A/N: Everyone, this is the last "real" chapter. Following this will be an epilogue, which will finish this thing out at an even 20. Thank you to all that have read, reviewed, and encouraged this little endeavor of mine. I am eternally grateful. At the end of the page is a link to a play list that has 90% of the songs used (the others can be found on iTunes).
Thank you, again.
Music by The Dixie Chicks. I do not own Band of Brothers.

XIX. Cowboy Take Me Away

I want to sleep on the hard ground
In the comfort of your arms
On a pillow of bluebonnets
And a blanket made of stars

The trouble all began when Shifty left for the States. The truck he was in was hit head-on by some drunken corporal from some other regiment. He spent the months after the accident in a series of hospitals, even though he should have been spending them lazing about and enjoying his home and family.

Then Janovec got hit. The jeep he was in had to swerve to miss a unsecured barrel that had rolled off the back of a cargo truck and crashed right into the forest. He was dead by the time he was brought to Cora. According to Webster, he was only ten points away from being able to leave Austria. Only ten… Cora could remember the day she met Private Janovec, when he was a bright-eyed boy, fresh off the troop ship. He had jumped with them into Holland, survived Bastogne, but was killed in Austria… in peacetime.

She personally wrote the letter to his parents.

The last casualty that Easy Company endured was Sergeant Chuck Grant, who had been with Easy since its formation. Speirs had been the one to inform Cora of the incident, and had also been the one to wake her from a dream that involved a scantily clad Dick Winters and a bowl full of cherries. Needless to say, she was livid when he turned on all of the lamps in her room.

"Ron, you prick! This better be good," she grumbled, peeling back the blankets while he rummaged through the closet.

He tossed her uniform on the bed and rushed to the dresser to find a pair of socks, tearing through her things like a rabid animal. "Hurry up and get dressed, Cora."

"What the hell is going on out there?" she asked, shoving her leg through the pants.

"Grant was shot. Some medic up at regiment says he needs a brain surgeon."

Cora paled. "What can I do, then? I wouldn't know where to even begin, Ron. I'd kill him. I can't do it."

"I know you can't," Speirs said, facing the wall so she could change her clothes. "Doc Roe said that you might know of one, though."

Cora didn't bother buttoning her shirt up all the way, so the olive guinea tee beneath showed quite a bit under her fatigues. She shimmed into the jacket as she headed for the door with Speirs close behind her.

"I do know of one brain surgeon, but…"

He stopped her. "But what?"

Cora bit her bottom lip and sighed. "But, he's a German. I'm not sure if that matters to you or not, but I think he's our best bet. I've been working with him a lot at the hospital, taking care of some of the soldiers. He'd probably be willing to help us."

He nodded. "Well, then let's go pay a visit to this Kraut surgeon of yours."

&&&&&

Speirs had instructed both Cora and Eugene to stay in the jeep while he went to knock on the door. Cora, of course, protested, knowing that she would probably do more good in getting the doctor's help instead of Speirs and his gun. But he failed to listen… as usual.

He rapped harshly on the glass pane of the front door several times before the light illuminated the foyer on the other side. Dr. Johann Kahler pulled back the curtain, only to see the deadly end of a handgun pointing straight at him. He opened the door upon Speirs' demand and hesitantly looked at him.

"Get in the jeep," Speirs ordered, waving the gun around.

Johann eyed it once and then reached for his trench coat.

"Where are we going?" he asked, his accent almost too thick for Speirs to understand.

He let out an exasperated sigh. "To the hospital. Just get in the jeep."

Johann looked at the gun again, which was now positioned closer to his chest. "If you're going to shoot me, then shoot me. If you're not, put the gun away," he said in a loud voice, suspicious of Speirs' manic eyes.

"Jesus Christ, put it back in your pants, pal," Cora snapped, fed up with his behavior as well.

Speirs looked up at her with a somewhat disgusted expression.

Johann turned his attention to Cora, who was sharing space on the back of the jeep with Grant's legs. The two of them had only been working together for a little while, but he found that, for a Jew, she was a remarkable surgeon. She was quick, but accurate; meticulous, but didn't linger on things for too long. She often performed the removal of objects, the stitching of open wounds, and other trivial things, but the manner in which she did them was the astounding part.

"Captain Larson, what has happened here?" he asked.

"From what they've told me, he was shot in the head. Obviously, not on my list of expertise. I figured that you'd have a better chance at saving him than I ever would."

"How long ago?"

Eugene, who had a tight grip on the jar and IV that was giving Grant blood, spoke up. "Half hour ago."

Johann nodded understandingly. "Let me drive," he said to a still very much armed Speirs. "We'll get there faster."

He stared at the doctor menacingly, until Cora called him. "You've got two choices, Ron. Either do as he says or swap penis sizes. I really don't care. It's your call."

