Frances was already cheating at cards again. And she was teaching Maxine."
It was enough to ease the apprehension in the air and get Malarkey to chuckle softly. "Max's parents are gonna be scandalised", he predicted.
Grant let out a huff of laughter. "She'll love it." Anyone who'd known Maxine long enough knew that she secretly enjoyed riling up those who bothered her, all the while staying perfectly polite.
.
Eventually, Louise excused herself to go upstairs, find herself a bunk and get some sleep.
"Sounds like a good idea", Chuck said, draining the last dregs of coffee. "See you later, guys. Good to have you back, Reese."
Already halfway up the stairs, Louise didn't see Liebgott's expression cycle through a series of emotions before shuttering into a deep frown. He pushed to his feet, muttered something about getting some air and breezed out. The door rattled in its frame after it had slammed shut behind him.
Theresa looked to Malarkey. He could only offer a shrug. She nodded. "I'll go see what's gotten into him."
"Alright. Keep an eye out for the mortars, they've been taking pot shots all day."
"You got it, Don."
It didn't take Theresa more than a minute to spot Liebgott sitting on a pile of sandbags that shored up the holes in the stone bannister of the house across the road. He was scowling a hole into the floor and breathing puffs of smoke into the air with an aggressive vehemence.
"Penny for your thoughts?", she asked, taking a seat next to him and angling herself so she could look at him without having to strain her neck and shoulders from turning her head the whole time.
He glared at her and she could see him clench his jaw against the knee-jerk reaction of telling her to get lost or that he was fine. "You heard about the patrol tonight?", he checked, gaze back to burning into the ground. "The one across the river?"
"Yeah."
He flicked ashes from his cigarette. "I got offered to sit this one out, 'cause there's no need for two translators."
"Two translators?", she repeated, frowning as she tried to tally who else spoke German at a sufficiently fluent level. Last she'd heard, Eddie Stein was still at the hospital after getting wounded in Rachamps, and she was dead certain that Speirs wouldn't send a medic on a combat patrol for the simple purpose of having a translator.
Liebgott lifted her confusion by spitting out a name. "Webster."
"Webster?" Her eyebrows kicked up and she clarified: "David Webster? Mr Harvard, that Webster?"
His scowl was answer enough. "Yeah, that one", he griped around a harsh drag of his smoke. "Asshole shows up after 4 months in his squeaky-clean ODs and a dumb smile on his face, acting like nothing's wrong."
.
She let him go off topic for a bit. He'd come back to the crux of the matter soon enough. "So he's on the patrol", she said. He grunted in confirmation and she continued: "Who's leading?"
"Sergeant Martin. They wanted Malarkey first, but Louise pitched a fit."
That Theresa could believe. From what she'd heard and seen, Malarkey was understandably still reeling from Bastogne and all the close losses he'd suffered. It would have been irresponsible – not to say cruel – to have him lead such a risky mission, even if he had the most experience.
"That's good", she offered, wincing as she shifted into a more comfortable position, her shoulder twinging at the movement. "Johnny knows what he's doing."
Liebgott's response was another wordless grunt.
Sighing, she pushed: "C'mon, Joe, out with it. What's eating you?"
A muscle in his jaw worked, but he studiously avoided her gaze. With the amount of heat in his glare, the stone ground would have melted by now if that were possible.
"Joe. Don't make me guess."
He caved with an explosive sigh, shoving a hand through his hair. "Louise is on the patrol. She's on long-range cover and who's gonna be watching her back? Some straight outta West Point lieutenant who's got a stick so far up his ass, you can see it when he yawns."
Theresa decided to ignore the exaggeration because they both knew that Johnny wouldn't leave Louise alone out there. Instead she focused on the root of the issue, which wasn't much of a puzzle. He had been on the roster for the patrol and now, he wasn't, while one of his best friends was.
"Louise can look out for herself", she said quietly, reaching across to rest a hand on his shoulder. "She's done it more than enough already and the guys won't leave her hanging."
He grumbled, muttered a curse, but ducked his head and glanced at her when she squeezed his shoulder slightly. "I know. Still…"
"Yeah."
.
The relationship between Louise and Liebgott reminded her of the one she had with her brother Sam. Not in the way those two spent half their time together arguing and riling each other up, or that they had just about every newcomer convinced they hated each other with their constant bickering. Or the way they drove everyone insane with their snapping and snarling when they were worried about the other.
Rather, it was how they leaned into one another's space as naturally as breathing. How they were fiercely protective of each other and how they had an unerring knack for being the first to know when the other was upset.
A slight pressure of a jump boot against her ankle pulled her out of her thoughts.
"You alright, Reese?", Liebgott questioned, studying her with a furrow in his brows. "You got a funny look on your face."
Theresa blinked and nodded. "I'm alright, just thought of something."
His signature smirk made an appearance. "Oh?"
Rolling her eyes, she swatted at him. "Wipe that grin off your face and get your mind out of the gutter", she laughed.
"Yes Ma'am."
"Now come on", she said with a tilt of her head, "let's get back before I freeze off my butt."
He snorted, but hauled himself to his feet and offered her a hand.
.
They returned to the OP and while Liebgott immediately headed for the stairs, Theresa found Malarkey and told him not to mind Liebgott's grouching.
For his part, Malarkey just nodded, accepting it without question. He'd known Liebgott just as long, he knew how he got when Louise was off on a solo mission. They couldn't blame him for being worried; after all, they all were.