Hello! Long time, no see, eh?

I know, it has been ages since I updated this story. Well, I guess the only way to make up for all that time is one brand new chapter... and here it is. ;)

But, first of all, I wish a wonderful day to the amazing beth-rodrigues.77 (I'm really happy to hear that you liked the little "action" the boys had. Denham surely didn't expect that. ;) You are right about Jess's future, though. With a chance of going home, she will have to make a difficult decision soon. As for your big question… the next chapter will give you the answer, I promise. :) ), Veyrona (Thanks again! And welcome to the story!), ablesierra (Thank you very much! I hope you're not too disappointed how Denham ended up… ;) ), ilovemedia18 (I'm glad that you liked the scene with Denham. I spent quite a lot of time planning it… I guess that writing parts with villains isn't always easy. ;) As for Jess's reaction after seeing Bill, you'll find out very soon what happened. I'm also happy to hear that you like Jess and Gene together. For now, all I can say is this: the chapters to come will show you what the future has in store for them. :) ), Dustori (Thank you for your lovely words and support. Finding out that someone likes this story so much made my day. I can't make big promises about updating, but I'll do my best to return with a new chapter as soon as I have some spare time. :) ), and the last, but not the least, Hector Barbossa (I'm glad you liked this chapter. By the way, things will get even more tense after this, so expect a bumpy ride in the future… ;) ).

Enjoy! :)

Disclaimer: I do not own Band of Brothers. This is purely of entertainment. It is based on the HBO miniseries and no disrespect is meant towards the real men of Easy Company.

Chapter Thirty-Three: A Waiting Game

It was a patrol gone horribly wrong. Nobody could have seen that coming. But, after all the months I had spent in the company, I learnt that the things we expect never happen.

Apparently, Bill was using his borrowed motorbike to move back and forth between his men and warn them of a possible attack. He had no idea that one German had already found his way to their positions. Bill wasn't even aware that he was a target, until the trigger was pulled and the shot rang out. Before he realised what was going on, he fell from his bike and woke up groaning on a stretcher, inside the shady aid station.

"Holy Christ…", he muttered under his breath, squinting in the light. He slowly turned his head to the side, he managed to pry one eye open. "Jess, that you?"

"Aye." I bit my lip for the umpteenth time. "It's me. I'm here."

He didn't say anything after that. Instead, he reached out and carefully placed his hand over mine, on the edge of the stretcher. Although his fingers were pale and slightly shaking, his grip was firm, nevertheless.

"Jess", he rasped.

"Yeah?"

"Quit lookin' at me like that."

My brow furrowed. "Like what?"

"Like I'm dead."

I felt a strong urge to give him a smack. But, then I remembered why he was here in the first place and decided not to do it. However, just in case, I pulled my hand away from his and hid it behind my back.

"You could have been dead if that bloke had aimed a little higher."

"But, I ain't." Bill tried to move again, but he suddenly winced in pain. "So, we ain't gonna think about that no more."

I scoffed. "That's easy for you to say! I almost got a heart-attack when they brought you here!"

"Oh, c'mon, Jess, don't get mad now."

"I'm not mad."

"You sure sound that way."

"Well, excuse me for not being a callous twat. Would you like me to be one?"

He frowned. "Hey, I didn't mean that!"

I let out a long puff, blowing a few strands of hair off my face. Unfortunately, they soon returned to their old places.

"For Chrissake, Bill, I told you to be careful, not to get a broken leg and a bullet hole in your arse! What were you possibly thinking out there?"

"Just to get to them guys fast."

"So you weren't' thinking too much." I pursed my lips tightly, glaring at him. In the end, I let out a long and frustrated sigh. "You, William Guarnere, are impossible."

His eyebrows went up with no warning. "Oh, yeah?"

"Yes."

"That ain't so bad."

"What do you mean?"

"That's one of the things we have in common."

I scoffed, watching him snigger. But, his smile started fading when some sort of a commotion entered the aid station. Voices which I didn't recognise came from behind us, followed by hurried steps and someone's painful shouts.

