A/N: This is more of a filler chapter really, but I couldn't leave the idea alone. The next chapter will be the last one spent in Bastogne (finally!). Lyrics by 3 Doors Down. I do not own Band of Brothers.

XII. When I'm Gone

So, hold me when I'm here
Right me when I'm wrong
Hold me when I'm scared
You won't always be there
So, love me when I'm gone

Cora's heels clicked against the linoleum floor of the aid station, the closest thing to a hospital that she had seen in ages. Somehow, Sink had managed to find a dress uniform for her to wear, although he feared it was too tight. Cora, on the other hand, disagreed wholeheartedly.

The nurse had told her that his room was at the end of the hall, the only room without a fully closed door. Sounds like him… Cora stopped in her tracks, though, just as room 118 came into view and ducked into the ladies' room off of an adjoining corridor. She stepped in front of the mirror and gazed into the reflecting face, mostly satisfied with the appearance of the woman she saw. Her eyes had been outlined with a dark charcoal pencil and her lashes had been coated with even darker mascara. A cream-colored powder covered her tired skin and red scars that stretched from the middle of her forehead to the corner of her right jaw, while a peach blush brought some color to an otherwise pasty complexion. Her lips were painted a seductive, Bordeaux red as if to create the illusion that they tasted like wine. And her hair fell, shoulder-length again, in playful, wild spirals; layered, to frame her oval face. She smoothed the absent wrinkles from her dark green skirt and pulled the hem of her jacket down, making sure that every detail of her attire was flawless. She took one deep breath, in the nose and out the mouth, before turning on her heels.

The door to his room was open ajar; just enough for Cora to hear his steady breathing and a sigh and know that he was awake. She knocked twice, two quick raps, and waited for him to tell her to come in. His response was almost immediate, though not eager, so Cora took her time opening the door.

Bill grinned as his eyes fully took Cora in. She had lost some of the roundness in her hips from the last time he saw her in that style of uniform, but it looked as though her bust had increased by at least one cup size. The foundation on her skin just barely concealed her new scars and it was obvious by the way that her chin was positioned, parallel to the floor, that she knew it.

"Well, Jesus Christ! This must be my lucky day. First they serve us bacon for breakfast, then you walk in. Hot damn! I'm the luckiest son-of-a-bitch in the world," Bill said with a vigor she had missed. "Don't tell me ya came all this way just to see me?"

Cora closed the door behind her, careful not to shut it all of the way, and crossed the room to sit on the bed. "You bet I did. What'd you think, Bill, that I'd let you go that easy? Fat chance, pal."

Bill laughed for the first time in a week. "Ya know, I was so goddamn close! I thought I got out of your clutches."

"Silly boy!" she teased. Cora took a corner of one of the sheets between her thumb and her index finger and rolled it back and forth. "So, this is going to be a pretty stupid question, but I guess I'll ask it anyway… How are you doing?"

"Yeah, you're right. That is a pretty stupid question…"

Cora scoffed. "What I mean is—is—well, I mean—how are you holding up, Bill?"

"Honestly?" he asked, leaning back into the white pillows. "I'm not good. I've got one leg, Cora. I'll be the first one to admit that I've been in better situations than this. And I know I'm damn lucky to be alive, but sometimes, when I get a good look at the thing and think about what the fuck I'm gonna do, I just wish that I didn't make it. It'd be easier to be dead… and there'd be a hell of a lot less pain. But then I think about my Ma. I mean, she already lost one son in Monte-fucking-Casino—wherever the hell that is—and I can't imagine what would happen to 'er if—"

Bill stopped and turned away from Cora and set his jaw tight. She could see the tears and the way his bottom lip trembled, but she said nothing. She stretched her arms out to take his hand between hers, stroking the top of it with her calloused thumb.

"I'm sorry, Cora," he said once he composed his emotions.

"Don't be. I hate it when men apologize for having feelings. You think I go around saying, 'I'm sorry,' every time I get upset? If I did that, I'd never stop apologizing. I wouldn't be able to."

The two of them sat together, hands touching, for an hour. Eventually, Cora lifted Bill's hand up to her mouth and kissed it, and stood to leave. But Bill grabbed a tight hold of her, taking pleasure in the contact.

"Cora, before ya go, would ya do something for me?"

She gave him a soft smile. "Anything for you, Bill. Anything."

He paused. His cheeks reddened a little. "Would ya kiss me? I've always kinda wondered…" He voice trailed off.

Cora sat down next to Bill again, though closer. She looked at him and let all of her dirty thoughts bubble to the surface, leaving her mouth twisted into a "you-don't-know-what-you're-getting-yourself-into-big-boy" smile. She placed her hands on his hips as she leaned in and pressed her wine-colored lips gently against his. Out of habit, he kissed her back… and she returned the favor. Cora pulled back and smirked.

"Everything you hoped for?"

