A/N: Thank you for the reviews: eXsTorDiNaRiLy InViSiBlE, Raging Raven, JumpGirl42, iHedge. I always appreciate it!

Disclaimer: I do not own Band of Brothers. Titles to The Postal Service/Iron & Wine and PJ Harvey

VI. Big Exit

I walk on concrete
I walk on sand
But I can't find
A safe place to stand
I'm scared, baby
I wanna run
This world's crazy
Gimme the gun

"You ain't half bad, doll," Bill laughed as he kissed Cora's knuckles.

The two paratroopers had danced together most of the night and didn't allow others to cut in much. A few times, George Luz took over and Babe Hefferon would steal Cora away from his friend, but other than that, she and Guarenere were inseparable. As a new song began, Cora urged him to keep dancing, but his boots were even more uncomfortable than her heels were at that point and he graciously declined (or as graciously as Wild Bill could). She stood on the dance floor without a partner for a moment until a light bulb went off above her head. Cora, with a smirk plastered on her face, dashed out of the canteen. She skidded to a halt near Richard's living quarters, and then silently tiptoed along the side of the cottage. It was too dark for her to see properly, so she tapped on the second window, hoping that she had picked the right one. After all the times she had been there, one would assume, though, that she'd have the path memorized. Cora tapped again and again, until a light illuminated the room on the other side of the glass. The curtains were pulled back and the window rose, and Cora almost fell backwards in embarrassment.

"May I help you?" the old English gentleman said, peering down at her through tortoise shell-framed glasses.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I'm looking for Captain Winters…" her voice trailed off a little. She wondered what she must have looked like to this man with her short curls (that had been chopped off unevenly in the middle of the night by Cora herself) falling wildly around her and her large eyes drawn out with black eyeliner.

"Next window over, love," he told her politely, pointing her to the right.

"Thank you," Cora said with a nod before running down to Dick's window. She tapped on the glass several times before he opened it up to see her. He was prepared to give her the "you're-going-to-get-into-trouble-one-of-these-days" speech, but before he could, he peaked his head out of the window to see his host already awake. He waved to him apologetically and then looked back down at Cora.

"Come dance with me!" she blurted out, beating him to the punch.

Dick stared back down at her in disbelief. There were so many things he could have said, asked; but none of them came out.

Do you even know what time it is?

Are you drunk?

I wish you could just come inside.

"Are you crazy?" were the words he chose.

"Maybe a little," she smirked. "You promised to dance with me. Remember? Come on, I'm asking for one dance, not a million. We may not get another chance."

"When did I promise that?" he scoffed.

"The night we got our jump wings. We were all celebrating and I asked you to dance. You promised to make it up to me. I thought you were a man of your word, Richard Winters."

With a sigh, Dick turned and grabbed his garrison cap from the desk where he was sitting. He looked at the door for a moment and contemplated what to do. Exiting from there would only further disturb the others in the house, something he hated. Another sigh escaped from him and he lifted the glass up higher. He stuck his leg out of the open window and slowly climbed out to join Cora on the side of the house. She smiled at him, took his hand, and pulled him out onto the street. Cora practically dragged him all the way back to the canteen and through the doors.

When the two of them entered, the men quieted down. It was shocking to see their CO in the pub that late at night, but with Cora by his side, it was understandable. By now, even the replacements knew what her hold over him was, what her hold over all of them was. It was a general understanding that Cora sometimes wasn't the prettiest, smartest, most charming, or most witty woman in the room; but she was, without a doubt, the only one oozing intensity and control. For most men, those two traits combined in a woman were their greatest down fall.

A slow song began to play, one Dick recognized as Glenn Miller's Moonlight Serenade. Before he knew it, he found himself dancing with Cora. Her left hand was on his shoulder, while her right was rested in his palm. He had placed his other sweaty hand on the small of her back, boldly taking the prime opportunity to pull her in a little closer. Soon enough, the two were dancing near enough where their chests touched and moved against each other as they swayed to the melody. The hum of clarinets filled their ears and, for the three and a half minutes that the song crooned on, they were the only two in the room.