What the hell is going on? Glancing over my shoulder, I saw a wounded man being brought in. As soon as his friends laid him on a nearby table, a medic rushed to his side. I felt myself tensing up, more and more with every passing minute, expecting to recognise another member of Easy. However, that terrible feeling disappeared when I caught a glimpse of the unfortunate lad. It was nobody familiar, so I assumed he was a replacement – or one of the lads from Dog Company.

I lowered my head, closing my eyes shut.

And then I sighed in relief.

God might not forgive me for saying this, but I really felt relief. Whatever was tightening inside my chest was becoming loose again. Of course, I felt very sorry for the lad, too. But, I would have felt much worse if someone I knew had been on that table. I admit that I would rather see a complete stranger there than someone from Easy, like Toye, Lieb or - God forbid - Gene.

"Jess? Jess, are ya even listenin'?", Bill asked.

I whirled around. "What?"

"I was askin' how the others are."

"Oh." I blinked a couple of times, pulling myself back into reality. "Well… they're all fine. By the way, Toye asked about you. He told me to give you a message as soon as you come round."

"I'm all ears. Say it."

"He said that you'd 'scared him shitless' when he found you after your crash. He also said that he'd kick your arse himself if you hadn't been shot there already."

Bill grinned. "Good ol' Joe."

In spite of everything, a smile tugged at a corner of my lips. Meanwhile, Bill moved his gaze and tried to get a better look at his leg, which was secured with a splint.

"I guess I won't be runnin' any time soon, eh?"

"Aye. You'll be away from the line for at least a few weeks."

"A few weeks?" Bill turned to me again, with disbelief spreading over his face. After he realised that I wasn't joking, he shortly sighed and started gawking at the tent flap above his head. Saying that he looked crestfallen would be an understatement. "Oh, Christ…"

"You don't know how lucky you are, you tosser. Things could have easily been worse."

He didn't look too convinced. "You don't say."

"Look, at least you'll have a break in England from all of this. You might get a chance to flirt with the nurses, too. Isn't that a bright side for you?" Soon after, one thought came to my mind and made me snigger. "Hey, you might even meet your own Anne Hathaway."

"Anne… who?"

"The real Shakespeare married her."

"She must have been one hot broad."

I rolled my eyes. "Bill…"

He smirked in his usual, Guarnere-like way. However, after only a moment or two, I noticed that he was becoming solemn again.

"What is it now?", I asked.

Before he answered, Bill sent a short look somewhere behind me. At first, I thought it was the lad who had been brought in. But, then I realised that Bill was watching Denham. The colonel was now asleep in a cot, not so far from us, while his face was whiter than a sheet. Whatever his drink had been spiked with, it had quite a punch.

"I ain't the only one with a ticket outta 'ere", Bill whispered, in case that Denham could hear us. When I looked back at Bill, he added in an even lower voice: "We might not see each other for a while, Jessie, girl."

He didn't need to say anything else. I knew very well what he meant. During the time he would spend in a hospital across the Channel, I would be in hiding who knows where with Neve, waiting for Denham to receive his discharge. Actually, the next time Bill and I would see each other would be after the war, when he came back from the line.

If he came back.

I felt a lump forming inside my throat. Bill kept gazing at me, silent and serious, when the tent flap beside us suddenly moved. No sooner did the sunlight come inside than I heard Eugene saying:

"He's over dere… sergeant Guarnere! You're goin' first."

I quickly got up and moved away, letting the two stretcher-bearers come closer. In one swift move, as if they had done it a hundred times, they lifted Bill and prepared to carry him out. But, before they made a single step, Bill raised his hand and drew their attention.

"Wait", he said, "Damn it, hold on! Jeez…" As they stopped in their tracks, he turned in my direction one more time. "Look, Jessie, if I ain't gonna get a hug from you, at least give me one of them Limey handshakes."

Did he just say 'Limey handshakes'? Not sure whether to snigger or just smack him anyway, I passed the short distance between us. I didn't fail to miss his grin when I took his hand and briefly shook it.

"It's time for you to be careful now", he said, "You hear that?"

