Helloooo again! First of all, thank you for the reviews, follows and favs! I really, really appreciated them! So...let's get to the point. I've actually rewritten this chapter twice, entirely. It was a tough one and it is somehow a ''bridge''. Ironically, I've already written the next chapter - which I really loved writing.

So...here it's very, very late. I won't give you hell with all my notes here and I'll just go to sleep.

Ps. Feel free to report any mistake.

Pss. Let me know what you think (good reactions or bad, I don't really care :) )

Enjoy!

Jackson proudly thought that no so many women could claim to have survived the Day of Days. Just the name of it made him twitch: it meant ''show-time'', it meant fears and excitement, it was the moment to prove their training meant something and that they hadn't dropped in the eerie, bloodied sky of Normandy for no reason. They survived, and they succeeded.

They were all about to get awards out of their first baptize to battle. Bill,Buck and Jackson would've got a Silver Cross service, Winters was awarded with the Distinguished Service Cross. It was only a medal, something he would've wore only on his uniform, nothing more than metal but it meant a lot: it was Jackson's praise to have survived not only the Day of Days, but also his two years of training; it meant he could do everything, even going to the hell and back (and he actually did it, that day). It meant he was unstoppable and it proved – above all – Jane could do everything. It was a praise to her, mostly.

The most welcomed praises came from Lieutenant Winters. Afterwards reporting to Streyer, he rounded his small group of assault and, looking into their eyes firmly, he said ''I'm very proud of you.'' Jackson's heart twitched for receiving such words from the Lieutenant.

The confidence around the young redhead grew during that day. Lieutenant Meehan was missing along with his platoon so Winters led them in their first combat, and greetly.

Jackson and Bill were laying on the ground, their backs pressed against the wall of a half- destroyed farm,exhausted and somehow fulfilled. They observed Winters while reporting to Major Horton, this time.

''Not bad for a Quacker, uh?'' Jackson teased.

Bill gave Winters hard time during the day. It was not all about their Lieutenant, though. His brother's death was still stinging on his soul but Bill did not let it affect him: he was freaking to kill the Krauts, as many as he could; it did not matter if that meant disobeying direct orders or endangering the whole group. Eventually, he regained his common sense and focused on what was important.

''Yeah, buddy. Not bad.'' He snickered, causing Jackson to chuckle.

From that distance, Bill and Jackson were able to catch the Lieutenant's expression as the Majore wavered his salute and Winters was all by himself, simply standing in the middle of nothing and staring blankly at a point in front of him.

''It must be his lucky day, though.''

''How come?''

''Meehan is still missing. It seems like Easy Company will have a new CO'' Bill pointed, glancing at Winters.

The young Lieutenant ultimately looked around, seeming quite lost in the mess.

''I guess he won't relish on a promotion came from such horrible circumstances, though'' Jackson shrugged. Whatever happened to Meehan was terrible, but Jackson was happy to rely on such a good man as Winters.

''Come on, let's bunk. The boys have found some good booze.''

Jackson followed him to a Jeep parked near a little gothic church. He assumed that Normandy would've been such a pretty place to visit if they were in different times.

''This stuff smells like hell. Don, I've always known you weren't much of a chef but you definitely surpassed yourself '' Jackson mocked as he inhaled the unsavory smell coming from the slop.

''Lil' bro, shut up'' Don had a sip of it and tried to avoid to crumple. Yes, it tasted definitely like hell.

Buck took the bottle of cider from Toye's hands ''Malark, try not to get us all killed alright?'' he snickered. Don glared at the Lieutenant askance. They were just having a good time and making fun of Don Malarkey's cooking abilities helped a lot. The booze was not so good: it stank of fish and it burnt down their throat but they could not avoid toasting to that they were all still laughing at Don, Winters snuck under the blanket covering the back of the Jeep.

''Something's dying here?''

''Malarkey's butt.''

When Winters exposited Meehan was actually still missing and Bill pointed he was their new Commanding Officer, Winters didn't resemble to be very jubilant about it; they all figured out, instantly, he was not. Jackson felt the day affected the Lieutenant more than it seemed; his insights were confirmed as he watched with wide-eyes the Lieutenant taking the bottle of cider in his hands and drunk a gulp swallowing hard as the others exchanged funny looks at the view. Winters handed the bottled to Bill: the Sergeant toasted and took a gulp himself; what he was implying to do was toasting to them, and to Winters too. Prior to going away, Winters addressed one last time to Bill.

