Hi, dearest readers! :) I wish you all a wonderful autumn (or spring), wherever you are now. :)

I also wish to thank you for your kindness, understanding and support after my return in July. This means especially for this amazing five: Slytherin Studios (Thank you! Welcome to the story, by the way! :) And thank you for the story favourite and follow!), Cayendoenelolvido (I'm thrilled to hear that you like Jess and Gene. That really made my way! Muchas gracias! :) As for Mike, I have to admit that I felt sorry for him, too. But, things will be looking up for him, I promise. ;) ), beth-rodrigues.77 (It has been a long time, hasn't it? I'm so glad to hear from you again! :) You're right – Jess had quite a hard time in the last chapter. And I know that Mike shouldn't have acted the way he had. But, still, he hoped that he had a chance with Jess. I guess he has the right to be a little angry. As for Gene... comparing him to a balm was so adorable! Yes, he's definitely a balm for Jess's soul. :) When it comes to Jess, the dark cloud you mentioned will soon go away. She deserved it, after all. But, I have to say it won't last long, because Bastogne is slowly approaching. Thanks again! :) ), Guest (Thank you so much! I hope this chapter will live up to your expectations, too. :) As for the Bastogne episode, you won't have to wait for too long. ;) ), and last, but not least, Dustori (Welcome back! It's been a while, eh? ;) Thank you so much for your kind words. You'll find out very soon how Mike is doing. And one more thing – happy birthday! Best wishes from another September baby! :) ).

Enjoy the chapter, everyone! :)

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-Nine – The Things We Lost

There was no time to think.

I lunged forward and wrapped my arms tightly around him, cradling his head before he could crack it against the nearby bed frame. But, then his weight pulled me down, without a chance to struggle to keep us both upright. There was nothing I could do about it. My knees just buckled underneath us and I cried out as I landed straight on them.

"Argh! Jeez!" I gritted my teeth, chocking back a groan when my back hit a cabinet behind us. Closing my eyes for a moment, I forced myself to breathe through the pain. Yet, I soon realised that Mike hadn't made a noise. He was utterly motionless, slumped against my chest, his head pressed to my shoulder. However, that wasn't as nearly as harrowing as the feeling of his blood sluggishly seeping into my shirt. It was warm, sickeningly warm and I could only stiffen in fear.

"M-Mike?"

I swallowed thickly at the word. But, he didn't reply. I tightened my hold on him with a grunt and, as carefully as I could, I lowered him down. His head lolled to the side when he reached the floor, his cheek pressing into the floorboards. What I saw at that second made me quiver – under the light of the lamps, he was almost stark white, his skin contrasting with the few freckles on his cheekbones.

"Michael?" With a shaky hand, I moved my fingers down to his neck, fumbling to find a pulse. I gulped again when I found it, realising it was too fast. My breaths began to stutter by the time I reached out and pried his left eyelid open. I quickly did the same with the other one, just to realise that his both pupils were dilated. "Oh shit."

No, you're not listening. You think this some sort of game, where you can just leap to my rescue and bring me home. Well, guess what – that's not happening. You'll get yourself killed, you tosser!

The moment I had slapped him at Uppottery Airfield came reeling back. Aye, I said that to him that morning, but I never thought, not even for a second, that he would actually end up dying. While I stared at his unmoving figure on the floor, something in my chest constricted. Tears started welling up in my eyes and I blinked a few times to get rid of them, yet my vision remained blurry.

I wished Gene was here, or Ralph. I didn't want to be alone right now. But, none of them were coming back soon. I was stuck here all alone, already warring with panic.

Mike, please, just... just hang in there. With all the strength managed to muster, I turned him to his uninjured side. I took a few quivering breaths after that, in a desperate attempt to steel myself for what I was about to do. And for what I might eventually see.

"Fuck. Sorry about this."

Even though I tried to pull myself together, a whimper escaped my lips as I unzipped his jacket and manoeuvred him out of it. When I grabbed the neckline of his tee, ready to tear it, the fabric refused to bulge under my fingers. In the end, I had to grab the scissors to cut through it. With hasty snips, I sliced his shirt open and pulled the parts of it aside, revealing a bullet wound in the back of his shoulder.

Dark spots encircled my vision.

Things got even worse as I nudged him slightly and saw the entry wound on the front, which was still bleeding. My sight went fuzzier at the edges, but I also heaved a long sigh, because I had seen this enough times before. It was a through-and-through, as Gene called it. From what I could see, the bullet hadn't caught anything too important. Mike would undoubtedly need a meticulous stitching, some topping up, as well as a long rest, but he would be alright.