He narrowed his eyes at her, but reluctantly acquiesced and jumped into the passenger seat.

"He better fucking live, Cora," he mumbled into the wind.

&&&&&

Speirs had run too far ahead of her, and Cora was already sprinting up the stairs and down the hallways to where Easy Company was keeping the drunken renegade. She burst through the double doors, where Talbert and Luz stood, listening to the soft sputtering coming from the adjoining room.

"Where is he?" she asked, out of breath.

"Who? That drunk bastard?"

"No," she said. "Speirs."

Talbert pointed to the room, where Speirs stood, the muzzle of his gun only inches away from the face of the replacement from I Company. There was blood all over the other man's face and plenty of swollen bruises that Cora knew would take a long time to heal. Clearly, the boys that had packed into the tiny room had let him know that they meant business. He coughed and gagged on his own blood, his head barely staying up on his own, like a weak infant. The gun quivered in Speirs' hand as his entire arm trembled. He couldn't quite steady himself.

Cora rushed up behind him and placed a hand gently on his forearm, forcing him to lower the weapon. He looked at her with an expression she had never seen on him before. It was something like sadness, but it was mixed with another emotion that was much, much darker. She almost feared it.

"Enough blood has been spilt because of him, Ron. Don't add to it," Cora said, barely above a whisper. "Let it go."

Speirs looked down at the back of his hand where it had collided with the side of the man's face. He dragged it down the soldier's shirtfront and quickly turned on his heels.

"Have the MPs take care of this piece of shit," he said quietly as he walked away.

The men of Easy Company watched as he headed out of the doors and turned the corner, then turned to Cora. She breathed deeply through her nose, trying not to cry or show any emotion that would have freaked any of them out any more.

"Grant's dead?" Talbert finally asked.

Cora gave a small smile to the group and patted a few of them on the shoulder. "Nope. Dr. Kahler said he's going to make it. Pretty lucky, huh?"

But Cora knew, luck had nothing to do with any of it. Fate had played so much of a role in her life during the war that she swore by it. Fate had brought the lot of them together, and Fate was what had kept the rest of them alive.

&&&&&

Dick stood at the edge of the lake, in the same spot where Cora had said those three magical words to him. He sighed contently at the thought of it. Then he remembered the small velvet box that was hidden in the middle drawer of his desk in his room, the one he had found with the bracelet he had already given her. But he had kept the small box a secret (Nixon didn't even have a clue that it existed), because within it, was a diamond ring… the deal closer, the ultimate proof of his desire to spend the rest of his life with her, the sign that he was ready for whatever curveball she was destined to throw at him. His only hope was that that sign had "Please, be gentle with me" undertones.

"I heard reports about a red-headed Eskimo," said a deep voice, ripping Dick from his thoughts. "Thought I'd check it out."

Dick looked at his watch. "Come to join me for a morning swim?"

"Yeah," Nixon said with a laugh. "You know me so well."

He handed Dick a package, wrapped in brown paper, from Zielinski.

"Oh, great!" he said, taking a seat next to Nixon on the slate sidewalk that lined the slope of the lake. "I ran into the regimental photographer. Said he had all these photographs of the 506th going all the way back to Toccoa. I traded 'em for a couple of lugers."

"That's a bargain," Nixon scoffed.

Dick opened the expandable folder and pulled out a glossy print of himself and Nixon in their class-A uniforms, back when they were just lieutenants. The two of them laughed at the bewildered, but still relatively cocky expressions they had, both silently remembering the pre-Europe days. Dick shuffled through a few more of them before one in particular caught his eye.

He saw a girl, fresh-faced and only 23-years-old, with a 1000-watt smile and dark lips. Her soft curls twisted wildly around her, falling past her shoulders and escaping from the band that she had attempted to hold them back with. Her petite frame and its perfect hourglass shape was clad in the airborne's PT gear and her smooth, milky white legs were anchored down by a pair of jump boots, that had been laced up tighter than anyone else's. Her freckled arms were stretched out above her head in a "Ta-da!" sort of pose as she floated off of the ground, supported by four pairs of hands that belonged to four faces; all of which were grinning stupidly at the camera. Dick recognized those faces, those goofy smiles, as Bill Guarnere, Joe Toye, Don Malarkey, and George Luz. And, of course, Cora, who looked like a girl in a magazine.

Dick? For the longest time, he couldn't remember exactly when he fell in love with Cora Larson. Dick? But looking at that photograph reminded him. Dick? The first time he saw her, he was hooked.

"Dick? You in there?" Nixon said, waving a hand in front of his friend's face.

"What?" he asked, though his mind was still back in 1942.

"I asked you what you were doing after this."

"Oh," Dick said, trying to shake his head free. "I don't know. Probably get some breakfast."