''Uh, Sergeant?''

''Yes sir?''

''I'm not a Quacker'' he whispered before fading away. They all burst in laughs, Jackson himself could not avoid it.

''He must be a Mennonite!'' Bill offered, and sunk even more in his laugh.

''Come on Bill, give the Lieutenant a chance!'' Jackson snickered.

At last, both Jackson and Bill called it at night, provoking the rest of the boys to protest.

It was not their first night maneuver, but it was the first they went under during the cold Georgian wore no winter clothing, they could not – obviously – eat or even drink. They would've spent their night out in the woods, bunked into their foxholes, waiting for a inexistent enemy. Was it useful? Bill did not know it at the moment, thinking it was the latest way Sobel's creativity devised to torture them. Normally, he would've not say a word: he was used to do what he was asked and not because he wanted to please his CO, but because he knew his forces would've let him do it, and he wanted everyone to know that the rugged body could go through the worst an laugh at it.

But Bill was not laughing at all. He was literally freezing but tried to deflect the attention from the way his teeth gritted.

''This man is freezing his ass out'' he barked at Joe, bunked in the foxhole near his and Jackson's.

''So what? We all are. You know what? Hug him if you wanna help.''

Bill did not have any intention of doing it, but ''geez'', Jackson's body was twitching, that night, Bill understood two things and both that would've come handy in the future.

First thing, when outside it's cold, and in your foxhole it is cold, body's warmth can save your life and prevent hypothermia.

Second thing, soldiers – male soldiers – were supposed to not have boobies, but they actually did.

As Bill slipped next to Jackson, he embraced him and pulled him to his shoulder, covering the trembling body with his own jacket. He struggled to pull him even closer until Jackson's whole body was completely pressed on his.

''Jesus'' it was way too much for Bill's virility but Jackson's warmth was relieving to him, too, albeit there was something it peculiar. Bill had never known – how could he, anyway – how a man's body felt like but he thought that was not what it was supposed to feel like. Jackson was not the type of having pectorals and, anyway, those were too soft for being pectorals.

Bill knew how a woman felt like, pressed against his body. He had known it for a long time. The softness of the breast - his breast? – was maddening, the way he breathed was pure poetry. His weight was nothing on Bill. At first, Bill thought something was wrong with him, getting all jittery for a man. He cursed, thinking he was some kind of homosexual. Bill Guarnere? It couldn't be. In fact, it wasn't.

Bill caught a close eye on Jackson from that day on and he thought of being such an idiot to not have understood it way before.

Long and muscular legs were too gracious to belong to a male. His voice, so soft and high, was like a chirp. His arms were muscular, too, but too thin, too elegant and so little calloused. Finally, Jackson's face features were sweet, tender, his gaze was a comforting and gentle silent murmur of sweetness.

Bill was far away from Jackson when he went outside his bunk to would've like to know his best friend's real name. He assumed it was a gracious one, like Isabelle, or Anne, or Sophie. He always wondered if the stories he told – stories about stolen kisses from his girlfriend's window or about the fights engaged with his friends – were true. Did he actually know something about him (or her)?Pronouns, it was all about pronouns when it came to Jackson. Two years of training, two years of holding each other running Currahee throwing up the noodles with ketchup the Army passed as spaghetti, two years of sweating, and bar fights, and hangovers, and fears, and hopes: how could what he hid under his underpants mean something ? Truth was that slender, athletic and loud-voice human being – woman or man, whatever – was part of Bill: sister or brother, whatever. Joe, Bill and Jackson were an unity: they learnt to recognize their shadows in the nights, they watched each other backs, they jumped in the Normandy's leaden sky together. None of them could actually survive without the other: it was a matter of fact – Bill was sure. Taking a drag from his cigarette, Bill staggered idly over Jackson. The tender features of his face were raised, looking up something blurred in the sky,his cheeks red, his eyes sparkling.

''I guess I may like Normandy's summer breeze'' Jackson stated as he perceived someone behind him, knowing for sure who he was.

''Don't tell me you're cold'' Bill snickered ''or I may say you're a little princess in need of your silk cape.''

Jackson chuckled sheepishly tipping back his head. ''You know Bill, I'm very proud of myself and of ourselves. We behaved. It means that everything we went through was not effortless.''