Cora had never felt so comfortable in another's arms as she had in his. She wondered if it was right to be that close to him, that intimate. She fought to keep her eyes open and to not look as perfectly content as she truly felt. Dick's struggle was slightly worse. He held her tight, tighter than he ever had before, but kept her at a bit of a distance. The room was filled with men from their company, men who he would have to lead into battle sooner or later. None of them would blame him for falling for the surgeon, of course, but he had to hold a strong façade for his troops.

The song ended and they stood facing each other, their expressions somber and serious. Dick was the first to smile. "Can I go now?" he asked, although his arms were still around her.

"Yeah. Go get some sleep," she said stepping out of his embrace. "Doctor's orders."

He gave a small laugh before heading out the doors and into the night. Something ached within Cora as he walked away, an ache she hadn't felt since the incipient stage of her relationship with Sobel so long ago. I wonder what you taste like.

Cora's eyes widened. Had that thought truly entered her mind? After all, it was Richard: her best friend, her comrade, the man who could make the world seem right again. As she walked nonchalantly back to the bar, her attention drifted. I bet you taste like coffee…

"What was that all about?" Buck questioned as he watched her saunter up and ordered another beer. She only offered a quizzical look as a response. "That thing with Dick just now? You say, 'Nothing,' and I swear, I'll kill ya."

"Then you better go find that gun, because it really was nothing. He promised me a dance, I needed a partner, and I figured that I'd torture him."

"When you could have tortured anyone else in the room?"

"What are you getting at? No, you know what, never mind. Look, Buck, don't get any crazy ideas about Dick and I."

"Besides, she's not over Sobel yet," Luz said, shoving his own two cents into the conversation.

"Shut up, George. You've been harassing me about that for two years. It's getting old." She paused to take a mouthful of ale. "And, you know, maybe I'm not over him. So what? It wasn't that long ago, so cut me some slack."

For the first time, she had been honest about Sobel. Perhaps it was the alcohol in her bloodstream or the adrenaline of so much dancing, but either way, she was fighting with fire. It had started in Carentan, where she sat at night with a piece of paper and a pen, and wrote a letter to her former lover. She poured everything she could into it without sounding desperate or weak, everything she could muster up without leaving watermarks on the paper.

Herbert,

Writing to you has been quite a challenge, more so than D-Day was, I think. I know that you told Evans to write you occasionally about Easy and all of the happenings, but since he is no longer with us (nor anyone else from Lieutenant Meehan's plane), I figured that I would take over. You would have been proud of the men today after they successfully took Carentan and pushed the Germans back. It was a moment I'm sorry you missed. You can now lawfully gloat about your victory as an officer and as the one who trained us.

I recently thought about how things might have been if you hadn't left or if certain words hadn't been said. I'm unsure of how all of this all would have panned out. It is rumored that God has a plan for each of us, so perhaps we were meant for different paths, but something you said once stuck with me: "Part of you will live in me." I'm still hoping for the best where that is concerned and hating the fact that love never dies.

I hope this letter finds you well and prospering.

Cora Leigh

He hadn't written back and she never expected him to. It was something she needed to get off her chest. Of course, there were a lot of things she disposed of that night, including her hair.

Everything around her was silent as she slowly raised the scissor blades to her hair. With a deep breath, she began to chop off her locks. The new ends hit, jagged, just along her collarbone. At first, she regretted what she had done, glancing down at the mountain her shorn hair had made, but the loss made her feel like a warrior. Cora gathered what was left into her hands, twisted it on top of her head, and shoved her helmet on before walking away; leaving her nightmare lying on the ground behind her.

Everyone had gathered to listen to Carwood, but Cora stayed near the bar and finished what was left in her glass. She had paid no heed to Cobb and the replacements or Smokey and his over-the-top introductions; just leaned against the counter and tilted the cup back until the ale drained into her throat. With a heavy thud, she put it down on the wooden top and walked off, back into the night.