Nixon rolled his eyes, both at Dick's response and at his disappearance into Cora-land. For three years, he had watched the two of them. Hell, so did everyone else in the company. Most men didn't admit to the whole concept of soul mates, but the Captain and the Major made it hard to deny. Freaks…

"No, I meant 'after, after.'"

Dick fidgeted. "Well, it's funny you should mention it, because I had a meeting with Colonel Sink. You know, discussed the possibility of staying."

"In the Army?" Nixon asked, the skepticism heavy in his tone.

"Yeah," Dick said with a shrug. "Yeah, as a career. I said I'd think about it."

There was a long pause. The two of them stared at their feet for a while, until Nixon finally spoke.

"What'd you think about New Jersey?"

"New Jersey?" Dick asked, befuddled by the question.

Nixon picked up a leaf and began twirling it between his fingers. "There's a company in Nixon, New Jersey. It's called 'Nixon Nitration Works.'"

"Oh, sounds picturesque," Dick quipped.

"Yeah," Nixon chuckled. "Oddly enough, I know the owners. Probably gonna expect me to make something of myself. I thought maybe I'd drag you along with me."

Another pause occurred as Dick processed everything. A smirk appeared and Dick squinted into Nix's direction. "Are you offering me a job?"

Nixon gave him a look and casually shrugged. "We'll see how you do in your interview, but, you know, a man of your qualifications, I think we can probably scrape something up, maybe even commensurate with your current salary level."

Dick simply nodded. "Yeah, I'll think about it. I really appreciate it, Nix."

"Yeah, well, just think about," he said, before getting up and leaving Dick and the serenity of the lake.

"Goodnight, Lew," Dick called over his shoulder, getting only a wave in response.

He laughed before heading toward the dock, the job offers and thoughts of marriage rolling around in his head. And the war wasn't even officially over yet…

&&&&&

The airfield was covered with straight rows of men in German uniforms, waiting for their general to officially surrender to Lt. Carwood Lipton. The warm, summer sun cast a glow over their war-torn bodies and defeated faces, somehow making everything seem less solemn. Cora watched from the backseat of a jeep, her head resting upon Dick's shoulder. She inhaled the scent of the soap he had used that morning to shave and slipped her hand into the pocket of his jacket, the masculine aroma of the leather carrying her to a place she had only been to in her dreams.

"Don't get too comfortable, Cora," Nixon whispered, squinting into the sunlight.

"Why? What are they going to do, Nix? Send me back home? Oh, no! Not that," she said sarcastically, making Dick laugh in response.

Cora was still laughing a little as a truck drove off, rumbling off across the field. When she looked up, she was met with a pair of dark eyes that still seemed to find her, no matter what.

Sobel stared straight at her with an expression that usually had her wanting to rip her own heart out, just to stop it from hurting. She braced herself for the pain, for the internal bleeding to commence, but nothing happened. She wasn't numb, she wasn't hurt… she felt as though she were looking at any other man in the world, and as the muscles in Dick's abdomen tightened beneath her hand, she understood why.

The man that Sobel was with saluted the three officers in the jeep and continued to walk, following the proper protocol. Sobel, on the other hand, turned to face the opposite direction, as if ignoring the members of his former company was going to make them disappear.

"Captain Sobel," Dick called out.

Sobel quickly nodded in his direction. "Major Winters," he said, merely acknowledging the fact that he was there.

"Captain Sobel," Dick said again, forcing Sobel to stop. "We salute the rank, not the man."

As he began to turn, Cora debated whether or not to lean back from Dick's shoulder. She knew it would kill him to see her that way, and part of that thrilled her, but that letter he had written only months ago still ran through her mind. But Sobel moved faster than she had expected him to and, as he saluted Dick, he got the full view of just how much things had changed since they had last seen each other. Cora was no longer a slave to her feelings for him. She had found something real.

As soon as he was out of earshot, Cora turned toward Nixon. "Ha! You owe me twenty dollars and a bottle of wine. I told you I was more of a bad influence on him."

"Oh, shut up, Cora. Just because that move he just pulled reeks of you doesn't mean anything!"

Cora laughed and leaned forward to kiss Dick's freckled cheek, leaving a red lipstick stain behind. She slid out of the jeep and gave his hand a squeeze, but his grip on her tightened as she tried to leave. Her eyes softened as she reached out to stroke the side of his face, feeling him lean into her palm.

"Do you trust me?" she asked.

He looked at her with clear blue eyes, a color she hadn't seen anywhere else in the world, and nodded. "With my life."

"Good. Hold on to that feeling," she said with a smile before slipping from his hands.

Cora began to run in order to catch up with Sobel, to talk to him one last time. She called his name as she got closer, again and again, until finally, she shouted the one name he couldn't ignore.

"Herbert!"