Bill chuckled. The 6th of June was the day of days: the night the U.S.A. Army got to finally show off what what it was made of, their nights to prove their force, their braveness and skills. Nonetheless, Bill laughed inwardly considering that the man standing beside him was so brave to jump from a burning airplane but not enough to admit he was actually a woman.

Could Bill actually trust him?

''Jackson'' he called, his voice slightly trembling at saying that name knowing it was all a mask ''I'm proud of you, too. ''

Jackson smiled gently to him. Silence fell between them: the only noises heard were the bruises of men talking and laughing and the rumble of canons in the distance. Suddenly, Jackson turned to his right, as he was called by a voice only he was allowed to hear. Bill, intrigued, stepped back to see what Jackson was looking at. As he noticed their Lieutenant – crouched on a car far away from them and blankly staring into distance – Bill's mouth curled in a wry smile.

''Who are you looking at? Lieutenant Winters?'' he teased without getting any reaction from Jackson ''I may think you have a crush on him, my little lady'' he snickered again, this time trying to catch any sign from him that he had actually read through the lines. But Jackson was too good on deflecting his emotion – Bill knew it good – and did not let any emotion flow away from his face, just laughing at the obscenity and cutting the look from Winters.

''Come on, let's dig for the night'' he invited. Bill nodded and followed him in the dark.

When Easy Company secured the city of Carentan – quite easily – neither Dick or Jackson could know that right there, through the Norman hills, everything would've changed.

It all began there, in Carentan.

''That's all we needed! Lipton deadly hit!'' Bill barked dryly, huffing all around.

''Guarnere! I'm right here, still alive and with a gun'' Lipton demurred giving Bill a killing look.

Jackson huffed and patted on Lipton's shoulder ''C'mon Sergeant, we all know you're a big man! You'll heal fast.''

''Thank you, Malark'' Lipton countered.

Afterwards, the Aid station's door thrusted open under the weight of a staggering Lieutenant who entered quickly but silently, trying to not catch the attention on him.

''Lieutenant Winters, sir!'' Jackson exclaimed and rushed to his side taking his superior's arm on his shoulder so that he could steady himself.

''Thank you, Private'' Winters painted in pain as he – still helped by Jackson – managed to sit on makeshift doctor's. Promptly, Bill and Joe strolled over them.

''Sir, what happened?'' Bill asked.

''A sniper'' the Lieutenant exclaimed frowned, considering how naïve of him was wandering freely around a an open street, in the middle of a battle ''but it's nothing, really'' he assured.

''Let me check sir, so we'll know'' Jackson replied, hurriedly kneeling down on the Lieutenant.

Dick put softly his hand on Jackson's shoulder ''Private, since when you're a medic?'' he asked playfully.

Jackson, returning to his senses, got up and gave the Lieutenant a tender look. Bill – carefully watching – curled his mouth in a half-astonished and half-wry smirk. Oh, Bill saw it through it! He always did!

''I'm not, sir. I'm just worried about your health'' he exposited. This, made Bill grinning even more: he restrained himself from just nudging and to swap an amused look.

''Don't worry Private, I'll be fine.''

''For Christ's sake! As if it wasn't enough, our CO got hit, too! It seems like Easy company has fortune in spades uh?'' Bill barked again, receiving both Joe and Jackson's frowned looks.

''You guys just go, I'll be fine. Look sharp, we're preparing to their counter-attack.''

''But will you be able to come along, sir?'' Jackson asked sheepishly.

''Sure'' Dick shrugged ''sure I will'' he continued, not really believing at his own words. He knew it was nothing: just a scratch, nothing more. He could still move; the way he could move…well, that was another story. Dirk grimaced, considering he was not properly able to walk without staggering all around. How could he guide his men when he could be barely walk?

Eugène Roe capable hands cleaned the wound – wound, he used that terme, Dick noticed – and throw out the ricochet from his ankle. It was so gross a tiny little thing could cause so much pain, and difficulties.

The good medic could not simply and flatly tell a Commanding Officer to stay away from troubles or to avoid running – especially if that CO was Dick Winters: stubborn as a rock when it came to his own safety, he would've not stayed in a bed even if he were tied to it, and Roe knew that they weren't done yet in Carentan.

''You gonna be able to stay off it?'' he had to try, at least.

''Doesn't look that way'' Dick smirked. Roe knew at that point he could not protest; all he did was looking right in Dick's eyes hoping he would've got the words Gène could not speak loudly: ''you're not invulnerable (and this wound should be the proof) so don't try your luck. Look after yourself, for once. You can't be here and there, you can't rush from one of your men to the other revealing your position. You're not God, even though it could seem so since you have just made a miracle, giving a dreadful Private his view back. Well, if you think you're God, let me tell you you're not.''