"I did."

"Sergeant, you gotta go", Eugene hurried us in a serious tone.

I quickly nodded to him and turned to Bill again. Frankly, I felt really awkward while standing like this. All of it seemed as if we were saying goodbye to each other for good. I resisted the urge to bite my lip again, although I badly wanted to.

"I'll be okay, Shakespeare… and so will you", I said. But, those words weren't meant only for him. I needed some comfort for myself, too. While my stomach tied itself into a knot, I leaned closer to him and whispered: "When this mess is over, I'm expecting to see you in a nice café somewhere, in one piece. Got that?"

"Yeah, yeah, I got that."

He sent me a short, but friendly wink as I let him go. As soon as Eugene gave them the sign, the stretcher-bearers moved again, carrying Bill out of the tent.

It didn't last long until I heard the familiar roar of a Jeep's engine outside. It the beginning, it was as loud as usual. But, when the vehicle rumbled into motion, taking Bill with it, the noise suddenly died down. In a matter of seconds, all that remained was the sound of the rain, mixed with the mutters and groans in the aid station.

My stomach was viciously churning by then. Trying to calm it down, I slumped into the nearest chair and propped my head against my hand.

Bill was going to make it. I knew that. His injuries weren't too serious.

But, they could have been.

If the things had happened just a bit differently, he might not even be here. He could have been killed, rubbed out, gone forever. I desperately tried not to think of that, but images of Bill lying somewhere wounded and dying kept appearing in my head. It was enough for my stomach to twist into a dozen more knots. Sighing and running fingers through my hair, I tried to focus on the ground beneath me.

Jeez, don't think about that. It won't be real. Nothing will…

"You okay?", a familiar accent asked.

"Fine, Gene." I didn't dare to look up. I probably looked exactly as I felt – awful. Taking a deep breath, I managed to add: "Just fine."

For one moment, there was nothing around me but silence. However, I soon heard Ralph calling after him. I felt Gene giving my shoulder a reassuring touch, before he dashed where he was needed.

He barely moved away when another voice called my name, as well.

"Jess? Jess, where are you?"

I gritted my teeth. "On the flippin' Maldives", I retorted and looked up, straight at the owner of the voice. "Or maybe you should look at… holy mackerel."

All of a sudden, I found out that I hadn't been talking to one of the lads. I was actually staring at someone with a rank of a captain, who was peering beside the tent flap. In a span of a second, my cheeks were already burning with embarrassment.

Shit. "N… Nixon?"

"You know, you should start drinking coffee", he said, "It can help with the stress at work." He let out a long sigh, as if he had been running for a while. Perhaps that wasn't too far from the truth. "But, first you should visit the HQ."

I felt my shoulders sagging from everything. "Could it wait?"

"I'm afraid not. It must be something big, since they sent for Speirs, too. They even called your British liaison friend, Sullivan."

That made me spring out of my chair.

What? "Why?"

"Because your plane is on its way here." While I blinked, dumbstruck, he took a short look around the aid station. "You'll see it in a couple of hours. And there's also some news from the top for all of us."

Judging by his expression, it wasn't something too good. Biting down my lower lip, I hobbled across the tent to his spot. I couldn't help, but ask:

"How bad is it?", I asked.

"Let's go and find out. How fast can you walk?"

XXX

Two days later, after another meeting and a lot of reporting, I limped back to my billet. Since Ralph and Gene were working their shift in the aid station, I expected to be alone. But, instead of peace, I found three familiar faces in the room – an Irishman, a hot-tempered ex-cabbie and a Geordie.

If you think those are Malarkey, Liebgott and Mike… you're absolutely right.

"Oh, look who's here!", Don said with a smile, "We were just passing by. I hope you won't mind some company."

I mustered a smile. "No, not at all."

"So, how was the latest meeting?", Mike asked, "Are there any news?"

"Market Garden's over", I replied.

A heavy silence instantly descended upon the room. Ignoring their gawking at me, I hobbled to my good old corner and sat on my bed. Frankly, I hadn't felt this tired for ages.