"Oh, God..." I raked my fingers through my hair and huffed, struggling to stay calm and collected. Unfortunately, I was close to losing that fight. Bile was already tickling the back of my throat and I was now trying hard not to throw up. Praying to keep it down somehow, I snatched a sheet from the nearby bed and tore a large piece of it. I frantically balled it up and placed it over Mike's exit would, before slowly turning him so that he was lying on the fabric.

When I tore off another chunk of the sheet and pressed it against his other wound, he quietly gasped, making me almost jump backwards. He squirmed under my hand, his forehead crinkling in pain. I wished I could say something to him, at least a couple of words, but I was afraid that I might get sick the second I opened my mouth. I pressed my lips tightly instead and held the sheet against his shoulder, willing him to come round soon.

He would be alright.

Mike opened his eyes slightly, screwing them shut again in the bright light. When they fluttered open again, it was just a little, barely enough for me to see a slit of blue in his irises. His eyes wandered around the Aid station, clearly confused.

In the meantime, I wasn't sure if I could hold on for much longer. I was becoming aware of sweat breaking out under my shirt and over my brow. Swallowing hard, I grasped Mike's hand and placed it over the sheet I was holding. Luckily, he was lucid enough to get the message and, as soon as I moved my hand away, he tightened his grip on the white fabric.

"That hur's", he slurred in a low, almost gravelly voice.

I didn't say anything, because I was too busy running out of the tent. The next thing I knew was that I was standing outside, bent almost in half and retching in the nearby bushes.

For those few minutes – at least I thought they were minutes – I had thought that he was worse, that the bullet had left him past saving. I was on the edge of believing he was a gonner and, because of that, I was scared out of my wits. The memory of his blood breaking through his jacket and oozing through my fingers made me throw up again, until I had nothing but strings of bile hanging from my mouth.

I spat a couple of times, hoping to get rid of the awful taste. As I shuddered, trying to get my breath back, I took a quick glance behind me. I felt a bit less tense once I saw that a desk was blocking Mike's view to the outside. I didn't have to worry if he had seen me like this or not. Using my sleeve to wipe my mouth, I straightened up somehow and rushed back into the Aid Station. However, once I got there, it dawned on me that his eyes were unfocused, staring at blank space.

"Mike? Hey. Hey!" I knelt beside him and raised my voice, forcing him to snap out of his daze. He blinked a couple of times when I grasped his chin and turned his head in my direction. "Talk to me. How are you feeling?"

"Getting shot... so overrated." He grimaced when he attempted at moving his shoulder. It didn't last long when he narrowed his eyes at me, as if he had found something odd on my face.

"What is it?"

"Don't get this the wrong way." He hesitated. "But... you look worse than me."

"Very funny", I muttered, even though it really wasn't. Looking away and biting my lip, I tried to figure out what to do next, but nothing sprang to my mind.

Shit. It was almost as if Randwijk were repeating itself. The only things missing was a semi-collapsed building and the sound of shelling outside. At the sheer thought of it, I felt uncomfortably warm and I could have sworn that sweat trickled down my back. As everything became a bit fuzzy, I moved away a bit, letting out a long huff and trying to blink the dizziness away somehow.

I didn't even realise that Mike was calling after me until he grabbed my arm.

"... don't you even think about... look at me. Look at me." All of a sudden, Mike tugged on my sleeve with all his strength, which wasn't much, but it was enough to turn me towards him. "You are not fainting – for chrissake, Jess, breathe!"

I blinked a few more times, struggling to get my bearings back. The inside of the tent was still a bit wobbly and I stumbled a little while getting up.

"I'll get you some water", I muttered, closing my eyes for a moment and sucking in a breath, "Just... don't go anywhere."

I shuffled to the table in the corner, where a pitcher usually stood. Having grabbed a glass and poured some water in it, I rushed back to him, lowering myself to my knees. I slid my hand, which was now shaking from exhaustion and nerves, under his head and raised the rim of the glass to his lips. As I did so, his slightly glazed-over eyes darted up to my face.

I flinched a little under his gaze. It had dawned on me that he hadn't completely forgotten what had happened in that pantry, before Pegasus began.

"Can do this... by myself", he said as gruffly as he could.

"No, you'll keep that pressure on your shoulder", I replied, trying to keep my voice from wavering. Yet, I was certain that I was failing miserably in that, too. I clutched the glass in my hand, just in case my fingers stopped listening. "We'll argue, if you really want that. But, drink first."

I half-expected him to lash out at me or push me away, or perhaps both. That wouldn't take me aback much. He was clearly still angry after all I had said. And, for the umpteenth time in the last few minutes, I wished to turn around and run. It seemed to be a far better option than facing the pain in his eyes again. If there was someone else beside me right now, I would have done that in an instant. However, with Gene helping Heylinger and Ralph being God-knows-where, all the help Mike had was me. There was no way for me to escape this.

