A/N: Loving all the reviews I've been getting. It's made the writing process go so much smoother! Anyway, here is a long chapter for your reading pleasure. (P.S. There's a lot more swearing this time around. Just a quick disclaimer.)
Don't own Band of Brothers.
Lyrics by Jewel.

XV. Serve the Ego

Who says a woman cannot serve?
It would be my pleasure
Who says it is not my destiny
To let you control me

"Get out," Cora said, her voice low.

She was trying so hard not to yell, not to pick up the empty vase from the table and hurl it at him, not to push and shove him out the door and into the street. But as he stared at her, wide-eyed, she didn't see Dick Winters… she saw Herbert Sobel. Cora watched through cold eyes as her beloved farmboy morphed into her former Jewish lover. His jaw softened, his face rounded, his lips became fuller; his eyes became naturally doe-like and his nose protruded more significantly from his face. When he opened his mouth to say her name, she heard that Chicago accent that she had learned to despise over the years… that nagging voice that could be surprisingly soft when they were alone, but so harsh and barking when they were amongst the men and in front of his superiors. As if they didn't know that she was the more dominant one in that relationship.

"Get now," she repeated, the volume rising.

"Cora, wait. I just don't want you getting hurt. It isn't necessary for you to be out there, Cora. I'm trying to protect you," he said, almost pleading with her to see reason. I should know better.

"You're always trying to protect me… and I'm sick of it. I know it's dangerous. I want danger! I want to do something that isn't safe. I've lived my whole life that way. Jesus Christ, why can't any of you understand that? I don't want you looking after me!"

"I think you do, Cora. I think you want someone to protect you and take care of you…"

"What I want is for one fucking person to accept me for who I am!"

"But I do, Cora." Don't say it. Don't say it. "I love y—"

She didn't want to hear those three words again, not from him. Not from the face she pictured them coming from. Not again.

"Get out!" she screeched. "Get out! Get out! Get out!"

The vase flew through the air and shattered against the wall behind Dick. He ducked as Cora continued to hurl anything she could get her hands on at him: books, empty bottles, pieces of firewood, chairs. He slammed the door shut just as a coffee table smashed against it, receiving strange looks from soldiers walking by.

Dick had seen her mad before. Hell, Dick had seen her furious, but he had never witnessed this kind of hatred from anyone in his life. He knew it would be a long while before she would even consider forgiving him. I've lost her.

&&&&&

Cora had collapsed on the kitchen floor, eating a chocolate bar that she had saved in case of such an emergency. It melted in her hands, covering her fingers in a sugary sweetness and leaving her with a feeling of completeness. She knew that it wasn't a healthy addiction, but nothing in her life had ever been healthy. The smoking, the boozing, the sex, the jumping from airplanes… she was a freak, a whore. She was who she was and no one was going to change her again, especially not a man. If she ever was going to end her wild ways, it was going to be on her own accord.

After Sobel, Cora refused to be held back or held down. She was through with being in love, through with a man who her mother probably would have approved of: a Jewish boy from Chicago, a captain in the Army, a man who could put her unmanageable daughter in her place. She was done for good… and then he kissed her. For a time, she felt herself being sucked back in by the familiarity of how his arms felt around her and the taste of him. She would lie awake at night in Holland and hear their old conversations. "I love you," he said just above a whisper before placing a shaking hand on her thigh. She imagined how he would explain himself and then how, when they were alone, he would make it up to her. Cora usually had to force herself to remember the bad times: the fighting, the emotional abuse, the violent sex that would end in her storming out seconds after it was over. Often, though, the good times would resurface: the laughter, the letters he'd write, the flowers he'd buy her whenever he went off the base… and, of course, the make-up sex. But the man who had left her in England was not the man she fantasized about and the man she liked to remember was never who he really was.

The worst part of it was, although the two were polar opposites, Cora sometimes couldn't separate Dick from Herbert. She couldn't quite comprehend the fact that Dick wouldn't shout or belittle her the way Sobel had, and he wouldn't emotionally tear her to pieces either… but as her relationship with him reached a more intimate level, she suddenly felt the need to protect what was left of her heart. And when he stopped her from doing a job that she was meant to do, the walls around her grew white-hot spikes that were guaranteed to keep out any unwelcome guests. She didn't see it as him protecting her… she saw it as him making a mockery of the situations she could handle.

As she licked the last bit of chocolate from her palms, she knew her mind was made up. There would be no reconciliation… she was going to hate Dick Winters for the rest of her life.

