Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Crickets.

There was something eerie about crickets.

They weren't supposed to be eerie.

Back home at night, when the sun would lay low, far too late into the evening, they'd always hear crickets. And they had been comforting. Now, they were a welcome song of what could be predetermined as death. Or at least what would ultimately lead to it.

The Maquis member beside her was silent for the most part, save for the occasional readjustment so her legs didn't go numb from the awkward position she was currently sat in. Mildred could agree that sitting in silence, for the current length they had, was beginning to wear on them. Silence found a way to make your mind circulate its thoughts through more than you even wanted, making you second guess and rethink. It made you question and find deep-seeded and sudden regret that you didn't even know you had. It was degrading.

The duo had been staring out towards the darkness for only a few hours now, at least for the better part of the early morning (way too early of a morning); they'd arrived at the designated location late last night only to find that they were desperately alone in the Normandy wilderness - now they awaited movements, signs of gunfire or even light to signal they could prepare to move locations again. 

"This is my first time in Normandy." the Maquis member whispered from beside Mildred, barely moving an inch of her body, perfectly poised in textbook form, blending into the tree that stuck up from the ground beside her, "This makes me hope that it is my last." A thin-lipped smirk perked up on the corner of Mildred's lips there in the darkness. 

"It's my fourth." Mildred said quietly back, catching the Maquis member's peripheral vision move its way over towards her, "Makes me think the war is trying to tell me something." The Maquis member's chuckle against the leaves of the tree was worthwhile. 

"It is not doing good job of telling you." the Maquis member whispered back, "It appears that for others, it did job well enough. For you? I am highly in doubt of such thing." Mildred felt goosebumps press against her skin as a chill ran up her spine, despite the thin layer of sweat that materialized on her forehead once she had jumped out of the transport and followed the Maquis member into the dark tree line to hide from sight. 

"I think the prison sentence was enough." The Maquis member's eyes did not shy away from meeting her own as their gazes collided in the darkness, her dark brown eyes, searching Mildred's own green ones, flicking about before moving to hold her attention again. Speculating. Assessing. 

"Prison sentence." the Maquis member said, "You do not appear to be the type to deal with such things." Mildred almost snorted at her words and shook her head.

"I don't appear to be a lot of things now, do I?" Mildred posed as the Maquis member continued to watch her. There was something the Maquis member didn't seem to trust about her; rightfully so. They'd been partnered only at the end of May and with their statuses and quite lengthy and damaged records of the war, they had rights to doubt the other. Which didn't bring any layer of protection to their current situation, but they were trusting of each other enough to the point they could sit beside one another there in the darkness and know at the first sound, they would have one another's backs. 

"What could one possibly have done?" the Maquis member quipped quietly, leaning forward to meet Mildred's gaze, her voice falling to barely even a whisper, "OSS agent you might be, but your track record is one to keep eye on." Mildred side-eyed her and cleared her throat, the sweat building along her forehead and throughout the back of her neck. 

"You've seen my name in the papers and are now questioning me incessantly, I can see that look on your face. You've seen it. You don't have to lie about that." Mildred muttered, tilting her head towards the Maquis member sharply, "I don't need any more information on you than I currently have to know; that's why you're nailing me down." The Maquis member sat back, pressing her left shoulder up against the rough bark of the tree that stuck up beside her. Nodding her head as she licked her lips, she readjusted her stance again and crossed her arms, a slight smart smirk growing on her lips. 

"What if I have?" the Maquis member said, "Scared I'd rat you out to enemy? Blow what cover you have here on this peninsula?" Mildred watched her in the stilled silence - the crickets had stopped. 

"I don't trust you enough to answer that." Mildred muttered. 

"I am glad feeling appears mutual." the Maquis member said, a small, wry laugh leaving her lips, "You do not seem like the type to be put in situation where you do not have the reins." Mildred continued watching the Maquis member; sitting there, smile spread on her face like it were some sort of joke. But after what Mildred had done, what she and her tiny crew had managed in the walls of a prison in Berlin, Germany - the laughter would cease to exist as such. 

"I've lost control of the reins before," Mildred managed, holding her fists in front of her in her criss-crossed lap, staring down the Maquis member there against the tree, "and I intend to not lose sight of them again."

"Ah, so it is sight we are to talk about, not control." the Maquis member said, "I find interest in this topic again." The Maquis member found her joke funny it appeared as she looked out to the darkness again. Mildred did not.

"It was rationality." Mildred said, picking at a blade of grass she'd picked up from her Welrod sat just next to her feet, "And lingering on either side of it appears faulty in all cases." The Maquis member watched her, chin tilted upwards a bit as her dark brown eyes watched her still - there was questioning and turmoil being dealt by the card dealer. An easy deal to take, but one Mildred wished to avoid. 

"Tell me," the Maquis member said, drumming her fingers on top of her hands as they interlaced one another, "rationality got you in prison first. In certain situation? What got you out?" 

"Luck." Mildred said quietly, her brow furrowing at the thought. The Maquis member sensed the discomfort towards the subject it seemed and grew quiet. It wasn't that Mildred found the Maquis member some sort of bother - far from it, it was almost a welcome distraction, a way to have a companion there to talk to and sort out your thoughts. Even if your thoughts were bullied around a bit, but only because the other was questioning and trying their hardest. It was more that, after everything, being allotted alone, only to be based on connections again, having a second voice around other than your own was plenty to get used to. 

"You make valid point." the Maquis member answered and Mildred felt a smile grow on her face. The duo fell into silence again, their own brains thinking their own thoughts for the time being, as worry bit away and tore off what it could - just enough to solidify a bother, but not enough to make you sick to your stomach. 

"The crickets stopped." the Maquis member said after a few moments bathed in eerie silence, listening to nothing but the wind rustling through the tree leaves that hung above them like stencils for what was to come; or already had. Mildred glanced at the Maquis member whose hand was lingering about the holster strapped to her waist and pulled her eyes forward again, searching the trees as her green eyes darted about. 

"Crickets do not sing when they know what is near." the Maquis member whispered, "They know more than we know." Mildred swallowed quickly, her throat feeling dry suddenly as panic settled into her bones. Disturbances sent crickets quiet, just like how it sent birds flying through the air. They'd do anything to get away, to hide, to make their presence unknown to whatever was causing the disturbance. Her stomach lurched when she glanced towards the Maquis member and found her already staring at her with her piercing brown eyes, a gloved finger held to her chapped lips, sharp eyes dead-set on Mildred. 

"There are voices." Mildred watched the Maquis member mouth in the darkness, "Just past large tree line." Her heart found a way to speed up, especially at words that had never even been spoken. And the lurching of her stomach sent a fear curling up her hunched up spine that was enough to freeze her just as she was. At first, it wasn't even voices. It was more that distant sound that signaled there was somebody close by, but not enough to make out words, or much of anything. But people were there. And voices carried - especially when silence was the only blanket. Silence made voices known. Mildred slowly reached down to pull her Welrod into her hands and a familiar comfort filled her system once her hand was clasped around the smooth exterior of the leather handle of the pistol. 

"Enemy or ally?" Mildred managed out - if there was one thing her Maquis companion excelled in was her sense of hearing and distinguishability. The Maquis member watched Mildred as she concentrated on the voices, her eyes flicking about, but staying focused all at once. 

"They speak English. It is not entirely clear, but it is no enemy tongue." the Maquis member whispered quietly. Mildred let out a shaky breath, glancing over her shoulder towards where she knew the road was; the road the duo had crossed before taking residence in this little bushed area of trees and underbrush along a little stream. 

"What do you suppose we do?" the Maquis member said quietly, "Anything is better than staying sitting ducks." Mildred watched her.

"You hold rank, agent," the Maquis member said, attempting to sort out the panic she could see in Mildred's eyes, anything to help Mildred regain some sort of control that was forcing it away and allowing panic in, "what do you think we are to do?" Mildred licked her salty lips and glanced towards the road again. 

"We see if we can join them, until they make it to their rendezvous point. Then we part ways." Mildred said, "And if they turn out to be assholes, we high tail it out of there." The Maquis member grinned under the moonlight. Mildred slowly drew herself to her feet, her Welrod locked in her grasp, shining under the clear sky above - the first clear sky in days - and glanced back to the Maquis member, nodding. Once the duo had their bearings and their feet settled on solid ground, they began moving together through the interweaving trees and bushes cluttered along the forest floor. The voices drew closer, she was able to hear them clearer now and by God they were American more than anything. The accents, the rigidness that sat on the edges, the rough-housing of the words all at once - the slew of curses that seemed to follow a bit more as well.

Ah, just like home, Mildred thought with a grimace. Mildred exchanged glances with the Maquis member, who pulled her own questionable expression at the words herself. All the sudden, a tiny clicking echoed through the trees, the wind picking up the light sound and carrying it along with the Normandy-coast breeze. Mildred held a finger up to her lips as the Maquis member slowly looked towards her with a downcast expression written across her eyes; the Maquis member tilted her head the slightest bit as the clicking sound followed again. 

"Flash?" The words were uttered from past the tree line, along the road on the opposite side. 

"What is flash?" mouthed the Maquis member as Mildred watched her, heart pounding in her throat, to the point she could hear it throbbing in her ears, making her head ache. 

"Flash?" the person tried again and Mildred gritted her teeth, watching as the Maquis member continued to watch her.

"Light?" the Maquis member tried. Mildred felt her eyes widen, partially from the blister of confusion, but consequently, the annoyance at the same time - they should've stayed quiet and made a run for it. Forget they'd ever been there in the first place and high-tailed it to Omaha beach to meet up with the United States 1st Infantry Division - not relying on what sounded like English on the lips of supposed American soldiers. The silence that dwindled thereafter between them was enough to keep the crickets silent for the time being; Mildred swore she could hear the pounding of both her and the Maquis member's heart sinking as one. Hearing the clatter and rush of ammunition being set in weaponry, the adjustment of scopes or handles on weapons sent Mildred's green eyes through the bushes and forest floor of Normandy again. 

"We're going to give you three seconds to come out from behind this here tree line, with your hands up, alright?" a new voice called - different from the voice who had called 'Flash' previously like they had been in a hurry. This voice was rough around the edges, a bit lower maybe. Mildred looked to the Maquis member who narrowed her brows.

"I say we make run for it." she mouthed, "No time for American soldier who have no clue how to act with ally." Mildred clenched her jaw and reached forward to place a hand on the Maquis member's shoulder, to stop her from turning away and moving back through the forest.

"They do not know we are allies." Mildred said, her voice firm, "We have a better chance of revealing ourselves to them, than waiting around for Nazi-scum to crawl up from behind and kill us in the process." The Maquis member watched her, searching her eyes as a harsh "One.", echoed from the opposite side of the tree line on the road. 

"I thought you were not trusting of people whose face could not be put with voice!" the Maquis member said, her voice cold, "Whenever problem comes to surface, do you go to first thought that comes to mind? Without considering backup plan?" Mildred watched the Maquis member as a "Two." snaked through the trees, suffocating the duo that stared at one another, caught in a battle between eyes and mind. 

"This is the backup plan." Mildred practically spat and grabbed the Maquis member's wrist and yanked her through the small patch of shrubbery and trees that separated forest from road and pushed onto the pebble street. Once the "Three." left the American's mouth, Mildred had pulled her hands up behind her head and watched slowly as a disgruntled Maquis member did much of the same - slower and clearly annoyed, but obeying all the same. Mildred slowly looked towards their company and found five American soldiers, stood in the center of the road in the middle of Normandy, their weapons aimed right at Mildred and the Maquis member's face, fingers preying on metallic triggers, frantic eyes looking between one another in a fair attempt to figure out what to do. And the silent stand off seemed to begin - the duo stood with their hands behind their heads and downturned gazes studying the Americans, who watched back, uneasy and quiet, not making a word leave their lips for anything. 

"And I thought you Americans had no capability of shutting up." muttered the Maquis member and Mildred silently shut her eyes - maybe this would be how she left this world, "You Americans bring new surprise everyday." 

"Shut up." muttered Mildred, keeping her eyes on the Americans who watched without saying a word - the Maquis member's glare was enough to send someone to the ground. 

"State your name and your affiliation." one of the Americans said firmly, stood closer to the front with a rifle pointed upwards between Mildred's eyes, his dark orbs staring down Mildred and, seemingly, refusing to leave as well, all at once. She could see the sweat lining his cheeks and dripping from his head, the uneasy breathing and panic that seemed to spur across him as well. She wasn't some sort of mind-reader, but she could tell there was panic hidden in those dark eyes. 

"Point your gun to ground and maybe we can talk." spat the Maquis member from beside Mildred, who had found herself strangely quiet and unable to open her mouth. It seems words like that from the Maquis member was enough to send the man who stood in the front, turning back to look towards the others, tilting his head from one soldier to the next in questioning. 

"I say we keep 'em up, you ain't making yourself any more trustworthy with a statement like that." another called from a bit farther back and Mildred felt her jaw clench, "Just tell us who the hell ya are and then, maybe, we can drop our weapons."  

"Julienne." Mildred said, meeting multiple sets of eyes that stared out at her from under large helmets, eyes that illuminated under the moonlight above them and shone like stars there in a large world. She couldn't remember the last time she'd had to utter her codename like that from her mouth, but she hoped it was convincing enough. 

"And the little one with a mouth?" the same soldier asked. 

"Rolande Pelletier." the Maquis member said, her tone brittle - Mildred could see her shifting her fingers to get a better grip through the gloves on her Sten, supposedly which she had modified, Mildred wasn't sure. 

"State your affiliation and business." the one at the front stated again, his eyes tracking between the two, "We don't got all day." 

"It's 3 in the morning." muttered the Maquis member. The soldier's eyes said otherwise. 

"We are both Maquis; we've been tasked with assisting with intelligence for Normandy invasion with allies." the Maquis membered stated, "We are no enemy to you, even as you continue to make it seem as such." The soldier at the front slowly lifted an arm and the duo watched as muzzles were dropped, fingers were taken off triggers and weapons were no longer pointed at heads but, instead, the ground. The duo slowly let their hands drop from behind their heads and took a glance between one another before looking towards the five soldiers again.


"You are horrible at interrogation," the Maquis member said, "at least remove the weapon from the unknown before letting them move on, armed." Mildred sent her a dark glare and the Maquis member watched her back.


"What? What I say is truth, agent and you know that." the Maquis member said, looking up at her, "Don't tell me you've never been through interrogation with your track record." 

"I know plenty of what you mean." The Maquis member raised a brow.

"You two done?" a voice called and the duo looked away from one another towards the group of American soldiers again and found that they drew closer under the cover of darkness and looked between one another. 

"I say we make run for it." the Maquis member muttered as Mildred elbowed her.

"Tell us your names." Mildred said quietly, "We know you are American, but we know nothing more." The man who stood at the front looked back at the group of soldiers behind him and she swore that a small chuckle left his lips as he did so. Looking back at Mildred, he stepped forward and held out a hand in front of her. 

"Donald Malarkey." he said as Mildred looked between this American soldier and his hand outstretched in front of himself, "We're apart of the 101st Airborne. Easy Company." Mildred was trying hard not to be hypocritical, as these Americans were willing to not only put their weapons down at their request but introduce themselves without a heckling, but this was the first American Mildred had contact with for the first time in months and his last name meant bullshit. Donald Malarkey slowly lowered his hand where he stood when he realized he was not going to receive the intended handshake from this 'Maquis member' who was actually a full-fledged 'OSS agent' in front of him and rubbed a hand across his neck before looking back towards the group behind him. 

"You wanna introduce yourselves?" he said taking a step back, meeting Mildred's gaze again, but she ignored it and looked again to the group that stood still in their spots. 

"Sergeant Bill Guarnere." the man with the chippy and rough voice called, his arms crossed with protection over himself and his gun, "Pleasure to meet ya, just not the nicest circumstances." Mildred held his gaze for a moment before glancing back at the Maquis member whose own quizzical features were not one to ignore. 

"Sergeant Joe Toye." the other one beside him said, a nod in their direction, "Nice to meet ya." Mildred managed a slight, half-quirked smile, but it seemed nothing more would emit. At least they seemed somewhat pleasant. 

"Robert Wynn." the other said, standing just shorter than the rest of the group. All that's left stood the other soldier; his body angled away from the group, head glanced curiously in their direction, but still guarded. The shine of a pistol in his side holster sent Mildred's eyes narrowed. 

"Esther Armstrong," the soldier spoke, his voice.....not entirely what the two had expected, "war correspondent." Mildred glanced at the Maquis member who took a step forward, confused. 

"Only female war correspondent put with an Airborne Division." Donald Malarkey said, glancing at the two, as Esther Armstrong stepped forward a bit - in the moonlight, her features came out a bit more, and it was clear, her questioning was just as similar to the mens'. Mildred glanced towards the Maquis member again, with which she found was already looking up towards her with her own questioning gaze, that reflected what Mildred currently felt deep inside of her, but she wasn't entirely letting out. She noticed the Lieutenant bars hidden among her collar that reflected the ruddy glow of the moonlight through the trees. Mildred uncomfortably looked towards the Maquis member who made no show of looking towards her. She gathered herself for a moment and looked back towards the war correspondent who was also holding rank in this Airborne as a Lieutenant.  

"We would like to be speak with the war correspondent." Mildred said, "Alone." 

"No." Sergeant Guarnere said stepping forward as Sergeant Toye slowly brought his hand back to the trigger again, "We just got her back, we ain't losing her again." Mildred's gaze cut to Esther Armstrong's, who stood with her brow furrowed, favoring her one leg, arguably more than the other, and appeared withdrawn and quiet. 


"I would like to speak with both of these women." Esther Armstrong said, glancing at Sergeant Guarnere, "Alone." 

"Lieuten-" Donald Malarkey protested, but she held up a hand in his direction and slowly let herself limp forward - a limp that from far away wasn't noticeable, but one she was clearly trying to hide. She knew vulnerabilities could get a person killed. Once Esther Armstrong had approached just in front of the duo, she met both their gazes and pointed down to her holster where the pistol laid, before motioning to the green band that read 'War Correspondent' wrapped around her bicep.

"We will talk. Alone." Esther Armstrong said, before glancing over her shoulder towards the group and giving them a nod - Mildred couldn't quite read it, but it was enough to keep the group stopped in their tracks. She couldn't get a read on Esther Armstrong - Lieutenant and war correspondent - she didn't seem to want to be addressed as Lieutenant even if the men did as such and she was incredibly reserved and quiet. There was nothing about Esther Armstrong that gave way to strength or weakness, she wouldn't show either and in war, Mildred wasn't entirely surprised. She was impressed. 

"We don't have much time I'm afraid." Esther Armstrong said as they moved themselves down the road a few meters, where they were still in sight with the other Americans, but far enough away that privacy could be kept. The Maquis member's silence was one that concerned Mildred for the time being, if she were being honest, and her gaze didn't leave Esther Armstrong's. She kept it steady and guarded. 

"We have to make it to a rendezvous checkpoint by a specified time in a specified location. And I don't want to keep the men. But I wanted to talk with you at your request." Esther Armstrong explained, before nodding to them, "Shoot." Mildred glanced at the Maquis member before clearing her throat, thoughtfully. 

"Let us join you, make it to your rendezvous point where you are needed. We'll exchange intelligence before we move on our merry way where ever we must go next. We've been here since last night," Mildred explained, "and feel that there is much more that we can do than sit in a wet trench filled with mud and rainwater. My counterpart, here, is incredibly talented with land navigation and can assist with mapping and I've been close enough to Nazi members to unfold their plans. We can help you in what you need, if you ensure that you can help us safely get to Omaha Beach." Esther Armstrong watched her for a moment, arms crossed and gaze skeptical, but it was clear she wasn't entirely turning the offer down. 

"What is your importance of getting to Omaha Beach?" Esther Armstrong asked, glancing at the Maquis member again, who stood and stayed quiet still. Mildred felt herself freeze for a small moment as she glanced back at Esther Armstrong. Letting out a quiet sigh, she slowly reached into her pocket and pulled out a small slip of paper and held it out in front of her. The Maquis member looked ready to protest.

"What are you doing-"

"I know what I'm doing." Mildred muttered quietly and met Esther Armstrong's gaze, which resided slowly on the little slip of old and faded paper. Within a second of glancing at the paper, in a way that seemed like it were a joke, Esther Armstrong's eyes widened and she looked to Mildred quickly. 

"Intelligence from you, if we can get you to Omaha." Esther Armstrong questioned, without a questioning tone in her voice. Mildred nodded. 

"Intelligence for Omaha." Mildred echoed and Esther Armstrong bit back her lip. 

"How much time do you have?" Esther Armstrong asked as the Maquis member let out a sigh. 

"Two week window, give or take." The war correspondent slowly placed her hands on her hips and glanced back towards the group of Easy Company members still stood a distance away, sharing a cigarette, keeping point and looking towards the trio, stood there in the road. 

"I can make a promise to do that." Esther Armstrong said, "Ally for ally." 

"What will they say?" the Maquis member finally said, speaking up, her voice uncertain, "Will they be as willing to do such thing?" Esther Armstrong watched the duo, her bright gaze still holding both their attentions. Esther Armstrong stood at a tall height, Mildred felt it were almost the slightest bit intimidating, and from her stance, she could tell Esther Armstrong was not one to fear a challenge like this presented on a silver platter. She was a war correspondent and a female one at that; she had worked her way in just as she had needed. There was no doubt she had cut strings and wrapped ties together to make things work. 

"It will be their only option." Esther Armstrong said, "I can promise that." Mildred met the war correspondent's blue eyes and nodded. 

"Thank you." Mildred said and Esther Armstrong nodded. 

"Come with me." Esther Armstrong said, nodding her head back towards the four soldiers stood back at their previous location, "We still have the tides of war upon is and I intend to make sure they touch none of us." Esther Armstrong didn't seem like the type of person to break a promise, even as the duo followed the war correspondent back towards the four soldiers still stood about; the final look Esther Armstrong delivered Mildred before moving forward towards Easy Company's rendezvous checkpoint solidified it.

Once their footfalls disappeared, only then did the crickets begin to sing their tune.

Chapter Text

"I promise you, I got word! I got a postmark, it said today'd be the day!" 

"Now, Miss Mulligan, we are at war I'm afraid and a lot of men we have out there in the field today are also waiting to receive a letter from a loved one as well-"

"It's Corporal-"

"-and I am assuming you are as well, Corporal Mulligan, but on an army base in the hot summer heat, we all need a little bit of patience nowadays, don't we?" Winnie took a wavering step back from the desk in the mail room and wrung her hands tirelessly in front of herself, biting back her chapped lip as she did so and feeling her heart rate increase by the slightest tick. 

"It's for W-Sector, sir." Winnie explained again, "Lieutenant Stellhorn is expecting a report and it's been 3 weeks-"


"3 weeks or not Corporal Mulligan, I can't speed up time nor the speed of the US Postal Service." the Sergeant behind the counter said, "You go and tell Lieutenant Stellhorn, he'll have-"

"She-"

"She'll have her report when the report is sitting on my front desk, but until then, no report, no compensation." the Sergeant said and Winnie stood there frozen as she watched him; he could've told her calmly it hadn't come in yet - of course she's curious, all the women were curious - it isn't everyday their own written reports made it as far as revision and peer-review, especially at the military level. 

"Thank you, sir." Winnie said, a bitter tone warped behind her tongue as she clamped her mouth shut - the man still had the rank of Sergeant above her as well as NCO level workings. If there was no report, there was no report. End of story. Her unceremonious march back to W-sector was less than the spectacle she had envisioned it being; the ladies and their reviewed and edited documents as well as studied and reviewed photographers for their photographers being nonexistent in her hands. Eyes were on her within seconds of entering the small one room confines of W-sector and the lack of papers shuffled in her grasp sent a rumble of disgruntled sighs through the group. If there was anything there to ruffle the feathers of the women of W-sector, it was exactly that. 

"No word?" Elodie asked with the last bit of hope draining from her system, watching as Winnie shut the door behind her firmly and walked forward with her arms crossed in front of her chest. 

"No word. Just a very disgruntled Sergeant who was not pleased about me asking such a thing." Winnie muttered, sitting down with a huff in her designated chair that had been left behind in a disarray as she had raced to the Post Office. 

"I'm telling ya, Lieutenant, Sergeant Fuller is a complete asshole to every single one of us." Locklyn said, leaning forward against the table with a tight-lip grimace, "I go and ask him the other day if I had any mail from my Ma. Doesn't even bother to actually check for me. What a loony." A few mutters of agreement wrung around the room and soon enough gazes settled onto Lieutenant Stellhorn at the front of the room, leaned up against her chair; it was that thinking face she always wore when one of the Sergeants messed with one of the ladies from W-sector. It was a painfully normal occurrence, one though that was expected on base at this point. The 82nd never gave them much bother; they were always quite gentlemen-like. They danced with the ladies at PX, they offered to buy them drinks more often than not and they would walk them back to barracks as well. It was more the ones who worked in HQ, in the Post Office and were the runners. They were the ones who gave bother to the women anytime it seemed they could; whether it was flaunting their new stripes or that they held rank over one or another, they always managed to make sure you knew it too. 

"The Post has been a mess all month," Marielle said, tapping her dull pencil against the wooden table, bouncing it along with her leg, "Conrad said so in his last letter." 

"That's in the Pacific, Mar, of course it's a mess." Miriam told her, her annoyance evident, as she pursed her lips, before glancing at Marielle, "Sorry, that's....never mind." Marielle waved her off. They were all angry. They all had reason to feel the way they did. 

"Ladies, I don't think today is the day to blame the US Postal Service for our worries." the Lieutenant exclaimed, looking out to the group sat around the table, vaguely taking in the empty chair next to Mercy who sat, leaned back, blowing up circles of smoke up to the ceiling. 

"When is it ever." muttered Sylvie, "I just expect that we are to blame them as to not ruin a certain someone's reputation, hm?" A few murmurs of agreement wrung around as Lieutenant Stellhorn cleared her throat.

"We can't change a thing about what they're doing with those articles now, but we can start anew." Lieutenant Stellhorn said, crossing her arms, meeting the gazes that looked upon her now, "I think it's best if we start on the next round of articles." Some murmurs rumbled throughout the group, obvious interest and excitement. Article acceptance topic time was by far one of the most exciting of the beginning of each week. 