Huh. Lucky me. I fidgeted slightly on the floor, waiting, until he finally relented, parting his lips enough to take a draught.

His first try to swallow didn't go so well. He gagged and spluttered, face wracked with pain, while the water trickled down his chin. I yanked him up as he coughed and I pretended not to hear the guttural groan he made when we moved. As I held him, attempting at coaxing him through it, something squeezed my thigh and I looked down. His free hand was now clamped on my leg, his pale fingers gripping my trousers. The strength of his clutch was a clear enough sign of how much pain he was in.

"It's alright." No sooner did I say it than I winced, because nothing was alright. Speaking of which, I wasn't sure if anything could make it better. Yet, I had no other ideas. "I've got you."

Mike leaned against me, shivering, heaving and unable to sit up straight on his own without some support. I put thee glass aside and kept a firm grip on him. Thankfully, he couldn't see the tears stinging in my eyes again.

"Easy, take it easy, Mike", I said in a small voice, "Try thinking of something else, like... like sitting near a river. There was one near that village, whats-its-name." Still quivering a bit, Mike slowly turned his head to me, his cheek mushed into my shoulder. "It was somewhere before Eindhoven."

Although his eyes were only partly open, that didn't make his look any less incredulous.

"You m-mean, Son?" He hiccuped. "Where a b-bridge almost blew up in my face?"

"Shit. Sorry! Scratch that." I quickly fumbled. "Think about a... um..."

"If you want to k-keep me c-calm, you're d-doing a swell job."

"Shut up. I'm trying the best I can!"

I glared back at him, but then I blinked in utter surprise. For the first time in what had probably been a week, I actually saw him smile. It was a tired and very brief one, though. The corner of his lips curved only for a second or two, yet it slightly eased the knot I felt in my stomach. Maybe this means I'll soon be out of the doghouse.

Once I assured myself that he was done coughing, I shuffled sideways, so that I could get into his view, bringing the glass up again. "You should take a few more draughts. It'll help."

He shook his head. "No. Can't."

"Come on, Mike. If not for me... well, at least do it for the old Toon Army."

He blinked. "You did not just mention Newcastle United."

"What can I say? I'm running out of good ideas."

I looked up at him, bracing myself for another possible bickering. However, instead of that happening, he listened to me. Things went more smoothly now as he carefully sipped on the water.

At least something isn't going wrong tonight. Making sure that I was supporting his neck, I glanced to my right, at the tent entrance. Unfortunately, although there was a street light on outside, I still didn't see anyone. In fact, I didn't hear any voices or steps, either, and I swore under my breath. Ralph and his bloody errand.

When I looked back at Mike, he had turned his head away from the glass. There was still some water left, yet I didn't want to push him anymore. That had to be enough for now. I placed the glass on the floor and gingerly laid his shaky form. After snatching a pillow from the nearby bed, I tucked it under his head, hoping that would make him a bit more comfortable until real help came.

While he gulped, fighting to keep himself conscious, I took a closer look at the sheet he was holding. It was almost soaked through, a red stain breaking through the once pristine white cloth. I hurriedly took what was left of the bed sheet, folded it a few times and slid it under his hand, before pressing it down with mine.

He flinched at the pressure. "S-sorry... for grabbing your leg like that."

"Don't be silly. I didn't feel a thing."

"Jeez, you're still an awful liar."

He tiredly blinked and looked up, ready to say something. But, he quietly groaned instead, digging the back of his head into the pillow. Unsure what else to do, I found his hand and gripped it tightly, pressing my palm against his cold skin. It wasn't much, but at least he would know that I would be there for him. That was when he muttered something under his breath. His voice was incredibly low, but I managed to catch what he said - and I wasn't sure whether to smile at that or not.

"'M glad some things didn't change."

.

.

Hunching over the small sink, I rubbed my hands with more force. However, even when the blood stains disappeared and the swirling water shifted from pink to clear, I couldn't stop. Clutching the soap bar, I ran it over my hands and forearms and rinsed them, ran and rinsed, and ran and rinsed, until they received a reddish tinge.

"What the heck happened?"

"Uh, he has a decent-sized hole in his shoulder... and I might need a shrink."

My hand's hadn't stopped shaking, not even when Ralph trudged into the tent and gawped in disbelief. He probably saw that, because he soon told me to go back to my billet, and leave him to patch Mike up alone. Leaving in some sort of a daze, I found myself in the dimly-lit living room I usually slept in, struggling to push the last couple of hours out of my head somehow.

A part of me suggested lying down on the nearby couch. The warm blanket draped over it seemed inviting enough. However, I couldn't make myself approach it, although I was now shuddering a bit from fatigue. I had a strong feeling that, if I dosed off, I would have nightmares about this night. Raking a hand through my hair at the thought of it, I sighed and went for the battered coffee jug on the counter, instead.

