I could not keep it anymore! It took a while to write this chapter (due to language problem, mostly) but I really appreciated doing it. Afterwards the first one, I wished I could depicted Jackson-Jane as struggled man, trying to understand how to properly behave. Still, he's a girl - and a young one - so I guessed Jackson did not have all the answers immediately. Besides, Don's profile took a while to be outlined.

Last thing, Winters is hard to portray, especially now. He is not supposed to know about Jackson so I struggled between the chance to focus on a Winters' reflection over Jackson or not.

Prior to the chapter, I wanter to thank (I do not know whether I should or not, but I really appreciate it) the followers/favs on the story. Thank you!

Ps. I'm not a native speaker (I'm going to make it clear always) so I apologize for the mistake there might be :/

Jackson stared into distance.

Sometimes he wondered how Bill and Joe would've reacted to find out his real name was Jane, and that they had in common less than they would've thought. As they met back in Toccoa they soon shared a genuine friendship. As the years passed by, they grew closer and became an inseparable unit. They knew almost everything about each other: where they lived, what they did before they enlisted in the paratroopers, why they decided to serve in the Airborne. They laughed when Jackson revealed he wanted to attend university, ''It doesn't suit you'' they snickered, and they were amazed when he instructed them about the plenty medals he earned by athletics competitions.

They surely didn't share the same feelings about women. Bill and Joe would've often come up with outright sexist considerations about the fine sex; Jackson's first reactions were clearly unpleased but he endured silently, until the day, by his own surprise, he blurted something that was really in the line with what Joe and Bill usually would've said about women. Sharing barracks with only men taught him that much. He knew how a man sounded like with a woman or without one, what he was supposed to feel, how he would've described it, on which detail he would've focused on while telling his buddies the story. Jackson knew he could somehow understand it, now. He would've made love how a man.

Truth was Jackson learned how to properly behave like a man – and a tough one – especially from his two best friends: Jackson beheld and studied gingerly how they ate, the way they held their weapons, how they swore or even sweated when they trained; Jackson knew how frequently they showered, how they opined about the whole war thing. He learnt a lot but it was quite difficult and shocking at the beginning, being introduced to such roughness: Jackson knew he had to give up to everything he trusted in, everything he was, denying himself, lying to himself.

Apropos of lying, that was exactly what he was doing to his best friends: despite he recounted all his experiences and opened up about his worries and ambitions, he never told them his most important secret. It was both for his and theirs sake…but would've they understood? They started to mean a lot to Jackson and he really wished they could share a long-life friendship, surviving the war and maybe starting something together when back in the States. He was ready to watch their back in battle and he would've risked his own life to save theirs without batting an eyelid. This – Jackson thought – was brotherhood; and he would've not wasted it just to relieve his soul.

''It's been almost an hour'' Joe considered. Jackson only nodded, shutting his eyes closed ''guess it doesn't portend any good'' he laid his back down on the wet grass receiving no reply from his friend.

The urge of running in Bill's direction imbued him when spotting his rogued figure strolling over him; sometimes, it was just so unnatural to admonish his real impulses. Real men don't run towards other men. Jackson just opened in a big smile waving his friend.

''Look Joe'' he pointed when Bill was already close to the two ''our buddy has still both his legs and arms. Impressive!'' he snickered wryly. They both got up to shake their friend hand in admiration for what he had just done.

''I hope you're carrying good news along with your arms and legs, Bill'' Joe added understandably antsy.

''I'm not sure about it guys'' Bill snarled crumpling nervously ''As expected, Colonel Sink only barked at us that he would've saved our lives since we are at the eve of our deployment, then demoted or transferred some of us. He did not say a word about Winters coming back with Easy''.

Jackson and Joe cursed at that. Their friends had valiantly risked their lives to demonstrate Sobel's incapacity to lead them in war and the need to get soon as possible Winters back with Easy but, as far as they know, their braveness didn't lead to anything good: they lost two good NCOs receiving nothing in return. At that point, they could just anguish over the way they could survive through the war.

''Come on guys, I'm offering you a pint'' Jackson ruefully concluding putting his arm on Bill's shoulder.

What they didn't know was Sink was astounded at the Sergeants' actions. Truthfully, rumors about Sobel's failures reached his ears. Lieutenant Colonel Strayer had recounted how the Captain had cut some benches causing the ire of a farmer who lost an entire afternoon trying to collect all his cows. Sink widened his eyes in unbelief and just drawled that they would've overlooked it. Sink had to admit he was downright wrong considering the Captain able to measure up to the standards he expected from the companies of the Regiment. The tip of the iceberg was the Winters case and considering the spreading disapproval grown around the Captain, Sink figured out he had to get rid of him, instantly.