"We've been offered five more topics this week. As there's no revisions from the previous week, work with what material you have this week and make it your own. We'll do revisions on Thursday before we send them out. Double-time it." Lieutenant Stellhorn explained, turning to the chalkboard behind her and putting up five bullet points, vigorously writing in the topics.

"We have 82nd Interviews, Foreign Affairs in the Pacific, Foreign Affairs in Europe, Medical Courses, and a trip to DC for in-person visitation for a press conference." Lieutenant Stellhorn explained, before turning towards the group of eager women again and clearing her throat, "We'll start with the DC trip first. Any takers?" Locklyn was quick to raise her hand in the air, an excited grin spread on her face, the previous thoughts about the disgruntled Sergeant at the Post Office completely diminished at the thought of a conference at DC. A place where you could make connections, get job offers and get in-person practice on reporting. 

"I will gladly take up the offer, Lieutenant." Locklyn said, and from beside her, Odette, her photographer, sat up with a glowing grin.


"I've never been before; is it as lovely as you always say it was, Lieutenant?" Odette asked Lieutenant Stellhorn at the front of the room. Odette was the only member of W-sector who had yet to visit DC on a conference trip yet, compared to the rest of them, and so it made for quite a bottle of excitement to be shook in Odette's direction at the opportunity. 

"You should see it in wartime, Marvosky, it's a sight to see." Lieutenant Stellhorn said with a delicate smile. She seemed sadder today to the ladies more than usual, a bit more drained and exhausted all at once. Maybe it was the paperwork, or maybe it was the lack of effort the higher-ups continually seemed to not give out. Maybe it was her family back home and her mother who was horribly ill right now or that her brother was caught in the turmoil of the Pacific right now. Maybe it was all of it. The stress was evident in her eyes and it was obvious she was trying to hide it in front of all of them. 

"You have to see if you can get your foot in the door with Henderson; he can get you up close, real up close. Right up front, so they ask for questions, you can get your face seen first." Sylvie said, sipping from her coffee mug that had sat dormant all morning before she had even just started sipping it, "He always makes room for the ones in olive drab." 

"He sounds mighty kind." Odette said with a gracious smile, "Doesn't he, Locklyn." Locklyn stifled a chuckle at her words and leaned forward with a raised brow towards Sylvie.

"Henderson? The private who works at the front office of the sector? With the lop-sided smile?" she asked, and Sylvie rolled her eyes.


"It was one evening together at Mickey's down the road, Locklyn, give it a rest." Sylvie muttered, "Either way, you want a good seat or not? He can get you in, I can guarantee that."


"He sounds wonderful, Sylvie." Odette said with a comforting smile and Sylvie grinned back. 

"Alright." Lieutenant Stellhorn said, taking a step forward, "McDermott and Marvosky will go to DC for the conference; you will leave in two days time 0800, for the conference at 1200. You'll have plenty of time to get in, ask your questions and return back to base that evening."

"Sounds like a plan," Locklyn said gallantly.  

"Onto other things, the 82nd is interviewing some of the newer members of the platoons. Looking for their experience and hindsight on volunteering. Any takers?"

"Lieutenant." Roseann said, raising a hand, "Elodie and I will take that one." 

"Alright, Whittaker and Roy for the 82nd. Interviews on Tuesday and Wednesday, drafted by Friday morning." Lieutenant Stellhorn said with a nod, "Foreign Affairs now. Both Europe and the Pacific." 

"We'll do the Pacific." Miriam said from next to Marielle, "Likewise to Marielle, Paul just a sent a letter from the Pacific as well. It'd be in our interest." Lieutenant Stellhorn let a nod slip past; but they all knew what that meant. Don't make it sappy or personal; they'll see right through it. Make it unbiased, make it from the perspective of anyone just wanting to find some news on the war. They all knew what that nod meant.

"Alright, Gorsky and Diakos will take the Pacific; how about European Affairs?"

"I'll take it." Mercy said raising her hand, "And I'm sure if Esther were here, her hand would've been up before mine, but I shall do it in her place." Lieutenant Stellhorn nodded, checking off beside Europe's column and glanced at Mercy.

"Where is Esther anyway?" Locklyn asked, her brow furrowing, "She was at breakfast."

"The General called her to his office. I believe its best if we don't question her when she gets in. What if it was about her brother? Martin, was it?" Marielle said with sad eyes, "She was heartbroken knowing he was heading out there." 

"Last I heard, Marty was still in training." Mercy said, "From that letter she got two weeks ago to the day." The room fell quiet at Mercy's words. Only then did the door open and the head that showed around the corner, was the person in question. Esther Armstrong. 

"Sorry I'm late, Lieutenant." Esther said quickly, sliding in through the door and firmly shutting it behind her, quickly forming to a salute within seconds before barely even taking a breath as she moved over to her unoccupied seat beside Mercy, who glanced at her with a raised brow, trying to draw the question out of her but Esther was quiet, sat there staring down at the paper that had been in her hand. Esther could tell the others were watching her, but with the way her heart was pounding inside of her chest and her palms had grown sweaty, she knew sitting in this chair through decisions for writing topics was not going to fly. As Lieutenant Stellhorn continued on, with a very excited Winnie and a morose Sylvie who bantered about the Medical Courses review that was bound to be less than invigorating for the types of writing they favored, Mercy had leaned over and nudged Esther's shoulder, annoyingly - it was more affectionately, like trying to get her attention to console her and this sudden stressed state she was taking on. Esther glanced towards her and Mercy raised a brow.

"Did the General really have that bad of news to spill? Or did he just overdramatize it like he always does?" Mercy whispered and Esther let out a small sigh, leaning back in her chair and staring up towards the ceiling, "Oh come on, Armstrong, don't be pulling that on me now. You got me and I got you, remember? Is it about Marty? Your family? Reassignment? You know they can't keep a good correspondent around here for more than 3 months because they don't know what's good in their right mind-"

"Shove off, Mercy." Esther muttered, staring at the ceiling - she could barely wrap her mind around the fact of the matter, more or less deal with an interrogation beside her for no reason.

Mercy Codona was like her brother, Marty; always pushing her buttons to get her to do something - and he had good reason, and she usually thanked him for it - always trying to get her to test the rocky waters even if he knew it might not be totally worth it, even when it had. Sure, he annoyed her, she annoyed him, but they had been 'those two Armstrong kids', the ones at the fair in the summers causing some sort of ruckus about, or the ones who on the 4th of July that sold lemonade from their front porch where American flags waved in the air, Mom's rose bushes were nearly in full bloom again and they had the Andrew Sisters or Glenn Miller on the little radio that stuck out the front room window. It was who they were and who they had been and they still held many of those same youthful joys even today. Even since Marty was sent to training. She still had been finishing her last semester of college when Marty had come back from the Navy Yard and broke the news to Daddy as he had been sanding the front porch steps. But he was serving the country, he was doing what was right and Daddy knew that. Mom did too, but it was her second born, her little boy who was going across the country for training undoubtably. With the tensions of Europe that were ever-present in the newspaper and on the radio, he felt he had to do something.

That was Marty Armstrong for you though; if he had a calling, he followed it. He never led it astray. And he felt he needed to join. Esther had encouraged him the best she could, knowing what could happen, but knowing that this was her little brother all grown up and wanting to fight for the country. Even in school, as the biggest goofball you'd ever see on the playground, he always just wanted his friends to smile and was never someone to let anyone be left out. He was always good like that. Memories flashed through her mind as she thought back to the times in Norfolk before the war in Europe had started and before America had gotten attacked. How...freeing almost everything had felt.

Now, home felt constricted and tight, like everywhere you walked, you didn't know if there would be more bad news about the war of the world. Or if it would be news from someone in the neighborhood about one of their boys. 

"Hey, Armstrong, you hear me?" Mercy said and Esther blinked, holding her gaze on Mercy's again suddenly and nodding. 

"Yeah."

"Don't seem like it." 

"Armstrong, Codona." Lieutenant Stellhorn said, both their gazes twisting to the Lieutenant at the chalkboard, "Something you want to share." The Lieutenant raised a curious brow, as if wanting to put a foot in the doorway, but Mercy got to the bait before Esther could even open her mouth. 

"Just wanted to update her on our newest topic for writing." Mercy said, "Especially with some of the recent rumblings from across the pond, as they say." Lieutenant Stellhorn met Esther's gaze, who watched her back, her guard up and face frozen, but the Lieutenant seemed to let it rest for the moment as she addressed the group again. Esther let out a small breath and glanced at Mercy in thanks for saving her ass. Mercy could only provide a subtle nod before Locklyn was roping her into a conversation that was bound to get her all riled up and entirely too interested and involved for her own good.

As a majority of the ladies cleared out after the meeting, taking up papers and pens and overcoats and covers, along with extra cigarettes or a book left behind, Esther was left in her chair, staring straight forward, a cold sweat having broken out across her forehead and her cheeks a pale glaze. Lieutenant Stellhorn was observant, she was good at picking out the things you necessarily didn't want a person to have to see, but she saw it. The quietness, the withdrawn nature; all of it. Esther thought it was pitiful the second the Lieutenant slowly sat down in her own chair and leaned up against the edge of the desk just like teachers had done to her and Marty when they'd misbehaved in school. She knew Lieutenant Stellhorn wasn't trying to be like that though and with a scenario such as this weighing on her shoulders and grasped in her hands, she suddenly wanted someone else to have to hear it too. 

"I'm guessing the meeting with the General wasn't as best as you had hoped, Armstrong?" Lieutenant Stellhorn asked her and Esther looked up at her with wide eyes and shook her head frantically, a nervous smile spreading onto her face as she sat there. 

"No, no, Lieutenant, it was...it was great, actually. Flattering...I mean, I would've never, ever, guessed-"

"Armstrong." Lieutenant Stellhorn said with a small smile, leaning towards her and Esther let out a small laugh and brushed a strand of hair behind her ear.

"Sorry, just..." Esther could hardly begin to gather her words into an sort of coherent manner, and took a sparing glance towards Lieutenant Stellhorn, "I've gotten reassignment." This wasn't just any sort of merely normal reassignment that Dorothy Ray had gotten down to Pensacola or what Mallory Godwin had earned to San Diego; this was a reassignment that was more than just typewriters and desks and fancy dinners and tea cake discussions. Esther watched Lieutenant Stellhorn's face for a moment, noticing the corner of the the Lieutenant's mouth curving upward.


"Reassignment?" Lieutenant Stellhorn said, a smile poking through onto her face, "Where?" 

"Please don't take my....horrible cold sweat and equally lifeless eyes that you've just gotten a front row to for contempt or anything for that matter, but....Lieutenant, it's just...." Esther was rambling - it was the nerves and absolutely every emotion that was swirling around her right now, "I've been reassigned to a paratrooper regiment, in Georgia. In Camp Toccoa." Esther slowly leaned against the table and let a sigh escape her body for a moment. Everything had been worth it. For years. All that hard work, every ounce of it had been worth it.

"I'll be on the frontlines." Esther said quietly, looking up to the Lieutenant, "They want me to write and report. It's experimental, of course, but this....this means everything." Lieutenant Stellhorn gently reached out and placed her hands over Esther's and smiled, her eyes warm and inviting like Esther's own mother and her touch like the sun.

"I know how hard you've worked. And to be offered a position such as this? This is incredible, Esther, truly incredible." Lieutenant Stellhorn said with warm eyes, "I have no doubt that they picked the most worthy person for the job. The hours and time you've put in just to get here, the work you've done." Esther smiled, her heart warming. There was a tiny part of her that would miss this; being in W-Sector, writing articles with the women, spending their weekends together, just getting one another. But that was just a tiny part, the comfortable part, the part she was standing in that was telling her there was still more out there. The other part was the new part, the dark part, the uncomfortable part that was yet to be explored, yet awaiting that first step. All she had ever wanted to do as a kid was write. Write stories, write about people and places and things. Being the head of the high school newspaper gave her plenty of opportunities and Bryn Mawr helped her earn the degree that would allow her to do that. W-Sector completed that and now with this opportunity stood in front of her, it made her dizzy and barely able to think but it made her want it so much more. 

"Go get yourself a good meal," Lieutenant Stellhorn said quietly with a motherly smile, "we can talk more about it later today. You deserve it. " Esther smiled proudly up towards Lieutenant Stellhorn and moved to feet, her heart pounding inside her chest. Lieutenant Stellhorn smiled slightly and glanced up towards her.

"It's about time we get to experience the war for what it is, and it's even better that you get to do that for us. For W-Sector." Lieutenant Stellhorn said from her chair as Esther stood there, her finger nails tapping against the wood of the table and glancing earnestly towards the Lieutenant for a moment.


"Thank you, Lieutenant." Esther said as she stood, nervously biting back her lip for a moment before glancing over her shoulder towards the door; she knew that going through that doorway, she would have her mind made up in no time with exactly what she wanted to do. Stepping out through the doorway and shutting the door promptly behind herself, ensuring the squeaky lock that usually followed, locked, she found Mercy leaned up against the side of the building, the draw of her cigarette smoke floating up into the sky and curling around her red cheeks, warmed from the hot morning breeze that blew through the center of the dirt road that passed through Fort Bragg. 

"You didn't have to wait." Esther said as she turned and made her way towards her counterpart. Mercy glanced up at her through long lashes and offered a shrug her way.

"I didn't mind." Mercy told her," Plus, you know poor Odette hates when we smoke in barracks." Mercy got that one right, and out here, the lot of them tried to keep those respects coexisting between one another, because Lord knows the men half the time didn't give a damn where they smoked or popped a bottle, enlisted or not. 

"Lieutenant advised I get myself a warm meal, but, after what the General told me, that's the last thing I'd want to do, to be honest." Esther said as the duo started walking down the road, her stomach bubbles of excitement, "Just nerves I guess." Mercy, the shorter of the two, glanced up towards Esther and watched her for a moment, seeming to consider her words. 

"What'd he tell ya?" Mercy asked her, seemingly not wanting to egg her on, but at the same time, wanting to simply egg her on, "I mean, clearly it was important; you're never late to a meeting." Esther let out a sigh and scratched the back of her neck where her neatly knotted and twisted bun sat on the nape of her neck above her ironed collar. 

"Reassignment."

"God, what bastards." muttered Mercy, taking another puff of her cigarette before offering it towards Esther who took it gently, as if to try and get some of the weight that rested on her shoulders off, "Pulling this on you now? Of all times?" 

"That's the thing." Esther said quietly, glancing towards her, "It's not just any normal reassignment we'd expect, you know? It's big Mer; in the grand scheme of this war and us, it's....it's pretty big." 

"Are you going to keep talking about how 'big' this reassignment mission is or are we gonna talk about what it actually is?" mumbled Mercy with a slight smirk as Esther smiled lightly and nodded, scratching the back of her neck nervously again at the thought. 

"It's an Airborne Division. A new one at that."

"You're shitting me." Esther raised a brow.

"Quite literally." Esther said quietly and Mercy's eyes widened. 

"Armstrong, this is huge, you weren't kidding." Mercy practically whispered out of pure shock like it was a massive secret that they were suddenly sitting on and weren't going to be allowed to let out, "An Airborne division! Not even just a regular Army division, that's the Airborne, Armstrong. They're the crazy ones that jump from planes and shit." Esther nodded as Mercy watched her. 

"How the hell you manage that one?" Mercy said, nudging Esther's arm with a grin, "Bet they heard about your rather persistent interview with Eisenhower and were all over that." Esther smirked to herself and shook her head. The Eisenhower Interview had made headlines in April after he had been appointed Chief of Staff for the Operations Division; Esther had been in DC for a conference and Ike happened to be in the same general vicinity and she had persistently made the effort to get an interview with him and was only granted on the chance of her adamancy. The 82nd men still gave her a bit of a heckling for it, though there was no foul play in their words, rather a respected aspect for her urgency in a mere interview with Eisenhower himself. Though, she didn't tap into that side of her time in W-Sector often, she still reflected on that moment and realized how much it had helped to get her here. 

"You think?" Esther asked her and Mercy paused before glancing up at her.

"Yeah, I mean, I read that article and was blown outta my seat. I mean, you went to college for this shit, I just happened to find a really cheap camera and a gig at that in a small town. This is that moment you wait for all your life, right Armstrong? You finally have that front page article, you've got that title with a really good hook, I mean you've got yourself the full package deal!" Mercy said with a grin and Esther couldn't help but let out a small laugh and smile at her words because she knew Mercy was right. 

"He said all good things....especially about Colonel Sink, the commander...." Esther said quietly and Mercy offered a bright smile her way, "He seemed pretty eager about it, he had everything set up and prepped, reassignment prepped, everything, it was quite insane if I'm being honest." Mercy glanced Esther's way again. Esther swallowed briefly and cast a glance towards Mercy before scratching the back of her neck underneath the bun that rested there.


"He was also wondering if one of the photographers from W-Sector would be willing to join me." Esther said quietly and Mercy was quick to meet her gaze, "I was wondering if you could be that photographer."

Chapter Text

"Stop tugging at your collar." muttered Mercy from beside her, reaching up to swat at Esther's hand that kept tugging at the collar of the uniform that she currently wore, "You look fine." 

"I don't feel fine." Esther mumbled back; it was suddenly too hot in this train car, and she was inadvertently aware of just how ungodly pressing some of the glances they were getting from other passengers were. Not to mention she had downed about three cups of water from the older gentleman who wheeled his cart up and down the passenger car and by the third cup, it seemed he was ready to alert any nearby nurses that she was having a meltdown of some sort. That or her nerves were finally getting the best of her. 

"You look fine, Armstrong, I promise you." Mercy said, giving her a shoulder bump that she supposed brought a wave of reassurance across her, "We have these uniforms for a reason and plus, they know we're coming. Can you imagine if they didn't know we were coming and just plop, we showed up on the doorstep of an Airborne Division-"

"Not helping, Mer." Esther said quietly, glancing out the window of the quick moving train, flashes of blue and green outside on the dreary morning moving by in a complete blur as speckles of rain dotted the window pane, "Well...helping just...."


"It's the rambling, I know. I outdo myself sometimes." Mercy said quietly, scoffing to herself as Esther watched her own fingers twitch, tapping against her skirt, rubbing occasionally along her bottom lip or itching for a pencil or for absolutely anything to get her hands busy with something rather than the nervous twitching.

If there were anything to describe the sight of the two of them sat side by side with two suitcases above them, a briefcase and camera case beside them and the bundle of nerves that sat under the wraps of both their uniforms, it would make for quite a comedy show. Where Esther sat in the bundle of nerves and allowed it to consume her, tapping her fingers, looking everywhere but in front of her, Mercy rambled and by God, when she rambled, sometimes you would get yourself into a conversation you weren't even half ready for. 

"Colonel Sink knows we are coming though." Esther said quietly, glancing over at Mercy with half expectant eyes, shrugging her shoulders up, "And plus, Lieutenant Stellhorn firmly told him the importance of why we are there. She knows how important this is, which means she made sure Colonel Sink does as well. I've seen his credentials; he means business with this stuff. He wouldn't do something without meaning." Mercy bit back her lip.


"It still don't mean that they're gonna like us there." Mercy said, her voice still and monotone, "You know that, even I know that. All the girls back in W-Sector knew that." Esther could feel her heart rate increase just at the way Mercy said those words, no matter how true they were entering her ears; but it was the truth. She could be as excited as a child on Christmas, as credible as the best reporters in the world, but it could mean nothing in the face of others. 

"But hey, look at us." Mercy said, seemingly noticing Esther's withdrawn features dawning upon her, "They picked us. Out of all the people they could've picked, they picked you and I, Armstrong. The two of us. Clearly, they saw something when we walked through those doors because I don't know who else would've been sitting here if they didn't." Esther smiled at Mercy's words and met her gaze. Esther knew Mercy was right, she just let it get to her head sometimes more often than not. 

"The press send-off was a bit much." Mercy muttered, as she leaned back a bit in her chair on the train, sending a glance upwards at Esther with a shrug, giving a smirk, "Don't give me that look, Armstrong, they were acting like Barbara Stanwyck was coming down a red carpet." Esther gave a bit of a chuckle and leaned back a bit, crossing her own arms and letting out a small sigh.

"That or Lauren Bacall, either way, there will be no press milling about a military base. Ridgeway likes the theatrics of it all, the glamor. I hardly feel that Toccoa will be much like that." Esther offered, and Mercy grumbled a bit of a reply that was hardly intelligible and leaned back like an impatient child. The squeak of the beverage cart suddenly entered her ear waves and the duo looked over to find the older gentleman coming along the aisle way again.


"Are either of you ladies interested in a drink?" he asked them, looking though as if he was ready to not even wait for their answer and keep moving; probably from the three previous stops he had already had to make. Esther smiled.

"I'll take a cup of water, please."

By the time the train pulled into the station at Toccoa, the rain had done nothing but fall harder and the red clay of the ground seemed turned into a muddy mush just down the steps of the interior train station and beyond that, flickers of lights from moving cars were visible as well as umbrellas and flashes of dark colored raincoats and fancy hats. Esther and Mercy stood side by side under the train platform, suitcases in one hand and a briefcase or camera case in another, staring out into the rainy mess in front of them, the thunder of rain just above the platform making for quite the welcome into Toccoa, Georgia. 

"Lieutenant Stellhorn mentioned we'd have an escort." Mercy said quietly, as Esther let her eyes dance out into the rain where cars sat in waiting along the side of the road, "She mentioned they'd be here on time, promptly supposedly." Esther could feel a bit of dread pool in the bottom of her stomach for a moment before glancing towards Mercy who wore a somewhat similar expression of existential dread. 

"Here, take this." Mercy said, handing over her camera case towards Esther to juggle into her grasp, "I'll knock on windows, see if any are from the Army." 

"Mer-"

"It's fine." Mercy said, popping her collar up a bit to hide her neck and bun that sat exposed, "It's just water." And with that, Mercy turned, hopping down the little flight of stairs and into the rain, moving towards the vehicles in an evident hurry. 

"Right, just water." Esther said quietly to herself, wrangling the camera over her shoulder to keep it off the ground, staring forward again from under the rain platform as she watched Mercy sprint from vehicle to vehicle and as she moved from vehicle to vehicle, the dread sat like a venomous snake inside her stomach. By the time Mercy came back, with a disgruntled look on her face, Esther attempted to remain hopeful as the dripping-wet photographer came towards her. But Mercy shook her head.


"None of them are from the Army. All business or lumber related." Mercy said, glancing back out into the rain, "This escort shoulda been here by now though, Armstrong. Lieutenant Stellhorn said he'd be here by 1200; early that is. It's-" she stopped briefly to glance at her watch, "1230." Esther watched Mercy and it seemed they both got the same idea.

"Rain'll feel nice with this August heat." Mercy said as she took back her camera and slung it over her shoulder and hoisted up her bag. Esther's mind though wasn't even focused on the rain, she practically didn't even care; rain was rain. She was more concerned over the fact that the escort wasn't even here; the military was punctual and on time and more importantly, never late. Worry seeped into her stomach as the two began walking down the side of the dirt road. Camp Toccoa wasn't far from the train platform; besides a small town and roads that led out to lumber areas all around in the nearby Appalachian mountains, there wasn't much else here. 

"Just make sure to keep your camera dry, Mer." Esther said as they turned down another length of dirt road that stretched out in a muddy and clay-like mess in front of them, "That thing will become the most precious thing out here."

"Yeah, that and my pillow." Esther snickered at Mercy's words as they continued forward through the rain; not the most pleasant situation, but they got what they were gifted by this point. The rain wasn't too bad, it never really was. It reminded her of the days her and Marty would spend outside in the puddles by their house as kids, with the old raincoats that Mama made them wear as they splashed about. It was more the feeling of getting to play in the rain than actually getting wet with rainwater. They were kids. They hadn't cared.

Two men in olive drab stood at the gate with M1s shouldered, rain pelting down on their helmets. Esther caught Mercy's gaze for a moment as they neared and cleared her throat before getting closer. She caught the gaze of one of the men at the front; she had determined it was an MP, noting the black band and white lettering around his bicep that rain pelted down upon. 

"Excuse me." Esther called as they neared - though as they did, she felt quite silly and almost surprised that they didn't have weapons held up and pointed in their faces at that moment. Two women coming forward with a camera, briefcase and two bags of luggage, dripping wet with shoes caked in red mud and uniforms and covers soaked. 

"We're the women from W-Sector at Fort Bragg; we had been attached to the 82nd before we got reassignment to the 506th at Toccoa." Esther said as they came to a stop in front of the MP, Mercy peaking a disgruntled glance up at Esther who was seemingly trying to remain hopeful in the situation. The uneasiness and dread though that lingered in her stomach made her feel nauseous as she stood there. It was almost embarrassing to a point that she wished for the cover of night. The MP glanced towards the other MP across the way of the entrance and then back to the two women in front of him. Undoubtably, he met Esther's eyes first; she was taller compared to Mercy's short stature and could hold herself. 

"We were not given word that you're arrival would be today." Oh, so they did at least know they were coming, just not today. Esther glanced at Mercy and then the MP again, her cheeks flushing red for a second as she dug into her coat pocket and produced a paper forward towards him. His sentence, though a bit comforting, had been a bit colder than she would have expected, but nonetheless, it was a step closer to getting into Toccoa. 

"These are the tickets. For today, August 6th. Departure 1100, Arrival 1230. Our Lieutenant had told us there would be an escort awaiting our arrival." Esther said and she could tell that Mercy was itching to say something beside her, but was using all her strength to hold back and let Esther take care of this; she would go about it in a more diplomatic way. The MP took the ticket and looked at it, the pattering of the rain around them becoming more mind-numbing by the second. Esther could feel the rainwater dripping down the sides of her cheeks and into her uniform, underneath the collar and soaking her undershirt. 

"Sergeant Gomez, I'm taking these two women to Colonel Sink." the MP said, the other MP, Sergeant Gomez, nodding, his eyes lingering on the two women for a moment before returning forward again. The MP in front of them, Esther was sure his name was McCoy, Sergeant McCoy at that, folded the train ticket and held it back out to Esther with a nod, his striking blue eyes watching hers as she took the paper and quickly put it back into her front pocket. 

"Follow me." he said, his gaze shifting to over his shoulder and toward the inside of the camp; red clay and dirt roads filled with puddles, little huts where small lanterns glowed on the inside sat, a flag pole where the American flag usually hung, a few people outside moving through the rain in olive drab, shiny helmets and coats, and a few platoons of men in formation in the rain. 