The coffee inside had turned cold hours ago. Nevertheless, I poured it into my cup, which I brought with me to a chair in the corner. Wrapping a blanket around my shoulders, I sat there, in the darkness, with my knees pulled up to my chest. I didn't know how long I stayed in that position, staring into the chilly drink in my hands, until someone knocked at the door.

I jumped to my feet, fumbling with the cup and swearing after I dropped it. I swore even more when the dark liquid spilt over the floor. But, I went quiet as I moved my gaze to the window, realising it was almost dawn.

It's about time Gene came back. Tossing the blanket in a dry place, I hurried to the door and yanked it open. Whatever I had planned to say left my mind then, my jaw dropping in disbelief.

Mike awkwardly smiled from the doorstep. "Hi."

He looked alarmingly pale, enough to make the dark circles under his eyes seem more like bruises. I looked down, taking in his bandaged shoulder and arm secured across his stomach. Yet, what really took me aback was his other hand. He was holding the IV bag he was hooked up on, keeping it slightly above the level of his head.

"What... what the hell are you doing here? Did Ralph let you out?"

"I let myself out." He shrugged with one shoulder. "Look, I'd like to explain, but I'm a bit freezing out here. May I come in?"

All of a sudden, I realised that he had no shirt on. There was merely his jacket draped over his shoulders and back.

"You daft..." I shook my head with an exasperated sigh. "You've got five minutes. Not a nanosecond longer. And then you're going back to rest."

"Fine."

I pulled the door further open, ushering him inside. By the time I shut it and turned around, he had already sat on the corner of the couch. In the meantime, his bag with fluids hung on a vacant nail on the wall behind him, where a painting probably used to be. If this hadn't been so bizarre, I might have cracked a grin.

"I'm really sorry, Jess", he said.

"Mike..." Before I said anything else, he raised his hand and shushed me.

"Now it's time for you to hear me out. Okay?" He slowly leaned forward, as if he was afraid that I would jump and run away. "I'm sorry for what I said... and ignoring you for a few weeks. It was wrong and stupid. I just..." He glanced down at the floorboards, suddenly interested in them. "I've been feeling this for quite some time."

"I'm sorry, too." I carefully moved to him and sat on the other side of the couch. "I should've been more tactful. But, I think patience is one of the things we lost in all of this."

"Especially you."

"Hey!"

A weak smile appeared on his face. However, that expression never reached his eyes, which seemed somehow empty. Although we had known each other for years, I had never seen him this sad. But, there was nothing I could do about it except to watch.

"So, you were serious. About you and Roe, I mean."

"Yes."

"Look, Jess, I'm not here to judge you. I like you. And... well, I hoped there could be something." He quietly sighed and attempted at another smile. But, this one ended up being smaller than the last. "But, I'd be an utter moron if I pushed you away right now. I'd rather settle for being your friend than losing you like this and –"

He abruptly stopped, a deeply reluctant look spreading over his features. His hand twitched slightly on his knee, as if he was dangerously close to biting his fingernails. But, then he became still and added:

"If that's alright with you, that is."

I smiled in return. "It's alright."

His face seemed to have lit up a little.

"We..." There was a hint of disbelief in his voice. "We're good?"

"Oh, aye. We're good." I placed my hand over his, giving it a gentle squeeze. "Listen, Mike. I know that you won't agree with this. But, I think there is a girl out there that'll make you really happy. And you'll find her."

He seemed unconvinced. In spite of that, he shrugged.

"If you say so. But, if I hear that Eugene broke your heart, I'll break his legs."

I cringed. "Jeez, Mike!"

Instead of an answer, he simply shrugged. He leaned back on the couch and propped his feet against the wobbly coffee table in front of him.

"How's Heylinger?", he asked after some time, "Any news about him?"

"From what I've heard, he was hit twice. It didn't look good." I sighed at the thought of it before I tiredly scrubbed a hand over my eye and down my cheek. "Even if he does pull through, they'll send him back to the States."

Mike's head snapped up. "Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"

"Dear God, I hope not."

He gave my knee a playful smack. "He's your CO. Right?"

I blinked, having realised what he was trying to say.

"Somebody's going to step in and take his place", I muttered.

"I don't know about you, but I'll pray for that poor man."

"Too bad Ralph didn't stitch up your mouth, too." I turned around, taking a second to look at the clock on the wall. "Well, it looks like our time is up. Come on. Grab that blanket from the corner before you go."

"Hey, hey!" Mike hastily scrambled to his feet. "Not so fast!"

"We had a deal, remember? You'll go back to the Aid station and stay there on the mend." I paused for a moment before I suddenly frowned. "But, I don't think you'll stay that long, right?"