Winters received the good news that day. It was midafternoon when Nixon bumped into the mess hall wearing a sharp look. He promptly instructed Dick on Sink's latest measures: Sobel was assigned to Chilton Foliat, Meehan was put in charge of E Company and Dick could finally be back with his men. It's not use to say he did not lose any moment of it: he moved all his staff back in E Company's quarters. When he entered the barracks, hopeful to find someone inside to give the good news, he remarked the room was completely empty. It was Saturday evening, he thought, and his guys probably were spending their night out. With no apparent reasons, Dick arranged his stuff quite cautiously, as he didn't want to cause any noise. When he finished, he breathed loudly actually happy to be there. Regretful, since he could not currently share his joy with his men, he opted to get a hot shower.

Jackson tried to breathe as silently as he could but anxiety was devouring him; what chances were there, that it was just his brother? There was a one in a thousand chances, actually. All he could do was staying there, wearing nothing but a towel all around his body. It was the end, sure it was the end. Jackson cursed once, twice, three times. It just didn't help anyway. There was no way he could just sneak out the showers without being noticed by whoever was in the barracks. His hopes to hear the man just leaving the place faded away when he heard footsteps coming inside the showers. The whole Jackson's body was quivering in dead fear; praying for a miracle to save him, he lowered his head and looked down to his legs and suddenly they didn't look as they always did to him: shaking, thin and graceful legs replaced his usual muscular and masculine ones mysteriously. Whoever was, he would've found out. Footsteps were softer now, which made Jackson guess the man was barefoot, meaning he was about to take a shower. Jackson cursed for the fourth time. And then, clinging at his towel with all his strengths, he saw redhair wearing nothing but his shorts but his first reaction was not to just run away.

''Lieutenant Winters'' he called, temporally forgetting the perilous situation in which he was ''what are you doing here?''

Dick was finally relieved to see a known face in there ''Private Malarkey'' he nodded strolling a bit closer to him ''It's nice to see you again, Private. I'm glad to inform you I'm back with Easy since today'' he announced proudly, expecting some kind of enthusiastic reaction from the soldier.

''Uh, that's fantastic sir. It's good to have you back'' Jackson nodded frantically gripping tight the towel covering him suddenty recognizing the incurring danger. And embarrassment.

Obviously, living for three years with men taught him everything he was not so eager to know about a man's anatomy. He had seen plenty of his friend shirtless and fully naked, trusting him completely. It was nothing wrong: they were all grown men, weren't they? Jackson got used to genitals just like anything else.

When it came to Winters, things were different though. Jackson had spotted – not from very close, actually - the Lieutenant only a few time without his shirt, showing off a muscular torso and strong arms; the mere view left him breathless, and it was quite sordid for a man having such reaction. He was not supposed to like it, he was not supposed to linger his stare on a shirtless Winters and so, each time, he struggled to look away. Somehow, he sometimes forgot he was actually supposed to like it.

It was quite different now, with Winters just a few feet away from him. Jackson pleasantly noticed how firm his shoulders blazes seemed and, right there, a drop of sweat was lingering. His arms were lean and strong, just like Jackson had already noticed a billion of times but, in that moment, the urge of just being held by those arms was stinging him. He could not simply look at him, as it was nothing. He could not just stare: Jane could not just stare, taking advantage of the situation. Still, Jackson looked.

Winters turned on the shower, waiting for the water to turn warm and, meanwhile, Jackson noticed he was gripping at his shorts: Jackson knew what was about to happen in there.

''Sir, it's late, I've got to go'' he snarled and before Winters could even utter a word, he rushed out of the showers firmly gripping at the towel still covering him.

Wearing his uniform as fast as he could to leave the barracks, Jackson noticed his heart was beating fast and his cheek were aflame.

Men don't feel attraction for other men. It was downright wrong.

He rushed out of the barracks.

He nearly made it, once again.

Jackson genuinely liked Lieutenant Winters. He was polite, always placid even when Sobel made it hard to do. He gave good vibes and Jackson trusted his capacities utterly. Bill was quite reluctant at believing he could lead them in combat. He always pointed out the man was a Quacker – unable to even hurt a fly -, claiming he was even too shy: ''how is going to fire his gun in action when he fears what the booze could do to him?'' Bill used to snicker mischievously. His considerations about Winters were completely meaningless. Dick Winters was a good leader, he just needed to show it off. Above all, Jackson knew he was a good man.

He was such a good damn man, the kind of man Jane would've appreciated to dine with. Sometimes, lying in her quarters, Jane imagined how dating Dick Winters could be. He was handsome and a gentlemen. She betted he had a fine mind since he saw him often carrying a book with him, and every time the cover was different. He graduated from Marshall University, so he must've been really smart. He was down-to-earth, his smile was tender and encouraging; his manners were gentle, his decisions seems to be always the most appropriate to take. He was pure perfection.