&&&&&

Harry Welsh had finally returned from the hospital after a month or so of being away. He never imagined that anything would be worse than being on the front lines, but that hospital… Guarnere hadn't been lying after all. As he stumbled into the Company C.P., he wasn't really anticipating much of a welcome, maybe a pat on the back and a "Hey, how's it going?" Other than that, though, he was only expecting Cora to waltz over to him, throw her arms around him in a tight embrace, and give all of her entertaining dramatics that were apart of her charm. But it was far from what he found.

Harry had heard that lately, she had been snapping at everyone. She called Cobb an incompetent bastard more than once, told the West Pointer to fuck off, and told Webster to take his superior "Look at me, I went to Harvard" attitude down a goddamn notch. She threw Dick out in a violent rage, went head to head with Speirs, and had taken to some French liquor in her coffee that left her with a strange buzz. No one seemed to question it, though, because it typically left her in a better mood… something about the mixture of caffeine and alcohol that balanced her hormones and her brain.

The patrol, he knew, had something to do with Cora's sudden switch from Jekyll to Hyde. Dick had refused to let her go, but allowed Vest, the "mail jockey" (as Cora so tactfully put it), and Jones. When she found out that information, she went even crazier. "Vest? You're fucking joking, right? So, is that what I have to do? If I just ask all nice and calm, 'I wanna go on the patrol, sir,' you'd let me go? Call you, 'Sir,' and everything? Ya know… fuck everything that I've done over the past three fucking years. No, instead let two inexperienced fuckers go in my place. You're just so… fuck!" Rock bottom had finally caught up with Cora Larson… and it showed.

Sure, she had been angry before. The Toccoa men knew what she went through with Sobel. They remembered all too well the raised voices, the hard stares, and then the powerless and defeated expression that would be there after Cora backed down because he had knocked her down so low to the ground that there was no use in fighting to get back up around him. In the end, she was always left hating herself for her damn insecurities, her weaknesses. Even a few of the replacements, the ones that were now fairly integrated, had been present for round two, just before Market Garden. That time the frustration was more towards Dick than herself, but it was still there.

But she had turned into a train wreck that February of 1945. Colonel Sink considered demoting her, but she bounced back for a day or two, fixing up a soldier that had a piece of shrapnel lodged in his side. The man lived and Cora continued on as Captain. Then the day before the last patrol reared its ugly head and she was back to her old tricks: the bitterness, the aggravation, the resentment. Whatever disease Cora had, there was no cure for it… of that they were all too sure.

&&&&&

"Nixon, you're supposed to be the intelligence officer. Get a clue," Cora sighed, taking another sip of VAT 69 from a glass tumbler she had found in the cupboard.

"Cora, you're supposed the be the surgeon. Get a heart," Nix said, pouring another glass for himself.

She narrowed her eyes at him, far from amused. "Just say what you have to say and leave."

"Fine. Look, Dick wasn't in the wrong here. He was thinking about what was best, what was going to get less people hurt or killed…"

"So he's letting West Point go out there? I call bullshit."

Nixon raised his index finger to his lips and shushed her. "Will you just shut up for two seconds? First of all, Lieutenant Jones is only going along as an observer. Second of all… oh, why am I bothering? You might as well know. Dick loves you, okay? He loves you like I love this drink. He's been stuck on you for so long that it makes me sick. I've been trying for years to get him to see the light, but he's as stubborn as you are!"

He paused to take a final swig and then filled the tumbler again. "And here's the real kicker: you love him just as much! Or else you wouldn't be acting so crazy right now. I mean, look at you, Cora! You were mad at Liebgott the other day. You've never been mad at him! You've never really been mad at anyone besides Sobel and Dick, every once in while. And maybe me…"

"It's called flirting, Nixon. Better known as Slut Syndrome. They're happy, I'm happy. Everyone is just peachy. There are times when I get frustrated over things, but you know what, before all of this shit, I was generally a happy person. And if I wasn't I put on a damn good show. I just thought keeping morale up would be good. Keep everyone thinking I'm a reasonably sane person and everything will be okay."

Nix laughed. He reached out to pour another drink, but then stopped. He corked the bottle and leaned back. "Cora, no one ever thought that you were sane to any degree."

"It just seemed so natural to become so close. It was something I never felt like I was ever able to do with my real family. For the first time in my life, I feel like a sister, even though I've been one my whole life. And now I have brothers! Tons and tons of brothers. And it's a good feeling, to feel like I'm apart of something."