"You know that going AWOL is a tradition over here."

That teased a smile from me, even though I tried to stay serious. He smiled back and took the blanket I had pointed at, slinging it over his jacket. He also didn't forget to pull the IV bag off the wall. Making his way to the door, he held the bag above his head like some sort of weird lantern.

I opened the door for him. "Take care of yourself."

"I will." He placed one foot over the doorstep when he stopped and turned around. "Why do you look so doubtful?"

"Maybe because you have a large hole in your shoulder."

"You had a hole in your gut not so long ago."

"In that case – touché."

He smirked at me before finally making his way outside. I closed the door after him, leaning my back against the thick wood. Soon after, an tired sigh escaped my lips.

The coffee wasn't working as well as I had expected. My eyes were already drooping slightly. I rubbed them with the heel of my hand before glancing back at the couch. The thought of sleeping for at least a couple of hours sleep reached my mind when a loud, sharp knock on the door made me jump.

Did Mike forget something? I whirled around and opened the door. However, instead of him, I was staring at one of the headquarters orderlies on my doorstep.

"Prichard, right?", he asked.

"Yes?"

"Colonel Denham sent me."

All of a sudden, I felt a lump growing in my throat. I didn't realise that I was clenching the door knob until my hand started to hurt.

"W-why?", I asked, "What's going on?"

He shrugged. "Dunno. I just got my orders."

So much for answers. Trying very hard to keep my brave face on, I stepped after him. I let him escort me down the road and through the town, before we came to a halt in front of a guarded door. As the orderly knocked a few times, the lump I felt became slightly bigger. It seemed to have enlarged even more when a low, yet still recognisable voice came from the other side.

"Enter."

A few heartbeats later, I found myself standing in a middle of a dusty office. A table stood not far away, once upon a time used for serving dinner, and now for carrying stacks of paper. A map of western Europe was nailed to the wall beside it. Right in front of it, I saw Denham standing still. His back was turned on me while he gazed at something on the wall.

However, that wasn't alone. A man I hadn't seen before was standing next to him. He was slightly shorter than Denham, even with his head tipped to the side. His cap was peering out of his firmly clenched right hand.

"Thank you, Zielinski." Denham turned around. "You can go now."

The lad saluted in a hurry and scuttled away. If I said that I hadn't flinched when the door closed behind him, it would be a lie. This doesn't look good.

"Prichard." Denham greeted me with a short nod. "I assume you're familiar with the news about lieutenant Heylinger. And private Sullivan, for that matter."

As I swallowed thickly, I noticed that the stranger was now looking at me. He must have noticed that my gear wasn't in a pristine condition, since his nose had scrunched up. I somehow doubted that the stains could be scrubbed off easily.

"Uh – aye, sir", I managed to reply.

"Since there's almost no chance of him returning to us, a new CO had been assigned to the company. As of today." He motioned me to come closer. "This is lieutenant Dike. Lieutenant, this is private Prichard."

Not having much choice but to listen, I shuffled to them. Dike raised an eyebrow at me, which I brushed aside. I had had a fair share of surprised looks, already. Yet, what happened next was something I couldn't expect. He began sniggering.

"I see that you're secretary's attire is... uncommon, sir", he said, "Where did you come from?"

Wait. Who are you calling a secretary? I opened my mouth to ask exactly that. But, Denham was much faster.

"She's not my secretary, Norman. She's Easy Company's air support."

Dike looked at me, and then slowly back at Denham. I could have sworn that he was baffled by this.

"With all due respect, sir, is this a joke? I mean, she's a... a woman."

I raised an eyebrow. "Since when is that a problem?"

"Prichard...", Denham warned.

Fighting back a sigh, I pressed my lips tighty. "My apologies. Sir."

This time, Denham's face hardened a little as he turned to Dike again. "There's no need for doubt, lieutenant. I can assure you she's very skilful when it comes to reconnaissance and intercepting enemy aircraft. She proved to be an important asset in the last couple of months."

Clearing his throat, he stepped closer to the map. I blinked when I saw various faded pencil traces on the printed out towns.

"Now that we got that settled, let's cut to the chase", Denham continued, "This is the reason I summoned both of you."

I sent a strange look in Dike's direction before facing the map again.

"Prichard, you're here to report to the lieutenant about your recent flights. Especially about the recons during your time on the Island."

Lucky me, indeed. "Aye, sir."

"This is where you step in, lieutenant. In the light of recent events, you'll have to plan out a new recon flight with Prichard. This afternoon would be convenient. If the shit is about to hit the fan again, we need eyes in the sky to stop it in time. Is that clear?"

Dike didn't look very pleased. Yet, nevertheless, he managed to squeeze out a: "Yes, sir."