"Did they tell us the wrong goddamn day?" Mercy muttered towards Esther as they followed Sergeant McCoy, the rain pounding down a bit harder than before. Esther looked to Mercy as they approached a small building that appeared to be Headquarters for the commanders on base. Sergeant McCoy took the few stairs up and then pushed open the door and stepped inside, Esther and Mercy following quietly behind, stepping in the door and enjoying for once that the rain wasn't coming down on them.

A long hallway opened up in front of them and the duo glanced at one another before continuing to follow Sergeant McCoy down to the doorway at the end of the brightly lit hall, knocking sharply three times against the wood before a subtle 'come in' followed. Sergeant McCoy turned the golden handle and stepped inside, glancing back at the two women and giving a nod of his head in their direction for them to follow. The room was quite a large space, Esther thought; it smelled of fresh pine wood and cigar smoke, somewhat like her grandparents house in the Appalachians. Sat at the large dark wood frame desk though was a man with a steely stare and a pointed gaze, fingers interlocked with one another there in front of him as he watched them. 

"These are the two women from Bragg, sir. Said there was no escort for them when they arrived at the train station." Sergeant McCoy said as the duo came to stand side by side, dripping wet with rain water and red mud in front of the man, possibly shivering as well. The man behind the desk watched them and slid his chair backwards, pulling open the file cabinet beside his desk and searching through his papers before pulling out a thin file in a yellow folder and opening it up onto his desk; it was fairly direct and to be quite honest, Esther was sure the man behind the desk had a clue what the two of them were here about without the help of Sergeant McCoy's words. 


"Esther Armstrong and Mercy Codona. Am I correct?" the man behind the desk said, looking up towards them and meeting Esther's eyes.

"Yes, sir." she said with a nod, almost immediately falling quiet after. 

"You're arrival was scheduled for August 6th, of the year 1942. At 1230." the man behind the desk said, glancing towards the clock on the wall which read 1300, "You're late." Esther could feel heat rising from her neck and reaching up towards her cheeks and swallowed, feeling her mouth fill with words all of the sudden that she didn't know how to reorder into a sentence. 

"You see, sir, Lieutenant Stellhorn at Fort Bragg of the W-Sector informed us before our departure that once we arrived, there'd be an escort to take us to Camp Toccoa. We couldn't find the escort and decided to walk, we just knew we needed to get here." Mercy explained and Esther silently thanked her.

"In the rain?"

"That's correct, sir." Esther piped up with a nod, forcing herself not to step forward and bow her head like an idiot, "It took a longer bit of time, but we made it here."  How else would they have gotten here then, if no escort? She can't stop the rain. The man behind the desk looked at the two of them for a moment before glancing at Sergeant McCoy. Sergeant McCoy only offered as much as a half-hearted shrug out of his own confused state for the situation at hand and the man behind the desk sighed.

"Have a seat, ladies." he said, pointing to the two wooden chairs with crimson cushions in front of him. Mercy took a willing glance towards Esther who could only straighten her shoulders as she moved towards the chair, her shoes squeaking as they moved towards the chair. Sitting down, Mercy joined her in the other chair and they were faced with the unnamed man behind the desk who watched them quizzically. His eyes were narrowed and his conscious seemed cleared. 

"I believe you both are keenly aware of the importance of why you are currently here." the man stated, leaning back in his chair and giving his undivided attention to the two of them, his gaze shifting between the two of them. How important could they be if said escort had been MIA?

"Yes, sir." both women said, nearly in sync with one another, before they went quiet and stared at the man behind the desk. 

"Then let me properly introduce myself. I am Colonel Robert Sink, Commander of the 506th Airborne Division here at Camp Toccoa." the man said, namely now Colonel Sink in Esther's eyes, "I am sure Lieutenant Stellhorn of W-Sector briefed the both of you of what you are doing here, but let me elaborate more on the circumstance." Esther and Mercy shared a look between one another. 

"The 506th Airborne Division is an experimental unit to prepare men to parachute and jump out of planes into enemy territory." Colonel Sink stated, clasping his hands together in front of him on the desk, as he cleared his throat and offered a tight smile their way. 

"Permission to speak, sir?" Esther queried. Colonel Sink met her gaze and nodded her on.


"Go on, Miss Armstrong." 

"The Germans and the Soviets have had their own versions of paratroopers for years." she said with a nod, "Back in W-Sector, Miss Codona and I covered a section on the German paratroopers when the Soviet Union was being invaded, sir. Well....rather when there were battles on Sevastopol, sir, rather not the Soviet Union invasion." Esther looked to Colonel Sink who was watching her with questioning eyes and rather leaned back and pulled a cigar from a draw and lit it up.

"What is the point of understanding that, Miss Armstrong?" Colonel Sink asked her and Esther met his gaze and pushed a few wet strands of hair past her eyes and wrung her hands together nervously in her lap. 

"We've had time to see a bit of what they have done with their own paratroopers. The Soviets have had paratroopers since before the war and this war is an expression of getting to put something....new like that to war. War allows countries to equip methods like that so new to warfare. The Great War included trench warfare and chemical gas as well as the introduction of tanks.....the war went on in stalemates for months to years because of new technology that people and countries were not equipped to fight with." Esther stated, her eyes training on Colonel Sink, "Paratroopers for the United States, though experimental, we get to learn from what other countries and essentially, the enemy, have done with their own version of paratroopers. War shows you what works and what doesn't, enemy or ally." Colonel Sink leaned back against his chair and offered her a nod in her direction.

"Fascinating analysis, Miss Armstrong." Colonel Sink said with a nod and a look to Sergeant McCoy behind them who was looking towards Esther in her chair, "Where'd you learn all that?"


"My father was in the Great War, sir." Esther said, her hands nervously twirling in one another again as she looked towards Colonel Sink again, "My Master's final paper discussion focused on the impact of new technology on the economy of the past or present world. I was able to gather information that way, making it relevant to the discussion now." Colonel Sink managed a smile and a shake of his head.


"General Ridegway was rightful in his reasons." Colonel Sink said with a nod, "You graduated...?"

"December 1941, sir. A...uh, semester early, sir, was about to work with W-Sector thereafter." Esther explained watching as Colonel Sink flitted out a puff of smoke from the cigar and sighed, with a nod and a glance at Mercy, who was stiff and quiet beside her.

"The reason you two ladies are here and will be worked into Easy Company is because of the skills you possess. You're being made out to be out there amongst some of the greatest. Traditionally, this isn't how things sorta like this are done, but since we're experimenting with the 506th, who says we can't experiment with you two as well." Colonel Sink said and glanced at the two of them, who remained quiet, "However, that won't really start until the war, of course take your pictures and your notes, but you gotta earn that spot first. You'll do all the men do. Train with them, eat with them, fire a weapon like them, gain all the likewise knowledge just like 'em too. Because you'll all be Easy Company. Everyone'll play their part later on in war, and have their jobs, where someone's a mortarman, someone else is a sharpshooter and you'll be the writer or photographer. But for now, you're an enlisted and you'll do the same as any other man." 

"You'll know just as well what any other man in that company does, along with your speciality, are we clear?" Colonel Sink said and both women nodded.

"Yes, sir." 

"Well, for the moment we are done here. Take them to their quarters, Sergeant McCoy, I'll let Lieutenant Sobel know they're here." Colonel Sink said, "Find out who was supposed to pick these two ladies up." Sergeant McCoy stood there for a moment, before giving a firm nod and then turning to the two dripping wet women, red clay covered boots and disgruntled expressions.


"I'll show you to your living quarters." he told them and then saluted Colonel Sink and moved towards the doorway, Esther and Mercy following dutifully. The duo exchanged a somewhat eager yet cautious glance between the two of them and followed behind Sergeant McCoy outside into the pouring rain yet again. He turned to the two of them and watched them as the rain pattered down onto their luggage and covers as well as uniforms that had once been neatly ironed and pressed. He stared at them for a hard minute before clearing his throat and meeting Esther's eyes.

"Your living quarters are currently a sort of half-way home at the moment; small shack that fits up to 8 men but since your spaces in the billets where the men will be are not ready yet, you'll have to stick it out here for a few days. You should be alerted when you have to move." he explained to them, his voice stiff and his eyes unmoving from Esther's, "It appears that even though you both were on schedule to come today, they are not prepared." Esther glanced worriedly at Mercy who was staring down Sergeant McCoy coldly and gravely. 

"I'll show you where the wash houses and bathrooms are and then your billet for the moment. Mess hall's just down the road aways, that bigger lookin' billet just there, everything else sorta just comes to you as you make your way around." he told them as Esther took another willing glance at Mercy who was throwing daggers at the Sergeant, "Let's go." Esther and Mercy followed after the Sergeant less willing than they had before, taking eager glances around the place as they moved through the rain, down the muddied and clay-filled path. 

"The washhouse is just over there." Sergeant McCoy said, pointing through the rain towards a small shack with a crooked door, "Usually just a buncha shower heads, might want one of the guys to keep a watch for ya." 

"Unless they'd rather have us killed." muttered Mercy as Esther spared a glance her way with a sigh. As they continued walking, Esther could make out from the path, small areas where platoons of men were stood, doing an obstacle course or hand-to-hand combat in the rain, quite obviously, a CO making it known that he was loud, clear and present right then and there. 

"And here is where home'll be for the next few days. Can't say how long, but it's as comfy as you'll get." Sergeant McCoy said as he pushed open the door to a small hut. It had about 8 cots, a few windows dotting the walls that were covered in nothing but a thin layer of glass, and a tarp for a roof to top it off, though it sounded like sheets of metal were up there too, making each drop of rain sound like a gunshot going off. Like a faraway war they weren't in yet. 

"It's cozy." Mercy muttered quietly under her breath, "Suppose all that I gotta do now is rub two sticks together for warmth." Sergeant McCoy let out a slight scoff and seemingly rolled his eyes as he crossed his arm.


"You got 3 days in here max, I'm not saying you're gonna freeze to death in that amount of time either. It's Georgia for Chrissake." 

"They said that about the damn Eastern seaboard with the blizzard of '88. Paralyzed the entire coast from the Chesapeake to Maine." Mercy bluffed, side-eyeing Sergeant McCoy as she did so, "Heard plenty of stories about that in my time." 

"I think we're far enough removed from all that, Mercy, let's just let Sergeant McCoy get back to his duties." Esther said, giving a nod and a forced smile his way as he glanced at her. 

"I'm still hung up on the fact all we got for warmth is thin blankets yet I see billets with smoke coming out the top." Mercy said, "You've got some explaining to do, Sergeant McCoy."

"You really don't have to." Esther told him as he silently shrugged his shoulders.


"Don't murder the messenger now, Mer." Esther said looking to Mercy, "He's just telling us how it is. No use complaining. We got a roof and a bed. I'd say there's not much else we can ask for." 

"Equal treatment would suffice." Mercy muttered, but Esther was sure only she heard it. Mercy could be a hothead at times, but she got what she needed to get done more often than not, even if she used strong language and was a bit more forward than Esther would be. Sergeant McCoy met both their gazes again.

"Lieutenant Sobel should be by real soon to meet you both with his Lieutenants. They'll give you the run down." he told them and Esther nodded while Mercy stared, cold and deliberately trying to scare off the Sergeant with her mind.

"Thanks again, Sergeant McCoy." Esther said as the Sergeant turned and promptly shut the door behind him. Esther turned to Mercy who stood there, arms crossed, freezing and downright angry. 

"How can you be so nice to an asshat like that?" Mercy muttered, shaking her head, "Did you see the way he was looking at us? I swear he thought he could melt us with his mind." Esther sighed and looked around.


"I don't think the likes of Sergeant McCoy are going to be our biggest issue here, Mer." Esther told her, and Mercy sighed in defeat, glancing over her shoulder towards the 2 rows of 4 cots and then down at her uniform.


"They expect us to meet the Captain and his Lieutenants dressed like a wet dog?" Mercy asked her with expectant eyes and Esther chuckled at her words and shook her head.


"I'm not sure what else they'd expect."

The duo took turns changing behind a thin white sheet that they hung at the end of the shack, keeping an eye on the door through the little peep hole that stared out into a grey desolate world, getting into the gear that they typically wore during downtime while in W-Sector. They hadn't been provided with much else besides cots with blankets and flat pillows.

Esther was making careful work of brushing out her wet hair when a knock came on the door. Mercy was quick to meet her gaze and stubbed out her cigarette quickly at the sound, hopping up and moving towards the door. Esther slowly placed down the hair brush and stood to her feet, her heart beginning to pound inside her chest, so much to the point where she could hear it in her ears.

Esther watched as Mercy took one last breath before pulling open the door; on the other side stood a few men - only three, but it was enough to be attention-grabbing in the slightest. The men at the helm was tall and broad-shouldered, he had a disgruntled expression drawn up upon his face as he took in the sight of the two of them stood there in front of him, and he seemed stiff and uncomfortable and mildly unpleasant. It's like he had a stick up his butt, Esther thought to herself, something Marty would say whenever they passed Mr. O'Neil down the street who'd yell at anyone that touched his yard. It never seemed to matter if it were bug or human, you were yelled at if you touched a blade of grass. \

Esther's eyes took in the two men that stood behind the helm man, with whom she noticed his Captain's bars on the collar of his uniform. The first man was taller than the second, with noticeably brighter hair, an orange-ash like shade of sunset, with an incredibly calm exterior that was a complete alter to the Captain. He was a 2nd Lieutenant; she could tell by the bar on his own collar. What she noticed most of all was the kindness that seemed to live in his eyes; they weren't malicious looking like the Captain's where sneers and snakes seemed to thrive. They seemed gentle and understanding and if anything, humble and kind.

That's when she flicked her eyes to last man, the shortest of the three, but if anything, the one with a personality you could spot from a mile. The one that almost reminded her of a professor in Bryn Mawr who always dropped the formalities and asked about your day, sliding in a joke, but making quick work of a report you wrote and not being twisty about it. He had a slight grin on his face; not too big or Mercy would have a field day with that. He was also a Lieutenant, she figured he was friends with the ginger-haired Lieutenant to his side and was more likely to oblige the commentaries of the Lieutenant than the Captain in general. For a moment there, it was silent; all you could hear were the raindrops dancing on the metal roof, sounding like gunshots that echoed off into the distance with each drop they made. The Captain jutted out an awkward hand, stiffly towards Mercy and cleared his throat.

"Lieutenant Herbert Sobel, Commanding Officer." he said, turning to Mercy who still stood frozen with her hand on the door. Mercy sent a glance to Esther who tried to wipe the awkward grimace off her own face and then turned back to Lieutenant Sobel. So this is Lieutenant Sobel then, Esther told herself quietly as she watched Mercy shake his hand firmly.

"Mercy Codona, photographer." she said. Esther bristled at the lack of response from Lieutenant Sobel who then refocused his attention onto Esther, stepping away from Mercy as he did so. He approached in only a few steps, cold eyes on her own, and held out his hand, stiffly, yet again, and a real lack of enthusiasm and gusto to follow. 

"If she's the photographer, you must be the writer." he said," Lieutenant Sobel." Esther watched him for a moment, her heart beating faster inside her chest as the unease she suddenly felt. Of course she were a writer, but she was on track for correspondence if anything. She was more than just a writer for a paper like she was in high school, writing on the local news column for school. She had gone to college for this, worked relentlessly long hours for this. 

"Correspondent, sir, actually." she said, shaking his hand firmly, meeting his gaze with stern eyes and a pointed brow, "Esther Armstrong. That's what we call it in W-Sector." Lieutenant Sobel seemed harmfully not fazed by her word choice and cleared his throat again.


"Then it will be my pleasure to remind you here and now, Miss Armstrong, that you are not in W-Sector anymore and in the eyes of Easy Company, you will be a writer. Am I clear?" he told her, retracting his hand like he had just touched ice and staring down at her with an eager urge to turn away and leave it seemed. Esther watched him, frozen, barely recognizing the presence of the other three people behind them. 

"Understood, sir." she managed out, her voice sounding tight as she said that, her mind belittling her all the sudden as she said those words. Before she could even have time to open her mouth again, Lieutenant Sobel stepped back from her and turned to Mercy who stood quiet by the door still, the two other Lieutenants silent in the threshold. 

"Since you both are joining the company on a rather....precarious day, you will start your training tomorrow with the men. A majority of them have been here for over a month and have made the adjustment to how we run things here at Toccoa. I am not sure what you got up to in W-Sector, but I can assure you, Toccoa will be much different. You will wake at 5, I'll assign an NCO to fetch you. From there, you'll get a grasp of what occurs. If you're not cut out for the job, then we can gladly find others who are." Lieutenant Sobel said, his words sending pins and needles into Esther's bones as she watched him, willing herself to meet his gaze that he willingly avoided, "It's a wonder we don't have other men filling these spots...." Esther's eyes flicked to Mercy's who were uncomfortably looking at her. 

"Dinner will be brought to you, 1800." Lieutenant Sobel said, "My Lieutenants will get you acquainted." And with that, Lieutenant Sobel was turning and moving past the two Lieutenants behind him and right out the door. The four of them stood there in silence for a moment as they listened to the splashy footsteps that waded away in the drowning out of the rain. 

"You'll get used to that." the shorter Lieutenant said, with an encouraging smirk and a shake of his head, stepping forward to shake Mercy's hand, "Lieutenant Lewis Nixon." 

"I don't know what was harder to stand; his ignorance or his choice of words." Mercy managed out, "I would rather be brought instead of fetched." 

"That was....a little out of character." Lieutenant Nixon said with a shrug, "He's an asshole when he wants to be."

"And I'm guessing that's all the time." Mercy answered him back, her brow narrowed.

"Pretty much." Mercy dropped his hand and went back to her reserved position at the door. Esther approached the two and stuck out her hand; if anything, they had to work with these men, she mine as well be friendly.

"Esther Armstrong, it's nice to meet you." God, if she only didn't sound like as much of a suck up as she seemed to sound like. Lieutenant Nixon shook her hand.


"You're the one from Bryn Mawr, right?" he asked her, raising a brow her way as she brought her hands to her sides again and met his gaze, "At least, that's what Colonel Sink was going on about." 

"I am." she said with a nod," Graduated a semester early, just last December." That seemed to silence the questioning and allow for the quieter Lieutenant with the ginger hair in the back to speak up.

"Lieutenant Richard Winters," he said, shaking Mercy's hand and then her own, "it's nice to meet you both." If anything, these two Lieutenants seemed the nicer out of them and Lieutenant Sobel. She had no doubts that during training Lieutenant Sobel was bound to be an utter joy to entangle with. 

"We think they'll be moving you both, by tomorrow, into the enlisted quarters with your assigned platoons." Lieutenant Nixon said, shrugging his shoulders, "It's for the best, I can assure you." Esther and Mercy shared a look between one another. Esther had plenty of thoughts floating through her head at that and she swallowed quietly to herself. Esther stood there for a moment, biting back her lip as she looked to both of the Lieutenants and then back to her cot. 

"They have your ODs there, don't know how well they'll fit, but we can try and tailor it if they don't fit. Also have your PT gear, shoes, socks. Combat boots are there, too. Grease kit and shower kit are there as well. It should be everything you need, but if there's anything else you need, you can just let us know." Lieutenant Winters explained to them, clapping his hands together. 

"We also have your dog tags," Lieutenant Winters said, pulling the two jingly things from his pocket and holding them out to each woman, "they are your lifeline in war. I suggest you never take them off." Esther slowly took the dog tags into her hands and stared at them for a moment before comfortably pulling them over her neck and settling them there.

With the formalities out of the way, Lieutenant Winters and Lieutenant Nixon seemed in quite the hurry to get out of the door - whether to their next meal or the men - they weren't wasting time muddling about in the half-built billets where two women from what they dubbed W-Sector were sequestered. Esther really didn't blame them. They didn't really know them and Esther and Mercy didn't know them. They'd only just met. They weren't sharing a meal or wine or beer together or catching up after a long time apart.

Esther and Mercy were left in relative silence by the time the two Lieutenants had left, with a promise of dinner being brought to them at 1800 and that lights out was at 2100. Lieutenant Sobel could be upset all he wants that they weren't men filling in these spots, but Esther couldn't change that nor the time of the sunrise, so he would have to get over it as much as she would have to prove herself. Mercy glanced at Esther and gave her a bored look.

"They're putting us with the enlisted?" Mercy said, moving towards her bed and collapsing onto the bedding, sending a look to Esther, "You buying that?" Esther crossed her arms and let out a huff and stared at the door.


"Judging by our oh-so-kind introduction we got to Toccoa, I'm not so sure yet." Esther said quietly, brushing a few strands of wet hair from her eyes. Esther stared at the door for a moment before convincing herself to sit back down on her own cot and stare blankly forward. Mercy smiled slightly at her from across the way and held up a little box.

"Cigarette?" she asked Esther. It didn't take Esther too much time to contemplate before standing to her feet and sitting beside Mercy and carefully taking one of the cigarettes and placing it on her lip. Mercy carefully lit the cigarette for Esther before lighting her own and leaned back with a sigh. 

"If these were two glasses of fine champagne, I'd offer a toast and a cheers." Esther said quietly and Mercy chuckled at her words.


"Sounds like a damn fine cheers then." The two women shared a laugh as the rain fell down like gunshots on the metal roof and the rumble of distant thunder hung over the camp as a whole. Camp Toccoa would be home. 

Chapter Text

There was fast, rapid knocking on the door mixed with the reverent sound of reveille that startled Esther from a deep sleep that she didn't realize she needed. It was dark, there was absolutely no light for her to see and she swore she fell right out of the bed and onto the floor, a groan escaping her lips as she hurriedly pulled herself from the wooden ground. 

"Oh my fuck." she heard Mercy grumble from the opposite side of the room, a loud crash following her words, "Armstrong?"

"I'm getting it, I'm getting it." Esther said, stumbling towards the direction of the door, turning the metal lock quickly and whipping it open. There stood on the other side were two men - tall men - staring down at her as she stood, staring at them in the doorway. It was a missed beat before anyone, or rather, before the men started talking. 

"Why the fuck is your door locked?" the tallest one practically spat out, stepping inside without much hesitation or regard towards her or Mercy, "You don't lock doors here, alright, you two? Sobel'll get a laugh outta that when you end up late because no one came to wake ya up." 

"We can do that plenty on our own." Mercy called from where she stood, rigid, beside her own bed. The taller man of the two looked towards her in the darkness and then back to Esther who stood frozen by the door. 


"Appears not." he said, glancing at Esther who looked away and towards her own bed. The shorter of the both fairly tall two men stayed by the door, something not propelling him to want to cross the current threshold that had been embezzled and simply stared. 

"Sobel sees ya like this and he'll hunt you down. Tomorrow ya better be ready by 0500, not just rolling yourselves outta bed." the taller one commented, throwing a glance towards Esther again who refused to meet his eyes. Make eye contact, Esther told herself into her head, they aren't going to see you if you don't make eye contact. There was something inside of her that wasn't working right, something that wasn't propelling her to make eye contact as she stood there in a tense silence of 0500, in pitch darkness, with Mercy and two men who had no names but were cursing and firing up at a storm at 0500 instead. 

"We locked the doors because we knew it was for the best." Esther said quietly, inconspicuously quoting Lieutenant Nixon, her voice somewhat stagnant and cold. It seemed code for what no one wanted to say. For what no one wanted to have to say or discuss, for that matter. 

"No one even knew you two were here, except him and I, alright?" 


"That don't mean nothing isn't gonna happen." Mercy said, her voice cold in the darkness, like a silent standoff. The group of four fell quiet and Esther was starting to get anxious, from the outbursts of the tall man and the silence of the shorter. 

"I don't know what the hell you two are getting at, but Sobel ain't gonna start playing nice just because two girls show up, alright? I can sure as hell promise you, Easy isn't gonna be much of the same." the tall man said, with a grueling sneer and turned to look at Esther one more time, looking as if he were about to unleash a staggering spit of anger her way. 

"You can speak up every once and a while, ya know? Probably would suit ya better than standing there with your mouth shut." the tall man said and Esther watched him slowly move back through the door and grab the other by the shoulder. She stared at him, she stared at him hard, memorizing the way his lips moved when he talked, his gait and his body language all wrapped into one. Maybe when it was light, she would actually be able to give a damn what this man was saying when she knew who it was. For all she cared, it was a man with no face and a man with no face didn't matter to her. 

"C'mon, Christenson, let's go." the taller man said, "We'll wait for you two out here. You got two minutes max, before we leave you for your own." Esther took a glance at 'Christenson' who still stood stiffly in the doorway of their billet, staring at both the women. She couldn't quite see his face, but from his rigid stature there against the wall, it only took her two guesses to figure out he was uncomfortable. Christenson didn't appear to say much to the taller man, whether it was another superior or friend, but he simply leaned forward and clasped the door handle and firmly pulled it shut, leaving Esther and Mercy in eclipsed silence there in the billet.


"Quite an NCO, amiright? Did his balls just drop?" muttered Mercy, as Esther quickly turned her head towards Mercy stood at her own cot, pulling out her hairbrush and angrily raking the brush through her hair the best she could. 


"The other guy..... Christenson doesn't seem like that though, right?" Esther asked her quietly, "He seemed.....uncomfortable."

"He can be uncomfortable all he wants, that don't change that his buddy just went at it with us. He didn't even introduce himself." Mercy groaned, "What a total asshat. The both of them." Esther sighed - trying to reason with Mercy at 0500 and the fact they had a rude awakening from a total asshole was going to be a lost cause.

"Let's just get dressed, head out, see what happens." Esther said, "He can be like that all he wants. It doesn't change the fact we are here and that we were asked to be here as well." Mercy watched Esther in the darkness from across the little aisle where their cots were and sighed. 

"Wish I had the same optimistic perspective on this whole thing, the way you do, Armstrong. I sure as hell don't have any of that after seeing whatever asshat was saying." Mercy said as she pulled off her shirt, and pulled on the white tee, "Why the fuck you got your door locked? I wonder why, to keep out assholes like you." Esther grinned to herself quietly and shook her head before quickly getting changed.

If there was anything a Marine father had taught her, it was to get yourself tidied up early in the morning, be pleasant with everyone and anyone you interact with, you don't want to make enemies at 0500 and do what you're told. He was always like that with her and Marty. No matter what setting, even if were summer, school or a holiday. You did as you were told. Esther was grateful for that.