Dick understood. He understood a little.

As already planned, the Krauts did not lose a chance and attacked the Second Battalion as it was spread across an upland. They took cover there, between the woods, waiting for the dark to fade away.

It was raining and – despite the season – the temperatures were downright low. Or maybe, the shivers running along Jackson's spine were due to the fact he was completely wet. He could not tell, but the fact was he was freezing. Eventually, Lieutenant Winters limped around the foxholes, checking on the men.

''Sergeant Guarnere, Private Malarkery'' he saluted, staggering over their foxhole.

''Lieutenant, how do you feel?'' Jackson asked promptly sounding quite interested.

''I'm fine, thanks for asking. You boys? Everything alright?''

''Yes sir, except for Jackson's irritating trembling that's keeping me from having a good sleep'' Bill blurted wryly, receiving a frowned look from a quivering Jackson, who had his arms crossed and was all crunched on himself trying to restrain his body warmth.

''You're cold, Malarkey?'' Dick asked chuckling, amused at Bill's complain ''you need a coat or something? I can give you mine'' he offered gently, kneeling down to them.

''Oh no, sir, I'm fine, believe me. It's just a little cold but I'll be fine'' Jackson urged to say before his Lieutenant could deprive himself of his last comfort; if comfort was even a word, of course.

''Alright. Behave, gentlemen. Good night'' Winters saluted, slowly getting on his feet and letting out a grimace of pain.

''Goodnight sir'' they intoned together.

As they were alone, and the rain was pouring even more, Jackson thought he could literally die. Bill gave him a look, noticing his teeth were gritting and all his body was an incessant shudder.

''Come here'' Bill ordered, pulling him harshly in his arms. Jackson looked at him questioningly and playfully asked ''you think it'll work?''

''Sure it will'' Bill barked ''at least, it worked the last time we shared a foxhole. You were quivering like a goddamn leaf.''

''Really? I don't remember it'' Jackson just stated, looking blankly in front of him trying to recall the memory. It was actually working. Bill was rugged, his warmth was even more effective than a coat, and his breathing on Jackson's head was leading him to the fairy tales' world.

Bill sighed ''You like Winters, don't you?'' Now, that was a now or never. The word was out and he could not retreat. Bill thought soon it was not the better way to face the topic.

Jackson shrugged ''Of course I do. Look at him: a ricochet in the leg and he's all around making plan and checking on the Company. We're lucky.''

Bill twitched in a smile. Of course Jackson knew how to handle certain questions: he had to learn how to not to feel embarrassed when his friends were talking about their girlfriends back home, or the ones they made love to in England. Probably, nothing of that kind could move him, Bill thought: so used to avoid every real feeling he had, it was useless trying to tease him hoping that a stare, a grimace, a tremble in his voice could betray him. Bill had to try best in order to hear the words he wanted. He did not know why: maybe it was just the situation recreating the time when he first discovered Jackson's secret, maybe the need of finally facing the truth was stinging him since the D-day when he – for no actual reason – really expected Jackson to come out. He could not find a reason to the urge of spilling the truth out of his friend, but what he needed was that.

Jackson was leaning in him even more. Who would've minded, however? It was cold and it was raining and they were all grown-men. Well, sort of. Bill smiled at his friend who resembled a child all cuddled up in his mommy's womb. All Bill could see of him was just his face: it was dirty and hard, but still graceful; his eyes were half-closed, but from his view Bill could catch the long eyelashes that gave to Jackson's look that freshness and liveliness that Bill could not remark in any of the Company.

''Jackson'' he whispered, receiving a growl in return ''I was just thinking, you and Winters, well…you can make a try, after the war. You know, I think he suits you. He's a good man. A Quacker, or Mennonite, but still a good fellow'' he exposited without teasing in his voice, as it was just a friendly suggestion.

Jackson widened eyes glared directly at him, his mouth crumpled in a disgusted grimace ''what the hell you're saying Guarnere?! I did not mean I like Winters in that way! Mine was just a mere appreciation of his leadership!'' he hastened to explain ''I'm not a fucking queer, Guarnere!'' he finally spitted out with sickness.

''I know you aren't'' Bill said shortly, looking right in Jackson's eyes.

Goddamit.