"Sure, I mean, you're more like a little sister to me in these past three years than Blanche has been my entire life. And I'm not saying that you should stop doing exactly what you were doing. It works. Trust me, with you around morale is certainly up. Men like having something pretty to look at. I should know. To tell you the honest truth, I've been looking at you from the beginning…"

"Pig," she muttered. "I wish I weren't so damned flattered."

"But, look, that's not my point. My point is that you need to give Dick a break. He doesn't just look at you, Cora. He embarrasses himself over you. It's disgusting!"

Cora laughed and the alcohol almost came shooting out of her nose. "I understand that, Nix. I mean, I really do, but when he does things like that he just… well, he reminds me of my mother!"

It was Nixon's turn to laugh riotously. He refilled Cora's glass.

"No, I mean it! Look, when my mother was pregnant with me, she was convinced she was going to have a little boy. She kept have dreams of boys running everywhere."

"She was right!" Nix chuckled.

"Yes, I know she was right. Now, listen. When I turned out to be a girl, Pop was so disappointed. He always tells me he wasn't, but I know it isn't true. I'm not sure exactly when I finally figured it out, but I remember being five-years-old and kicking Gerald Friedman in the shin for not letting me play ball with him. He said I couldn't because I was a stupid girl. Something about that always stuck with me. And I remember that Pop just stood by and watched. Ma was the one that finally stopped me and pulled me back from beating the brat up. She was furious with me…"

Nixon leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees.

"There was some pride in his eyes after that day. Then he started telling me stories of the war, while my mother was out dealing with women's rights. She figured that if she was going to have that many daughters, then she was going to make sure they had some say. But, anyway, one day Pop told me a story of a combat medic that he knew. He went on and on about this man who had saved his life when he had gotten a case of trench foot and talked about him like he was a god. And I knew that's what I had to do. I wasn't the son that he was expecting, so I had become it. But I think I was always meant to. I wasn't cut out for what my sisters did. I couldn't be like them. I tried, but something always seemed to pull me in the wrong direction. I always went off track. And I always saw that Pop wasn't completely bothered by it like Ma was. I mean, he wasn't thrilled. We've had plenty of discussions about how bad it was for my reputation in the neighborhood. But Ma… she hated my drinking and smoking and the boys I would get myself involved with. I couldn't get that approval from her, but I always pretty much had his."

She stopped rambling for a moment. Cora pondered for a while, wondering if perhaps all of her anger toward Sobel and Dick was more out of resentment for the fact that they were doing the same thing her mother had done. Her mother, who never once listened to a word she actually said; who never bothered to understand her like she did with all of her other sisters, just because Cora was her father's pride and joy. And when they stopped her because of her gender, because of the things that made her exactly who she was, it reminded her of her mother and the constant lectures on never getting a husband "that way." What I want is for one fucking person to accept me for who I am… it was all she had ever wanted.

&&&&&

The streets of Haguenau were illuminated by the moonlight, allowing Cora to easily find her way to second platoon. Her legs felt shaky underneath her as she listened to the distant splashing coming from the Moder River. 0100 hours. She wished she were with them, wished she had gotten the courage to sneak unto one of the boats and travel along with them anyway, but Colonel Sink would send her home if she had, and if she were stateside while her boys were still fighting the Germans… death sounded like a better option.

The lights were on in the top left window of the house. Malarkey was still up, although she had no doubt that he would be. His entire platoon was crossing into enemy territory. There was no way he was sleeping either.

Cora took her time going up the stairs. The week of drinking and anger had taken a toll on her body, weakening her to the point where she found it hard to get up some mornings. She followed the long corridor to the last door, where the fluorescent glow of a lamp cast a long fan of light across the floor. She knocked quickly, then entered upon hearing a mumbled, "Come in."

Malarkey was spread out on the narrow bed, his feet propped up and his head sinking deep into the pillows. In his hands, he held a worn copy of The Great Gatsby that she had given him long ago. She smiled at the memory and her eyes fogged slightly with fresh tears. Cora blinked the moisture away and went to sit down next to him.

"Shouldn't you be out on the patrol?" he asked, his gaze not leaving the page he was on.

"Are you trying to be funny?"

He folded the corner of the page down and closed it, sitting up to talk to her. "Maybe a little bit."

"Look, Malarkey, I—"

"I know, Cora. I just don't know what to say anymore. It hurts to talk about it… about them. I've lost my five best friends, Cora. And we've lost some damn good men. I just can't talk about it."

"They were damn good, weren't they? And Buck, Joe, and Bill still are damn good. And they won't be gone forever. Hell, even Muck and Penkala will always be around," she said, calmly. It was the first time she had been composed in a week.