He was intelligent, smart. That scared Jackson the most. The other boys didn't notice when Jackson just disappeared or rushed to the showers; they brushed off the way his voice seemed to be higher than how it was supposed to be. Nobody remarked the way, once a month, Jackson seemed to sigh harder than ever while running, struggling with all his forces to make it to the end. Men – Jackson knew it – hardly notice the little details. On the other hand, Dick Winters was a different story. It happened sometimes to notice a trace of misunderstanding in the Lieutenant's eyes while looking at him. Once, he neared to Jackson and patted gently on his shoulder. ''Looking at you nobody could tell you are such a great athlete, Private!'' he congratulated proud but somehow, Jackson spied some kind of teasing in those words. It was rather embarrassing the way Winters looked at his figure while he was in his P.T. : he stared carefully at his legs, muscular but pinched. Jackson was unsettled every time Winters beheld at him, and it seemed to happen very often, quite always. He was a good observer: he knew his men by heart. He sensed their mood, their fear, their excitement and he was always there to tear them up, always spitting the right word. It was way uncommon for him to not catch the little details so the fact Winters hadn't got to unmask the unbearable truth startled him. Besides, Jackson couldn't let his guard down: he had made it, yes; but his fate was still on a thin line until the war would come to an end.

Pale, Jackson shuffled over his brother who was waiting outside their quarters.

''Where the hell you were?'' he asked upset. Clearly, he had waited outside for a bit. Noting how shaken his brother seemed to be, he put his arm on his shoulder and brotherly pull him close ''what happened?'' he inquired. Jackson swallowed hard, knowing that what he was about to tell wouldn't please his brother's ears.

''Lieutenant Winters is back with Easy'' he spitted, trying to soften the following words. Don opened up in a bright smile and gloated over Sobel's implied transfer. ''That's a good news, for Christ's sake!'' he exclaimed looking quizzically at his brother who still seemed flustered. He nudged at Jackson, urging him to continue.

''He entered the barracks right when I was taking a shower'' the latter muttered ''He didn't notice a thing Don, I'm sure. I guess he was just too happy to notice anything'' he urged to explain, noticing a mixture of range and tension growing on his brother's face. Don run both his hands over his face in anguish eliciting a growl full of angst. He glared furiously at his brother but, ready to start the ultimate fight, he was interrupted by Toye and Guarnere barking to hustle.

Jackson told his friends the good news which were pleasantly accepted. They still did not know who was taking charge of Easy Company but the mere fact that Winters was in and Sobel was out made the night just perfect and relieving. They toasted at the good news.

''To Winters'' Joe raised his pint, expecting the others to do the same, which they did. A grimace appeared on Bill's face: he still did not like the man at all, but he was please too to have him back ''To Winters'' he stated.

Things would've started to work from them, they were all sure of that. But, that meant something more than just having back a good officer.

''It's on, buddies'' Bill murmured, never staring at his friends and keeping his eyes on his pint instead. None said a word: the exciting and horrible consciousness imbuing them all.

Easy Company could claim to have one more promising officer through its ranks: Buck Compton.

He bounded close to the men immediately; he was genuinely present and sheer friendly. He got along well with most of the men but bounded with Malarkeys, Joe and Bill especially: they soon found out they had the same interests in common like sports, drinking and playing cards. They loved the same booze's brand and Buck surprised them all by buying a case full of it that surely costed a month's salary. Buck just made his possible to get close to the men and to get their trust before their adventure began and he found the easiest way to get directly to their hearts.

His ways did not please Lieutenant Winters, though. Jackson heard Buck complaining about how Winters scolded him for gambling; Winters admonishment was pointless to Buck and he soon started to embrace the common attitude towards Winters: the No-Vices and No-Flaws Man. Compton and Winters were just not the same. Buck was greeted as one of them but as soon as the bullets would've started flying it their eyes would've been settled only on Richard D. Winters.

Meehan – their new CO – was a great officers. They informed about him as soon as they got the news. He was smart and had a great knowledge about maneuvers. Still, he was recently arrived and Easy Company could not trust the man completely.

Thomas Meehan would've made a great CO.

Buck Compton would've been the friend they needed.

Dick Winters was the headlight.

Some may had not liked his ways but Dick Winters was their light in the darkness: this, they knew it for sure.

5th June 1945. They thought they day had come: they were mentally ready to climb on that C47. Some of the men cut their hair, some were queueing out of a makeshift toilette. A group gathered around a chaplain, holding to their rosary tight. Then, suddenly Meehan called the Easy Company to round up around him: there was rain forecast for the night so the mission was postponed of twenty-four hours.

It was shocking. It was sickening: postponing the mission had the effect to let the soldier brooding even more about it and it was useless, dangerous. Army always taught the same lesson: soldiers are not supposed to think, they act immediately. It would've been much better.

