Here we go again!

First of all, thank you for your lovely reviews: they made my day! And thank you for following/fav. I'm very sorry I didn't update any sooner but I'm downright busy with my classes!

I hope you'll like the chapter. Things are getting more interesting between Jackson and Dick and, moreover, there's one side of Jackson you'll get to know with this chapter.

So...enjoy! Let me know what you think :D

Mourmelon was heaven for soldiers coming back from a devastating time in Holland. The morale was down to their feet. Their newly promoted CO – Lieutenant Heyliger – was shot by a jumpy replacement. They made some resources, inquiring his ex NCOs: the young and promising Lieutenant commanded a platoon in B Company. He was sharp, brave – even reckless, sometimes – and he liked to drink, a lot. He was cordial, most of the time, always with a mirthful and boyish smile. Heyliger gained E Company's trust successfully leading them during Operation Pegasus. The replacement were amazed at such braveness and shrewdness while the veterans were more cautious about praising him too much but they all recognized he handled everything masterly.

Losing another good Commanding Officer concurred to worsen the situation.

When his substitute arrived, all the veterans twisted their noses. The chubby, average tall man was called Norman Dike. They made the duly researches again. Dike never actually commanded anything, not even the Army's horses. It was an exciting new experience, for him. Oh, exciting maybe it was not the right word to use: Dike yawned, all the time. He drawled some orders, sometimes: run here, shot there. Easy men never saw him grab his rifle. Even Sobel would've run some miles before collapsing breathlessly to the ground but to Dike, just waking up early in the morning to formally participate to their training was a nuisance.

The rumors hadn't reached Dick's ears, yet. When Colonel Sink promoted him, he promised him he would've not been involved into administrative work: it would've been a waste of his talent, he said. Hence, Dick was starting to think the Colonel had changed his mind about his capacities or he had just deceived him.

There was a pile of folders on his desk. The sunlight could barely ignite the room, entering by the small window.

The only pro in all that was he could spend some time with Lewis, at least. Lewis was promoted to the Regiment and Dick pleasantly and proudly congratulated him. Things were coming back to normal between after a time when their relationship felt at stake, in danger. For a little while, there were words unsaid, Dick could not read into his best friend's mind anymore: Lewis would've not let him in, but the feeling was returned. Now, finally, their walls went down. Lewis spent his breaks in Dick's office, scoffing him for his frustration: Dick turned morose every time before letting his lips curl in a sheepish, wry smile in return to Nix's jokes.

Dick knew the reason why Lewis seemed to be less tensed with him. Lew noticed Jackson Malarkey stopped spending his night with Dick. He was not around anymore. Lew had the good sense to not ask about him, and Dick was grateful for that. Everything in his life was coming back to normal, to a time where Jackson Malarkey was just one of his man, no one in particular.

The sense of guilt and disgust for himself faded away easier than he thought: Dick knew how to avoid meeting Jackson.

His emptiness was slowly leaving him.

It was a Thursday when all the sadness and the remorse came back to visit Dick Winters, right in his office.

''Sir, Bill Guarnere wants to see you'' Zilinsky opened the door, introducing the Sergeant. Dick immediatedly stiffened at the sight of the staggering and healed Sergeant.

''Guarnere'' he saluted, handing off his hand to him in salute. God knew how much he struggled to fight his awkwardness.

They exchanged a few words. Dick squirmed as he realized Bill was squinting at him, remarking his embarrassment. His good sense prodded him to leave the room as fast as he got there. Dick was glad he was fine and, above all, that he was back. The Company needed and missed the good Sergeant. By the way, the sight of Jackson's best friend felt like a stone in the pit of his stomach.

He took a relieved breathe as he disappeared from the room and he sat on his chair to deflect Nixon and Welsh's attention from his trembling legs.

''Hey, bro. What d'you think about a trip to the town? I heard about this pub that-''

''No'' Jackson demurred without even looking at his brother, his attention all addressed to the book in his hands.

Don shrugged a tad offended but mostly affected by his brother's mood. Don remarked a change in Jackson's behavior: it was almost imperceptible but it was something a brother – a twin – could not ignore. Jackson showed his usual energy and enthusiasm on a daily basis. He blatantly forced himself to hang out with the others, too, but he gladly refused to spend his spare time out of the basis. He preferred staying by himself, reading a new book every three days.

Don tried to wheedle something out of him but unsuccessfully. By the way, he knew it for sure it was something going on with two of the most important people in Jackson's life: Joe Toye and Captain Winters.