Once they were changed, the two girls took elastics to pull back their hair into buns; it kept it out of your face and away from your eyes and was in military regulation at W-Sector more often than not. Stepping outside, they found the two men in, what appeared to be, a deep, private conversation that evidently they didn't want the women to hear. The second the taller caught wind of the two of them coming forward from the billet in the darkness, he took a second to look at them before, almost inadvertently rolling his eyes. Esther didn't miss the way his eyes had been on her legs; a revolting shiver ran over her body and she tried to ignore what that feeling had been like.


"6 mile runs every morning." he said as Christenson walked in pace by his side, "Easy's the only company who does it sometimes, we run it every morning. Other companies are soft, they want their precious babies to sleep. Here? Sobel makes you run day in and day out. He don't care half the time. It's not his problem if you fall asleep or not the night before." Esther and Mercy shared a look. 

"He expects his sirs and yes sirs, too, don't be slacking and call him captain and bullshit like that alright. It boosts his ego and puts a fire under his ass and we don't need anymore of that here."

"Seems you got experience doing that." Mercy muttered, "Looks like it was your fault." The tall man ignored her comment and led them towards where rows of enlisted in platoons were lined up. Christenson though was glaring towards Mercy; Esther almost wasn't sure if she was reading his expression right, but watched as Christenson rolled his eyes and looked away. 

"Do they know we're coming?" Mercy asked, "Or did you forget to tell them that, too?" Christenson quickly stopped and turned on Mercy, catching her in her footsteps and the pressure with which she walked into him sent her to the ground, the smack a sound that made Esther freeze. White tee covered in red-clad mud from last night's rain, all up and down her legs and bum, and the new shoes she had just tied up. 

"How about you learn to shut the hell up." muttered Christenson, Esther and the taller man, who now she was assuming was the NCO, taking a few steps back from the altercation at hand, "You start making comments like that and you'll be done for, alright?" Mercy stared up at him from the mess she currently was sat in, her features cold and her eyes darkened, for the blue they normally were, Esther saw nothing but nightshade. Esther glanced over her shoulder and found a portion of the men over in the grouped up platoons staring over in their general direction, the spikes of orange, sunset hair showing up as Esther noticed Lieutenant Winters making his way over towards them, his gate quick and his eyes set on Mercy and the tall man. 

"Chirstenson." she heard Lieutenant Winters called. Christenson let his shoulders tense up as he stepped back from Mercy and glanced towards the red-headed Lieutenant who came to a stop beside the group of four. Lieutenant Winters slowly looked down to find Mercy in the red clay puddle, mixed with rain water and mud and glanced to Christenson. 

"Get in line, Christenson." Lieutenant Winters said with a quick nod to him, before glancing over to the tall man. 

"Get your men in order, Sergeant Stedman." Lieutenant Winters said and the tall man, the Sergeant, who was most definitely the NCO, took a glance to Esther and a snide look to Mercy on the ground and clapped Christenson on the shoulder. Christenson seemed to glare at Mercy before stepping away with a nod to Lieutenant Winters, jogging over to the formations with all the men behind Sergeant Stedman and sliding in at the second row, a few of the men glancing Christenson's way. But Christenson stayed quiet, staring to where the two women were still with Lieutenant Winters.

Lieutenant Winters offered a hand down to Mercy, with whom, quickly rolled out of the mud and stood up, the red clay pooling down her legs and onto the fresh, white socks she had pulled on this morning with the new boots. The red clay was beginning to soak through the back of the white shirt she wore and it was splattered up and over the backs of her arms with all the likes aside. Lieutenant Winters awkwardly retracted his extended hand and looked over at Esther who had remained painfully silent throughout the entire interaction. Esther looked to Mercy, who stood in the darkness, her cheeks flaming with embarrassment and her hands balled into tiny fists at her sides. 

"Let's get you in formation." Lieutenant Winters said, motioning his head in the direction of the platoons of men and letting the two women follow. Esther glanced at Mercy, who fell in step beside her, but Mercy stared straight forward, her eyes emotionless with an angry gate to follow. Something uneasy settled deep within Esther's stomach as she watched Lieutenant Winters slowly lead the women in front of the men. 

"Just so you are all informed, per request of Lieutenant Sobel. Easy Company, specifically, has received a war correspondent and a war photographer for documentation of our training and expected time in the war. As we are a newer concept in military and para-military, they want us documented and explored. Esther Armstrong is a war correspondent, who graduated just last December from Bryn Mawr with Honors. Mercy Codona is a war photographer, newly accomplished with photographs in TIME magazine. We expect you to be welcome to their presence here in Easy Company." Lieutenant Winters said, but as Esther looked out to the faces of the men, who were dead silent, she found that many faces she was entirely unable to read. They were not the faces of friends. Lieutenant Winters turned to the two of them.

"They're splitting you up, two different platoons. There was no changing that. Codona you're with 2nd, you're with me. Armstrong, you're in 3rd with Moore." he told them, his eyes flitting from one to the next, "You'll be next to Talbert, Armstrong. You'll be next to Ranney in 2nd, Codona." With a nod, he was sending them over to their spots. It almost felt like being the last person that wasn't picked to be on a team in school as Esther slowly made way over to 3rd platoon where Lieutenant Moore was stood. Esther approached him and he turned once her presence was acknowledged and made a quick show of shaking her hand and pointing her towards where Talbert was.

"I can promise ya, if there's anyone you want to be next to its Talbert." Lieutenant Moore had mumbled to her as she walked towards the first row where a man on the edge was watching her. Christenson was just behind the open spot where she was supposed to stand and she took a second to register that this was her spot.

Slowly, she met the gaze of whom she assumed was Talbert; boyish looks, few strands and neatly cut and gelled hair hanging in his eyes, broadened shoulders and the looks of a football player fresh out of high school, eyeing her up like she was fresh bait to throw into a river. Esther took the liberty to look away from him and rather stared forward, the eyes of Christenson burrowing its way into her neck and Talbert's just to her left. Her cheeks were warm from the embarrassment she felt and her stomach was rolling at the thoughts of them staring her down, like all this staring would send her to the grave. It almost felt childish, the staring, the acting like she were a disease.

There was a reason she was stood here.

Even if they didn't respect that or even know that, she knew that and she was going to uphold that for herself.

Esther slowly moved her eyes - she refused to move her head or the rest of her body for that matter in anyway that would make the sharks come out to bite - and found Mercy stood beside 'Ranney' over in 2nd platoon. She could tell a few of the guys were already noticing the red clay that was quite obviously now drying all over the back of Mercy's clothes and legs, but the stone-cold front Mercy was putting up seemed to be holding her together.

Slowly, in the foreground of the darkness of Toccoa and the hazy light that settled upon the horizon, she could see a man quickly moving towards them, his gate fast and purposeful and Esther seemed to guess in an instance that it was Lieutenant Sobel. He came upon them with a sneer and what presumably was an assistant - he looked like the 1st Sergeant - just behind him. By the time Lieutenant Sobel was stood in front of them with his own PT gear on, he had stepped forward, without acknowledging the Lieutenants, and was moving through each platoon, looking at each and every man, taking the time to tell them something she couldn't hear and then moving on down the line. Esther appeared to watch with baited breath as he came upon Mercy stood there. 

"Someone appears to have had an accident." Lieutenant Sobel said, loud enough for a majority of the three platoons to hear. Esther's stomach rolled as she watched Lieutenant Sobel look down at Mercy who stared blankly forward. Make eye contact, Esther wanted to shout to her, don't make them think you don't respect them. 

"When I am addressing you, Private Codona, you are looking at me, is that understood?" Lieutenant Sobel said, forcing Mercy to look up towards him, her short height doing her no favors as she stood there, "And you are to answer with, yes sir, am I clear?"


"Yes, sir." Mercy bit out and Esther shot her eyes away from the sight, the guilt furrowing inside her chest. 

"Need I remind you that just because you are a woman does not mean you will be treated any differently than the rest of the men in this Company, am I clear?"


"Yes, sir."


"You will be expected to dress the same, walk the same, perform the same, and act the same as all these men. I am not to know the difference. You are practically able to blend in. Am I clear?"


"Yes, sir."

"And you are not to be falling in mud puddles every morning, with it sopping down your PT gear. Am I clear?"

"Yes, sir." 

"I am glad that is now understood then, Private Codona." Lieutenant Sobel said, stepping a few feet back from her and looking to the whole group, "Because of Private Codona's mishaps in the early hours of the morning, Easy Company will all partake in and enjoy a bit of the mud from last night's rain as well as have all your weekend passes revoked." Esther tried not to wince at the daggers that were being thrown by eyes towards her and Mercy. She tried to ignore the guilt that seeped into her stomach. 

"Is that understood?" 

"Yes, sir!" Lieutenant Sobel stepped back from Mercy and then moved own, slinking his way over to 3rd platoon and initially taking notice of Esther in the first row next to Talbert. Esther was quick to meet his gaze and straighten back her shoulders when he stopped in front of her and for a moment, she winced at herself doing it. 

"Private Armstrong, you seem quite conditioned to be standing here now." Lieutenant Sobel told her and for a moment, Esther's mind buffered out at his words - what kind of statement was that? She wasn't sure if he was insinuating that he was merely impressed or simply bothered by her presence, but she took it with a grain of salt and looked up at him with a flick of her eyes. 

"My father is in the Marine Corps, sir." she said firmly, her eyes staring right into his eyes, her heart pounding inside her chest as he watched her incessantly, his gaze hungry and earnest.

"A father in the military." Lieutenant Sobel said with a nod, "You must be trained fairly well if you're here now." Esther didn't say anything as she watched him, confused on what sort of response she was supposed to make to that comment. 

"I expect then once we get started today, the goody-two-shoes attitude you seem to have will finally wear off." Lieutenant Sobel sneered at her as Esther watched him stare at her, "You get in war with an attitude like that, and you'll be killed." Esther's heart began to race at his words. She felt sick for a moment as she watched Lieutenant Sobel stare down at her. 

"Just because Dad was in the military, doesn't mean you're ready to be." Lieutenant Sobel said, inches from her face. I'm not expected to be, Esther wanted to say. Her father had been incredibly hesitant in even agreeing to let her go. Now, Esther stared at Lieutenant Sobel and his remarks and withdrew. 

"Private Armstrong seems keen on being a goody-two-shoes this morning, Easy Company." Lieutenant Sobel said to the group, "Just for this obnoxious behavior, we will have a 12-mile night march this evening, merely for it." Lieutenant Sobel kept his gaze on Esther the entire time he spoke. As he finished, he stepped back from Esther and looked to the rest of the company. 

"Today, we will make light of both this wonderful weather and Private Codona's misfortune and run the obstacle course into our Currahee run." Lieutenant Sobel said, his gaze stalking over the group, "A welcome introduction....to our new members." 

"You will all report back to these spots once finished, are we clear?" 

"Yes, sir!" And with that, Lieutenant Sobel turned them in formation and sent them in a jog over to the obstacle course. As they approached, Esther got a good feel of what this obstacle course looked like. Three sectors of the course were blocked off, so person by person could go in line through the course, one from each platoon in their own section and not crowd the area. There was a giant wooden wall, a crawl under barbed wire into the mud Lieutenant Sobel preached about, as well as tunnels to climb through and a high knee section at the front that was bound to catch any person below 5'1" and shove them to the ground. In the dark would be even more enjoyable. You couldn't see a thing.

Esther tried to think of the times she had played for hours on the school playground with Marty and his friends, late in summer when the darkness would come later and you couldn't tell the time. She tried to remember how easily she memorized what the playground was like so she could still play in the dark. Marty's friend Brady Gordon though had pushed her off plenty of the playground toys then enough times that she hoped somehow, it would help if she wiped out. She wasn't taking her chances though. She was lined up behind Talbert and could practically feel Christenson's breath on the back of her neck as she stood there. 

"Tell half-pint that Sobel ain't a fan of red clay on the PT uniforms." he muttered, almost half-heartedly, somewhere between a joke and a jab all at once. Esther bit back her lip at his words and the ridiculous nickname he had quickly equated with Mercy - she wasn't that tiny. He had made her fall in the mud. He was the one that had knocked her into it in the first place. But she wouldn't say that to his face. Her goal was to stay quiet and stare at the back of Talbert's head. Once Christenson seemed to get the hint that she wasn't going to give in to his words, he turned and started talking to the guy behind him.


"You were there, Christenson?" she heard one guy mutter.

"Stedman thought he'd need a second person, pulled me just as I was getting up. I didn't have a choice." Christenson muttered back.

"Why would you need a second person for two girls?" The way this other guy said girls made her stomach turn at the thought.


"I don't know." muttered Christenson as Lieutenant Winters came past moving towards 2nd platoon behind them. Esther blocked out the rest of his words and focused instead on what each man in front of her was doing instead. She tried to study how they were approaching this obstacle course, what seemed to be the best routes to take and how they were performing them. You seemed to need really high knees for one; watching the few guys get caught wasn't pleasant. The tunnel you needed to climb through and roll out the other side to propel you forward towards the wooden wall. That momentum would get you up the wall it seemed, as well. Once you cleared that for the moment, you just had to roll through the mud and then you were up and running. Even though Talbert hadn't said a word to her and was making it quite clear that doing that was the last thing he wanted to do, she watched how he did the obstacle course instead. He wasn't the tallest guy it seemed, but he cleared the high knees pretty well off that by the time he was getting to the tunnel, she received an angry shove in the back from Christenson behind her. 

"It's your turn, Fubar." muttered Christenson as Esther rebalanced herself and ignored the comment and instead set herself, hands up behind her head and started forward. She thanked her father for his tallness as she jumped through the high-knees portion of the obstacle course and landed once she was done, racing forward, hurriedly crawling through the wooden tunnel in front of her. The bumpy view she got of Talbert rolling out in front of her and moving towards the wall gave her a second to see how the men approached the wall, which evidently was high. She watched one of the shorter guys approach it, getting a jump off the ground and reaching his hand to the edge and easily clear it by pulling himself up. Esther's roll out of the tunnel was less than stellar; she heard a a few jeers her way, but pulled herself to her feet and raced forward, jumping off her back foot and reaching up to grab the top of the wall, her hand slipping a bit as she dangled there for a moment, trying to find a wedge to lock her foot into, during the meantime.

"Get up that wall, Private Armstrong. I will not stand here all day for you to not get up that god-damn wall!" she heard Lieutenant Sobel yelling, from what direction, she didn't have a clue. Esther took a minute to refocus and center herself and pull her body upwards. Her arms trembled at the give they gave and she watched the guy next to her from 2nd platoon easily clear the wall. He gave her a glance, but moved on forward.

Esther quickly pulled herself up and over the wall, flinging herself on her back onto the wood and then promptly rolling off, ungraceful in every step of the way to the other side. She landed on the wet grass and let a tiny groan slip out of her mouth, but staggered to her feet and raced forward to the mud pits where Talbert was sliding in already, his feet kicking back mud and dirt and clay her way. She made eye contact with Lieutenant Sobel who was watching her like a hawk and without second thought, launched forward and slid right into the clay and mud that coated the front of her body, crawling up on all sides of her being and over the white shirt and blue shorts. It seeped through her clothes and into her hair and face and mouth, where she choked on a spit of dirt that lingered on her lips. She blindly crawled forward, hoping the thrashing of Talbert's feet were enough to guide her and by the time she came out on the other side, she felt a hand yanking her up from the ground, finding Lieutenant Nixon there, shoving her towards where the rest of the men were coming up from and beginning to run.

Esther blinked, trying to rid her eyes of mud and began picking up a good pace forward. For some reason, she found her eyes training on the back of Talbert's bobbing head again and focused on that. She had no idea what the path up the side of Currahee was, or merely what Currahee was, but she knew that she would be running for 6 miles and had to reconsider her pace.

Camp Toccoa fell away around them and she soon found herself immersed in the Georgian wilderness, the pants and footsteps of the men around her the only noise. The sun had yet to rise, but the sky wasn't as dark anymore, more hazy indigo with yellows dancing on the horizon. Esther shut out the majority of the sounds around her and instead focused on her breathing.

Marty had been a great runner in Junior High which had carried him into High School. She hadn't been the best, there was really no girls' team when they were in Junior High or High School, but she'd run around with Marty to help him keep up his pace. Sure, her pace was no match to his trained and experienced one, but Marty was good like that. He didn't go soft on her just so she could catch up. Half the trails they ran on, turned to nothing but grass and dirt and hardly seemed like a trail; he'd go off laughing and she would have to find her way home before it got dark and before Ma worried. He always said it was in good fun, but Ma didn't find it too funny. Of course, Daddy said it built character and Ma would get angry at that, but Marty would just laugh and laugh and Ma would eventually join in and forget about it.

Esther focused on the back of Talbert's head again - she found it not as bad as she thought it'd be to keep pace with him. He didn't know she was keeping pace with him, a few meters behind where he ran, but it helped her keep her breathing steady and pace steady. The women of W-Sector had done 8 weeks of training to prep them for the future if they were ever plugged into combat. Esther guessed that it was currently helping her out right now. The only way she could tell the time was changing was by the fact that the outside world was becoming lighter out and that birds and crickets were beginning to sing their sweet sorrowful songs. 

"You look tired, Private Armstrong." she heard vaguely from her right and barely managed to look over before Lieutenant Sobel was yelling at her again, spit flying, veins bulging, "It's your lucky day because this isn't Tired Company this, this is Easy Company! Pick up your goddamn feet and MOVE." Esther gritted her teeth together and dug her heels in and pushed herself forward more, the beads of sweat trickling down the sides of her face as her heart pulsed.

Captain Sobel came down on a few other men around her as well, but she tuned it out. Equal treatment was sufficient.

Eventually, she began to see men coming back down the opposite way, covered in dried mud that mixed with sweat and clay, panting as they haphazardly launched themselves back down this mountain that was deemed 'Currahee'. She wasn't surprised that Christenson was one of the first ones coming down, athletic and built, he seemed like the type to find running up a mountain anything but hard. She focused her attention on the back of Talbert's head again though, preferring to not have to look at whoever was coming down the mountain.

As she was running, she felt a tough shove in the back of her shoulder that whipped her to the side, causing her to stumble a couple of feet before she gathered her footing; she was quick to look up and find, to no avail, that no one was looking back at her or showing any signs of having pushed her. Esther grunted quietly to herself and pushed herself off forward; she was farther back now from Talbert than she had now realized, but he had kept a good pace that she had been able to follow.

Lieutenant Moore had been right for the time being, she hoped her opinion wouldn't change.

Eventually she could see the top coming to a head, where the turnaround point was. Up there she noticed it was Lieutenant Sobel's assistant - who watched every man that came up and hit the top of the brown rod that stuck out from the ground. For a moment, she couldn't push the thought of whoever had given her the rough shove from her head, but had decided to ignore it the rest of the way up.

Esther watched as Talbert hit the top of the brown rod and turned, narrowly missing a run in with Esther who was just behind him. They exchanged glances for a moment, near surprise in his eyes to see her just behind him; she shoved past him though to get to the top and slap her hand on top of the brown rod. Turning, she watched her body launch her down the slightly rocky ledge that peeled off the top of Currahee and slammed down foot after foot until she returned to solid ground against that was no longer dusty rocks but a pebble road that they had first jogged up.

Going down wasn't as bad as going on, it was more making sure her knees didn't give out as she clobbered down the mountain. She had lost all concept of time by the time she had come into the clearing, trying to control the fact that she was gasping for a breath of air by the time she had come to a stop at where Lieutenant Sobel stood, his own stopwatch in his hand. She heard him click once she passed him and a stiff, sarcastic chuckle escape from his lips. The sun was nearly up and over the edge of the horizon as she shuffled towards where Talbert was already standing. It was quite the show; the group of men covered in mud, standing firmly at resting position as they awaited the rest of the company to return from their run. Esther knew that the sweat, mud, clay and water was all mixed into one across her clothing and body, just by the way she approached Talbert who was staring at her like he'd seen a ghost. Christenson was in his spot as well, drenched in his own makeup of clay and dried mud and was staring her down as she approached. Esther quickly got to her spot and turned around, facing front again, a few more men coming down from Currahee as they stood there. It was quiet, with men breathing in and out and panting, trying to catch their breath as the warmth of the sun that was slowly making shadows crawl entering the atmosphere. 

"Sure is quite the scene. Graduating from college and coming down to Toccoa even though she got that degree. How much money you think her Daddy makes to get her in?" she heard a man whisper a few people over from behind her.


"You think she thought she could be the best or something and begged her Daddy to let her in and give it the ole college try?" There were a few snickers after that one and Esther was silently hoping that one of the nearby Lieutenants had heard and tell him to 'shut his trap', or something along those lines. 

"And with Honors..." one of the men started, letting out a low whistle, "who in their right mind would spend all that money on a college degree and volunteer for the paratroopers instead. Bunch of rich people shit." Esther stared forward biting her lip hard to the point she could feel it bleeding.


"College ain't just for anyone now, 'specially Bryn Mawr-"

"'Specially Bryn Mawr." another jeered back.

"You think her Daddy knows somebody, who knows somebody else, huh?" 

"No man graduates fresh from college and takes the next train down to Toccoa, more or less no girl." Esther clenched her jaw tightly and continued to stare forward, forcing herself to not listen to them.

They didn't know her and she didn't know them. She wasn't making assumptions about any ounce of them, yet they stood there, tearing her apart into ashes.

Daddy was no rich man, but he did whatever he could to ensure his kids got the lives he never had gotten himself. He worked multiple jobs, Ma would usually stay a little longer at the corner store she worked, Daddy even said he dug into his savings a bit for some spare cash because 'by God, that child can write', he had declared one day when her first article had been in the school newspaper. Now, there were only 4 of them that worked on the paper and she had been the only girl to take the opportunity. But she had made every minuscule column worthwhile to read about. And she had been forever grateful for the sacrifices her parents had made for her to get to college and to a degree. She'd been the first in her family and she intended to uphold that. Let them think all they want, her Ma would've said, 'cause they don't know you, darling, or what you bring to the table. What you've done, what you will do. Don't let them get in that pretty little head of yours. Esther tried to keep that in her mind as she watched Lieutenant Sobel tear into one of the smaller guys that had come huffing and puffing down the mountain. 

"Where's the short one with the mouth, huh?" Esther heard one of the guys say a few rows behind her, "Thought I saw Lieutenant Sobel losing his shit over the fact she couldn't get up the damn wall."

"If she don't get up that wall, they're only going make it higher and have to kick her out. Imagine she can't get up a wall somewhere on the coast of Africa, huh? She's gonna get us all killed."

"Ain't she that photographer?"


"She's a photographer, alright, no fucking soldier."

"Just like the writer."

"Just like the damn writer." Esther stared forward, right to where the trees met the open grasslands of Camp Toccoa and prayed to God that Mercy would come around that corner. If she were being honest, coming down, she hadn't even seen Mercy coming up. Maybe it was her exhaustion or her delusions or the lack of water - whatever it is, her worry started to get the better of her when she couldn't remember seeing Mercy as she came down. Had she not been paying attention? What had she been even thinking of? She should've made an effort to keep an eye out for her, especially after the display this morning of the practical mud bath she endured. Esther watched Lieutenant Sobel as the last man ran in and he clicked the stopwatch off and came walking towards them, a smug expression drawn upon his face as he looked at the three mud-covered platoons in front of him. People seemed to quiet at that and soon enough eyes began jumping to the empty spot beside Ranney in 2nd platoon. 

"It seems we are missing one of our enlisted." Lieutenant Sobel said, glancing down at the stopwatch in his hand and looking up at the group, "If said enlisted does not make it down Currahee within the next 5 minutes, you are all....running Currahee again, until and only until said enlisted is within time regulation." Esther could practically feel the glares and the groans the sighs stabbing her directly in the back as she stood there. 

"We run Currahee in 50 minutes. We do not run Currahee in 51 minutes or 50 minutes with 1 second. We run Currahee in 50 minutes. And we need to make sure our enlisted knows that." Lieutenant Sobel said as Esther looked out across the grassy field. 

"C'mon, Mer." whispered Esther, watching the threshold where field met trees and prayed she would appear around the corner, "C'mon." It was a silent 4 minutes. She could hear the rejoice in Lieutenant Sobel's voice to say there was a minute remaining. Esther counted down inside her head and with each lower number, the more the dread sunk into her body. Mercy was not big by any stretch and the muscle mass she did have, was practically slim to none. She was short and compact; it's why they came as a package deal. You get a two for one, Esther's height, which isn't saying much, and Mercy's temper. Right as a 32 echoed in Esther's head, she watched as a staggering figure came around the bend at the tree line. Esther's heart started racing as she glanced towards Lieutenant Sobel who watched Mercy with growing daggers flinging towards where she came running from, like a wounded dog that had been put out as a stray. 

"10, 9, 8!" Lieutenant Sobel started counting off as Mercy neared, each time a number coming out of his mouth, Mercy pushing herself, visibly to run faster. Esther could tell. She could just see it with the strain in Mercy's face with each push that came. 

"3, 2, 1." Lieutenant Sobel said as Mercy came to a staggering and waving stature beside him, trying to stand upright, but failing miserably as she nearly collapsed to the ground. Lieutenant Sobel hit the stopwatch and then came to stand in front of Mercy; covered in mud and clay that skewed across her clothes, sweat and visible scraps and cuts that adorned her knees, along with a tear in her shorts that would need stitching and had cut into her upper thigh. Mercy positioned herself standing as upright as she could and Esther watched as Lieutenant Sobel sunk his teeth into the prey.

"Private Codona, you are last to finish this cycle of training and that is not good enough. Easy Company does not finish last, nor will I have anyone coming down to the last mere seconds of our time regulations when doing runs on Currahee, do I make myself clear."

"Yes, sir." Mercy managed out, her chin tilted upward as she watched him. 

"Get back to your spot. Now." Lieutenant Sobel spat; Esther was sure she could see visible spit fling out of his mouth towards Mercy and watched as Mercy, unflinching, stare at him. Esther watched as Mercy saluted - it seemed to take Lieutenant Sobel off guard, but they saluted Lieutenant Gellhorn daily back at W-Sector - and was dismissed by a peachy-keen Captain Sobel to her spot. Once she got to her spot, wavering at that, Lieutenant Sobel turned to address the group. 

