A/N: Hello Readers. I had originally planned for this to be the final chapter, but I have now decided to split it in to two parts for the flow of the story. I have spent a rather ridiculous amount of time researching Operation Overlord, Army Medical Evacuation plans and the Normandy stories that came straight from the mouths of the soldiers that fought on the beaches some seventy-four years ago. I wanted to find anything I could to give a little bit more authenticity to the scene...that being said, I am no historian, and there could be many historical inaccuracies that I am unaware of, just to caution. ;) Once again, thank you to whoever has taken the time to sit down and read these little scenes. Though they are short and probably lacking, they have been helping me through a great deal of stress. It's been a very neat experience to write about Tommy and Alex's evolving friendship while watching and learning about World War 2.

Alright then...

On to Chapter 3!

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June 6th, 1944; 7:55 am

Normandy, France

Five minutes from Gold Beach's shore

"On your feet, lads! On your feet! Step lively, now!"

Alex nudges Tommy's shoulder before they both are rising to stand, gripping the edge for support as another mighty wave crashes against their soldier-packed vessel.

Four years...

...four long years since their miraculous survival at Dunkirk...since their undeniable bond was set. They've had their quarrels. None of they're journey has been painless, but it is stable...even concrete, if Alex is honest with himself, which he so rarely ever is.

"I don't suppose we'll be too keen on beach combing after all is said and done," Tommy says.
Alex glances down at his friend's slender fingers as they grip tightly to his rifle. The bony, white knuckles are a stark contrast to the purplish-red of his hands; the salty wind has certainly taken its tole on them.
The older boy manages a small laugh through his nose in response, ruffling Tommy's raven hair in hopes that he doesn't catch on to the constant shakes racing up his spine.

They were told nothing about the operation they were about to partake in. There was only the reassurance that, though it was a gamble, it was a gamble with the highest of odds.

A few soldiers bump hard into Tommy and the jolt of it sends him flying backwards off the barge. Alex grabs the boy's collar just before he does, feeling his heart jump into his throat.
"Watch it!" he roars to the ones responsible, setting his jaw when they pay him no heed.
Tommy straightens himself and dusts off his coat, moving back to the guarded position he had held originally.
Alex looks at him with knitted brows for half a moment, opening and closing his mouth for something to say. Instead, he jerks the lanky boy to his right, well away from the edge.
They're mere minutes from shore. Many other barges and battleships have already made their arrival. The Allies have succeeded in catching the Germans by surprise, and yet he hears the rapid spray of gunfire coming from behind the cliffs and trees. He sees the bodies of their own men scattered across the beach; this was the front lines...this was a sacrifice.

"Say a prayer for us."

Tommy's head snaps up at this, looking over his friend's weary face to see if he had actually heard it correctly.

Alex's cheeks warm as he sniffs and adjusts the pack he's carrying. "Put your eyes back in your head," he says.
"Sorry, it's just that you've never-"
"You've been praying over us from the very beginning. We're still alive, aren't we?" Alex kicks the side of the barge with his boot, eyes looking from Tommy, to the sea, and back to Tommy again. "God seems to hear you, mate."
"He would hear you as well if-"
"Don't start."
Tommy grinds his teeth with eyes burning, knowing he must restrain himself from starting, yet another, lost argument. Instead he closes his eyes and prays quietly for angels to guard them and for safe passage across the battlefield. He leaves out the request for Alex's salvation. He's already pleaded countless times on his behalf, the last prayer being right before they had boarded the barge. It was out of his hands. It had never been in his hands to begin with...

The barge jerks them back and forth as they run aground. Officers begin unloading soldier after soldier, shouting out instructions as they do.
This is it; to whatever end.
They are now ten men from running out on to that sand and Alex grips tightly to Tommy's neck as they're being forced to shuffle forward. "You stick close, do you understand me?" His harsh tone reminds Tommy of the terrified stranger Alex once was before they were mates. He knows the words are more of a threat than an order. Don't die or I'll kill you, myself. Isn't that what he really means to say?
Tommy can only nod as an officer pulls him on to the ramp. His thin legs run down on instinct alone as he keeps his eyes straight ahead.
"You see that split in the cliff? Straight ahead to your right!" Alex yells as the first bullets hit directly between them. "Run to that! Don't stop, Tommy. Run!"
More bullets spray into the sand, many of them ricocheting off the metal debris from the fallen planes and landing vessels. The moment Tommy sees a spitfire wing lying propped up in the sand, he's stumbling towards it. Feeling something thud hard into his uniform, he wonders if he's bleeding out. The mixture of adrenaline and shock have the potential to mask any pain and that fact alone has him trembling from head to toe.
Falling to his knees behind the wing, he looks down at his hands; they've gone completely numb.
"Not there, Tommy!" Alex shouts, coming alongside his friend as another bullet pings off the makeshift shelter. "We can't stay here!"
It's this moment that Alex watches all the color drain from Tommy's face...the way he's slumping forward like a tattered, old rag doll.
"They shot me," Tommy breathes out, staring numbly down at his chest. "Alex, I think..."
"Hang on. Hang on, mate," Alex interrupts, hands flying to the buttons on Tommy's wool jacket and stripping open the other two layers to fully examine his friend. His fingers climb towards the boy's left shoulder, unable to prevent the gasp that escapes his lips. A warm liquid pools out and onto his skin and when he pulls his hand away, its painted scarlet.
Tommy falters backward against the wing. A hundred thoughts fly straight to his head, but Alex intercepts them all.