Jackson lost the habit to visit the Captain in his office, which Don remarked had happened frequently before. He never protested: he knew they had a lot in common, in fact.

One day, he saw his brother arguing with Joe: he could not exactly tell what was happening but he was sure Jackson didn't know it neither.

Jackson found himself alone, and it was devouring him. Don knew it. He also knew Bill Guarnere was recovering, fast, but nobody could tell when he would've got back. He could not wait a lifetime, he had to react, now.

''It's okay if you don't want to come'' Don stated sheepishly, joining Jackson on his bench ''I will bring you a pint anyway'' he snickered. Jackson shrugged but he was utterly impassive.

''Listen, I know your life has been a turmoil, recently. I wanna leave you breath and all, but you have to react, Jackson. You can't spend your life as a vegetable'' Don explained visibly worried, deflecting Jackson's attention from the book. He looked at him with narrowed eyes: he looked crestfallen, his eyes were a silent mourn.

Don took a sheet of paper out of his pocket in his hands: he stared at it, pensively. ''This is a forty-eight hours furlough for Paris. I asked for it since we arrived in Mourmelon and the Regiment opted to release it to me.''

''That's fantastic, Don'' Jackson exclaimed, pleasantly happy for his brother.

''Yes, it is. Anyway, I want you to have it'' Don reluctantly handed the paper toward his brother. Jackson looked at it questioningly ''What? Don, I don't want it, you deserved it more than me'' he squirmed.

''Probably, but you need it more, right now'' Don stated looking tenderly, his voice focused. ''I can't stand your beaten face anymore. I don't know what's troubling you and I know you're not going to open up with me, for unknown reason'' he stated blatantly offended ''and since you don't let me help I feel useless, unable to make you feel better. It hurts me seeing you like this. Let me do this for you, at least'' Don implored, still handing the pass toward his brother.

Jackson fight against the incoming tears, staring at the paper some inches away from his nose.

''Don I don't know what to say.''

''Just show some gratitude, accept my offer and buy me something. A good bottle of wine, maybe'' Don countered playfully gladly looking at his brother. Jackson shrugged and smiled – for the very first time since a while – and made a move to take the furlough from his brother's hand but Donald quickly lifted his hand.

''What? Have you already changed your mind?'' Jackson snickered.

''At one condition'' Don challenged pointing his finger at him.

''What is it?''

Don got up from Jackson's bed and walked over his own; kneeling down, he took a pack located under his bed and came back to Jackson's, handing him the pack.

''Mom sent it some weeks ago. I thought it was for you.''

Jackson unpacked it, revealing its contents: it was a white dress with some pink flowers printed. It was nothing special – their family couldn't afford nothing special – but Jackson thought it was the prettiest dress he had ever seen ''Do you really think I can wear it?'' he sputtered with tears running down his features.

''No one will recognize you there. You can be who you are. Go to the theater, meet an handsome man. Be a woman.'' Don took his brother's hand in his and squeezed it tenderly.

''What will the people say? A woman with short hair?'' Jackson snickered wryly, sobbing and drying a teardrop from his face.

''It's not about the hair. It's not even about the dress, actually. You don't need a dress, or long hair, or a red lipstick to be who you are. And what you are, my dear sister, is a wonderful woman: brave, strong, smart. You don't need a dress or even a uniform to be the amazing person you've become.''

''Oh, Don!'' Jackson tossed his arms around Don's neck, hugging him tight. No one in the world made her feel like his brother did: when with him, she felt accepted, she knew he didn't think she was less valuable because of her sex. Jane knew she was lucky, at least.

Jane didn't know how or when but she was determined to wear the pretty dress her mother sent to her. She owed it to his brother.

When she arrived in her hotel, she was still wearing her uniform: a soldier was supposed to be in that booked room, and a soldier would've slept there. She left her bags in her room and, still in uniform, left the hotel.

She entered in the first café she bumped into, asking for the toilette. She got changed in the cabin, struggling to put the uniform in the big bag she dragged. The dress covered her muscular body till her knees: looking at herself in the mirror, she felt uncomfortable at first: for so many years she hadn't got to wear a skirt, she was not used to it anymore. She recalled a time when she loved skirts, pretty dresses. Her mother sewed plenty of dresses re joying when she caught her daughter enthusiastic reaction every time she welcomed her with a new one. It seemed like a lifetime ago.