&

The air felt heavy as she listened to Dick spout on about Market Garden, which was meant to liberate Holland. They said that it would get them into Berlin by Christmas and home soon after that. Cora had mulled over the idea a million times and dreamt of the crisp New York air in January, the taste of hot coffee on those late winter mornings. A smile formed around the newly lit cigarette perched in her lips. She knew that a hospital waited for her back home: her only incentive. But before that time came, she would have to make it through the mission that Nixon had called, "bigger than D-Day." As if anything could be…

For Cora and the others, it was practically a reenactment of June 6th, except this time, they knew what to expect and truly prepare for. The paratroopers, again, stood on the tarmac, strapping their equipment to their bodies and organizing for combat. This time, though, their infamous leg bags were not required nor given to them. Jeeps and trucks rumbled past the soldiers, one of the occupants glanced out into the crowd. The original Easy company men grew silent as they spotted their first C.O. They knew that he was looking through all of them, seeing them but not truly comprehending their faces. Maybe she wasn't there. Maybe she got hurt. Maybe she was killed.

"Cora," Dick called, a finger tapping her on the shoulder, his voice tight and cold.

"What is—" Her face fell. Their eyes met instantly before he nervously jumped from the jeep. Cora's hands trembled as she watched him. Why are you doing this to me? The hypothetical hole in her chest began to bleed wildly again, soaking her through and creating a puddle at her feet.

"The hell's he doin' here?" Bull snapped in a low, southern drawl.

"Better question," Popeye said, "Where the hell is she goin'?"

The men watched Cora approach him, fear sparking in her eyes. Sobel turned to face her with an expression she couldn't read and the two stood awkwardly together.

"I got your letter," he said, swallowing hard.

She nodded. There was a long pause.

Suddenly, he placed his hands on both sides of her face and crashed his lips upon hers with a force that was almost violent. Her eyes shot wide open at first, and then slowly closed as her tiny world began to spin. It was something that she had read about in books, seen in movies, but never experienced herself. The only thing remotely equal to his lips on hers at that moment was his body covering hers in the beginning; the heat radiating off of them while he tasted her. Cora reveled in the feeling for several long, glorious minutes.

The two were lost in a sea of bliss, of memories, of ecstasy. It was like old times, except now the secret was out, and what seemed like a million replacements looked on as their medic stood romantically in the arms of a stranger. Judgment came over Cora abruptly like a tidal wave and her arms flew up to push Sobel away. They parted, her hands still pressed against his chest. Sobel and Cora tried to catch their breath and regain their composure,

Cora nodded and turned, walking quickly away from him with the humiliation burning red hot on her cheeks. The others stared at her, wide-eyed and confused. The "thing-that-can't-be-mentioned-in-this-life-or-the-next" had occurred in front of the whole company, and a moment that would have normally been hidden from the rest of the world had been witnessed. Cora felt as if a boulder was resting upon her chest and daggers were being thrown into her skin. She returned to where she stood before next to Dick , his ice-blue eyes burning into her back.

"I don't want to hear it, okay?" she snapped, angry and disappointed, with her accent coming out heavy in certain syllables.

"Fine," he said, a bitterness to his tone.

Cora turned her head up quickly and glared at him, fighting back with all she had. "Are you honestly mad at me? You've got to be joking. What gives you the goddamned right?"

"Sorry. I just never thought you were that weak."

His words were caustic, burning her skin like a corrosive chemical. Her white hands tightened into tiny fists to keep her from ripping his eyes from his face or slapping him.

"Go to hell," Cora spat. She gathered her gear in her arms and walked off in a huff. She crashed down next to Doc Roe, who placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. It was the only thing she had been looking for with Richard, the man who she had called her best friend. "I don't know what to do," she said quietly.

She glanced over at Dick once again. She could feel Sobel's mouth on hers, his tongue passing along the seam of her lips. She could taste the hint of brandy. Her body ached and her head was swimming. It had quite the turn of events.

Reviews make me swoon.