"Very well. I'll leave you two to get acquainted. Good luck."

After a quick exchange of goodbyes, Denham walked through the door next to us, vanishing somewhere outside. Since that moment, a strange, heavy silence fell between Dike and me. It wasn't scary, really, but it made me a bit more nervous than I had been before.. I moved my gaze from the map to Dike, expecting him to start this.

I didn't have to wait for too long.

"So." He slowly crossed his arms over his chest. "You're British?"

"Aye, sir. Newcastle-Upon-Tyne, born and raised."

"A woman in the ranks, eh? And a Limey one, on top of that. Talk about combinations." He made a face, as if he had just stepped into something foetid. "Tell me, Petersen, didn't you have other things to do with your time than joining us in this place?"

"It's Prichard, actually –"

"I mean, you've surely considered choosing a profession more suitable for a person of your... gender. I've heard that there are many factory jobs available in England. Why didn't you have a go at something like that?"

Holy Christ. It's like he's channelling Rob's spirit... may he rest in peace. It seemed like yesterday when I had been on that farm in Aldbourne, looking for a job. If it hadn't been for Mike, I might have never got a chance to fly.

"As a matter of fact, sir, I did." So far, I was trying quite hard to keep my voice level. "I used to work in an ammunitions factory for a while. But, I believe I'm much better in a cockpit than stuck behind some assembly line."

"What did you family say to that?"

"They never thought I was factory material."

He chuckled at that. "Goodness. You really are an eager one, aren't you? Speaking of which, the colonel told me that you've got experience. So, let's talk about that, shall we? How many kills are we talking about?"

I felt myself stiffen. I didn't find it that easy to answer.

"Plenty", I muttered eventually.

"As in one-lucky-shot plenty, or something else?"

"I've taken care of two German Messerschmidts a few weeks ago, if that's what's on your mind, sir."

His eyebrows went up, almost in surprise. "That's weird. If you knocked those planes down, how come the local Aid station ended up levelled? I've read the reports. According to them, half of the men in that tent didn't make it out alive. Not to mention the secondary station, which was also reduced to ruins."

My jaw began to clench at the memory. "There was nothing I could do about that, sir. I was one of those people trapped in the ruins. After I got pulled out, flying was out of the question."

"In other words, you did a sloppy work out there."

Did he actually say that? "Sloppy is not what I do", I said in the most icy tone I could make.

"Gosh. Women." I almost winced at his tone. Dike sighed in the meantime. "Always with the stories and the excuses. I bet that, with a man in the cockpit, the outcome of that mess in Randwijk would have been quite different. And you would have been completely elsewhere."

"But, luckily, you're not the one making those decisions... sir."

He shot me a glare. "Let's be clear here. I'll tolerate you just because the colonel keeps telling me that you're capable of handling this. But..." He raised his index finger and pointed it skywards. "If you mess up again, if you put one toe over the line, I guarantee there will be consequences. Got that?"

Wanker. "Loud and clear, sir."

That was when Dike yawned. At first, I thought I had just imagined it. However, he really did that, covering his mouth with his hand. He seemed as if he was minutes away from an after-lunch nap instead of miles away from the front line. I couldn't help but frown at what was going on. Yet, I also felt a hint of dread in the pit of my stomach.

Oh, shit. Is he supposed to lead the whole company?

"I'm going to make a phone call", he declared, breaking the silence. But, he furrowed his brow at me very soon after that. "What are you looking at, Powell?"

"It's Prich –" I eventually halted and merely shook my head. I should probably let this go. "Never mind. I'll come in the afternoon for the recon plans, sir."

He looked as if he hadn't heard the last part. He just moved away and walked outside. I slowly counted to five, readying myself to bolt through the door, too. I wasn't really eager to see Denham twice in one day. However, before I even reached "three", something made me turn around. A large, bulky object, lying in the corner of the room, had stolen my attention. I stared at it with wide eyes as it dawned on me.

I was looking at Denham's footlocker.

I didn't dare to move an inch closer, in case that somebody walked in. And so I stayed where I was, my eyes glued to the greenish box on the floorboards.

Try imagining this. If Denham's men had Neve, those blokes had to be somehow in touch with him. And Denham must have had something connected to them on paper – like an address or a telephone number. As a colonel with a load of tasks to fulfil, he wouldn't keep important things like that only in his head, would he? Also, if he did write something down, he would likely keep it in the safest place he could find. His front pocket was out of the question.

Which leads us to the footlocker. What would be more safe than that?

I felt my heart rate picking up by the second. Yet, what I had just thought wasn't the only reason. What made real horror wash over me was that I considered rifling through a colonel's things.

Fuck. That was insane. I could get red-handed. I could even get shot.