At a second sight, she regained her confidence: her breasts – finally free from the bends she always repressed them with – made the dress fall elegantly on her tiny body. Her legs were muscular but still feminine. She took a long breathe, enjoying the view some seconds more and then she walked out of the toilette, ready to show off her new dress.

''Au revoir, Mademoiselle!'' the barman waved a salute, looking at her pleasantly.''Au revoir, Monsieur. Bonne journée!'' she chipped, amused at how the man looked at her.

It was a sunny day: Paris was teeming with people having strolls in the streets. Civilian life, normal life. Jane wanted to cry to the world she was happy, finally. She pranced through the streets wearing a big smile on her face. Some boys here and there gently told her ''Salut, mademoiselle'', and she smiled at them warmly, returning the salute gladly. She felt all the eyes on her, like she was something beautiful, something no one had never seen. She was in an inexplicable state of bliss, she felt like an angel prancing from one soft cloud to the other.

She run into a nice café from where she had sight of the Eiffel Tour and she decided to have lunch there. The place was full of soldiers on furlough but she was sure no one would've recognized her dressed that way. She didn't want to worry about it now.

''Très bien, mademoiselle'' the waiter exclaimed closing his notepad and smiling gladly at her.

Jane stared at the Tour Eiffel and imagined how romantic, how perfect it would've been strolling in the night through the Parisians streets, holding a lover's hand. She adjusted in the tiny chair and closed her eyes, daydreaming about this ethereal man: tall, with a tender smile and his eyes only for her, kissing her hand gently. One day, she thought, that fantasy might have become real. When the war would've ended and she could've gone back to her life, her real life, and she promised to herself she would've let her hair grow and that she would've worn a dress or a skirt every day.

She stared at the tables around her: there were some couples, some families. They all seemed so happy. Jane thought one day she could feel that happiness, too. She was sure of it.

Then, she caught a man looking at her, agape, some tables away from her. Jane trembled, gasped for air and felt like she was about to throw up. She felt sick. Meanwhile, the waiter was coming back with the dish she ordered but before he could reach her table, she rushed away from the café, hearing him calling her, ''mademoiselle! Ton plate!''

Jane ran, brushing past the crowd, running away from him, sobbing. Then, someone grabbed tight her hand making her stop. She cried when turning, she saw Dick Winters who was still keeping her hand in his own.

''Jackson'' he whispered bewildered ''what are you doing here?''

Jane took her hand away from his crumpling ''it's none of your business. I don't know who you are, I don't know who this Jackson is!'' she cried, the teardrops falling from her brown-green eyes.

''Jane, you are Jane Malarkey'' he stuttered in painful mourn, his voice trembling.

''I don't know you, sir!'' Jane boomed quavering. She felt like she was about to faint, she wanted to disappear, to kill the man in front of her. He ruined everything, he always did! He discovered her secret, he got close to her deceiving her and then he kissed her! Dick Winters was the evil, the hatred she felt for him was infinite.

''Please, Jane, don't fend me off!''

''What do you want, Dick? Do you want to kiss me again? Do you want to taunt me again?'' she cried desperately looking daggers at him,snapping at him all the pain he inflicted her with.

''Why can't you be reasonable for once in your life?'' Dick boomed feeling his heart in his throat ''Why can't we talk like civilly?''

Jane grinned with clenched fists ''We must not talk! I don't want to see you anymore! Leave me alone! I hate you!'' she seethed and turned away, walking fast away from him.

''You said you loved me!'' Dick yelled. Jane stopped abruptly and crossed her arms but she didn't turn to face him. Dick reached her, cautiously putting his hand on her shoulder ''you said you loved me'' he whined desperately ''that's why I kissed you. I know you didn't even meant it but hearing those words from you moved something in me. It melted me. I care about you, I miss you to death. Everyday I feel like gasping for air because I want to talk to you. I want you.''

Jane started shuddering and the tears filled her eyes: she could not keep them anymore.

''Hey'' Dick pulled her tight to him, hugging her from behind.

''What do you want from me, Dick?'' Jane mourned, sobbing heavily and wetting Dick's uniform with her tears. She felt hims breathing on her head and a shudder ran through her body, calming her down for just a second.