"No shit?", Lieb asked.

"No." I carefully lied down, wincing when my stitches tugged. "Colonel Sink explained everything. The operation is officially dead in the water."

"Well, that's great." Lieb dropped his cigarette. And then he stepped on it, putting out its glow with his boot heel. "That's just fuckin' great."

"At least we're not dead in the dirt", Mike chimed in. That was when he glanced at me. "How are you holding on?"

"Me?" I shrugged. "Okay, I guess. My stitches are itching like hell, though."

"And I'm hungry like hell", Malarkey added, earning a few sniggers.

I raised one leg and propped it against a nearby crate. Relief spread through me when the wound on my back became less sore.

Perhaps Eugene was right. Lying down for a while wasn't that bad.

Especially after all that had happened.

The last forty-eight hours were so hectic, that they almost seemed to have blurred together. With Germans skulking in the distance, we had set up a defensive position in Randwijk and hid in its houses and barns, waiting for orders. But, as time passed, it was becoming more likely that the Germans would reach us before any new orders.

During that time, Denham was still in the aid station. He looked utterly terrible, but his condition didn't change for a bit. He wasn't getting worse yet, which meant that his evacuation to hospital would have to wait for a little more.

Gene had said that it wouldn't be too long. But, how much would that be?

"What are we gonna do?", Don asked, "Sit on our arses and wait?"

"Exactly", Mike replied morosely, "Can't you see? It looks like this whole thing has turned into a waiting game between us, the Jerries and blokes from Regiment." He paused to take a short drag from his cigarette. "While the Jerries will wait for a chance to attack us, we'll wait for the brass to kindly inform us what the hell we're doing here exactly."

And in the meantime, I'll wait for Denham to get worse. Yep, perhaps it's a good thing that I'm not a nurse now. I placed my hands behind my head, trying to be a bit more comfortable.

"Well, since we'll be waitin', is anyone for a game of poker?"

Along with the question, Lieb pulled out a deck of old cards out of his pocket. Instead of an answer, Don and Mike came closer, dragging their chairs with them.

"Wait a minute." Don stopped and turned to Mike, giving him a confused look. "You play poker, Sulivan?"

"I used to, sir", he answered, "I might be a little rusty, but I can try."

Don sniggered. In the meantime, I raised an eyebrow. Hand on heart, I still found it strange to hear someone addressing Don as 'sir'. Perhaps, when you know somebody long enough, you simply overlook things like these.

"Let's see how good you are." Don clapped his hands. "Okay, Lieb, let's start."

With a new cigarette dangling from the corner of his mouth, Lieb shuffled the cards and cut the deck. Prying behind Don, who was sitting on the edge of my bed, I watched as they placed their betting money on the table. There's nothing bad in observing, isn't it?

"You should keep your eyes peeled, Limey boy", Lieb sneered, adding five more dollars, "Malark here can kick your ass in this game."

I chuckled behind him. "Or maybe he'll kick both your arses", I said, making them all move their gazes to me, "The last time I saw Mike playing poker, half of his school friends owed him money."

Don rolled his eyes, obviously not believing a word. Meanwhile, Lieb pulled out his cigarette and puffed a greyish cloud of smoke into the air. And then he said:

"I just can't get one thing", he said, fiddling with the Lucky Strike in his hand, "How did you two meet, anyway?"

Oops. My eyes darted to Mike, just to find out that he was looking back at me. He was already blushing – which happened almost every time someone asked that question.

"It's a long story", I said, hoping of sparing him.

But, Lieb wasn't intending to give up.

"We're not goin' nowhere", he said, "And we don't have no interesting stories to tell. So, start talkin', Mikey. Let us hear it."

"You're from the same town, right?", Don asked, placing his cards away, "I guess that means you've known each other since diaper days…"

"Not quite", Mike said. It was clear that he was feeling uneasy about that. But, he didn't back away. "Actually, sirs, we met at a fight in our school."

One of those words sparked Lieb's interest even more. "Really? A fight?"