"Yeah, right. 'They'll live on in the hearts and minds of everyone who knew them.' I know the sermon, Cora. It's just rough right now."

"Of course, it is. I'm sorry, Malark, I didn't mean to, you know, preach. I just kind of wanted to make sure you were okay. Not that I didn't think you were. You're not throwing chairs at people or anything… I worry sometimes."

"I know you do, Cora. I know." He paused for a moment. "So… what's going on with you and Captain Winters?"

Cora threw her head back dramatically and groaned. "I knew that was going to come up!"

"You don't have to explain. We all pretty much get it," he said, nodding.

"Get what?" Cora asked incredulously.

"You and Winters have a thing going. You two were always too close for it to be a normal friendship. And that was only in the beginning. But now? Cora, you and I may not be the best of friends or the closest in the Company, but I have a pretty good understanding of you. You wouldn't throw a chair at just anyone. You'd really have to care for a guy to do that to him. Maybe even have the hots for him…"

"Sergeant Malarkey, do me a favor… shut up."

Cora blushed profusely, causing both of them to laugh long into the early morning hours.

&&&&&

Johnny Martin ran from building to building. He couldn't understand why Cora wasn't where she was supposed to be; couldn't understand why, at a time like this, she'd decide to spend the night somewhere else. None of the damn medics could be found, and Martin felt some annoyance boil up inside of him.

Cora ran out into the streets, her hair bouncing wildly around her shoulders. She was panicked, trying desperately to figure out where they had taken the wounded soldier she watched from Malarkey's window being carried in. She heard her name being called over the gunfire and turned to see Martin rushing at her.

"Captain, follow me!" he shouted over the noise, breaking into a run.

Cora struggled to keep up, but finally fell into stride next to him. "Who's been hit?"

"Jackson!"

&&&&&

Eugene Jackson shouted as they attempted to carry him on a stretcher out from the basement. None of the men that Cora had lost over the course of the war had wanted to die, but Jackson was the first to make it known. Roe had told him to hang on, but the cries and overwhelming emotion caused him to buck against the hands that were willing to save him. His last breaths came out as mangled gasps for air until life simply escaped from his body. Dust rained down from the ceiling and pieces of plaster fell, adding to the scene Cora was surrounded by. Roe looked to Babe, who then turned to nod in the direction of Martin, Sisk, and others. Martin took a blanket from Sisk's shoulder and draped it over the boy's corpse. In the corner, Vest sobbed… Cora knew that he'd go back to sorting mail and would never long for combat experience again.

In that cold basement in Haguenau, 15 soldiers, two German prisoners of war, and four medics looked at the body. Some cried, some hung their heads silently, and one drank. Cora felt a heaviness in her limbs and her chest that would not be ignored. As she caught sight of Jackson's cold hand from under the thick blanket, she winced and could suddenly feel the world slow down. With only two people she was personal with in the room, she had never felt more alone in her life, even though she was surrounded.

"Let's get him out of here," Cora said as soon as the external noise seemed to die down.

&&&&&

On the day Easy Company was set to move off the line, Cora felt some relief, though not much. She had thought that Haguenau would be that breath of fresh air that they needed, seeing as they were sleeping indoors for the first time in months. But there was a black cloud that hovered over Easy and she had hoped that Bastogne was the torrential downpour, but Haguenau proved that the storm hadn't let up quite yet. They were all still waiting for their theoretical sun.

Cora lifted her bag higher up on her sloped shoulders, trying to balance everything. She looked back once, making sure nothing had fallen out, and when she turned around in the right direction, she smashed into Dick's chest. Their gazes wandered, never exactly meeting.

"I'm sorry about Jackson. I know how guilty you always feel whenever we lose a man," he said. "It wasn't your fault, though."

"No, it was yours. If you had just let me go, I could have gotten to him a hell of a lot sooner. He'd still be alive," she snapped, her body tense.

"That's not fair, Cora," Dick said in a soft, almost shy voice.

She looked up at him, her eyes burning. There would be no reconciliation… she was going to hate Dick Winters for the rest of her life.

"Sorry, Major. I'm going to have to disagree," she said before saluting him and stalking off toward the trucks and slinging her bag up on the floorboards next to Luz's feet.

Dick watched as Cora turned to all the men around her and smiled. Her anger and frustration had simmered down and was then only directed toward him, something that truly ate at him every time he saw her. He longed to see her smile up at him again, to feel her lips caressing his skin, to be surrounded by the warmth of her body as it pressed against his in one of her loving embraces. He wanted to see her eyes filled with serene temperance, not revulsion. He wanted to love her… for exactly who she was.

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