"You'll all be dismissed for breakfast. Afterward, we'll be holding a PT session. Maybe we can finally see if not under the haze of an early morning, if someone can get over the wall or not." Lieutenant Sobel said and Esther watched as Mercy stood there, soaking in every word he said. 

"You're all dismissed." Lieutenant Sobel seemed to sneer and he quickly turned away, marching back towards where HQ was and disappeared along the horizon. The Lieutenants called out to their platoons, dismissing them from their guarded positions to the mess hall. Esther stood there for a minute as the men around her disappeared; they weren't waiting for her nor would they acknowledge her and surely they were not inviting her to sit beside them in the mess hall. Esther looked over and found Mercy looking back at her from her own position standing still where she had previously stood. She had never looked so pained, so embarrassed, so run into the ground that you couldn't pick her back up. Esther watched as Lieutenant Winters came up to Mercy and seemed to offer her a few reassuring words before giving her a nod and stepping away to follow behind Lieutenant Nixon. Esther took a moment to gather herself mentally and then turned and walked over to the equally mud-covered Mercy who stood frozen there in her spot. 

"Don't let it get in your head, Mer." Esther said quietly, giving her friend a reassuring nudge on the shoulder, "He can do and say all he wants, but you're here for a reason. He can either accept that or not. We all deserve a chance, whether we volunteered or were chosen to be here." Mercy let out a quiet sigh and looked up at Esther with cold eyes.


"Christenson is an asshole. Stedman is an asshole. Sobel is an asshole. The whole bunch of 'em are. The only one who's actually been respectful, much less a gentleman, is Lieutenant Winters. And I half think he's doing it because he don't want to catch hell from Sink." Mercy muttered, shaking her head as she stamped her foot into the ground, "I ain't even hungry." Esther laid a hand on her shoulder.


"I'll spoon-feed you if I need to, but refusing food isn't going to get you up that wall any faster." Esther said, a slight tender joking tone in her voice, enough to get a smirk on Mercy's face that meant enough for the moment. The duo started walking towards the mess hall and Mercy bumped Esther's arm next.

"When you get up that wall next time, give Christenson a shove, alright?" Mercy said, "Tell him it's from me; hand delivered." 

Chapter Text

The sight of 3 platoons of Easy Company men covered in mud and clay from head-to-toe inhaling a copious amount of food was almost comical. What wasn't entirely as comical was the abhorrent ignorance that suffocated the tiny hall. Each table was filled to the brim with men and by the time Esther and Mercy had secured a table, Esther determined that it was quite possible every man was trying to ignore the elephants in the room. She took a moment to survey the room and watched as the men hungrily inhaled their food off their plates. Breakfast was oatmeal and Esther had never been more grateful to shovel food such as this oatmeal here, right into her mouth. She never knew how much she appreciated oatmeal until that very moment. 

"I've gotta make it over that wall." Mercy said quietly, scooping up another spoonful of oatmeal into her mouth, shaking her head in the process, "I stood there for nearly 5 minutes trying to get myself over that wall, Armstrong. And there was Sobel....Gods, he must think I'm incapable of doing all this." 

"Hey," Esther said, reaching forward to place a hand on her arm, "it's a wall, not a mountain." Mercy offered her a weak attempt at a lop-sided smile and nodded in her direction. Esther stared at Mercy as she quietly ate and felt her stomach roll as she thought back to some of the comments that had surfaced from the men. There would be another time for thoughts like those, but not right now when Mercy sat in her own, complete disarray. 

"I saw you though, Armstrong, out on that obstacle course. You looked like you knew what you were doing, you looked good." Mercy said, "You've gotta tell me your secrets." Esther let out a slight chuckle and glanced at Mercy with a shrug of the shoulders.


"I'll be honest with you, Mer, Talbert isn't too half bad to be behind." Esther said and Mercy snickered at her words, "It wasn't too hard to copy his movements and run with it. I scared him atop Currahee, I was right behind him, but to say the least.....it wasn't the worst entirely to keep up with him. It kept me in the folds of the pack." Esther and Mercy shared a small laugh with one another and for a moment, Esther really saw Mercy; even covered in mud and grim, she could see Mercy so clear there in front of her.

Mercy wasn't one to give up and if anything, Esther knew Mercy could handle herself better than anyone else she'd ever known, but Mercy was merely a young adult; she was 19 and putting herself in war. If Esther knew anything, it was that the step Mercy was taking was highly admirable and equally honorable.

Once breakfast had finished, the day consisted of a highly intensive amount of physical training. With the mixture of clay and mud and general grime that had yet to be wiped clean of them, by the time the end of the day had wrung in, it was almost a miracle to be able to simply stand there at attention with Lieutenant Sobel addressing them and their performance for the day. A moment where they weren't moving all about and were able to simply stand there. Once they were dismissed, it became almost familiar as all the men seemed to disappear from around both Esther and Mercy and they were left with the coupling of Lieutenants that stood in deep discussion with one another.

"Private Armstrong, Private Codona," the duo heard a voice say and looked over to see Lieutenant Winters making his way towards them, "they want to move you in with the enlisted this evening. For safety and such.....they don't want to leave you in the half-built billet to put it in other words." Esther and Mercy shared a glance.

It didn't take long to get all their belongings cleaned up from the half-built billet, as they had each brought a suitcase and their respected belongings, including Mercy's camera. Lieutenant Winters took Mercy first, the latter passing a worried expression on her face back towards Esther who stood all alone in the half-built billet. There was something about seeing Mercy go on alone, knowing she'd be going into 2nd platoon's billet all by herself. Esther knew Mercy could handle herself, but Mercy was also a young woman. If anything, Esther worried for Mercy more than herself.

It didn't take long for Lieutenant Winters to return, giving a small knock on the door to signal he had returned. The walk over to the 3rd platoon billet was silent except for the evening crickets that had come out. And for the fact, Esther was still covered in a mess of dried mud and clay. Lieutenant Winters wrapped his knuckle quickly on the billet door; Esther could hear voices on the other side quickly seize with the sound of the knocking and soon enough there were footsteps on the opposite side of the door, opening it up quickly. On the opposite side was Talbert, staring right at them. He was quick to salute once he recognized the presence of Lieutenant Winters, but he couldn't seem to help glancing over to Esther and registering that she was standing there, covered in mud still. He couldn't say much of anything though; he too was still covered in mud. 

"Private Armstrong will be with 3rd platoon for the remainder of our time in training." Lieutenant Winters explained as Talbert backed up to allow the duo inside. Esther slowly followed Lieutenant Winters in and once she stepped inside, she got a good look around and immediately found the single open cot. It was squished between two guys on their own, respective cots and she could tell that the other men in the billet had noticed that she had noticed where her designated cot was to be.

Lieutenant Winters seemed to encourage her on; she stepped past him and towards the cot there and met the gazes of both men in their cots on opposing sides and watched as they met her gaze and then quickly made work of avoiding eye contact to the highest heavens. Esther wasn't sure when Lieutenant Winters had left - she vaguely remembered hearing him say something - but all she could hear was silence.

No one was saying anything - why was no one saying anything - and people were staring. In some way, Esther hoped if she stayed quiet enough, they would begin to ignore her and go back to whatever they were doing. If she didn't look to them, they wouldn't truly see her. And for the moment, that was something she was okay with.

Esther slowly placed down her luggage beside her bed, keeping her eyes firmly on the cot, along with the pillow at the head and the neatly folded sheets. There was a rack above her head and a hook, most likely for the Class-As that would eventually hang there. Esther was quiet as she went about putting things away, praying somehow the talking would eventually start up again and it wouldn't remain this awkward, tense silent that made her want to walk out. She placed the grease kit up above her head on the rack and the shower kit on the bed, and then put her luggage on top of the grease kit, not like there was much in there to be of use to her at the moment anyway. Then she carefully placed her ODs beside the shower kit, catching a glance of her last name, Armstrong, on the breast of the ODs and sighed quietly to herself. There was a reason her name was there, there was a reason she was here. And she intended to prove herself none the less that she deserved to be here and that her time her was equally as worthwhile. 

"Ain't no way she thinks she's showering when we are." she heard a hoarse whisper from the back of the billet, her cheeks flaming a warm red just from the comment. Whispers seemed to hum about the billet at that comment and Esther attempted to tune it out and focus on the task in front of her at hand and ultimately, this evening. 12 mile ruck march, along with the breaking in, without a doubt, the pair of new combat boots she had received. She remembered breaking in the ones that W-Sector had received; her ankles had ached for a solid week before she was finally able to feel a sense of comfort with having them on. 

"She sure is quiet." she heard someone else mutter out of the crowd of voices that had thankfully started up again, "Compared to that other one." 

"Other one's gotta mouth." she heard someone say - it sounded painfully like Christenson, "Someone with a mouth like that ain't gonna cut it, at least with Sobel as CO." 

"We got covered in mud because of one and have the ruck because of her." she heard another scoff out, "How many more of those before they wash out?" Esther rolled her eyes to herself with her back turned and could feel the embarrassment digging deeper into her chest. She wanted them to stop talking, she wanted the berating and questioning and crude comments to come to an end. But they didn't; and it seemed the boys didn't have a single care in the world that they were making these comments with her right there. If anything, it seemed her presence incited these comments more and more.

Slowly, Esther lowered herself onto her bed, her back aching the slightest bit, tender near the tail, and managed to glance upwards and found the guy on the bed to her right staring at her hard. His jaw was clenched and the magazine he was making a poor attempt at reading was flimsy in his grasp. Esther watched him for a moment, his face covered in dirt and dried mud, his hair skewed a bit with red clay and his eyes cold as they stared right back at her.

Esther swallowed to herself and looked back down, busying herself with untying her running boots, slowly working her the shoes off until she could properly wiggle her toes again. There was a sore she could tell on the underside of the shoe that ached when she applied some pressure, but it was nothing too serious she couldn't manage with a bit of bandage if she managed to find any. The piercing blue eyes of the man in the cot beside her didn't seem to disappear as she removed her shoes, leaving them by the bedside and turned her body, pulling her legs up onto the bed and lying back. She could feel his gaze on the side of her head, even if he didn't try to show it. Lying there, she had never felt more out of place. The men were up and they were talking and most importantly, all seemed to make an obvious and unified effort to ignore her. Esther wasn't entirely out to make people look at her, but she felt incredibly out of place; she almost preferred being back at the half-built billet. 

"Time for showers, boys." she heard someone say and she glanced over to find someone stood at the door, peaking their head in. She watched as the men all stood in a frenzy, grabbing shower kits and ODs, and soap bars and hurrying out the door. Esther watched the last man grab his own shower kit and take a glance towards her. It was Talbert. She swallowed as he met her gaze, but then quickly turned to the open door and promptly walked out. And then she was left alone.

Esther slowly let herself fall back onto the cot again and stare at the wooden ceiling, taking in a breath of air to calm her racing heart. She had never been so immersed in an air of complete and utter tension and discomfort. Yet, it didn't take long for the men to come trickling back in, ODs pulled onto their bodies with their wet towels hanging around their necks, unkempt hair dripping wet from the shower and their boots squeaking with a newness hers were no doubt going to sound like as well. But what she enjoyed most was the fact she could finally put some sort of name to the face. Specifically to the man next to her.

She watched inconspicuously as he sat down on his cot, rubbing his towel around on his head, catching against his dog tags occasionally, hearing the jingle sound echo from there everyone once in a while. She had seen his last name - Grant it had been. The one with the piercing blue eyes at that. There was no doubt she'd see them as she tried to fall asleep; that along with the coldness as they watched her. 

"You really think she'll bypass the shower?" she heard from somewhere down the billet, some muttering going on about the place as she lied there, "She's covered head to toe." 

"Nah, she won't, she was just waiting for our asses to get out of there." she heard another man mutter and for a moment, she sensed a bit of annoyance in the man's tone, but she didn't react. Because half the time, she felt that's what was expected of her. A reaction, an outburst, some sort of moment that would occur that they could tear her apart on. But she wouldn't give them any of that. Not right now at least.

When she had gotten a pretty good sense that a majority of the men were back in the billet and that presumably, the showers would be open, she took that opportunity to gather her ODs and her shower kit and towel and pull her running boots back onto her feet. Taking a step forward and ignoring the sea of eyes that had seemed to magnetically attract directly towards her, she quickly left the billet. Then sun was reaching its low, nearly set across the horizon as she went marching towards where the Sergeant had pointed them out the washrooms. As she neared, she watched a few last men straggle from the washrooms. By the time she stuck her head in, she found it entirely empty, save for the running of water over and over in the pipes. Letting out a quiet sigh, she glanced to the door again, taking a quick peak again just to assure no one was going to barge in and instead found Mercy on the other side of the door, her own shower kit in hands and an incredibly, scarily accurate, angry face drawn upon her lips and eyes all in one. 

"I have never met more vile scum in my life, Armstrong." Mercy said, moving into the bathroom, Esther watching her move towards the tiny bench to place down her own shower kit and ODs. Esther raised a brow as she shut the door behind her and took the extra second to lock it as well. 

"They were staring one minute, whispering the next, I could hear every damn word they said. And even if they knew that, I wasn't doing them any favors by acting like I didn't hear them." Mercy said, crossing her arms, "Assholes, the lot of 'em." Esther watched Mercy for a moment and sighed quietly with a pitiful nod.


"They weren't exactly inviting when I went in either, Mer." Esther said and Mercy grumbled, "They had a whole lot to say when I'm not looking, but once I'm looking, there's nothing on the other end. It's just...." It seems Esther and Mercy filled in their own words in that open space there that Esther left hanging and took the moment to sit in the newfound silence they had together. They were able to shower quickly, it was nice just to get the dirt and general grime of the clay and mud from their bodies, even though by tonight, they were bound to be drenched in a pool of sweat again. But for the moment, having cold water race of their bodies was more enjoyable than that thought.

Pulling on the ODs though was...interesting. With her dog tags flush against her body, she situated the ODs up against her body and began buttoning herself up. Esther had her height, but the sleeves were long and the edges of the boot cuts were going to be more than a boot shove could handle. She glanced over to Mercy who looked all out of sorts with her current ODs.

"God, I look like a sea creature." Mercy muttered, rolling her sleeves the best she could as well as leaning down to cuff her boot cuts the best she could before squeezing them into the boots, "There's no way air is actually reaching my feet right now." 

"We'll get them cut and sewn shorter, we can find a way." Esther offered to her with a hopeful smile and Mercy managed a smile as well. Walking back in the general directions of the billets, Mercy looked to Esther and sighed.

"If I don't see you before or after the ruck tonight.....keep an eye open when you sleep. I don't trust these guys just yet. They may ignore us for hours, but once we go to bed..." Mercy muttered, "I'm not trusting that with a ten foot pole. I took one of the knives from mess." Esther looked at Mercy wide-eyed.

"You don't actually think-"


"I don't think they'd have the guts to, Armstrong, I'm not saying that. But if I wake up with one of their hands around my neck, I can at least find my way out." Mercy said quietly and Esther stopped to look at her.

"Lieutenant Sobel finds that and it's done." Esther whispered, "You heard what he said, we blend, we don't stick out, we don't make ourselves onto that little list in his head that he most likely has." 

"I promise you that ain't happening, but what I'm also doing is looking out for my safety." Mercy said, "Did you see how they were staring at us today? Hungry wolves getting ready to upend their wounded prey, Armstrong. I'm not buying this happy horseshit." Esther looked at Mercy and saw truth buried deeply in her eyes. Mercy was never one to openly discuss her past; she mentioned that she was an orphan, she had to make it on her own plenty of times since she was a kid and had done well off to the point she didn't need a soul. But right now, the last thing Esther wanted was the paranoia to get the best of Mercy and get her kicked from the Airborne and from the position she deserved. 

"Just stay safe." Mercy said to her quietly, squeezing her arm reassuringly before heading off to her billet again, leaving Esther stood silent in the middle of the darkening field, alone with her thoughts.

When she entered the building, she was suddenly incredibly hyper-aware of everything. Every man, every aspect of their cot and rack and space that existed where they were. Eyes were on her the second she was moving down the center of the billet and she took it as her signal to keep to herself and make it back to her cot. She took a sparing glance up and found Christenson staring at her from his cot a few down from her.

"Hey, Fubar, did you see half-pint by chance?" he called to her, "Thank her for that lovely roll in the mud at all?" This was the first time anybody in the general billet had addressed her and it was enough to silence the entire room. Esther stared in Christenson's direction for a moment before looking away. Now the nicknames he used sickeningly for the both of them? Esther ignored him and moved to her cot, quickly sitting down on the bed and shoving her shower kit underneath the cot and hanging the towel off the hook, before pulling her feet up to lie back in the bed and stare up at the ceiling again. 

"She don't even look half bad without the mud on her." someone whispered that got a few whispers down a ways from the cot she sat on, "She could do with smiling though, the frown don't suit ya." Esther ignored the comments and turned away from them on her side and stared at the floor, uncomfortably aware of the presence of Grant in his own cot on her right side. But she didn't care. And by this point, she hoped he didn't care either when he barely glanced over in her general vicinity. She didn't know when Lieutenant Sobel would be calling on them to ruck their 12 miles, but all she knew in that moment was a quick nap would do her no harm.

By the time she was waking up, she found people pulling on packs and helmets and boots. She laid there for a moment, discreetly watching Grant pulling on his own pack, before quickly moving about to gather herself. When she took a glance out one of the windows, she could tell it was already dark out; if she had her watch, she could take a look at the time, but it was shoved somewhere in her luggage and she wasn't waiting to dig about in there just yet. Her boots were stiff and she had major adjustments to do on her pack in order to keep it resting high on her shoulders to alleviate and hopefully avoid, altogether, any back pain she was bound to get if she didn't do that.

Once they all got outside, with canteens filled, they were shoved into their platoons again, this time though, her eyes were on the back of Talbert's head and to her other side was Christenson. Esther bit back her lip at the sight and continued to stare forward as the remainder of people from Easy Company trickled out. Christenson had a heavy machine gun cradled onto his shoulder and a disgruntled look written on his face as he came to the equal realization that she was stood next to him, as well.

At least it appeared mutual.

It was almost a relief to see that it was Lieutenant Winters leading the march and not Lieutenant Sobel. And by the time they started walking, the group was in a collection of comfortable silence that for once, Esther didn't mind this silence. A 12 mile ruck meant that they were going to be out here for an extensive amount of time and Esther took that as an opportunity to get a good feel for the terrain out here, especially at night.

Back when training occurred for the women of W-Sector, they did a few exercises that ran like drills where you were sent out and had to find your way back with a map and compass. They ran it a multitude of times - Locklyn had been real good with a compass and Esther had managed a map well-off and the duo had worked really well together to get back to base. Esther observed every inch of the march; what roads they went down, what buildings they passed, what turns they took. She hadn't been keeping track of any sort of mileage, but she could tell they'd been going for quite some time when the backs of her achilles were turning tender and there was a squeakiness to her boots as well. 

"Someone didn't try to get used to their boots now, did they?" she heard someone mutter and turned her head slightly to find Christenson glaring at her. Esther bit back her lip and stared right back at him. He was just saying it to get some sort of reaction out of her; she knew that's what he always was doing. Esther averted her eyes forward and continued staring at the back of Talbert's head, ignoring Christenson's gaze. She knew it would annoy him for her to remain silent, but she didn't care.

As they were nearing the end and coming back into sight of Toccoa, she could physically feel the skin on the backs of her ankles rubbing against the interior of the boot, making her entire foot ache as a result. Once they came to a rest, having become forward facing upon Lieutenant Winters request, Esther stood at attention, feeling the pulsating pain echoing from her ankle, watching Captain Sobel near the group with a quick escalating speed. He filed down the rows of men, his eyes preying on each and every person that stood in front of him and finally walked alongside the group and stopped.

"Once I give Lieutenant Winters the word, you will upend your canteens and pour every last drop of its contents on the ground in front of me. Are we clear?" Lieutenant Sobel said, his eyes lingering on every single face in front of him in the darkness. There was something about his shadowed face in the darkness, staring them down, with the bright light glowing eerily behind him with Lieutenant Winters just behind him over his shoulder, that made her stomach twist. 

"Pour them!" Lieutenant Winters called and everyone turned their canteens, the contents of water inside them trickling out to the ground, creating a greater mess of mud and clay just at their feet as Lieutenant Sobel stormed up and down the lines of the men, waiting until every last drop of water fell to the ground and emptied from the canteen. Esther slowly glanced over and looked towards Talbert and found him staring straight forward, emotionless as the water dripped out from is canteen. Lieutenant Sobel came stalking past the front of 3rd platoon and slowly stopped in front of Esther, watching the last drops run out of her canteen and into the mud in front of her. Esther stared right back at him, watching his eyes flit about her face before looking towards her now empty canteen, which emptied along with everyone else's.

"Did you take a sip from your canteen, Private Armstrong?" Lieutenant Sobel said to her; Esther watched him for a moment, suddenly backtracking her entire ruck. She didn't even touch her canteen, she was too focused on her aching achilles and the bobbing of the heads in front of her and Christenson's piercing eyes. 

"No, sir." she answered, watching as his lip twitched at her words. Lieutenant Sobel was no man to fool her into thinking she actually did take a sip, but with the way his eyes watched her. He had wanted to hear she took a sip. That she had given into the water sip instead of toughing it out. 

"You're all dismissed." Lieutenant Sobel said, as Esther held his furrowed gaze. The Captain then took a step back and turned swiftly away from her, marching off with his second in command into darkness. Esther did let out a breath, her dark eyes watching him wander away. 

"He likes to make ya think you took a sip, even if ya didn't." she heard someone mutter from next to her, but by the time she looked, the masses of men were already wandering away from her and she was left standing all by herself. She didn't get a glance of Mercy before heading back to barracks, but her words seemed to dance in Esther's mind. She thought for a split second that Mercy taking the knife from mess was a good idea until the worry seeped in; they most definitely would count utensils and what if they found one of those very utensils was missing and they tore apart barracks to find it and found Mercy with that very kitchen knife?

Esther slowly approached 3rd platoon's barracks and wadded up the steps and down the length of the cots until she reached her own. The men were surprisingly very quiet. It was a quiet she didn't entirely trust as she stood there, peeling off her helmet, pack and boots. But what would they have to say - even if to her. She had done what she had wanted to; blend, stay quiet, only speak when she had to.

Esther quietly lowered herself onto the bed in her OD gear and lied there for a moment as she listened to the rustling of the other men settling down into their own cots for the night. She heard the clicks of lighters for cigarettes, mumbles of a few men who muttered prays upon their lips before climbing into beds, and quiet goodnights that hung in the eves of the barracks all around them. Once the lights were out and she was confident that a majority of the men were asleep, a simple signal that a portion of the men were in a hymn of quiet snores, she slowly stood up and changed into clothes she could sleep in; the extra pair of PT gear shorts and tee would do. She changed quickly, she feared one of the men were still awake and were staring her down, but by the time she settled back into her cot, she laid there for a while, staring at the ceiling and feeling her chest rise up and down.

Unbridled fear slowly seeped into her being; was Mercy okay? Were her words true? Would these men try and do something to the two of them in their sleep, now that they were separated? Esther slowly turned her head towards the cot where Grant was; he was asleep. She could tell from the faint light the clear night and the moon provided through the windows and the slow rise and fall of his chest. He was also snoring. Esther slowly adjusted her head back, staring towards the ceiling again and willing herself to fall asleep.

Waking up on Saturday morning was nothing short of the wake-up in the half-built barrack the previous morning. The barracks were warm from the sunlight that streamed in through the glass pane windows and even with the slight musky smell of stale wood, it was comfortable. A multitude of questions raced through her head as she fully opened her eyes; the realization that, quite literally, nothing had happened in the night. Half the guys were in the same position as they were in last night, some still barely conscious even with the light streaming in.

Was Mercy alright?

Esther laid there in her cot very still for a period of time, staring out towards the opposite cot next to her, which wasn't Grant's in this case. The other man in the cot beside her was quietly cleaning his boots. He was on the shorter side, the quieter side as well, and yesterday, he hadn't been sending jeers or glares towards her much at all. He had kept to himself and if anything, he had stayed quiet. Esther watched from beneath her lashes as he cleaned his boots carefully and then began to polish them afterwards.

The women of W-Sector had been taught how to shine up a boot quite easily. One of the NCOs from the 82nd Division had stopped by one day - Mercy reckoned he had a thing for Miriam who was still wrangling with her Paul being away in the Pacific himself. The NCO had taught them well enough, up until the ladies were able to get a hang of if themselves.

Daddy had taught her and Marty how to shine up a nice pair of boots; they both had these new, pretty ones that Ma had gotten them for Christmas and the two of them had picked up polishing and shining pretty quickly thereafter. It was a strange feeling to see that now she was applying her youthful polishing skills to war in its own way.

Esther noticed the name on the breast of his ODs - Powers. Powers was quiet she confirmed to herself that morning.

Esther was attempting her best to understand some of the queues that seemed to exist in 3rd platoon's barracks. When they woke up, especially, seemingly on the weekends, they were quiet, until some started shining up boots, lighting cigarettes with one another or reading some of the magazines with pin-ups on the front - one of the men had one titled 'Titter'; quite an interesting title, she had thought to herself as she resumed taking precarious glances around barracks. She slowly took the time with pulling her luggage down from the rack it was currently sat on and opened it up on her bed and pulled out her watch, which she had tucked away with her uniform from W-Sector and her leather-skinned notebook.

The time was 0724; the sun rose early in the summer and it almost reminded her of summer days back in Norfolk when her and Marty would wake up to the sun and go to bed once the sun was set. That was when they were kids though; they weren't those kids anymore. She wasn't sure what the queue was for breakfast. None of the men had left the barrack, she counted 12 cots, now including her own, filled with men, and no one was making a move to leave either. She took that as her time to write. She leaned back on the cot, adjusting her pillow so it pressed against her back and pulled her legs up to her chest underneath the thin army blanket and opened up the notebook. She wasn't sure if she were going to be provided with writing material while she was in camp or if she had to provide her own and she was glad she brought her own.

It seemed Lieutenant Sobel could care less about her duty as a war correspondent and instead viewed her as another solider; which in this case, she was glad he did.

She didn't need anymore of a target placed upon her back now that the word 'female' seemed spelled out just with the mishap of being a 'goody-two-shoes' in the eyes of Lieutenant Sobel. At least her title hadn't been deduced completely and Lieutenant Sobel had called her writer at the very least. 