He nodded. "Aye. Two lads were arguing about something during a break. And then they started throwing punches. It was a flipping boxing match if you ask me, everyone who was nearby gathered around them to cheer and all…" He cleared this throat for a moment, while hues of red crept up his cheeks. "Anyway, our teacher was about to arrive. And Jess got the idea to separate those two before the teacher came."

Don, who was just about to light up his cigarette, stared in disbelief. "You're serious."

"She really did it. She just ran between them and separated them. A few lads went after her, to help her keeping those two away from each other. But…" Mike trailed off with no warning, while his cheeks took an even darker shade.

However, that didn't stop Don from asking: "But, what?"

Mike stared at his cards, as if they were the most interesting thing in the world. "One of those lads still wanted to smack the other. But, she got in the way, so…"

"So…" Malarkey leaned closer, waiting for the rest of the story.

"So… she was hit instead of him."

Lieb's eyebrows went up in an instant. "Holy shit! No way!"

"Oh, aye, sir. All of a sudden, she was sprawled over the floor. Just like that."

"Let me guess", Don said, "You're the one who helped her get up."

I slowly shook my head. "No. Actually…" I took one last glance at my wingman, before I explained: "Mike's the one who punched me."

Before I knew it, silence engulfed the whole room once again. The look on Lieb's and Don's faces changed faster than you could say 'haddock'. While Don't mouth was hanging half-open, letting his cigarette fall down, Lieb's wide eyes kept darting from Mike to me. That was when Lieb shook his head in disbelief.

"Holy cow, Sullivan, you knocked her out?"

"I didn't!", Mike exclaimed, "I just hit her. Anyway, I apologised later."

"Anyway, I was a long, long time ago", I chimed in, "I forgave him".

Lieb furrowed his brow at me. "And… what?" He waved his hand at me, and then at Mike. "You two are friends now?"

"Yes."

If something like that was possible, Lieb went quiet. He was completely silent, more gob-smacked than I had ever seen him.

"He must have hit you in the head really good, Jess", Don eventually said, "It's no wonder you're such a strange dame."

"I won't pretend I didn't hear that!", I said.

"Listen…" Mike cut us both off, awkwardly clearing his throat again. "Let's focus on the game now, shall we?"

Shortly after, Lieb and Don shrugged and agreed. With a muffled 'Sure, why not?' and 'Alright', the game continued and shuffling of cards was the only thing I could hear.

For maybe a minute.

"You know what, Sullivan?", Don ask, lifting his gaze from his cards.

"What, sir?"

"I still can't believe you knocked out a broad."

"You can laugh now, sir", Mike retorted. I noticed a smile emerging on his face as he added: "But, you won't be laughing when I win and pick up all of your money."

Don's grin faltered. Lieb chuckled, listening to the whole conversation.

"But, that broad you're talkin' about ain't just a broad, Malark", he said, "Remember Carentan? Hell, she escaped that place on her own after she got caught." He took one more drag from his Lucky Strike. "Those Krauts had no idea who they were messing with."

I froze at that very second.

Mike blinked in bemusement. "What?"

Bloody hell. My gaze shifted to Lieb. I stared at him, expecting that I hadn't heard it right, hoping that he said something else. However, all my doubts sank when I spotted a surprised Don and a completely stunned Mike. I watched in silence as he slowly realised what Lieb meant. And then, when everything finally dawned on him, Mike's jaw went slack. In the same time, his eyes widened.

I wanted to laugh it off. Perhaps I should say that Lieb had made it all up. But, I didn't, because my chest started becoming tighter and tighter. Until…

Until I was in Carentan again. The cracked walls of that room surrounded me once again, illuminated by the light bulb which was hanging from the ceiling.

And then that man came in.

"Where are the Americans heading?"

"I don't know."

What happened after that hurt. It really, really hurt. I was screaming, but he didn't even flinch. He just kept looking down on me, waiting, observing and slowly losing patience.

"Where are the Americans heading?", he asked again.

"I don't know, I swear I don't… no, no… PLEASE, STOP!"

Before I figured out what was happening, I was already on my feet, hobbling towards the door as fast as I could.