Gene could get ballistic or something.

"What do you think?"

My heart almost stopped when I heard Denham's voice. Whirling around, I saw him step back into the office. He made his way beside the table, where he propped his hand against a large stack of reports.

"A-about what, sir?", I asked, suddenly dreading that he might figure out what I had on my mind.

"Your company's new CO. What I meant to say was – what do you think about him? Any first impressions?"

I think I should start writing a will. "So far, it's good."

"It's alright, Prichard. I don't like him, either. I don't think many people do."

"Wait – what?"

"Unfortunately, when Dike was appointed as the new CO, I was forced to keep my opinion to myself. This was way over my head."

"So, what are you telling me? Uh, sir."

"I'm not telling anything. I'm simply advising you to go and see your friends." He waved his hand towards the window behind him. "Have a talk with them. Because if, God forbid, the Germans attack again and Dike can't manage that, the boys – and you – are gonna be in deep shit. Tell them to start searching for another person to look up to, if they want to live a little longer."

I blinked a few times. Am I hallucinating right now?

"Are you... giving me pointers?"

"It's a fair warning." I had no idea what expression I had on my face, but it made him scoff. "Why that look, Prichard? I might be a lot of things, but I do care for Easy. And I don't leave my investment in the lurch."

"I see", I said, pretending to have understood. Meanwhile, I was still attempting to wrap my head around all of this.

"Dismissed."

I immediately turned around and ambled out of the headquarters. At first, I made small, even steps, but after I passed the corner, I was sprinting down the street. I didn't stop until I stormed behind some small building, where I caught my head in my hands, interlocking my fingers on the back of my head.

All of a sudden, I started to miss Heylinger.

However, that thought slipped from my mind when I recalled that footlocker. I knew I had pulled off plenty of mad things, but this? This was deep in the field of crazy. But, one thing was certain, though – I would keep this entirely to myself.

Nobody would know bout this. Not Gene, not Mike, nobody. If something went wrong, and the chances for that were pretty high, I wouldn't be dragging anyone with me. I would go down, yet, I would do it alone. I wasn't about to repeat my last attempt to escape to England.

But, there was a bright side. This was slightly better than just sitting and twiddling my thumbs.

Urgh, the things I do for family. I sighed as deeply as I could to steady my heartbeats. Gene would definitely see that something was off if I didn't calm down. Closing my eyes for a second, and struggling not to think of the footlocker plan again, I went back towards my billet.

I hadn't seen the Jeep coming.

It whooshed past me, it's back wheel catching a puddle and chucking up a wave of rainwater. A second later, the vehicle rumbled down the road – while I stayed behind, motionless, soaked all the way to my knickers.

Shit.

.

.

Cold, cold, cold… fuck, it's cold…

Opening the door while shaking this much was like a miracle. Darting into the billet, I tried to get out of my wet clothes before I froze solid. I toed off my boots and socks and shimmied out of my gear, letting it drop on the floor. Maybe I should take off my underwear, too, while I was at it. I reached for the clasp on my bra when...

"Whoah! Jesus!"

I yelped. It was a man's shout. My hands flew up to hide my undergarments, a blush spreading fast over my cheeks. I ran for the nearby curtain to cover myself with it. But, when I turned around, I saw no other than Gene. He was standing utterly still near the door, with his eyes fixed on the ceiling. His face was flushed with embarrassment. That included his ears, which were also red.

"Jess, I – I'm so, so sorry!", he stammered, his eyes never leaving the ceiling.

He dashed out of the room backwards, but not before he missed the door and bumped his back against the wall. Meanwhile, I ran a hand down my face with a sigh. Great.

"Gene?" I craned my neck towards the door. He was out of my sight, yet I could see his shadow on the floor. "Gene, hold on. You've patched me up more times than I can count. It's not like you're seeing me like this for the first time!"

There was no reply from him. However, he outstretched his arm through the door, with a corner of a large towel in his hand.

"Thanks."

I tiptoed to him and snatched the towel, wrapping it tightly around me. That was when I took a chance to peek at the other side. I soon caught a glimpse of him. Yet, instead of a smile spreading over my face, I felt concern. He was leaning against a wall, hunched over slightly, while his hands were thrust in his jacket pockets. His gaze was stuck to the floor even when I cleared my throat on purpose. That couldn't be a good sign.

"Gene?" Keeping the towel clamped under my arms, I poked my head out of the room. "Are you okay?"

He slowly turned his head towards me. His cheeks were still bright red, yet his expression was pinched for some reason. I carefully stepped closer to him.

"You know you can tell me everything... if you don't want me to, I won't say a word. I promise."

He tried to smile. God help him, he tried.