"Nah… it was more. I'll see ya on the other side of this, Captain Larson."

Cora laughed all the way to the door, and just before she left, she turned around and flipped a strand of hair back, the same way she did the first day they met. "Please, call me Cora."

&&&&&

The contrast between where Bill was hospitalized and where Buck had been put was huge. It was ebony and ivory, life and death, hope and despair. For one, it was dark. There were no peach-colored walls or carefully chosen paintings in wooden frames. There was no light in the place. And there were surgeries being performed openly near other patients, with the cadaver lying with his eyes wide open. It was all gloom.

Cora almost died three times trying to get to the tent flaps. Her heel had gotten stuck in the mud twice and she narrowly missed a bird trying to give her some luck. But her lipstick was without smudges and her hair was without unnatural flaw, all due to impeccable caution on her part. Dick would have called it a dedication to her craft of being overtly feminine at the perfect moments.

"I'm looking for Lieutenant Compton," she said to one of the medics with a clipboard in his hand.

He smiled at her, a soft and comforting smile, and pointed down a long row of beds. Cora nodded in thanks and hurried down the row, ignoring the looks of confusion as she went. It's like Gone With the Wind all over again. Yet again, it was Buck's hair that stood out from all of the rest. His uniform was filthy and torn in certain places. Like everything else about him, it looked worn. He was gazing up at the ceiling… at the void above him. Another piece of Cora's heart snapped off, bigger than the one before it.

"Hey, stranger," she whispered.

He sat up, the first time in days, and looked at her.

"Are you real?"

"I think I am, but you can pinch me if you want some valid proof. You know, I like your new residence. Are you thinking of making this permanent?"

"Cora…"

"Because if you are, I suggest an area rug of some kind. Or a floor lamp. Or maybe a nice chenille throw."

"Cora…"

"It could really liven the place up. Make it a little less, you know, field hospital-y…"

"Cora, what are you doing here?"

She paused. What was she doing there? It was a question she had asked herself a million times on the drive. After she had visited with Bill and Joe, she was so certain that she was all cried out. But her tear ducts were clearly masochistic… they liked the burning sensation she always got in the corner of her eyes when she wanted to cry, but couldn't because she still had to be so strong for them. As she stood there, they were at it again.

"Well, I went to see Joe and Bill today and I thought that while I was at it, I should see you as well. I mean, I know Malarkey comes around all of the time to bring your mail, but I figured you'd like a little female company."

"How were they?"

And I was so hoping for a 'female company' joke. "Bill was in semi-good humor. He isn't the same Gonorrhea, but that's to be expected. Joe, though, was a different story. He wasn't ever exactly a chatty guy, and now I think it's gotten worse, but I like to think he perked up a little more with me being there. Of course, I also like to think very highly of myself, so who knows."

"Yeah…"

Buck put his head back down on the thin pillow and sighed, not looking at Cora anymore. She bit her lip and inhaled sharply. Finally, with a shake of her head, she moved from of the foot of the bed to the side.

"Alright, Mr. Mono-Syllable, move over!" she said as she pushed him for the side of the bed.

She sat down first, then swung her legs up next to his and leaned back against the frame of the cot. One hand she left rested on her stomach, while the other stroked his blonde hair. They were both silent, staring. Then Buck spoke.

"I'm a coward, aren't I?"

She stopped and looked at him. "A coward? You?" Cora started to laugh, and then she started to laugh so hard she almost fell off the bed.

"It's not that funny, Cora. For once, I'd wish you'd take something seriously."

"And I wish you'd be serious too. You jumped out of airplanes… behind enemy lines. You lead men from Normandy to Holland to here. Coward? You're joking, right?"

Buck sat up again. "No, Cora, I'm not fucking joking. Jesus, why does it all have to be a joke to you? I'm not here because of trench foot, Cora. I'm here because I lost it. I couldn't be strong anymore!"

"Who says you always fucking have to be? Hmm? It's war, for fuck's sake. You're going to lose it every once and a while. I've lost it twenty thousand times since Toccoa. In case you've missed that lovely memo, I'm not a sane person," she said, nodding occasionally.

"Oh, Cora, don't give me that speech…"

"Don't talk like an asshole and I won't. Now, you listen to me. I have been with a lot of men, socially and otherwise. Some have been great, others have been strange, and many of them have sucked the life out of me. But I have never been surrounded by a better group of men in my entire life, and I went into the Algonquin once or twice with a boyfriend of mine."

At this remark, Buck smiled, and from there she continued.

"You are one of the most dedicated and brave men that I have ever known. You are not, I repeat not, for one moment allowed to think of yourself as anything other than the greatest thing in my life. And you may never think of yourself as a coward."

Buck was quiet, reflective. He placed his hand on hers and nodded. "I love you, Cora Leigh Larson."

"I love you more, Lynn Compton. More than all of the coffee and cigarettes and music and martinis in the world."

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