August 7th, 1942
Camp Toccoa, Georgia, USA

Esther stared at those few words she'd written at the top of the page for a few moments before looking away; her mind was blank, any thought she could possibly have about what to write after that, had completely disappeared. 

"She's writing her Dear John letter." she heard a guy mutter down a few cots; she rolled her eyes to herself at that one. If anyone knew Esther Armstrong, that was currently that last thing she'd be writing - she almost chuckled at the words, but she instead stayed quiet. She heard a few chuckles from some of the men and took it as her queue to tune them out instead. 

"Sure is quiet."

"Better than to have the chatty one, amiright?" Esther quietly weighed in her options of intervening or letting them continue and took the former. 

"My silence does not mean I can't hear you." Esther said quietly, not looking up from the notebook in front of her that lay empty with words," I have ears you know?" She kept her head down and focused on her notebook, not wanting to have to look if there was any sort of reaction she would gain from that. At least a little show of resistance was all she hoped for in that moment. 

"So you do speak." she heard someone deadpan. Esther bit back her lip and looked up and found one of the men across from her, diagonal to her cot, staring at her with narrowed eyes - his own ODs said Malarkey on them - quite the last name for someone who asked a question like that.

"Yes." she said, staring right back at him, slightly confused on their imperative want for her to speak. They maintained eye contact for a period of time before she looked back down at her notebook and resumed her silent standoff with these men. If there was any battle being fought between them, it was a battle between her and 3rd platoon that she knew could not be carried into the real war going on across the pond. 

"That's a dumb question, Malark. You heard her yesterday." she heard one of the guys down a few cots call out, "Of course the goody-two-shoes would speak. Maybe she just don't want to speak to you." A uproar of chuckles entered the room, but Esther stayed focused on staring at the notebook paper and feeling her cheeks ruminate a warmth she couldn't quite battle down.

A few of the guys did end up leaving for breakfast, mumbling to each other about what their options would be; with weekend passes 'revoked' in the words of Lieutenant Sobel, Camp Toccoa would be their only weekend plans for the time being. Esther took the opportunity to now only be under the guise of a few of the men - that being a few of the men whose names she didn't know as well as Christenson and Grant beside her.

There was a weird silence that coexisted within the barracks that she couldn't quite decipher. She almost felt like if she moved, it would be like a bug to a light. With the lack of inspiration not entering the void of her mind, she took the time to actually polish up her shoes, which were caked in a fair bit of mud and were less than ideal for the standards that Lieutenant Sobel seemed to uphold. She removed the grease kit from underneath her bed and positioned herself away from Grant, who sat idly smoking a cigarette and reading a magazine and focused on her boots.

Slowly she picked one up, shoving her hand where her foot would have gone and stared at it for a few moments before looking towards the grease kit. Looking back towards the boot, she quickly made an effort at removing the laces and then grabbed the brush to clean some of the caked on mud and clay from the exterior portion of the boot to her best ability.

For a moment, she almost remembered it like Daddy was there by her side, as they cleaned their new boots on their front porch. He was so good at explaining things, he really was. She almost wished he were here now to explain the uneasy tension that wafted from the Easy Company men of 3rd platoon. She noticed Christenson out of her upper peripheral, take a quick glance over towards her, staring hard at her as she began the process of polishing up her shoes. The staring was a bit much, she had thought in her mind, but she grabbed the small towel and little tin can of waxy grease and began working it into the boot to the best of her ability. After that, she let it dry for a few moments before taking the brush again to buff it out. She repeated the same procedure onto her other boot and then set them both beside her bedside to let them dry completely before she'd have to wear them again.

When she looked up, she found Christenson still watching her, the cigarette he had seemingly lit, nothing but a dud in his hand as his eyes trained to where the boots were on the ground. 

Chapter Text

The wondrous thing about having breakfast at 0600 in the summertime in Georgia, was the fact that it was not entirely pitch-dark out. She could hear the crickets of the early morning, the few morning birds making out their calls as the sky turned from indigo to a hazier purple and red. It was like when her and Marty would get up to help the Fishers down the road aways to deliver their milk and eggs from their little farm. They'd take their bikes and hang the baskets from the rungs and ride around the little cluster of neighbors, passing out milk, practically before the sun rose. It reminded her of those quiet moments where she heard nothing but crickets and the breeze. It reminded her of a childhood that would never return. 

"Armstrong, did you hear me?" Esther quickly turned her head to find Mercy looking at her, the tin cup of water raised to her lips to chase the slightly burnt toast she was eating. Esther glanced between Mercy, the cup of water and the toast in her hand and returned her eyes to Mercy's. 

"No, sorry...." Esther said readjusting her spot, leaning her arms across her body, in front of her and giving her undivided attention to the only other person who would look her in the eyes it seemed, "please do tell though, I was distracted....the sunrise." She nodded her head in the direction of the steadily rising sun that was beginning to make its mark on the horizon. Mercy glanced out the window and gave a slight smile.


"It's pretty, isn't it." Mercy said softly, her eyes turning soft and nostalgic it seemed, the longer she stared out of the window, "Reminds me of home. Where ever that is." Esther watched Mercy with a bit back lip and saddened eyes. She reached a hand forward and gently placed it on Mercy's wrist and gave her a comforting squeeze to which Mercy answered with a half-smile.


"You have my undivided attention." Esther said and Mercy sighed, letting her shoulders shrug and shook her head. 

"Guarnere likes loudness - talking loud, yelling loud, and simply being loud. He walks into a room and it is loud." Mercy whispered quietly, sending her gaze over towards where Guarnere was sat with his group, a table over. He was sat with other men - ones like Toye, Luz and Perconte to name a few. 


"What makes you say that?" Esther asked her back, whispering as well, as Mercy stuffed her mouth with another, quite angry, bite of toast. Why they were whispering, Esther would not be able to guess. 

"He doesn't exactly know what the word quiet means." muttered Mercy, angrily taking in a bite of toast, "The dickhead really wants to make it quite known about many things. Especially trying to get up that damn wall." Esther let out a sigh and shook her head.


"You can't listen to what he says, Mer," Esther said quietly, glancing out the window again, "There's too short time on this Earth to be worrying about whatever he has to say." Mercy glanced at her but only sighed.


"I appreciate your usual Esther Armstrong-esc positivity, but hearing it and knowing he knows I hear it, I ain't just gonna let it slide." Mercy said, before returning her gaze to her half-eaten breakfast, "If I don't get up that damn wall....." Esther watched Mercy and stared at her, frozen for a moment. She leaned forward and caught Mercy's gaze.

"Watch Perconte this morning, how he gets up the wall." Esther said and Mercy raised a brow.

"Perconte? Why would I watch him; he half even agreed with Gu-"

"He's short." Esther said softly, "Watch how he gets up the wall himself." Mercy watched Esther before glancing at Perconte; the duo watched as he laughed at something Guarnere was saying. Whether it was actually funny or not, they wouldn't know, because half the time you couldn't tell with these men; they turned their attention back to one another. If Esther couldn't work cordiality out of them then she'd use what view of the men she could to both her and Mercy's capabilities on how to stay in Lieutenant Sobel's good graces.  

"Is that asshat still calling you that? Fubar?" Mercy asked her, her jaw tightened and her eyes locked in on Esther's, "That's such a bullshit name to call someone-"


"Yeah, quite creative." Esther said and Mercy rolled her eyes.

"He's the one that's fucked up beyond all recognition." she muttered and the duo burst into laughter, "God, what I'd give to see Sobel lose it on him." Esther smirked slightly at Mercy and shook her head.


"I doubt it; heard them saying yesterday. He's making top marks, at least top 5 with physical fitness." Esther said and Mercy sighed, before glancing throughout the mess hall, finding him out amongst the crowd, his head of caramel, curly-blonde hair catching her eyes through the crowd of men. Mercy was quick to narrow her eyes and turn back to Esther, who watched her with innocently bright eyes and a sad sort of smile drawn on her face. Mercy managed a half-hearted grin. 

"He seemed quite interested when I was shoe shining yesterday." Esther said quietly, scooping up a bit of food on her spoon into her mouth, "I was surprised he didn't get bored with all the staring he was doing." Mercy watched Esther, with a shallow and narrowed gaze of annoyance.

"He just can't seem to get through his thick skull that you know how to do a damn good job of shining up a shoe." Mercy muttered, "What a total asshat." Esther snickered and poked at her food a bit more before putting down her spoon and looking towards where Christenson ate with the rest of the men. Mercy followed her gaze again and grumbled.

"God, the fact you have to share a billet with him..." Mercy muttered, "I wouldn't take him any day, not even over that asshole Joe Liebgott. Stole my cigarettes the other day; he thinks he's a real funny guy." Esther could only let out a chuckle at Mercy's words before their morning was swept into full swing.

They ran Currahee; Lieutenant Sobel was insistent on the importance of their Currahee run. Esther had felt that she was managing a good pace up the forlorn road of the mountain, the movement of Talbert's head in front of her familiar as she stayed a good few steps behind him. She found his pace easy to follow and stuck with it. The rest of the morning though, would consist of hand-to-hand combat training. The group of them were sat huddled around Lieutenant Sobel, their bottoms sat on the dried red clay ground, the dust kicking up and mixing with the late morning heat as the enlisted began to sweat and turn red in the cheeks. Lieutenant Sobel was very animated as he explained hand-to-hand combat; the importance of it, how to use it, everything you could possibly use along with hand-to-hand combat. 


"You will first start with being paired off with someone of similar stature and height. We'll make it a fair advantage for the first couple of times we do this....then....well let's just say, a German will not magically appear your exact height if you get into said altercation with him. Are we clear?" Lieutenant Sobel said, taking a snide glance to the group and sighing.

The Lieutenants of their platoons paired them off and Esther found herself keenly aware that she was being paired off with Talbert; she wasn't entirely pleased and neither was he, but they were nearly the same height, though he definitely was more built that she'd ever be, understandably so. As she walked over to where Talbert was, he was unmistakably avoiding eye contact with her, which was something she couldn't seem to ignore. She came to a stop there in the dirt in front of him and sighed, taking a glance over her shoulder, hoping through the crowd of men that she could find whoever Mercy had managed to get paired up with, catching out of the corner of her eye that she was placed with Sisk - the guys called him Skinny. 

"Good luck, Talbert." she acutely heard someone mutter as they passed by the duo there stood in front of each other, "She probably bites." There was something degrading about being thought of like that; like she'd bite, like she'd go crazy. Esther looked to Talbert and found him already staring right back at her, his stance guarded and his eyes narrowed. There was something in his eyes that caught her off guard for a moment and she looked away quickly and found herself staring at the dusty ground. 

"Your eyes are on your opponent, Private Armstrong, not on the ground." Lieutenant Sobel said stalking by with a speed that could blow you over, "The only thing the ground will do is catch you if you get a pop in the face." Esther slowly drew her eyes upward, her cheeks a soft red as she looked back towards Talbert who appeared unchanged in his expression and how he looked, instead studying her own expression and how she watched him right back. 

"As a reminder, hand to hand combat is used as a last resort. You will have your weapon with you in battle and that will be your fighting vantage point. Your hand to hand combat should come if worse case scenario." Lieutenant Sobel explained, stalking back past Esther stood staring down Talbert, her eyes wanting to look anywhere but where Talbert was. 

"Partner 1 will be starting out by disarming Partner 2's hands from the front of his shirt. If the enemy tries to choke you or get you in a position where you can't defend yourself or even to get you down on the ground quicker, they will do this." Lieutenant Sobel explained. Talbert stared at her, waiting for her to grab at the front of his shirt - but for a second, all she could do was stare at him. 


"Just do it." he muttered out, The faster we do this, the faster we won't have to do it again. Esther reached her hands up at the front of his shirt by his collar and planted herself there in the dirt, preparing herself to withstand what Talbert would do. He seemed like the All-American boy, fit and put together, and looking like he would pummel her into the ground. 

"In this way, both of your opponent's hands are occupied entirely, leaving the defendant open with both his own hands. Partner 1 can take a multitude of approaches with this technique, but you will be driving your hands up through your opponent's arms and outward. This will cause their grip on you to loosen and allow you to wrap your arms around their own." Lieutenant Sobel explained, as Esther looked back up at Talbert, who stared down at her in the sun. 


"Go." Lieutenant Sobel said simply and before Esther could register what was happening, her grip was loosened on Talbert's shirt, her arms were pushed away from one another and there was a lasting pressure on her upper chest and dirt filling her nose. She could hear the heavy breathing of Talbert somewhere distant up above her, there was a ringing in her ears and she felt the urge to cough from the pressure of Talbert's hand slamming into her chest. 

"Get up off your ass, Armstrong." she heard the twang of Lieutenant Sobel's voice call to her, as she rolled over onto her chest, gasping for a bit of breath and pushed up from the dusty ground, coughing on dust. Esther managed to get onto her feet again and looked towards Talbert who was still stood where he had been previously and stepped towards him again. His eyes attempted to challenge her it seemed and she looked away, looking down the row of enlisted and found Mercy looking at her from where she stood with Skinny. Mercy gave her head a shake in Esther's direction; it's okay, Mercy's nod seemed to say, do what you can, not what you can't.

Esther slowly brought her gaze back to Talbert. It would be a long session. It was comforting to see that there were many other bodies on the ground by the end of the session, but she knew that wouldn't matter. She was still a woman. She would stick out and Lieutenant Sobel would make that a prominent point of interest. Even if she wasn't on the ground and Talbert was, the Lieutenant would chew her out.

By the time lunch had rolled around and they were all dismissed for their meals, Esther had taken to the dirt more times than she had wanted opposite Talbert and was beginning to get annoyed at the taste of dirt and dust residing in her mouth. The rest of the day consisted of PT exercises so by dinner, Esther and Mercy were equally inhaling their fair share of food. 

"Talbert smacked you down pretty hard." Mercy muttered quickly, biting into the thick piece of white bread that she had snagged, "I get he was trying to prove a point that he's a physical guy but he didn't have to break your back in the process." Esther shook her head and popped the last piece of her own bread into her mouth and sighed.


"He can do whatever he damn well pleases." Esther said and Mercy glanced up at Esther with a raised brow, "I'm just here to do my job." Mercy watched Esther for a moment before taking another bite of bread.


"I like Esther Armstrong when she curses, give me five." Mercy said, holding up an excited hand and Esther let out a 'pfft' and shook her head.


"Don't get used to it." Esther said as Mercy let out an exasperated sigh and went back to her bread," It's just the truth. Talbert does not concern me."

If anything, that was the plain cold truth in her eyes. 8 weeks of training with the women from W Sector didn't make her like this for nothing. Though, of course, they had never trained with men, nonetheless men from say the 82nd, they had gone through training. This wasn't the first time Esther was doing a push-up or a run or even the length of hand-to-hand combat. She didn't want them thinking that either. But, her goal was her job and that was the job that had been hard earned in front of her; years of school and working with her school newspaper, going to college specifically for journalism, being told that she couldn't do anything with her degree, much less the fact that she was a woman trying to do so. She had seen plenty of times what people had done with failure and didn't want to follow that path. Failure taught lessons, that's what Daddy always said and more often than not, they were important regardless. If they wanted to see her fail, let them wait. But she had a purpose here, a goal and a job in her hands, apart of her duty, right in front of her. Report to the home front. Do what she had been tasked to do. She'd worry about what she had to go through as it came, but she couldn't get caught up in the mumblings of whatever the men around her had to say or what Lieutenant Sobel had to utter. Her goal was to journal and report.

There was an eerie calm about settling down for the night that made Esther uncomfortable; she understood that Mondays weren't jubilant by any stretch, but even on a Sunday night the men had been more lively than this. Esther climbed into bed by that point and lied on her side, facing where Shifty was, quietly reading and smoking a cigarette and watched from underneath her lashes as he flipped through the pages of whatever it was that he was reading. 

"You showed her today, Tab." she heard a whisper from the bed to her back - Grant's - she knew it was Grant saying that, "Seems she thought she could've beat you. Ain't nobody beating you." 

"Whatever." she heard Talbert answer back and she felt a flurry of confusion deep in the pits of stomach at Talbert's exhausted sounding comment. She didn't care; she was just glad it seemed to shut Grant up. 

"If it were a Jap, or even a Kraut.....she oughta have been dead." she heard the silent whisper got to Grant from whoever was next to him, "At least Talbert showed remorse, the enemy won't." 

"Didn't you hear though, she's one of those reporters, ain't no way she'll be on the front lines with any of us. They just want her to have some training, it don't mean she'll be up front with us." Grant argued back and Esther controlled the urge to roll her eyes and just shut them fully. They were wary and cautious around her and it seemed once she closed her eyes and 'went to bed', they were alive with voices and talk and whispers. And that's when the questioning and the mumblings started. Yet, it was like she were invisible, like they could see right here. Even when she entered the billet; it was like a ghost had appeared. And they seemed to like it better that way. If they intended to treat her that way, then she'd appear that way, she wouldn't step on their toes or budge at their comments.

The week consisted of a majority of what the tones of Monday has consisted of; hand-to-hand combat and PT training. There was one or two more Currahee runs done before Friday as well as another 3 sets of obstacle course runs; the wall was still Mercy's public enemy #1, even with the sneers of Guarnere and Christenson to follow to her dislike, and Lieutenant Sobel liked to make things like that known. It seemed Lieutenant Sobel liked to make a lot of things known.

Malarkey's last name was one of those thing - she heard Private Bullshit a lot.

Perconte was always either too short or too perfect with his uniform it seemed.

One guy Liebgott constantly had dirty gear even though Mercy told her that she swore she'd seen him up every night cleaning his weapon incessantly. One time, Guarnere threw his pillow to get him to go to bed.

He didn't like how one man, Alley, had sewn on his patches and tore the patch from his ODs and handed it back to him and told him to resew.

Lieutenant Winters seemed to take the hits though for the men, Lieutenant Sobel typically pulling the Lieutenant off to the side and spitting and yelling right into his face, the veins on his neck popping right out and his movement animated and aggressive. Lieutenant Winters was stoic though through it all and it was admirable.

As the days rolled on, and the next week came upon them in a staggering fashion, there was a discernible rhythm to Lieutenant Sobel's training; there was another Friday night march with passes revoked. They had done Currahee that morning as well. PT, the obstacle course and hand-to-hand combat were sprinkled throughout. It was like teaching a child how to engage with the natural world. Once they grew out of something, they moved onto the next thing. And that came with Lieutenant Sobel's word that they'd be working with their weapons in the coming week and would be upgrading PT exercises.

By Saturday morning, in knowing that no one would be going virtually anywhere because of the slew of revoking of passes, Esther took the opportunity to slip out before a majority of the men could muster themselves awake for breakfast and headed to mess early. She had seen the stack of newspapers there last Saturday morning and decided this was her opportunity to get to reading something that wasn't a literature book she couldn't get through or the pin-up magazines the men passed around. She couldn't remember the last time she had read a newspaper and honestly, she had the thought in her brain all week, and so if anything, the excitement was palpable.

Once she settled herself at the bench her and Mercy had been lingering around more often than not every meal, she sat down and took her first look at the cover. There was a burning tension pin-pointing her face and she found her eyes looking over to find one of the men that typically was in Mercy's billet, sitting up and awake, drinking coffee all by himself. There were only a few others there that morning, but Esther had tuned them out. No one was bothering anyone else; yet now it was just the one guy staring bullets into the side of her face. She believed it was Toye. He didn't speak as much as Guarnere, but hung around him just enough to give Esther the impression that he could say what he needed to get a point across, whether good or bad and that was enough for Esther to steer clear. She focused again back on the newspaper and narrowed her eyes at the headline. 

OPERATION PEDESTAL AND ITS HEAVY BLOWS IN THE PACIFIC

Esther let her eyes wander a bit more and saw the tiny article headers that sat on the left side.

'FLARE PATH' PREMIERING IN LONDON; A MATTER OF THE FALCON HOTEL

IN ATTENDANCE AT DC WITH PRESIDENT ROOSEVELT

GERMAN FORCES CAPTURE ELISTA

WAR EFFORTS ON THE HOME FRONT: THE POWER OF WAR BONDS AND THE USO

With the US entrance into the war just nearly 7 months previous, Esther felt herself clutching onto newspapers like this even more so nowadays. Knowing Marty would be going out there sooner than she ever would, going through what she just 'saw in the papers', to being in what 'my brother is now doing what you see in the papers'. 

"Thank God, you're here." she heard a voice say and looked up to see Mercy scrambling onto the bench across from her and sighing; she looked like she had slipped and fallen in mud or even red clay again - she couldn't remember the last time it had rained - and looked utterly defeated.

"You okay, Mer?" Esther said as she folded up the newspaper and looked Mercy up and down worriedly, "What happened?" Mercy let out an aggravated sigh and shook her head and folded her hands together worriedly, ringing them and staring down at the bench in front of them, rather than Esther herself. 

"Woke up early, thought I could convince myself to get over the damn wall if I just had some time with it." Mercy said quietly, "I can't keep making a fool of myself with this thing. I need to get over it." Esther watched Mercy for a moment and bit back her lip.


"Let's eat, we'll talk it over and we'll head back out there. See if we can get you up the wall. You know we're already not participating in the games the men play, so nobody's going to even see you either. We'll get you over it, I promise." Esther said and she hoped it was enough to convince Mercy to have a bit more energy mustered inside of her to believe that. 

"What's his problem?" Mercy muttered quietly as Esther shot herself out of her thinking brain. She glanced over to find Toye still looking her way, now their way, watching the two of them. 

"He was here before I was. I saw him staring, but I tuned him out. Got myself a newspaper." Esther said softly, waving it in front of Mercy's face. Mercy's face lit up a bit as she stared at it and leaned forward.
"Anything good?"

"Operation Pedestal. Rumblings in the Pacific and in Europe. They've got a new play on in London, but I'm afraid we'll have to postpone ever seeing a play in London." Mercy chuckled at Esther's words. 

"You ever think back and wonder if it would've been different....if maybe Marielle or Locklyn had been picked. And not us?" Mercy asked Esther who looked up from the paper, her smile slowly fading from her face. 

"Sometimes." Esther said quietly, looking back down at the paper, brushing a piece of hair back from her cheeks and sighing, "I wonder if we'd still be at Bragg or if they would've shipped us out somewhere else, to get experience. This though....doesn't it make you feel like you finally have some purpose in this war, rather than sitting back at a desk and writing reports on nothing no one's ever going to read or pictures no one's ever going to look at? It makes it feel worth it, all of this."

"'Even though Sobel confiscated my camera and your fountain pen?" Mercy said with a somewhat sarcastically raised brow. 

"That's besides the point, Mer." Though, it was the truth. Lieutenant Sobel seemed prone to ransacking billets on the off chance he could get a guy to wash out because his stuff was missing. Esther had found her fountain pen - her favorite at that - missing one day and Mercy had found her camera gone the next. It seemed there was truth to Lieutenant Sobel's words that he proposed daily. They weren't paratroopers yet, they weren't any of their actual jobs yet and he seemed to want to instill that by making them all equal. No one had one more camera than the other or one more fountain pen. He took what he could to make it all the same. There was truth there.

Maybe one day though, once she got her wings, she'd get custody of at least a typewriter. 

"3:00 coming our way." Mercy muttered and Esther looked over to see Toye coming towards them; for a minute she didn't really know how to act. A majority of the men here didn't even take the chance at approaching either of them and stuck to glares and stares, so seeing Toye approach them, Esther straightened her posture a bit and Mercy pushed off from the table a bit. Toye was stiff as he stood there for a minute, seemingly weighing his options if he wanted to say anything or not, but finally let out a sigh.

"Listen, I don't mean to make you think you gotta sit up straight or whatever the hell you think this is, but I overhead ya talking about the damn wall." he said and Esther shot a glance at Mercy who sat up a little straighter at his words, staring him down rightfully he shifted his weight back and forth from one foot to the other. Esther took a glance up at Toye's face again and watched as he rubbed a hand along his jaw and turned his attention to Mercy.

"I can help you get up the wall," he told her and Mercy's eyes widened as she looked at Esther, Toye's attention also turning to Esther quickly as well, "if you can help me catch up on my reading skills. Can't do much correspondence with my Ma if I can't write what I'm thinking the best." Esther stared at Toye for a minute, and it seemed he realized how frazzled all the sudden he had made her and cleared his throat, pointing to the newspaper.


"You're the college graduate, you're the reporter, you write, I saw you reading. Figured you could help me out." he said and Esther grasped onto the newspaper a bit tighter and looked at Mercy; there were a hint of desperation in her eyes now that the offer seemed to be served up on a silver platter. The first interaction with an Easy Company member and it was through a supply and demand path that they were deciding to take. 

"What's the catch?" Mercy said, standing up and moving to stand in front of Toye, looking up at his face, "You're the first man to actually walk up to us and have a civil conversation that doesn't have insinuating undertones." Toye barely flinched at Mercy's seemingly, hand-picked words and glanced towards Esther.

"Do we gotta deal?" he asked her and Esther held her breath for a moment. Mercy looked towards Esther and gave a slight nod.

"It's a deal." she said. Toye turned to look back at Mercy and gave a dry smirk.

"Meet me at the obstacle course at 1200. None of the guys'll suspect a thing if they're all eating and we're out there." Toye said and Mercy nodded, before Toye looked to Esther who was intensely looking at the wood.

"Bring the writer with you too alright, Codona." Toye said before turning and stalking out of the building just about as quickly as he had made his way over here. 

"He knew my name." Mercy whispered, "What the fuck." 

"I'm sure everyone knows our names." Esther said with a glance up at Mercy who sat down and sighed.

"Insinuating. That's a word right. A good one?" 

"You used it perfectly."

By 1200, Esther and Mercy had managed to escort themselves over to the obstacle course; as they approached they could see Toye waiting there, leaned up against the wall all by himself, a cigarette hanging from his lip as he stared out towards a few of the larger fields on base and towards Currahee. He seemed to notice them approaching then and pushed up from the wall and took a few steps forward. 

"There's no way you're doing this without a catch." was the first thing Mercy said as they approached Toye under the broiling sun; he stood with his arms crossed and his eyebrows narrowed and stared down at Mercy who stared right back up at him.


"There's stuff in it for both of us, there ain't any sorta catch." he told her and Esther hung back and decided to watch from the side, rather than get involved in whatever spitfire of a fight might ensue. 