Sobel stopped mid-stride and told the orderly he was with to go ahead, that he'd be along in a minute. He turned around and walked toward her with the same swagger that she remembered from years ago. It was awkward and unsure, but still undeniably arrogant.

"Cora Leigh," he said, his gaze falling to meet hers. "What happened to your face?"

"Bastogne happened to it," she said, more as a matter of fact than anything else.

"I always thought that he had a thing for you. You told me I was crazy."

"You are crazy," she teased.

"Did you ever get my letter?"

"Yes."

"Cora…" He paused. "Everything I said in there was true. Everything."

"I know, Herb. Really, I do, but it's different this time. I finally realized that not all my needs come wrapped in bed sheets."

Sobel bit his lip as tears welled up in his doe eyes. "Just… please, tell me you don't hate me, Cora. I couldn't live with myself if you did."

"No, I don't hate you. I mean, I've tried to, but, for some reason, I can't. But, you have to know, I'm not in love with you either. I loved you the best way I knew how back then, but I've changed and so have you. It's different now…" Her voice trailed off as Sobel started to nod.

He extended his hand to her in a friendly gesture and shook hers firmly, like businessmen… like refined human beings. But then he enclosed her hand with both of his own, without letting her out of the handshake. Sobel pulled her to him, only inches away, causing Cora to stand defiantly straight.

"Be happy, Cora Leigh," he whispered in a dulcet tone.

She relaxed and let her shoulders fall, smiling a little. "You too, Herb."

Sobel let go of her and shoved his hands deep within his jacket pockets. He stepped away and shook his head. "No, Cora. Not without you."

And, with that, he was gone. Cora never saw Herbert Sobel again, until she went to his funeral in the 1980s. Even though he had had two sons and an ex-wife, all of whom had heard of his death (and his failed suicide attempt), she was the only one in attendance. "Part of you will live in me." Cora sighed heavily before heading back toward the jeep and the comfort of Dick's arms.

&&&&&

"I see you've been waiting for me," Dick called from the shallow water.

Cora sat up and pushed the sunglasses she stole from Nixon on top of her head. She gazed at him, admiring the shade of red his hair was and the strong build of his torso, and smirked. "I swear, your whole gender is so conceited! It's disgusting."

She swung her legs over the side of the dock, enjoying the feeling of the open air on her bare legs. Cora hadn't realized how much she had missed her PT shorts and white PT shirts. They were freeing, a reminder of simpler times and of the days when there were no memories of concentration camps or seeing her friends missing their limbs. Those were the days when the hardest thing she had to do was run three miles up and three miles down. The good ole days…

"Cora?"

"Yes, Dick."

"What do you think of New Jersey?"

Cora's legs stopped moving as she pondered the answer to the question. Truthfully, she didn't think much about New Jersey, except that it was the state just below New York. Her father took her hunting there. A lot of the Italians that she had slept with had summer homes there. And, of course, that's where Nixon Nitration Works was located.

"It's not bad. Why? You taking a job with the New Jersey Board of Tourism or something?"

"No, but I was offered a job in a town called Nixon, New Jersey," he said with a vague smile.

Cora laughed. "Oh, well, doesn't that sound picturesque?"

Dick laughed along with her, slightly nervous. "It does, doesn't it?"

"Think you'll take it?" she asked. She wasn't fully following what he was trying to tell her. Naturally, she had a few guesses, but Cora was never quite sure with Dick. After all, he didn't fit any of her molds.

"The job? Yeah, probably. Except, there's that whole New York issue…"

"What New York issue?"

"Well, I'd have a take a train to see you and that's going to add up to quite a lot of money after a while. So, I was thinking that maybe the two of us could get a house somewhere close by, maybe in between so--"

Cora held up her hand to silence him. "Are you insane? Dick, I can barely keep my hands off you now. How the hell do you expect to keep your precious virtue intact?"

Dick looked up at her through squinted eyes as the sun beamed down upon them. Her scars glistened in the light, sparkling like streams of silver cutting through a countryside of ivory skin. She was like Isis, Aphrodite… Artemis.

"I don't know. I guess you'll just have to make an honest man out of me, Cora Larson."

Cora flashed a big smile, hardly able to contain herself, but she inhaled deeply and stood, placing her hands on her hips. She walked to the edge of the dock, looked at him once, and then dove into the lake toward him, splashing water in every direction.

"Can I take that as a yes?" he asked, embracing her.

Cora smoothed his wet hair back from his forehead and pressed her cold lips to his, clinging to him like a life preserver. "Of course you can take that as a yes! Why would I, of all people, pass up the golden opportunity to deflower you? Don't you know me at all?"

Dick let out a breathy laugh, then fully captured Cora's mouth with his own. He could taste the sugar from that morning's cup of coffee, but nothing else. The bitterness he always expected was never there… just sugar and the perfume of cinnamon.

"I've always known you, Cora. Always."

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