''I only want you back. I beg for your forgiveness, again'' Dick implored, hugging her even tighter ''You make me act like a fool. This is not me. You unsettle me, you make me nervous. But every time I'm with you, I find my peace'' Dick printed a rough kiss on her head. Jane fell on the ground and Dick keeled down with her: Jane burst in tears while Dick kept kissing her head and caressing her back ''please, Jane, stop, stop crying. Let's just restart from the beginning.'' Jane met Dick's gaze: he sheepishly but warmly smiled at her. Jane cursed his name inwardly: how could he be able to do this to her, pulling her from hell to heaven in a heartbeat? Jane, still shuddering, met his gaze: his eyes were vulnerable, it seemed like he was about to cry, too. His body – pressed against hers – was quavering and his hand was tenderly caressing her hair. She settled in his grip and he hugged her close ''Oh, Dick'', she grabbed his shoulders tight and sunk her face into his grip.

''Don't let your pretty dress get dirty. Stand up, will you?'' Dick got up, handing her his hand, which she accepted. Dick stepped toward her, taking her sweet face in his hands ''let's start from the beginning, please. I need it. I really need it'' he begged staring into her eyes. Jane tossed her arms around his neck and printed a kiss on it.

The moonlight brightened the river while Dick and Jane were walking by the Seine hand in hand. They didn't talked about much: there were things still to clear up but it was just not the right time.

Dick didn't know whether squeezing his soldier's hand, having that romantic stroll with her in the marvelous Paris was what he actually wanted. Truth was, it all happened so fast and it was frustrating for someone like him not having the time to outline a plan, to muse about how to act. Dick ducked and stared at their hands: was it the right thing to do?

Since he had discovered the truth about Jackson – Jane – he had never thought of her as a woman: he owed it to his mental health; among all the things he had to control, he couldn't find a way to cope with such revelation, so he just let it go, completely. The fact Dick got eventually closer to Jane/Jackson was not planned. Dick wondered for the very first time whether he was friend with Jackson or Jane. However, if Dick pretended for the whole time to not know the truth about him, why did he kiss him (her)? He was not a queer. He liked girls: sure, they belonged to the deepest meanders of his head since he had never really thought about them since he enlisted, but he remembered girls were a part of his civilian life. He liked kissing girls, he liked their hair, their perfume, their tiny and sweet laughs. He sometimes mused about what they had under their pretty dresses, embarrassing all the time for letting his thoughts wander too much. Dick Winters was not some rude boy, dirtying his girls' honor when he was with friends. He respected them, he would've never talked about women in such ways. He didn't act like men of his age, he had never thought seriously about fucking, or marrying, of having children. He was different, but he was sure: he liked girls.

Dick cut his stare from their untangled hands and looked at Jane, instead: she stared at the river whose waved collapsed on the bank. Her skin was pale and Dick was sure it was soft, too. Her lips surely were: he had already tasted them and they burnt, and they were sweetest lips he had ever kissed. Her eyes were always so gentle but always with a sparkle of shrewdness. Dick mused about all the things they had talked about their late nights meetings: she recounted her high schools experience, anecdotes about her family and friends, she had talked about her dreams, the medals she won. It was Jane's life, not Jackson's. It was her talking, opening up, making him laugh, cheering him up. Moreover, the only thing different from a normal day on the basis was that she was wearing a dress, not her uniform, but she had always looked like a girl, she had always had those tender features, those red lips, that high voice. Sure she was muscular – more than a girl was supposed to be – and athletic, strong, sharp, but she had always been a woman. Even though she had soft skin, she was inexorable, invincible; even though her arms were not so big as his, she had always proved to be a brave soldier. Even though her entire figure was not as tall, as roughed, as big as a man, she was clever, shrewd.

Dick admitted two things to himself. First one: no matter how big a body appears, being wise or strong doesn't go along with measure. So a woman's head – typically smaller than a man's one – could actually contain more brain, and her arms – elegant, long but tiny – could lift, punch, hurt just like a man's ones.

Second thing: he fell in love with Jane, not with Jackson. It had always been her, since the very beginning: not since he discovered her secret but even since Toccoa, when he praised her for being such an incredible soldier. It had always been her, in their talks.

Dick stopped and pulled Jane's hand, constricting her to face him. Jane playfully smiled at him. ''What is it?''

''It's hard for me to say it but...I am a total idiot, you know that? On all the fronts'' he stated looking at her in the eyes.

''Well, you're a teetotaler, I already know that'' she countered wryly, winking.

Dick shrugged ''it's getting late'' he said sheepishly ''maybe we can...go to my hotel'' he offered, knowing they were in different ones.

Jane paused for a second, considering the offer seriously. ''Yeah...why not'' she replied, showing a tad of reluctance, though.

''We should take the metro, c'mon''.