"You just don't wanna get seen with us right? You want to magically get this sorted out today and then never have to be seen with us ever again, amiright?" Mercy said but Toye stepped back and rolled his eyes.

"C'mon," Toye said, "let's just get this over with." Mercy glanced back at Esther who offered an enthusiastic thumbs up in her direction. 

"Let me remind you that you were the one so hellbent on this, you even offered to do this so don't get upset with me when I tell you the truth." Mercy muttered as they came to a stop in front of the wall and stared up at it.

"Who can get over the wall right now and who can't." Toye stated simply, looking her way. Mercy looked away from him with a roll of her eyes and focused again on the wall. 

"Hate to give you the benefit of the doubt, but maybe we can get you to grow an inch or two?" Toye told her and Mercy glanced at him with a narrowed gaze. Esther wasn't sure how long they spent there at the wall, but it was long enough that she no longer could tell exactly how long they had been out there. By the time Mercy had come staggering over towards her, her knees cut up and dirtied and bruised, Toye was walking slowly over, brushing the dirt off his hands and stopping a few feet from where Mercy was settling down on her back beside Esther, letting out puffs of breath as she stared at the bright blue sky and the rising sun above them. 

"Got up the damn wall." Mercy said in a breath of air, "Didn't think it'd take me an hour to learn how to get up it right."

"Listen, half-pint, you are shorter than all the guys here, except maybe Perconte, but that's Frank for ya, you just gotta build up the muscle in your arms to pull yourself up and over. But now that you got the technique, you just need the muscle, alright?" Toye explained and Mercy pulled a face. 


"Never thought I'd see the day where any of you guys would be helpful with either of us." Toye rolled her eyes at her comment and let out a huff and crossed his arms again, standing over the two, the sun beating down on his white tee and turning his face into a bit of a shadow. 

"Some of the guys ain't ever gonna get it through their heads, but you're with us for the long haul and I get that." Toye said, "I'll take my chances." 

"You just don't want to be seen with us." Mercy muttered, "Or else Guarnere'll have your head." 

"I'll have to do a lot more than this for him to have my head." muttered Toye back, meeting Esther's slightly confused and squinty gaze that stared up at him," How are we gonna do this?" Esther watched him and could only stare for a minute before Mercy gave her a shove at her knee.


"I mean....we could take twenty minutes right now if you wanted. Let Mercy catch her breath and we can practice readings. I have the local paper from today." Esther said, pulling the folded paper out from her back pocket and holding it out in front of her, "We could start small and gradually get bigger. Nothing is wrong with just a little practice." Toye watched her and for a moment, she felt like he was just a small boy. She had been grateful enough to get the education she had gotten from her school days and into college and had been very thankful for it. But to have someone like Toye openly admit it to her the first time they'd ever spoken, she wondered how much gut it had taken him to say that. People at home never just went around telling the truth she felt; they covered it with expensive shoes or a fancy dress, always material-like, and nothing else. With Toye, she would help the best she could. Toye settled himself down beside her - she was surprised he didn't back away in anticipation that she'd 'bite' just like some of the men were commenting. Toye seemed pretty dead-set on going with his own mind-set though and she could respect that. 

"There's an article on 'Flare Path', this new play they have running in London. It's a pretty small article, but it's there....if you wanted to take a stab at something like that." Esther offered as she flipped to the article and handed it over to him. Toye got the paper in his hands and stared at the article for a few moments before clearing his throat. It was silent for a few moments as they sat there, so quiet that Mercy sat up from beside Esther and stared. Esther held out a hand towards Mercy to keep her from making a comment that she always seemed to make at the worst timings. 

"You don't have to even read it out to me. Just in your head is fine, too." Esther said with an encouraging nod. Toye didn't look her way when she said that and she took that as her queue to be quiet. After a few more minutes of silence, Toye angrily shut the paper and shoved it into Esther's lap before standing to his feet and brushing off his hands.

"I'm sorry if I said-"

"It was worth a shot." muttered Toye, glancing at Mercy on the ground as Esther stood to her feet, "Good luck getting over the wall, hope this helped." And with that Toye hurried away to the mess hall leaving Esther standing in a quiet shock and Mercy pulling a face. 

"Damn, that play article must've been really boring." muttered Mercy and Esther let out a sigh and glanced at her, "What?" 

Chapter Text

Esther had asked Mercy at dinner if Toye had so much as made a peep about what had transpired on Saturday, but she was just about over the entire situation, resulting in saying he barely had so much as looked in her general direction. Now, as Esther stood panting after their Currahee run, she couldn't help but glance towards Toye in 2nd platoon as the lot of them awaited the rest of the company to get down the mountain. He stood, staring straight forward, his jaw clenched. 

"Look with your eyes, Fubar, not your goddamn head." muttered Lieutenant Moore said as he came waltzing past - even now the Lieutenant, a member of the cadre, was saying it. Esther willingly and slowly pulled her eyes forward again and heard one of the slight puffs of a laugh echo from behind her, undoubtably from where Christenson was stood. His commentary hadn't been as aggressive as the first two weeks, but it was still there and he still stared whenever she did her boots every morning and night. He seemed to laugh at anything and everything, but Esther was pretty much over it.

"Oh c'mon, it was pretty funny," she heard Christenson say as he lent forward over her shoulder a bit, "Moore thought it was funny at least. What can I say, nicknames stick when they are true." Esther bit back her lip and stared forward. Is that really what they all thought of her? Or was it some stupid inside joke or idea they all shared within one another about her? The half-pint comment that seemed to spread like wildfire through the platoons about Mercy. Did that become a normal thing to think of her as well? Whether her height or how much she could hold from having a drink; it made her stomach roll. 

"The same goes for people with shitty personalities." Esther muttered, throwing it back over her shoulder towards him, keeping her gaze away from him before turning forward and staring towards Currahee where the last few stragglers came down, Mercy with the main portion of the last cluster of people this time. PT was really beginning to show its purpose on Currahee runs, especially with Mercy. It was a quiet victory to hear how quiet Christenson was though, so by the time they were filed into their partners for hand-to-hand combat, she took a glance at Christenson down a few people and saw him staring her down. She didn't linger too long on his gaze though and focused again on Talbert who was actually watching her for once. She was so surprised that he took the minute to meet her gaze that she stuck to staring down towards where Mercy was with Sisk again. 

"He gets like that....Christenson." Talbert said, pulling Esther's gaze back to him, "One of the top physical performers here, he don't want no competition, much less someone who can match his comments." Esther stared at Talbert quietly. She stayed quiet. 

"Look, I'm not trying to play friend or foe here, alright?" Talbert said quietly, his eyes focused on her own, "Just stay in your lane and we'll all stay in ours." Esther wasn't sure if Talbert thought that the words he said to her were comforting or not, but the longer she stood there and let them sink in, the longer she hated how much he had phrased his words and what he'd said.

Talbert's poor attempt in conversation had completely ticked her off by the time lunch had rolled around after she had been rolled in the dirt for the greater portion of the morning by Talbert himself. The afternoon continued with floods of rain and Easy spent their afternoon in it, while every other company, platoon and commander were in classrooms. They spent it with PT and with Lieutenant Winters' wistful guidance, though she wasn't sure how many more times she could hear him yelling at some of the men to push through the sit-ups.

By the time they were dismissed to barracks for an hour before dinner, they were covered in splotches of red clay and mud again, but mostly drenched in rain water. Esther's usual braid that she tied to the back of her head was coming undone and sticking to her neck and her clothes were sticking to her body. Esther found that by staying silent by this point, the men really had nothing to say about her and she found herself content with that. Ignoring them and remaining on her own little island worked.

Esther slowly sat down on her bed and took off her shoes and then her soaking wet soaks and hung them off the edge of her bed, before settling down on the edge, on top of the army-issued blanket and looked at her dirtied hands. They were bruised and calloused and her nails were chipped and skin torn up. She stared at them for a moment before sighing. Slowly standing, she grabbed her towel and then turned and walked directly into the mass that was Williams - one of the men who bunked across from her. They'd had a few chance run-ins that had been nothing more than a "'scuse me" and "on your left". Just like Kasinski a few bunks down from him, or Whittaker a few more down from there. Williams just sometimes was too much in the way - and it usually entailed her shoving her way around him. He was standing in the little area at the end between their two beds and staring right down at her. 

"You're not leaving." Esther stared at him as he spoke - she probably looked more statue than woman. He didn't have a single right in saying when she came and went; this was free hour. Not Williams tells you where to go hour. 

"Excuse me." Esther said, attempting to side step him as her cheeks burned with crimson. Williams moved in the direction she attempted to go and blocked her again, causing her to take a slight step back, clutching her towel in her arms and staring at his chest, refusing to look at his eyes, though her father would've told her to do otherwise. 

"You're not going nowhere, Fubar, alright? Sobel'll be in here in a second and when he finds you not here, it'll be all our problems, got it?" Williams said as Esther stared forward numbly, "I ain't doing no more Currahee runs in the rain and mud because of you or the little runt." 

"Don't call her that." muttered Esther, staring forward, still refusing to meet his eyes, "Please just let me through." 

"We're not going to play this back and forth game." Williams said, but Esther just shoved past him, knocking his shoulder back as she did so and pushed forward towards the door, only to get a hand wrapped around her bicep, yanking her back. By this point, a majority of the men in the billet were looking their way now and were unequivocally staring at the two of them. Williams' hand on her bicep began to ache and by this point, she was now looking directly into his piercing blue eyes that tore right into her gaze.

"One guy washed out because he did that, alright, Armstrong? Left to go wash off and Sobel tore him a new one. You ain't leaving 'til Sobel does his stupid check-up, alright? We ran Currahee twice that night because of him. He was too scared to even come back into the billet. Left his stuff and then left entirely." Williams said.


"Let go of my arm." Esther said, pulling back with a grunt but Williams didn't budge.

"What the hell are you even doing here anyway? Trying to make a man out of yourself? Prove that 'you can do it too' or some bullshit like that?" Williams said, "It's exactly for stuff like that that they don't want people like you in here. Think with all that college shit you can just up and leave whenever. Stuff like that happens here and we all get the reprimand, we all get the boot." Esther stared at Williams for a moment, blinking a few times before she could muster any sort of words, with a crimson face and her heart racing. 

"Don't question my judgment on why I'm here, Williams." Esther muttered quietly, stepping back to try and loosen the hold he had on her arm that was not budging in the slightest, "I'm here doing what everyone else here is doing. Doing something for their country." Silence lingered between the two of them. The barracks were quiet. 

"You don't have to play nice with me or anything you don't want to do. You don't have to at all, that's not why I'm here. I'm here to report and write. I'm here to tell the people back home what their sons and daughters who are fighting this war are doing." Esther sucked in a breath.

"I'm not here to be the bigger man. I was asked to be here and I accepted. So, if you stay out of my way, I'll stay out of yours." Esther said, "And we don't ever have to act like this happened." Williams stared at her, just like the synonymous rest of the room and let out a breath.

"Now, let go of my arm." she said and Williams was quick to drop the embrace on her arm as she backed up and weakly looked at the red spot wrapped like an armband around her bicep. She quickly scampered, grabbing her towel and moving towards the door.

"Good going, asshole, you got her all upset now." someone muttered.


"Real classy." Esther raced out of the billet, the rain a light drizzle as she began walking down the muddied path, her clothes becoming wet with rain water again as she blinked away the droplets the raced through her hair and over her cloths, attempting to suck in deep breaths and to control her breathing the best she could. Her mind was intrinsically focused on that moment, how he had grabbed her on her bicep and stared at her like that. What would've happened if it had just been the two of them in there? Would he have pinned her down by her throat to keep her from leaving? Or was he just trying to scare her? Her automatically assuming the worst hit her like a punch to the chest. 

"Private Armstrong." she heard a voice say - probably the most comforting voice Toccoa had to offer - quickly turning to find Lieutenant Winters, dressed in his ODs with his helmet shadowing his eyes, coming towards her. She blinked a few times as she stood there, taking a questioning glance down at herself; clothes sticking to her body from rain water, legs and arms scrapped up with the new addition of where Williams' hand had been, her shoes and socks covered in mud along with the lower portions of her legs. She looked gangly, unpresentable.

Esther saluted quickly.

"Sir." she said and Lieutenant Winters nodded her off and stiffly presented himself forward. She didn't dismiss the flick of his eyes to her arm, where Williams' hand had been previously and slowly dropped her salute and looked past him for a moment into the dark, dull gray of the world of Camp Toccoa behind them. 

"What can I do for you, sir?" she said quietly, a bitter chill washing over her for a brief moment from the cold of the rain water. Lieutenant Winters watched her for another minute before clearing his throat.


"I was going to come to third platoon first but I saw you heading out and figured I'd catch you before you were off." Lieutenant Winters said, "Just got word in from Lieutenant Sobel and it's best if we address it together as a platoon." Esther's heart started pounding inside her chest and suddenly, she began thinking abut the last two weeks, wondering if any of them had many any sort of misstep out of the normal occurrences that usually existed. Esther nodded and willingly followed Lieutenant Winters back to third platoon, watching as he opened the door and her dripping wet self followed him inside, the raindrops on the roof pounding like the knocking of a door. Heads turned upon seeing the duo enter through the door and voices were silenced. 

"I'm sorry to disrupt, but I just got word in from Lieutenant Sobel. Infractions. I need Talbert, Muck, Powers, Williams and Armstrong," Lieutenant Winters said, sparing a glance towards Esther who stood dripping wet by his side, "latrine duty." There were a few unenthusiastic  glances and harrowed gazes that lingered through the crowd of men in third platoon and a few that looked towards Esther who stood still in the entrance just a few feet behind Lieutenant Winters. 

"As you were." Lieutenant Winters said and then quickly stepped back outside again and disappeared into the array of downpour and thunderstorm. 

"Alright, well, if you heard your name, let's head out. Get this shit show done before dinner." she heard one man say - she guessed it were Muck. He had never spoken to her before, much less glance in her direction, but he was quick to brush past her with Talbert in tow. She watched Williams throw a smirk towards some of the guys and come waltzing past Esther, his eyes watching her own for a moment before he glanced at a few of the men at their cots near the front.


"I don't think the scholar's going to handle the shit show too well." he said before stepping out into the rain, Esther watching him go, quite helplessly as she stood there, dripping wet with the silence wrapping around her like molasses, sticking to her all over and making sure it was known. When she went to look back at the group, she saw Powers walking towards her, a helmet in his hand, with his own helmet atop his head. In passing, he held it out to her and nodded her on.


"C'mon." he said quietly, and Esther was surprised with how quickly she took the helmet and began to follow him out. The last two remaining 'infractionees' of the group followed the three ahead of them in silence, as the rain pounded down around them. Talbert, Muck and Williams were quite jovial in front of them, talking loud and laughing, though she couldn't quite put a finger on how they could be so joyful over cleaning toilets, but Powers was quiet beside her as they walked and she took that as her queue to also remain equally quiet. 

"Don't take this as you being in trouble or anything of the sort." she heard Powers say from beside her; she glanced his way for a moment and saw him smiling slightly at her from underneath his helmet, "Tab figured out pretty quickly that Easy don't get infractions easily. Sobel just needs to show that some men do get the infraction duties, ya know? That's why Winters pulled you probably - I saw 2nd platoon at it about a week ago. Your friend was huffing it out with a few of their guys as well." Esther watched Powers for a moment and slowly nodded with a sigh.

"Just goes to show it was our turn this week." Powers said with an encouraging smile," Nothing to worry yourself about, if that's what you were worrin' about." 

"Don't take bets on Sobel just pickin' your name outta 'a hat either." she heard Muck say, turning his head to look back at the two of them in the rain, "Winters says he picks 'em, but I sure as hell don't believe that for a second. You know Sobel has it out for all of us. Especially you now." Muck nodded to her and she bit back her lip.

"Probably figures this'll finally get you off his back, goody-two-shoes." Williams said snootily and Talbert shoved his arm a bit with much protest from himself. Esther stared towards the dark fields as they walked instead; she had been anything but. She was silent, did what she was supposed to, talked when needed and appeared when needed. She made sure there wasn't a hair out of line or a string hanging off a patch. She tried her best to blend and disappear altogether. When they arrived at latrines, the men all dispersed to different areas of the latrine and got to work; scrubbing, cleaning, wiping up. Esther stood there for a moment, panic rising inside of her as she quickly grabbed a few sponges and started in on the toilets.

"Sobel'll be in here any minute," she heard Muck whisper as he walked hurriedly past her, "he don't see you cleaning something and he loses his shit. He wants you on hands and knees, all fours, toughing it out on these things." Esther watched him for a moment and glanced towards the door. He watched her, grabbing some more soap and another sponge and nodded.

"Yeah, this ain't my first rodeo with this; just trust me." he said and walked away, evidently annoyed that he was partaking in this, but they all were together, so no one could really say anything to sway another.

Muck had been right though, about 5 minutes later, the door was being shoved open and Lieutenant Sobel was there with his counterpart, Sergeant Evans. Everyone scrambled to their feet to salute him and he gave a meager glance towards them and saluted them all before stalking forward towards where Talbert was and began berating him for his poor cleaning job of the sink. Esther continued to work at the toilets as best she could; back home, her and Marty had started to help clean the house, thoroughly, at 7. They always had weekday and weekend chores and Daddy made sure things were spotless, especially if guests were coming over. He'd always joke that he was doing a thorough examination of things when they were doing, to make sure it was spotless. Ma always said though, that even though he joked like that, he always made sure things were nice and cleaned up no matter what. He had grown up like that and lived his life through the Great War with the Marines like that as well, the best he could. He was used to it. 

"Private Armstrong, the toilet is not your child, you do not have to nuture it into this world, but at least make it look presentable in an orderly fashion. It's a toilet for Chrissake." she heard Lieutenant Sobel say, his footsteps booming across the latrine floor as they neared her.

"Yes, sir." she said, scrubbing a bit harder before moving onto the next toilet. She could feel Lieutenant Sobel's eyes burning into the back of her head as she crouched there scrubbing as best she could.

"It better smell like daisies in here, Private Armstrong, when you are done. I want to see my reflection in the floor of the goddamn latrines, am I clear?" Captain Sobel said angrily standing over Esther as she told herself to stay focused in front of her.

"Yes, sir." she said, before hearing him stalk away to go berate another one of the men; from the sound of it, it was Williams. Lieutenant Sobel ended up staying the full hour and a half that they were in there cleaning, so by the time they got out, Sobel lined them up in the rain in front of the latrines and made them stand there for 30 minutes as he stared and watched them. 


"I will not have you walking into my mess hall smelling like horse shit." Lieutenant Sobel said, "So we will stand out here until you no longer smell like horse shit." Another 30 minutes ticked by she had calculated, before she could feel how numb her feet were from the combination of cold rain and mud. Esther slowly let her eyes travel to Powers next to her, who stood unmoving beside her, staring straight forward, glazed over and emotionless. Zoned out. Esther reverted her eyes forward again and let out a small sigh and began staring. She reminded herself to thank Powers for the helmet later as they stood there. They were outside for another 2 hours in the downpour after their previous first elongated hour and finally Lieutenant Sobel, who had been drilling his eyes into their heads for those summations of 2+ hours as well, spoke.

"You're all dismissed." he said, "Lights out are in 30 minutes. That should be enough time to eat, shower and get to bed. Go."

The group took off towards the mess hall, finding themselves to be the only five in the mess hall where things were quickly being cleaned up. Esther had about 4 bites of actual food as that was all they could give her and then a few pieces of the crust of white bread. She had sat by herself at the table her and Mercy usually occupied and had been so dead set on getting calories inside her stomach that she didn't realize the whispers from the group of 4 men that sat accumulated together. She was too busy savoring her last bits of food before breakfast tomorrow though, to be focused on whatever they had to say.

By the time they had food in their stomachs and showers - she had stood out behind the showers with her bar of soap and cleaned up the best she could - she lied down in bed and her body ached. The lights were out and snores were beginning to fill the billet, but she could only just stare at the ceiling.

Her soaking wet hair was cold now against her t-shirt and pillow and her feet were still numb as she lie there to the point it felt like ice cubes attached to her ankles. The rain kept her awake a majority of the night, as she thought about life on the front lines. She had read some of the books about life on the front lines during the Great War and her father had told vague stories of what it was like; disease, trench foot, no food, always cold.....the list could go on and on without an end.

Esther looked over towards her arm where Williams had wrapped his hand around, touching the tender parts of it where it was still red and bruising. His eyes had looked wild and his gaze had lingered on her as she had left the billet and once she had gotten back in as well. She felt gross even when the soap had washed over her body. She felt dirty. He had held her arm so tight and it had left a mark.

Esther slowly sat up and let out a sigh, before pulling her boots on quietly. She glanced towards Grant's bed where he lay on his side, fast asleep and snoring. She slowly stood to her feet and walked down the center of the building before getting to the door. She let it swing open before she shut it behind her as quiet as she possibly could. The steps had a small cover to it and she took a moment to sit herself down and listen to the stillness and quietness of the falling rain. She checked her watch - it was nearly midnight. Sleep seemed to escape her tonight though and all she felt she could do was sit and listen to rain fall.

Her and Daddy did that a lot back home, they'd sit on the porch on Sundays whenever it rained and listen to rain fall. He always loved listening to the sound of rain. Snow he hated, reminded him of the war too much for his liking. Ma would always be out there with them while he stayed inside and watched from the window. But the rain he loved, he cherished it. She sat out there until she felt her head drooping and her yawns became wider and eventually went back inside, her eyes downcast as she moved towards her bed. 

"Thought you were finally leaving." she heard a quiet voice say and she looked up to find Williams sat up in his bed, staring directly at her, his eyes piercing through the darkness towards her.

"Couldn't sleep." was all she managed to say before trailing over to her bed, removing her boots and pulling herself comfortably into her cot. Esther could almost feel him staring and uncomfortably stuck her head up to find him still looking at her. 

"Don't think it's wise of you to head out there at night, Fubar, they find you out past dark, they'll boot you on the spot." he told her, "And I'm sure plenty of these guys won't give a damn. At least I'm trying to help ya."

"I don't need your help." Esther muttered quietly, before settling herself back against the bed again and angrily staring at the top of Grant's head, wishing she had fallen asleep instead of being stuck awake with a person like Williams who would not stop talking. 

"Shut the fuck up, Williams." she heard a voice say from a few beds over; it sounded like Talbert, but she wasn't sure, yet silently thanked the voice for getting Williams to be quiet, because she was able to curl up into a ball and quickly fall asleep.

Morning dawned in an oblique fashion, with a pitch dark wake up call from reveille and an angry Lieutenant Sobel banging on doors and barging in, yelling and pointing before barking orders and leaving once again. The Currahee run that morning was a steamy and muggy mess of humidity, the sickly sweat sticking to bodies and foreheads and causing the early onset of nausea and light-headedness. The sun was out and beating upon them brightly and each gasping breath was like losing an ounce of water from your body. The days following continued on in a much similar manner; humidity filled days with long-awaited evening showers and plenty of hungry soldiers with stomachs to feed. By that Thursday, late in the morning after a tireless Currahee run, Lieutenant Sobel had gathered the group in a circle around him and stood there with his hands on his hips for a few moments before clearing his throat.

"Tomorrow we begin some of the most important practice sessions you will ever experience. We will start with a warm-up on the obstacle course and then we will begin simulating what jumping from an airplane will be like." Lieutenant Sobel explained, his eyes scoping out across the group of them. Esther glanced towards Mercy beside her and caught her eye, offering a comforting smile in her direction in hopes that news of this would bring light to everything else.

"This afternoon we will be doing the obstacle course. It is scheduled to rain. I can assure you if any of you don't get over the wall, you will be doing this course in the rain until you do." Lieutenant Sobel said, a few people taking glances at one another. Esther cast a glance at Mercy who stared numbly forward.

"You're all dismissed for lunch." he said and sent them off. Esther could hardly remember what she was eating with how fast she was consuming the food, her hunger staving off any question of what it actually was. Mercy was doing much of the same, the early conversation that had existed, diminished and perished for the sake of more calories in their systems. 

"Sobel was going on about an ambulance....I don't know, something or other taking me down the mountain if I didn't make it." Mercy managed out through her bites of food, "What that asshat needs to learn is that I don't quit unless I'm dead alright? Telling me an ambulance is waiting for me is like me inhaling my coffee for energy. I mean, I'm doing because I ain't quiting. That fucking-" Mercy grumbled to herself under her breath and pushed her shoulders back. 

"I can't deal with his commentary sometimes," Mercy said, "if it were actually funny, I'd write it down. He can't even make a good joke-"

"I'm still trying to figure him out." Esther said between mouth-fulls of food, "One day, he's all wide-eyed staring and glares, and the next he's yelling, in your face and I'll do you one better, providing commentary on something you're already aware of." 

"Ah, the versatility of a man." Mercy said, serenely leaning back with a sarcastic sigh.

In the passing days, there was this weird, sort of unsaid agreement that had come between the two women and the men of Easy Company. If they stayed out of one another's ways, there were no issues that seemed to exist, and both sides seemed intent on keeping it that way. Storm clouds rolled in as they were heading towards the obstacles course, the air a few temperatures cooler than this morning, a sign of what was to come. 

"Wonder if she'll actually get over the wall." Esther heard someone mutter from behind her and Mercy, "You know if she don't, Sobel'll have to boot her." 

"Christenson, you said you saw Toye trying to help her right? You think she'll do it?" another voice chimed in and Esther glanced towards Mercy who walked silently by her side, a stoic expression drawn up on her face. 

"I don't know." came Christenson's response and Esther watched Mercy whip around and stop dead in her tracks. Esther came to a slow stop and watched as Mercy walked right up to Christenson and stood staring up at him. If there was anything Mercy Codona could do was stand up for herself, especially when it meant proving another wrong.

"What do you not know?" Mercy said, staring up into the rather shocked expression filled face of Christenson, Wynn and Sisk who he had been talking to suddenly backing away a bit as Mercy and her short stature put an obstacle right into Christenson's path. Esther watched Christenson's piercing eyes search Mercy's face for a moment as she stood right up in his business, his gaze cold and jaw clenched.

"If you'll get up the damn wall." Christenson said, "You know full well if you don't before we start doing our jumps that you'll be rushed outta here as fast as Sobel can get ya." Mercy stared at him and bit back her lip for a moment of surrender and stared coldly at him. 

