Disclaimer: it all belongs to Tarantino.

The headache was back for dinner.

Raine was looking at all the scalps, marking with his long knife which one came from which member. The others ate, some relaying their encounter with the Nazis while others nodded and smiled, ate and laughed.

No one mentioned Donny's outburst.

Yet he sat with them anyways, poking at the tinned meat with disgust. Murphy's pop's bar was always good. He didn't keep kosher there, oh no. He had milk and pork there all he liked and made Murphy swear he would say nothing to his mother. Thinking of the pork steak there made his mouth water; the thought of mama's holishkes made his stomach growl. And beans- shit, it ain't Boston without the beans.

Donny leaned back, head resting against a rock, and stared into the can. The water from the meat dripped onto the stolen uniform, making the mud and blood mixture even more putrid. He wrinkled his nose and poked at it once more with a finger and watched it spring back in form. The headache pounded, made him feel like his eyes were gonna fall out.

Raine was still having fun with those scalps, chewing on tobacco again. He glanced up momentarily and caught Donny staring. The sergeant quickly returned to his meat. Footsteps, the strange sound of mud slapping, stopped near his ear. A boot kicked his knee.

"Looks like your sergeant is ahead of all of you, four scalps." Raine surveyed his men. "Not that any of you's are gettin' somethin' special." he paused again. "We gots us some MP40s, some more uniforms, and some shit food. Not a fan of this sour-krat myself." a round of laughter. "We're moving out again tonight."

The men shuffled. Raine didn't move. "For the lazy Yank bastard you are, you did a damn good job today. Even if it was with a little help from your lieutenant."

Donny groaned, feeling more humiliated than anything as Raine walked away, chuckling.

His head was killing him by now. The Boston native was sitting up front with Raine, MP40 in his lap, Garand at his feet. It took several reminders- from himself as well as Raine- that there could be more up ahead, could get more, kill more, so don't fall asleep.

"You like baseball." Raine commented. "Don't care for it, but back in Tennessee most we get to doin' is scarin' the shit outta neighbors' horses. What was th' name you used? Gehrig?"

Donny ran a hand over the edge of the window, staring out of it idly to avoid looking at Raine. "Was my life." he mumbled. Raine smirked.

"Could tell by that baseball bat o'yours." he responded. Taking his hands off the wheel, he pulled out the snuff box. "Didn't your mamma teach ya manners? How come I never got a thank you?"

He leaned his head against the window and scowled. "Don't owe you a thing, sir."

Raine's lips thinned. "Whys'at? You water rats sure are cocky, gotta hand it to ya." he glanced sideways at Donny. "Not that that's a compliment."

Donny closed his eyes and swore. Raine chuckled again.

"Whatcha dislike so much about me, Donowitz? 'Course, I understand your frustration that my old man wasn' as honorable as yours, I'm not Jewish, whatever." So he had heard that tirade.

"Well, sir, don't suppose I really need a reason, do I? Other than your up yours attitude, that doesn't pass in Boston buddy. But don't mind me, that's just from a useless ole' water rat."

Raine tipped his head from left to right, using a knee to maneuver the truck. "You are a strange little bastard, Donny."

The Bostonian didn't respond. He'd already closed his eyes, head slamming against the window along with the bumps in the road.

Donny awoke to a noise. A tapping. He groaned, white dots dancing in his vision again, then a bolt of shock through his body- he jumped and let out a yelp.

"He's awake, all right." Wicki called, moving out of Donny's line of vision, talking to someone he couldn't see, then turned back. "You were clear out, sergeant. Missed it all."

Donny sat up, realized he was still in the truck. "What do you mean I missed it?" he snapped as he rubbed his head. The MP40 was still resting on him, but the Garand was missing. "Where the hell-"

Wicki waved a hand. "We were surprised by a couple more Nazis, must have thought we were that group we slaughtered, asked us why we were moving. Nothin' much happened, Raine grabbed your Garand and shot the three of 'em. Good aim, that lieutenant has." Wicki nodded, stuffing his hands in the pockets of the Nazi uniform.

"Ah." Donny thought it was more exciting than that, had been hoping for more.

"They are always hungry, seems like- Omar and I fished some good food out of the back of their auto." Wicki finished, smirking at the way Donny's eyes lit up.

"Anything's better than that tinned crap!" he exclaimed, stretching his legs. Wicki nodded in agreement before peering inside the car.

"Sure you're feelin' good, sergeant?"

Donny threw open the door, forcing Wicki to move out of his superior's way. The Bostonian flung the stolen rifle over his shoulders, arms hooked over both sides, and grinned. "'Course I am." he drawled, cocking his head to the side. "Feelin' brand spankin' new!"

As he walked away, skipping for a little comedic effect, he remembered that Raine had used his first name.

You are a strange little bastard, Donny.

"Good you're not passed out in my front seat anymore." Raine commented as Donny sat down. "Don't want any damned sergeants takin' a snooze on my watch, Donny."

Donny glanced quickly at the lieutenant. Raine was watching him, hand resting on his knee, the other putting out a cigarette. Again, the uncomfortable feeling deep in his stomach. "Yeah, sorry, sir." There was a long pause, a pause that had frequent between the two of them in the past; yet now it made Donny feel worse, more awkward.

"Got a girl back home?" Raine suddenly asked, folding his hands between his neck and leaning into them lazily.

Donny snorted. The only girls he knew, besides those twins, were either related or irritated the hell out of him. They complained about make-up, about their clothes, their aching feet, about having to work. "Not at all. All too prissy, I tells 'em they might as well all come straight outta New York City."

Raine smirked. Donny had expected him to throw in a comment, to share, but he stayed silent.

"I knew these twins, I have their names carved into my baseball bat, lived down the street from me. Holy hell, they could talk your ear off. One of them, I think it was Ester, played baseball with us in her younger brother's shorts, but the other one was always trying to curl her hair and make herself look like hot stuff for the guys in the richer neighborhoods." he had felt the sudden need to babble, to fill the empty space with air, even if he was sharing this all with Raine. The lieutenant hadn't taken his eyes off Donny; when the young man caught him again, he took to spit-cleaning a mark off the rifle rather than continuing his story.

"Guess we've made peace, water rat." Raine commented, pulling out a sandwich and breaking it in half. He ate part of it quickly before explaining. "I saved you from that Kraut, and you had yer weapons with ya up front, if it wasn't fer that we'd probably have been fucked over pretty fast." He threw the other half to Donny and stood up, brushing himself off.

Donny stared at the sandwich half. He was not hungry, far from it; he felt physically sick. Shit. At the least, Raine would have had his pistol in his pocket. He knew that for a fact; Raine was a lieutenant, after all, and lieutenants didn't drive around in occupied territory without a weapon. Why Raine was lying to him about such a stupid aspect of the tale, Donny didn't know.

But he had to agree with Wicki, as Utivich gleefully showed him the dead Nazis, still laying feebly across the car- Raine did have good aim.