Jackson started to tremble again, this time out of fear. He disentangled from Bill's grip and slipped away from his, as far as he could, looking at Bill with widened eyes.

''Hey, hey, don't be worried'' Bill whispered with his hands waving him to keep calm ''I haven't told anybody, even not to Joe. And, for your information, it happened accidentally. I pawed your boobies on a night maneuver, the one you were freezing your ass and I had this mad idea of hugging you'' he explained. Meanwhile, Jackson had managed to crouch down in a corner of their foxhole, trying to avoid any physical contact with him. His tearful eyes refused to look at Bill and the whole scene so grievous that Bill struggled to find the proper words. Jackson should've known it, for Christ's sake, that Bill was not so sentimental.

''Listen, I won't report you – or I would've already done it. Nor will I judge you. I just want you to be sincere. You are my brother, Jack. I feel hurt you didn't share your secret with me. I thought you trusted me. I trust you, why don't you?'' he explained tenderly. It must've worked, since he noticed Jackson's tensed muscles slackening a bit. It was not a rhetoric question: Bill was actually expecting an answer from him and kept his eyes on Jackson, urging him to say something.

''I trust you'' he muttered, still looking down '' I trust you.''

Bill sighed in relief for finally hearing his friend's voice ''so why didn't you tell me the most important thing about you?'' he asked, sounding harsher than he really meant to.

''Did I really have to explain it to you, Bill?'' Jackson finally looked at him, arching his eyebrow. He huffed. ''I would've put you in danger.''

''Bullshits.''

Jackson cut the look again and looked down at his hands.

''I wanted to tell you everything, believe me. So many times I would've liked to take a load off my soul and finally tell my best friends the truth. But I was too afraid you would've not understood, that you would've taken me for a fool, or worst: that you would've started to treat me differently, like a girl. As I was not good enough, strong enough to be her.''

Jackson tensed again feeling the tears filling his eyes. He struggled telling himself ''don't cry, little girl, not now.''

''Haven't you heard me? You are my brother, you are part of me. The same is to Joe. We survived throughout these two years holding to each other, living everything together. How can I look at you differently? You are my brother, you will always be'' Jackson looked at Bill: his eyes were full of gentleness and understanding. When Bill opened in a tender smile, Jackson rushed on him, hugging him tight.

''What's your name, Malark?'' Bill asked tenderly, pulling his friend even closer to him.

''Jane. My name is Jane'' Jane said, sighing and sobbing but finally relieved as she hadn't been in years. There was she, Jane again. She could be Jane again, even only for Bill.

''Jane. I can adjust to that'' Bill stated.

''You promise you won't treat me any differently?'' She asked with a puppy voice.

''I promise. You'll have no sales on the punches you deserve.''

''Good.''

It was raining cats and dogs, Jackson was completely wet, shuddering each time the Krauts fired randomly. Jane was warm.

Winters set the attack for zero-five-thirty. Jackson's platoon gathered around Lieutenant Welsh, ready to attack. Bill was next to him and, as promised, he did not behave any different: he did not lose the chance to find some irony in everything, even during those endless seconds, but he looked stoic as always.

Uampp.

''Mortars! Take cover!'' Jackson yelled, and suddenly they all fell laid on the ground, slipping in the nearest foxhole.

From behind, a staggering Winters emerged grabbing his rifle and ordering to take an objective and to fire. As the German tanks brushed off the woods, D and F Company retired, so Easy was now completely alone.

Winters still rushed in a frenzy from one soldier to another.

''Jackson, fire all you can!'' he yelled. Jackson didn't have to be told twice.

They all hung tough, even though they were alone. As Dick saw the Sherman tanks appearing over the hill, he realized someone was actually protecting them from above. Now, it was made. The latest shots were fired, but the German regiment – quickly decimated - retired under the American tanks.

Dick rushed one more time, checking on his men and encouraging them, but the most was already done and Dick was already savoring the moment he could just laid down on the ground, because his ankle was hurting like hell. Staggering one more time, he crouched down on a foxhole and yelled ''ok, go go!'', watching as the two soldiers lifted up quickly and ran away.

''Winters!''

Dick turned, ready to retire himself too. A kraut – shuddering – gripped his rifle, fixed with a sharp bayonet.

Jackson pushed Winters down on the ground. The Kraut promptly clenched his fingers around the rifle and pierced Jackson who simultaneously pulled his gun's trigger: they both fell on the ground.