"Tom...look at me," he says, grabbing the other boy's face and forcing him to gaze upwards. "The bullet's missed your heart. It's more towards your arm, alright?"
He's ripping his own med kit out of his pack before he's even formed a plan, shakily sifting through bandages, cotton and bottles of iodine. "I just have to stop the bleeding...and get us out of here." He doesn't tell Tommy that the reassurance is for himself.
A bomb shakes the ground as it lands a few yards away. The distant screams that follow make Alex want to vomit, but he fights the urge if only for the other boy's sake.
His old friend, Henry haunts him just then, as if to twist the knife a little deeper.
"You knew this was unavoidable," an invisible foe whispers. "First your mother, then Henry, and now this one too."
"Shut your bloody mouth." Alex growls.
Tommy's eyes knit together in confusion, knowing he hasn't spoken a word in the past minute or so. Something presses directly on to his wound and he's crying out before he understands what is happening.
"I know, mate," he hears Alex say as he watches stars explode across his vision. He feels the older boy grab his own hand and plant it firmly over the bandage to apply pressure until he's told otherwise.
"Blast, I need more gauze," Alex says, scanning the beach for anything and everything that would suffice. He spots a med kit on the back of a dead soldier, just a stone's throw away and begins crawling towards it.
Another bomb explodes close enough to feel sand and debris fall like balls of hail onto his arms and legs; Alex only pauses long enough to make sure he's still in one piece before he reaches the medical supplies he needs. He's grateful the corpse is facing down in the sand so he doesn't have to focus on their cold, lifeless eyes.
A line of gunfire hits just out of range before he hears Tommy screaming his name. Whirling around, Alex spots another soldier manhandling the injured boy away from the shelter of the wing. "There's only room for one!" the man bellows into Tommy's face, falling on top of him like a rabid dog as the boy struggles to stay put. "You're shot up anyways! I gotta get home, mate!"
"Get off him!" Alex roars, throwing his arms around the raving soldier and ripping him off with a madness that could easily rival the larger man. He throws punch after punch to the attacker's face, unable to stop himself until the man is begging him to do so.

"You call yourself a soldier, you gutless scum!?" He says, grabbing the man's coat collar and shaking him violently.
"Better him than me!"
Alex stops, completely frozen, as the words hit his ears. For a moment he can do nothing but listen to his own voice echoing from the waves of the past; it's as if he's holding up a mirror instead of a man. If he makes it through this hellish day, he's absolutely sure that he'll never forget this shame while looking a coward straight in the eye.
The manic soldier takes the opportunity to bolt free, scrambling out of sight before he takes anymore damage to the face.
When Alex finally pulls himself back to the present, Tommy's staring up at him from where he lies in the sand, hand still keeping pressure on his wound. He manages a single nod as his bloody fingers itch to bring comfort in a time when words cannot.
Alex hates that Tommy's concerned for him while lying in such a critical state.
Long eyelashes flutter closed as the smaller boy's arms go limp onto the sand.
"No-no-no-no, Tom. Don't you dare. Don't you dare," Alex says.
He slaps Tommy's freckled cheekbones and shakes him multiple times, only ceasing when he's sure there's no rousing his comrade. Quickly wrapping up the wound, he pulls the frail boy onto his back. Tommy's head lulls side to side on Alex's shoulder and it unnerves him.
"You stay with me!" he says, shifting his charge one more time before sprinting towards the safety of the cliffs.
"I have something...to tell you," he pants out, running through cloud after cloud of dense and toxic smoke. "I was...saving it for later...but you always have been one to...force me into talking...I think your methods are taking it just a bit too far today, aye?"
Tommy neither replies or gestures that he's even listening as Alex senses his burden increase with each and every step he takes.
"Minefield!"
The cry of warning is the last thing he hears...Tommy tucked under him in the last thing he sees...Fire and shrapnel searing his back is the last thing he feels...before giving himself over to the numbing black.

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A/N: The final chapter is soon to come. Thank you for reading!