Jackson was deep in silent, watching a movie in a tent with his brothers in arms. He stared pensively at Bill and said a little prayer for his brother. When he informed of his brother's death in Montecassino, Jackson felt the instant urge to hug him tight in comfort but he guessed men don't act like that; he had not learnt yet how men react in such circumstances. It startled him when Joe, after a few minutes of silence and hesitation, warmly pulled Bill close to him; Jackson was now righteously allowed to do the same. The embrace they shared had nothing to do with virility; Jackson learnt that such masks fell when it came to things that meant more than just behave like a badass. It was a short moment of comfort for everyone.

Don Malarkey was not a heavy smoker but the tobacco's savor tasted so good in that damned night. The wind howled messing up his red locks. Don chuckled at himself and shut his eyes: lone in the darkness of the night, the moonlight lightened some soldiers not so far from where he was. It was perfect. He inhaled deeply and the smoke seemed to soothe his soul by filling every pore; exhaling was a relieving floating of fears and worries which were mainly about his sister. Or brother. He could not really tell at all. Don had seen Jane changing completely throughout the years that he could not recognize her anymore. It was like her sister had died years ago but he gained a brother in exchange; the fact was Don was not sure he wanted him. He missed the way his sweet sister would've pulled him tight to her in such circumstances. She would've spoken words of wisdom and hope because it was typically her: she was so lively, so smart. He had lost her already. Don said a little prayer – not to survive the Day of Days – but for his sister: he wished she could've found, somehow, the peace she aimed to.

''You smoked inside the tent, too'' a high voice admonished, revealing a lean figure stepping over him. Don chuckled.

''I thought you would've never said goodbye to your brother''.

''You are my family. How can I forget about my family?''

''You forgot yourself, dear Jane''.

Jackson's eyes widened, looking around to check whether someone was around. Then he sighed desperately.

''So, you want to face the you-woman-stay-in-the-kitchen topic here and now?'' he snarled nervously ''I don't regret it, Don. You know it, I don't regret anything.''

Don nodded and inhaled-exhaled again. It did not help to find the right words to say goodbye. There was so much he would've liked to tell but at the moment, all he could recall was a photo of him and his sister with their father: he was dirtied with soil playing with his toys while his sister wore a nice little dress he remembered it was pink. There was a time, in high school, when his sister wore those pretty dresses too, or long skirts; the boy she liked mocked her, calling him ''strange'' and so he reacted consequently: one day, he lifted the boy pressing his back to the walls and punched him into a strange face. Different times.

''My only desire is to see you happy. If this madness makes you happy, then I will be'' he gently stated taking his brother's hand in his and squeezing it. Jackson thought it was one of those situation when no one could claim holding a man's hand was eerie and sick, so he just let it go.

''I love you, Don.''

''I love you too, Jackson.'' Jackson chuckled at that. His brothers always encouraged Jane's dreams. He was a good man and he reminded Jackson of their father: in his eyes, he could remark the same gentleness he knew it belonged to his father's.

It costed a lot to him. Jackson looked around one more time and then smacked a kiss on his brother's check ''This came from Jane. She thanks you for all you did for her.''

''It was a pleasure.''

The two smiled tenderly at each other as they hadn't done for such a long time. Sweet and comforting smiles were not allowed in the Army, even when it came to brotherhood: it was mischievous. So many times Jackson restrained himself from sweetness, even to his brother. it was one of those things he could not bear about the men's world: how could they avoid such tenderness – so simple, so pure – that soothes immediately.

Jackson said goodbye to his brother but, before he could go away, he turned back to stare at him once again.

''Don, just one more favor.''

Don nodded.

''I may not survive, and it would be better, for both. But, whether I might be hit-'' Jackson paused. His heart was clenching in his ribs and he was gasping for air. He could: he had to calm down, to sound placid at that ''Kill me. If you don't, they will found out.'' Jackson hustled to get away from him.

Don was hanging agape and felt tears falling from his eyes. No, he was not like his brother. He could not simply sorrow his feelings: he was a man – a true one – and he did not fear his feelings. With teardrops lining his features, Don brooded over his brother's last words.

He was right.

It was better to be just killed than being hit. In that case, a medic would've taken care properly of him, and he would've undressed him by his uniform that covered the things he was most ashamed of. It would've begot dishonor to his name and to his Company. The fear of just being treated with coldness and disgust by his friends and his superiors, letting down the people he loved and admired, was something that could've not happened. It was even worse than just dying honorably.

Don Malarkey knew his shoulders were to be stronger than his brothers in arms'.

He would shot at his brother.

If the world was any different – Don thought – I would not.

He cursed, because that world – he realized- was hell, and pure madness and it lacked of meritocracy. If only the world knew about his sister and understands her reasons, he wouldn't have to kill her.