"It's... it's just – when I got to Heylinger... Winters and Welsh almost overdosed him with morphine", he said, with bitterness clear in his voice. He scoffed after that. "They just forgot how much they'd given him. Dear God, they could've killed him."

"But, Heylinger will live, yeah?"

"Yeah. He'll be fine. But, for chrissake, they were officers. They should've known what they were doin'." He swallowed hard, while his cheeks became even more flushed. "So... when the ambulance arrived... I kinda gave 'em hell for that."

"You what?"

For a moment, I imagined him standing at that railway, shouting at Winters and Welsh like they were kids. I wasn't sure whether to be shocked or slightly amused by this. However, I stopped thinking about that as the look on his face changed. It wasn't bitter anymore. In fact, as seconds ticked on, it was becoming closer to mortified. I moved closer until I stood in front of him.

I hope this isn't what I think it is. "Hey, don't tell me you're feeling guilty!"

"I yelled at them. A lot, actually."

Gene went silent for some time, nervously running his fingers through his hair. But, he kept his head turned sideways, so as to avoid looking at me under-dressed. And then his hand froze.

"Winters is gonna make gumbo out of me", he almost whispered.

I sent him a bewildered look. "And what would that be?"

"A stew. Where I come from, it's almost sacred."

"Hmm." I glanced up, making a face as if I were deep in thought. "I think you'll be okay. You're way too thin for a stew."

He huffed, not in the mood at all for joking like this.

"Anyway, I don't think he'll reprimand you", I hastily continued, "And neither will Welsh. They made a mistake and you were... you were just doing your job. There are worse things than shouting at someone."

His wide, concerned eyes somehow moved to my face. The words 'Are you sure?' remained unsaid.

"Oh, come on", I answered to his gaze, "Why would I lie?"

"To make me feel betta?", he suggested.

"If I wanted just to make you feel better, I'd do this." Reluctant at first, I slung my arm over his shoulders. "I'm serious, Gene. Now, relax, already."

The redness on his cheeks refused to dissipate. In fact, it became a bit more prominent. I thought of moving away and going back to my room when his arm shifted, enveloping my middle. A small smile began spreading on my face as I carefully leaned against him.

"Halloween's over... finally", I muttered under my breath, in hope of changing the subject, "And I actually used to enjoy it."

Gene looked at me in confusion. "Did something happen?"

"This night might have shortened my life for about ten years." I slowly shook my head at that. "Anyway, it would be great if you all stopped scaring me. I can only take so much."

"Roger that." His hand stayed on my arm. However, it soon slid down and let me go.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothin'. I just thought... well, I'm glad that you're a pilot."

"Oh. That's nice of you." I glanced up at him. "What makes you say that?"

"Because you'd be an awful shrink."

"What?" I tried to pretend that I was insulted, but I couldn't stop myself from smiling. I picked up a large strand of my hair, which still had water dripping from it, and I swished it across his cheek. He half-shouted, half-laughed as he scrambled away from me.

"Hey, that was goddamn freezin'!"

"Serves you right."

Turning my back on him, I made my way back into the room to dry my hair. No sooner did I move the towel up to my head than I felt my grin fading away.

I had a lot of work to do.

But, first, a cup of something warm sounded good.

The Whole Nine Yards "Soundtrack":

1 – Nickelback – "The Hammer's Coming Down"

2 – Nickelback – "Make Me Believe Again"

3 – Nickelback – "Lullaby"

4 – Nickelback – "I'd Come For You"

5 – Nickelback – "Savin' Me"

6 – Brian Melo – "All I Ever Wanted"

7 – Rob Thomas – "Her Diamonds"

8 – Theory Of A Deadman – "Hurricane"

9 – Theory Of A Deadman – "Angel"

10 – Snow Patrol – "In The End"

11 – Leona Lewis – "Run"

12 – Birdy – "Let Him Go" (Passenger cover)

13 – Plumb – "Don't Deserve You"

14 – Lifehouse – "You And Me"

15 – Shinedown – "Follow You Down"

16 – Daughtry – "Life After You"

17 – Daughtry – "We're Not Gonna Fall"

18 – Imagine Dragons – "Demons"

19 – Imagine Dragons – "Ready Aim Fire"

20 – Imagine Dragons – "Bleeding Out"

21 – Onerepublic – "Counting Stars"

22 – Onerepublic – "If I Lose Myself"

23 – Coldplay – "Magic"

24 – Coldplay – "Life In Technicolor II"

25 – Coldplay – "Paradise"

26 – All Angels – "The Scientist" (Coldplay cover)

27 – We The Kings – "Just Keep Breathing"

28 – 30 Seconds To Mars – "This Is War"

29 – 30 Seconds to Mars – "Closer To The Edge"

30 – Three Days Grace – "High Road"

31 – The Fray – "Love Don't Die"