"Hey, where are you going?", Don asked.

I couldn't answer. Swallowing hard, I made the last few steps, pushed the door out of my way and hurried outside.

Only one step later, the chilly morning came to greet me. The air was so cold that I literally saw my own breath, floating in a cloud of steam. However, I didn't stop there. As my chest began heaving, I moved away from the door and kept walking. Although it was hard to tread through the mud left by the rain, all I wanted was to get away. To disappear.

But, I didn't remain alone for long. A pair of booted steps soon came to my ears. Somebody had decided to go after me.

"Jess, wait."

Ignoring that voice, I picked up even more speed. I rushed towards the aid station, which was just on the other end of the village road. A part of the greenish tent could be clearly seen behind one of the houses. That would be a perfect place for me to hide.

But, unfortunately, I wasn't quick enough. He kept up with me in only a few steps. I soon felt his fingers grabbing my forearm, forcing me to stop. Turning around, I found Mike's solemn face right in front of mine.

"Get the hell off me!", I snapped.

"No."

"Michael…!"

"You never told me that you'd been captured."

"So what if I didn't? Now, let me go!"

Mike's bewildered face slowly, but surely, became laced with worry. It took me a while to realise that I was breathing hard, and that my every breath was trembling.

"What happened there, Jess?"

"Nothing." I tried to yank my arm out of his grasp, but he was holding me too tightly. "It was nothing. Are you happy now? I was caught, but I got out, and two lads found me later. That's all!"

"I don't know. Is it?"

I narrowed my eyes at him. "Michael, are you interrogating me?"

"No! I just don't understand why you've been hiding this from me. We've known each other for years, Jess. We're friends, Jess, not strangers!"

"It told you about Denham, didn't I? And about the things I've done in France. Isn't that enough for you?"

"You should have said all of it."

Something made a corner of my lips curve. "Neve said the same thing once. You two really alike."

He pursed his lips into a line. "Please, don't change the subject."

As I glared at him, I found myself shuddering again. But, not because of the cold.

I was angry. I could feel the rage sizzling in the pit of my stomach. I struggled to compose myself and keep that at bay, but that didn't last for long.

"What happened… it simply happened! It's done, alright? It's in the past! And I was doing a bloody good job in forgetting it, until you decided to come along!"

His brown eyebrows almost reached each other.

"You're mad at me now?", he asked, almost in disbelief.

"Well, take a wild guess!"

"Jess…"

"And, while you're at it, let me go already!"

There was no answer from him. He kept standing in front of me, with my arm in his tight grasp. He barely blinked. At one moment, he seemed so still, that I thought he had stopped breathing.

"The Germans…" He hesitated for some time before asking: "Did they hurt you?"

"That's none of your business."

"You wouldn't be acting this way if nothing happened."

"What do you want to hear, then?", I asked, "What they did? What they said to me? Do you want to know if I cried?" My breath hitched, but I forced myself to move on. "Well, guess what, Mike. I did cry. I cried and begged, but it didn't help me much!"

I took a shaky breath to calm myself down. But, instead of that, my vision began to blur. His concerned face turned into a smudge of different colours. I had no idea that I was crying until I felt something wet sliding down my face. Tears were trickling down my cheeks, making my skin strangely cold.

"Now, tell me, Mike…" I stopped and sniffed loudly. "Why would you burden yourself by knowing this?"

Silence cut its way between us. There might not have been a single noise around us if it hadn't been for my shaky breaths. We weren't moving, neither. We stayed where we were, as motionless as stones, until Mike let me go. He raised his hand and, with the help of his thumb, wiped one tear off my face. As he got rid of the other one, he looked at me square in the eye and said:

"Because I care for you."

"Well, don't." Swallowing thickly, I stepped away from him. "Just…"

The remaining of my words got lost in some sort of a rumble, which belted out above us. Long and deep, the sound resonated through the village, becoming louder by the second. Behind Mike's shoulder, I noticed a few lads stopping and gazing up in the sky.

I suddenly felt cold, as if someone had sloshed me with a bucket of icy water.

I could recognise that sound anywhere. It was coming from a plane engine. And, the last time I had heard it, I was shot for the first time in my life.

This couldn't possibly be good.

Shit…

Following the source of the noise, I looked behind me. That was when I saw two Messerschmidts high above the rooftops. They rumbled through the air, while their metal wings seemed almost black against the sun.

I was completely still when one of them opened fire.

It all happened in a single moment. Mike grabbed me and pulled me back hard, tackling me to the ground. I landed straight on my stomach and cried out when my wound burnt in pain. That was when the bullets peppered the ground where Mike and I had been, chucking up mud and dirt. In a blink of an eye, the rounds rushed past us and darted to the neighbouring farmhouses – including the aid station. The bullets went straight through the tent fabric, as if it were a piece of paper.

My heart constricted.

A part of the flap fluttered in the breeze, now riddled with dozens of holes.

No. God, no.

Ralph was inside. It was his shift now.

And so was Gene's.

God, please no…

Propping against my elbow, I scrambled to my feet and went towards the aid station. But, barely did I come closer when Mike's hand grasped my shoulder.

"Jess, we gotta move! Go!"

I turned around to face him. I wanted to shout at him to shut up and follow me, but no words escaped my lips.

"If we stay here, they'll shoot us both! GO!"

Grasping my arm again, Mike pulled me after him and ran to the left, where the nearest farmhouse was. Dashing across a piece of muddy land, we hid behind the house and slid down to the ground just as the gunfire echoed again.

Two men crumpled to the ground nearby, shot by one of the planes. They collapsed in the dirt, gazing at something in front of them with still, lifeless eyes. They were undoubtedly dead.

I began staring at black space as numbness waded through me, slowly filling me up. I knew that I should be up and running again, but I didn't move an inch.

There was a chance that he wasn't in the aid station. He might have been called to help someone in the village, or report to someone at the CP. But, there was also the same chance that he was inside the tent when the plane attacked. That he was…

"MEDIC!"

The first shout calling for help came from the distance. However, nobody answered. The shouting continued, but there was no medic that ran to his aid.

Bile rose in my throat. Holy Christ...

"…get up. Jess, get up!"

I blinked when Mike yanked be up, forcing me to stand. He then led me along the wall of the farmhouse, towards the nearest corner. Not knowing what else to do, I just went after him and tried to keep up with his steps.

We barely passed the corner when we almost ran smack into someone. Mike had already raised his weapon, ready to fire. But, he quickly realised that it wasn't an enemy.

"Heffron?"

"What the fuck is going on?", Heffron shouted.

Mike pointed a finger at the grey sky, giving the Philly a short glare. "Are you flippin' blind? We're under attack!"

All three of us ducked in cover when the planes' shadows danced across the ground. The Messerschmidts soared above the houses like a pair of dragons, ready to dispose of every resident of the village.

But, unlike in fairy tales, men were actually dying. And the knight in shining armour was nowhere to be found.

"Heffron, Mike…" I bit my lip hard before adding: "Go and hide."

The red-headed Philly looked at me in surprise. "Wait… what?"

I sighed deeply, struggling to keep my dread at bay. There was only one thing that could be done.

As the company's air support, I had to fly up there and take those planes down myself.

Mike's brow furrowed. He knew well where this would lead.

"Jess, have you learnt how to count? There are bloody two of them, and you're alone!"

"Oh, thank you for reminding me!", I retorted.

"You'll get killed if you get up there!"

A spark of defiance somehow emerged inside me. I might have been out of shape, but I was not planning to give up just like that. Not without a fight.

"Watch me."

I pinned myself against the wall of the house, waiting for a chance to run. And then, after taking a deep breath, I pushed myself off the bricks and darted through the village, to the place where my Spitfire was waiting for me.

However, while I was running, I didn't have the flight on my mind. I swallowed bile that had risen in my throat as I remembered the aid station tent.

It was impossible not to think about it, nor the man who might have been inside it.

Gene... be alive.

Please, be alive.

To be continued...

In the meantime, reviews will be appreciated! :)