"Even the least strong man in a company has gotta do what anyone else can do. You can't do that now, who says you can do that in war. You can't get up the wall, well hell that's like saying you can't jump from a damn plane." Christenson said and Mercy took a shaky step backwards and stared at him. 

"I can get up the wall, I just haven't done it in front of Sobel yet, but he'll see today. Today'll be the day his eyes finally bulge from his head and he sees me do it." Mercy said and Christenson shook his head and rubbed above his eyes. 

"Yeah, I'm sure he'll be real pleased, half-pint." Christenson muttered, the woefully sarcastic undertone enough to make Esther look away and towards the obstacle course where groups were amassing in platoons. 

"You're just waiting for the minute I wash out." Mercy muttered, giving his shoulder a rough shove out of a spit of anger, "I can see the look in your eye." 

"Yeah, that and a million dollars." he said, a surprisingly offended tone in his voice and then side-stepped her, stalking over to the platoons near the obstacle course, picking up a quick jogging pace as he caught up with Liebgott. Esther watched Mercy wade over towards her and attempted to decipher the expression on Mercy's face but saw nothing but the competitive nature that Mercy brought everywhere in her back pocket. 

"Asshat could be number one in whatever physical test he damn-well wants, I'll just be proud to get over the wall." Mercy said and Esther offered her a grin and wrapped an arm over her shoulder.


"That makes two of us then, Mer." Esther said and Mercy looked up at her with a hopeful grin.

By the time the obstacle course had started back up again, from behind Talbert's head, Esther tried to get a good view on Mercy from where she was, but fell short. If anything, she hoped once they got to the other side, Mercy was crossing the line with a grin on her face as shiny as a Sunday smile as her Ma would put it. The rain came once they were about an eighth of the way in and everything slowly became slippery and mud covered and people had red clay clad about their clothing and bodies and all in their hair.

Esther wore her hair in a braid on the back of her head everyday for that very reason, and if anything, it was the only sort of fancy braiding she could do. Growing up with Marty as a brother, she played with the boys more often outside than the girls and of course, that led to some quiet dismissal from the girls, but she couldn't help wanting to do more at recess than gossip and sit on the steps when there was a playground and field for play and games.

Esther reached back and ran her fingers over the tightly pinned back braid on the back of her head and suddenly had her heart tug in about 5 different directions instead of towards the obstacle course. She missed the tender touch her Ma would have when gently braiding her hair before school when she was younger, now resorting to her own rough and uneven attack she did on her hair at 0500 everyday.

Her hair was now wet with rain water though and no doubt ready to be drenched in an equal mess of mud and clay by the time she finished the obstacle course though.

Esther watched Talbert jump forward towards the course earnestly and stared forward quietly, waiting for the signal to go. Esther's high knees felt stronger that day, whether it was from the fire that Mercy had to prove herself or the strength building in her body from those Currahee runs and PT sessions, she cleared that easily before launching onto the ground to army crawl through the mud in front of them. It soaked her white shirt that she had just finally cleaned and gotten the last of a week's worth of mud out of and crawled forward, vaguely aware of the closeness to Talbert's feet that she had.

Pulling herself out of the spitfire of mud, she pushed up on the wet grass like a newborn foal and crawled through the tunnel, a slight reprieve from the rain before launching forward into her somersault and catapulting towards the wall. Esther took her steps in propelling her off the ground and up the wall, latching her hands to the top of the wall and pulling herself up and over before practically falling off the other side. The reassembly of platoons of the opposite side had begun and Esther humbly hobbled across the finish line in the mess of mud and rain and headed towards her position where Talbert was heavy breathing, covered in his similar array of mud and clay. 

"Mud suits ya." he said as she approached, a seeming bridge to a connection of some sort and she managed a sarcastic smirk in his direction.


"I think you pull it off better." she said before putting herself at resting position beside him and catching her breath, briefly catching a glance from Talbert her way. Despite the dirt that littered him, she swore a slight smile peaked out on his lips but she didn't want to put hope where there wasn't. Through the rain, she focused her gaze forward towards the wall; Mercy was supposed to be coming over the wall now, she was supposed to be peaking her head up now and coming over the top. But for a moment, there was no one streaming from 2nd platoon's line and the pounding inside of Esther's heart nearly made her sick. Christenson came running to his spot behind her and met her gaze for a brief moment before looking out over his shoulder towards the obstacle course again. Esther ignored his indignant gaze and instead focused again on the course.

"C'mon, Mer." Esther whispered softly, her jaw clenching, "It's a wall, not a mountain." Though within a matter of minutes, she saw a hand and then another and a grip on wood that made Esther's heart soar. Before she knew it, there was Mercy pulling herself up over the ledge and launching herself onto her back on top of the wooden obstacle; Esther didn't miss the smile on her face. 

"Keep moving, Private Codona, we're not up there to admire the views!" yelled Lieutenant Sobel, pointing and thrashing in the rain. Esther watched with wide, admirable eyes as Mercy swiftly completed the obstacle course and hurried over to her spot in her platoon and Esther couldn't keep the smile at her face at bay, staring forward in a slight haze.

Mercy had gotten over the wall.

She had cleared the wall and she had done it all by herself.

The resounding silence from the men was enough to bring about as well off of a celebration for Mercy as anyone.

Silence meant more in this moment than celebration, than voices or jeers, because this time they saw and they knew; silence meant Mercy had been right. 

Chapter Text

Esther, admittedly, got less sleep than she would've wanted. She figured it was because of the recent jump training they were doing, or the fact that someone's snoring in the barracks had been more obnoxious than usual, or even merely because of her own half-wit to self-sabotage rest, but she could feel the exhaustion weighing on her. The paper last night didn't help much either; Powers had gotten it before bed and once he finished reading, Esther asked him if she could take a read and he handed it over without as much as a fuss (which was honestly nice to not have to encounter) but that was just Powers for you. The front page had made her stomach roll.

NAZI-OCCUPIED FRANCE AND THE GERMANS: GERMANY MAKES VIOLENT STATEMENT ABOUT CURRENT EVENTS OF THE COUNTRY (AND ITS DOOMED FUTURE) 

She had read through the entire article before placing the newspaper down on the ground and practically being up all night her mind running amuck at the mere thought. She had seen plenty small columns in papers before, but there was finally one bigger than a 3 x 3 section on the back page.

Walking out to the field, exhaustion heavy in her eyes, she almost wished that Lieutenant Sobel would dunk their heads in water or something of the sort and help her wake up because then she'd actually thank him for once. Walking out to the pitch, she took a glance up, in the hazy morning darkness, towards Mercy and stopped quickly in her tracks. Beside Mercy, standing tall and proud as a peacock, was Toye. With a hefty looking bruise under his eye. And beside him, Mercy, standing with broad shoulders and a straight back, sending glances his way, nervously, questioningly. Far too many thoughts appeared to wrangle Esther's brain in that very moment. 

"Get your ass moving, Armstrong, in line." she heard Lieutenant Moore saying as he jogged past her and Esther realigned herself forward and moved towards her platoon, suddenly searching faces in her own platoon, to see if there wasn't any recognition or notice. And it seemed they had. A few tired glances were on their way to 2nd Platoon, a few mumbles under breaths, half-hearted attempts at trying to decipher what had happened. Esther positioned herself in her spot there beside Talbert and wearily cast a gaze towards Toye again, who stood unflinching. By the look on Mercy's face, something told Esther that Mercy was a part of whatever that bruise meant. Lieutenant Sobel was nowhere to be found yet and if anything, Easy was getting in the habit of being earlier than Lieutenant Sobel, another silent agreement everyone had come up with subconsciously. Esther watched as Lieutenant Winters appeared and it seemed he noticed Toye as well - the proud stature or the bruise combined. Lieutenant Winters stood there for a moment, but she could see the contortions on his face and the confusion, surprise and worry all mixed into one. 

"Where the hell did Toye get the black and blue bruise, huh?" she heard a voice whisper past her over her shoulder. Esther froze for a moment before glancing back towards Christenson and pulled a face.

"How would I know?" Esther whispered back, a brow raised. Christenson watched her for a moment before glancing over to Toye again and then Mercy. Esther looked away from him and towards Mercy again, watching as Lieutenant Winters walked towards Toye, Mercy stepping forward to speak. Esther found Lieutenant Winters leading Toye and Mercy away from the platoons and bringing them towards where he usually stood and began talking to them, facing away from the group. Esther watched with quiet contemplation as her heart pounded harder and harder inside her chest. 

"I expect you all to be at the position of attention!" she heard a yell call from the direction of an angrily marching Lieutenant Sobel, who tended to get angry just for the hell of it. Esther straightened up quickly, but didn't dismiss the fact that she saw Lieutenant Winters lead the two back over to their spots. Lieutenant Sobel came to a standstill in front of the group and let his eyes travel the platoons, unmistakably noticing Toye and marching directly towards him and standing overtop of his proud, large stature. Watching Lieutenant Sobel take those big, commanding strides towards Toye sent her stomach twirling - something had happened, and that something had involved both Toye and Mercy. 

"What the hell happened to your eye, Private Toye?" Lieutenant Sobel's voice commanded towards her. For a second, Esther heard genuine question and worry in his voice that was never there. It was a split second of concern, before it wavered and dissipated. Esther clenched her jaw.

"Answer me." snapped Lieutenant Sobel as Toye remained quiet. Esther shut her eyes at what she suddenly felt, her own heart racing. 

"No excuse, sir." Toye said. Esther swallowed, her throat dry, her heart pounding. Lieutenant Sobel sucked in a breath and Esther shut her eyes. 

"You come here to train, not to fight. I thought that would have been presently clear up to now but evidently, it is not." Lieutenant Sobel said, walking away from Toye and Mercy and towards 3rd platoon to where Esther was fuming in a quiet fury that she was having trouble containing. A quiet voice in her head had told her something had happened and Toye had gotten involved and whatever this was had involved Mercy. 

"You fight in the war, not in your training, are we clear? You do not use your fellow enlisted as practice." he said, his eyes catching on Esther for a moment before he continued back down towards the line and the rest of the other platoons, "You fight when you have purpose to, not for a power play on another enlisted." Esther fought the urge to roll her eyes.

"Because of this, Private Toye, your weekend pass is revoked." Lieutenant Sobel said and Esther felt her throat tighten. Esther watched as Lieutenant Sobel stopped and surveyed the group and settled his gaze onto Esther who stood, unflinching at the end of the platoons, her eyes set on Lieutenant Sobel's like some sort of challenge.

"We're running Currahee." Lieutenant Sobel said, diverting from the topic of Toye's black eye and onto the next, "Go."

The run lasted until the hazy blinding rays of the sun peaked up over the horizon and people were heading to mess. Mercy wasn't there though. Neither was Toye. They weren't anywhere. Esther had tried to look for both of them on the run, maybe try and get some info out of them, but by the time they had gotten back to their morning positions, both of them and Lieutenant Winters were missing and Lieutenant Sobel was not giving anymore flame to the fire.

Esther stood silently in line, her eyes downcast and focused on the tray in front of her rather than anywhere around her. She accepted her oatmeal and the canteen filled with water and then turned and made a beeline towards her table that remained pitifully empty. Esther sat herself down and quickly consumed her food before taking a few extra minutes there at the table, before her eyes betrayed her and she looked towards where a few men from 2nd platoon were sat. She could see ones like Guarnere, Liebgott, Luz and Perconte. She saw one of the bigger guys Randleman with one of the shorter guys, Martin. They were all talking, not highly enthusiastically, but enough without a single care in the world to make her heart race. Esther was going to get the answers to her questioning mind, whether that meant doing all she could to get answers out of the men of 2nd platoon or going straight to Colonel Sink himself. Esther stood and made haphazard eye contact with Liebgott who looked away almost instantly.

"9:00 guys." she heard him mutter and eyes met Esther's as she approached the table. 

"Anybody want to let me know what was going on in 2nd Platoon's barracks last night?" Esther said, standing at the edge of the table and slowly meeting each other their gazes, "3rd Platoon was pretty much under control." She met Guarnere's gaze, a sudden fire in her gut apparent and unwavering.

"You want first shot?" Esther pressed, a coldness to her voice that seemed to pull the attention of a few surrounding tables. Guarnere leaned forward with a sigh and watched her.

"Look, Fubar," Guarnere said, waving a hand in front of himself, "I don't know what your little friend was getting herself pulled into, but clearly ole Joe Toye wasn't a fan of it. Heard he socked a guy in the face."


"Pop in the face." one of the men said, down a few guys; Luz she believed - he was always the ones telling jokes she found, she heard him half the time across a field even if he wasn't trying to be loud, " Joe doesn't like that sorta shit." Esther stared at George for a minute, gathering her bearings. What? 

"There was a fight?"

"Listen, I don't know the details, Joe's a pretty quiet guy when it comes to it, but he sees someone stepping outta line, he'll have it handled. Even if he's gotta sport a black eye for a bit," Guarnere said, plucking the cigarette from his lip and pointing at her, "and half-pint ain't no exception. Clearly, someone was messing with her and Joe was fixing himself to take care of it. And clearly he did." 

"But what happened?" Esther said in a low questioning hymn, "You were all in barracks right? Who did it?" Her voice was low, she didn't want attention to draw towards their table, but with the blank looks she was getting, she was going to lose her mind if she had to stand there with embarrassed crimson cheeks and blank stares any longer. 

"Don't think it happened in barracks, Fubar." Guarnere said, "Heard voices last night, figured it was them. Maybe some jackass from Dog was trying to mess with her. Look, Joe's a great guy. He wouldn't let a man outta 2nd get their tail twisted. Once we figure out where they went, we can just ask 'em." Esther leaned back from the table and placed her hands on her hips and sighed, before glancing towards the entrance of the mess hall and found Lieutenant Winters coming towards the mess hall, his pace quick and even and it seemed his eyes found her within a second.

"Private Armstrong," he said, entering the wooden building, making a beeline towards her through the tables and people milling about, "you need to come with me." The men at the table were all watching her and she wasn't sure if she could believe a single word they said to make her leave that table and follow Lieutenant Winters. 

"Where's Private Codona, sir? And Private Toye?" Esther asked him quietly and Lieutenant Winters glanced at the men, his face stoic before looking back towards her.

"Come with me." he said and Esther quickly nodded and followed the Lieutenant out of the mess hall. Lieutenant Winters was silent the entire walk over to HQ. He held the door open for her, the same door that Sergeant McCoy had led them in a few weeks back and down the hall to Colonel Sink's office. Lieutenant Winters knocked and a runner appeared at the opposite side of the door and quickly pulled it open.

Inside, Colonel Sink was positioned behind his desk, a stern expression written across his face as his eyes flicked to Esther, herself who appeared just behind Lieutenant Winters. Esther also noticed Lieutenant Nixon there, along with Sergeant Evans, Lieutenant Sobel's milling assistant; except there was no Lieutenant Sobel to be found. Then, sat in two chairs in front of Colonel Sink's desk were Toye and Mercy. Toye, jaw clenched, eyes narrowed and tension lingering in his shoulders and Mercy, trying to put on a brave face once she saw it was Esther. 

"Private Armstrong, glad you could join us." Colonel Sink said and Esther saluted and nodded, incredibly confused.

"Thank you, sir."

Without so much as a knock, the door burst open and all heads turned quickly towards the opening door, where a tall, shadowed man in PT gear and mused up, tossed hair, was shoving in a guy, looking like the fit All-American boy he was with his shiny blonde hair, and sharp jawline, in front of him. 

"Colonel Sink, I think I've found the man you're looking for." the shadowed man said, his voice low, his eyes narrowed as they scoped out across the array of people in the office, "Caught him tending to some bloody knuckles this morning." Esther slowly looked towards where Toye and Mercy were sat and caught the brief, dark smirk on Toye's face as he stared at the man being yanked in like rag dog. Mercy was staring at the man, her eyes darting all around his face and that bruised hand, gripping the handles on the chair like they'd fly away. 

"Thank you, Lieutenant Speirs." Colonel Sink said as he rose from behind his desk and started around the structure towards the enlisted man who stood in the middle of the room, staring coldly at Colonel Sink who neared him. It was horrendously quiet in the office and Esther had returned to staring at Mercy more than what was going on between this enlisted and Colonel Sink, for Mercy's sake. Mercy didn't like to draw attention to herself and if things happened or went down, she never wanted to be the center of it. Any of it. Esther nervously reached up to the back of her neck and tugged her arm loosely around it and sighed. What was going on?

"Now tell me, son, what were you doing trying to bother one of our members from W-Sector?" Colonel Sink said, his voice a rumble of low mutters it felt. Esther glanced at Mr. All-American, trying to decipher that agonizingly annoying look on his face; whether he tried to show that this wasn't a big deal or rather a large annoyance to him, it made an anger curl through Esther's veins as she stood there. 

"I didn't sign up for any of this bullshit, sir." the man sputtered out, "Fighting with girls, training with 'em. I came to fight a war and prepare for it. Not with girls, though, oh no. There's a reason they're signing them up in factories back up and telling them to do those sorta jobs back home, sir, not to join up in the Airborne. Especially one with a college degree."

"That's enough, Private." Colonel Sink said, taking a sparing glance over towards Esther who stood, staring more towards the ground than anything else, a few other gazes looking towards Esther who stood silently by her friend's side. Esther slowly lifted her eyes upward and found the man staring at her.

"It ain't right, sir." the man said, "You know full well none of these men are happy about a couple of women running around, thinking they can be soldiers just like the rest of us. That ain't what this is about, sir." Colonel Sink was quiet, looking at this man and staring at him. He wasn't saying much of anything, Esther was afraid and it sent her heart pounding inside her chest again. 

"Private....."

"Kavanagh, sir." 

"Private Kavanagh, if you could listen to me for a moment....loud and clear," Colonel Sink said, as Esther watched the Private straighten up a bit at his words, "well, with this airborne division, we're doing something the United States military has never seen before. Men parachuting from high-flying planes." 

"That's right, sir. It's why I joined up, sir." Colonel Sink stopped the Private with a hand.

"I'm not finished, Private."

"Sorry, sir."

"The reason I have Private Armstrong and Private Codona in my airborne division, two respected individuals from W-Sector at Fort Bragg, when connected with the 82nd Airborne Division, a war correspondent and combat photographer, respectfully, is because this is a new technique in war. '100 years from now when we're all long gone, are they going to remember this here airborne division? Maybe. With correspondents and photographers though, there isn't a doubt in my mind that even centuries from now, they'll know this airborne division." The room was incredibly quiet at Colonel Sinks' words.

"Now, let me make this clear, son, I am in no way belittling your thoughts or opinions or whatever other things you make-believe up in your mind, but they were asked to be here and practically volunteered the same as you all did to be here as well. What makes you any more better than any one of these ladies or gents in this here room then? You all volunteered and signed up. All of ya." Colonel Sink said looking around the room before turning to look upon Private Kavanagh again, his own eyes downcast and cold.

"You are all fighting this war, one way or another, Private. I sure as hell would like to see some respect coming from someone like you, especially towards two, intelligent young women that we have here today doing what they do for this company in the future." Colonel Sink said, "You don't have to like it, you don't have to even look their way, you can ignore it for all I care, but you can't be fighting them just for being here when you know damn well that they went through extensive training before this just as you did and earned their spots here, just like you did." It was silent for a few minutes as Colonel Sink seemed to gather his bearings, a few wandering eyes from Lieutenants moving about the room to look to any one of the three Privates in the office or to another Lieutenant. 

"How do you expect to be ready to fight in a goddamn war if you're off fighting your fellow enlisted?" Colonel Sink questioned coldly, his voice more commanding than the mere question he seemed to pose. Private Kavanagh was quiet, intending to remain quiet it seemed until he could leave. His cheeks were crimson this time, from evident embarrassment in front of the Colonel and multiple Lieutenants and the question posed evidently threw him off kilter. 

"We're training here to fight the enemy; the Krauts or the Japs. We're not training to fight with another person who'll be on your side of the war. Don't go making enemies out of someone who's supposed to be on your damn side! Am I clear, Private Kavanagh?" Colonel Sink said watching as Private Kavanagh seemed to shrink about five times smaller than he actually was.

"Yes, sir." stuttered out the Private as Esther looked away and towards Mercy again, who could hardly even look. 

"You'll be let off on a warning-"


"A warning?" Esther said suddenly, finally addressing the full room this time - not entirely sure of the situation but unable to keep her mouth shut for she had stood silently for too long by this point, realizing Colonel Sink was now watching her with a raised brow, "Sir, sorry, sir, I.....a warning?" Esther watched Colonel Sink who watched Private Kavanagh, who watched Colonel Sink. This strained triangle of hindered gazes held tightly for a moment. 

"Latrine duty. For the next month. Morning and night." a voice spoke out and the three of them turned their heads to Lieutenant Speirs, who had all but remained silent as he stood by the door, standing at attention with a cold stare. Esther watched the quiet Lieutenant for a moment, who met her gaze for a second, before she looked back to Colonel Sink. 

"Sir, please-"

"You do not have permission to speak, Private Kavanagh." Colonel Sink said, shutting the Private down almost immediately. Private Kavanagh grew quiet and then looked to Esther, as if she would provide some ounce of help. It made her feel sick to her stomach. 

"How did you come in contact with Private Codona, Private Kavanagh." Colonel Sink questioned, "You do not train with Easy Company." Private Kavanagh was uncharacteristically quiet and Esther stared at him, harshly for a moment before almost sadly for the next. This could be any man, Easy or not, this was any man here. Any man that wanted them gone or dead. This one just let that knowledge slip. 

"Talk, Private." Lieutenant Speirs muttered coldly from his shadowed corner, "Or I'll make you." 

"Running Currahee." the Private sputtered out, "Sometimes Dog runs with Easy. She was the runt. The slowest. Everybody made it known." Colonel Sink turned to look back at Mercy who sat still, facing away from everyone. 

"And in what right mind made you then think it was right to have a go at her? Swinging your damn fist?" Colonel Sink said quietly. Esther watched intently as the Private seemed to squirm under the guise of Colonel Sink and the multiple Lieutenants. 

"No excuse, sir." Private Kavanagh said quietly and Colonel Sink nodded. Toye chuckled coldly, staring down Private Kavanagh, his hands laced in front of him loosely as he soured. 

"And he's the one getting off easy, sir?" mustered Private Kavanagh, "Came flying at me like a lunatic." 

"Permission to speak, sir?" Toye said from his spot on the chair. 

"Permission granted."

"You go bothering a member of 2nd platoon, Private Kavanagh, and then you got a problem with the rest of us, alright?" Toye said, before glancing at Mercy for a brief-fleeting second and then glancing back, "She's as much of a member of Easy as the rest of us. And she's earned it." Private Kavanagh glared, his eyes turning upon Toye again.

"You deserve that eye, defending her like a-" 

"Well, Private Kavanagh, I'm afraid you have gotten yourself into a bigger mess than what you bargained for and I can assure you that this won't be forgotten." Colonel Sink said, "Private-"

"This is a bunch of bullshit!" snapped Private Kavanagh, Esther taking a slight step back at his piercing words, "Doing all this to protect a couple of broads? They're barely half of all your heights! I ain't staying in a branch that thinks having broads on the front line with us is okay!" There was a stunned silence in the room, the only sound the ticking of the nearby clock that hung by the window, echoing harrowingly as they all stood there. Esther looked at Private Kavanagh and watched his seething body stand so rigid and stiff as a board. What hurt was the fact that his statement was more than likely truthful in every way; Colonel Sink was willing to risk it with these men to protect her and Mercy. And they weren't even really supposed to be here. They were wanted, for the job they had to do, but in these men's eyes, she felt they were right. 

"Get him out of here, Lieutenant Speirs." Colonel Sink said and Esther watched as Lieutenant Speirs came up and took the man by his arms and redirected him towards the door, "Make that one month latrine duty, two." 

"Yes, sir." Lieutenant Speirs said, ushering the Private, who went eerily quiet, right out of the room and out of the building, leaving them all in an unsteady silence. 

"I know this afternoon, Easy Company was scheduled for jump training again, but I think it'd be best Lieutenant Winters and Lieutenant Nixon if you let these two ladies take the day-"


"Sir, I..." Esther started, three gazes settling onto her, "if I may, sir, I'm...I'm sorry for interrupting, but we'll be fine to participate in the afternoon training session." Esther watched Colonel Sink as he walked around and sat down in his chair again and looked up towards her. She stood there quite awkwardly, unsure if she should sit down or just straight up salute and leave, but she stood there and watched him. 

"We'll be fine, sir." Mercy said quietly with a nod, her face having more color than this morning. Esther looked back to Colonel Sink and he sighed. For a second, it felt like school, when you weren't entirely getting in trouble, but rather the teacher was just exuding disappointment. It especially felt worse when the teacher was a good teacher, one you liked; that's what this felt like. 

"Alright, well, you're dismissed then. Lieutenant Sobel will be informed of the circumstances this evening when I get ahold of him." Colonel Sink said, "You're all dismissed."

"Oh and Private Toye," Colonel Sink said, as Toye was beginning to get to his feet, "if you could stay here a minute." Esther looked at Toye as he glanced towards Mercy and then nodded, sitting himself down, the door shutting behind them. By the time the two Lieutenants, Esther and Mercy had gotten back outside in the bright sunshine and sweetly sick late morning breeze, they all sort of stood there for a moment before Lieutenant Winters looked to Mercy who was standing up a bit straighter and looking out towards the billets, her eyes glassy and her voice twisted, like she was trying to hold it together. 

"You okay, Mer?" Esther asked her quietly, her voice low enough that Lieutenant Winters and Lieutenant Nixon couldn't hear her, "What happened?" Mercy looked towards her, face red and hardened her features.

"Went to the showers. Kavanagh was there. I thought I was alone. Toye had come in saying he was looking for me - noticed I wasn't at my cot. Figured I was at the showers. He came in as Kavanagh was yelling about something or other. They got into a fight. Toye took some pretty hard hits." Mercy managed out in short bursts of sentences, "That's why he got the black eye." Mercy fell quiet as Esther glanced over her shoulder. Toye was coming towards him, proudly wearing that black eye like it was the newest fashion statement. He approached the group and quickly saluted the two Lieutenants before looking towards the two women.

"A guy from a different company doesn't get a say in all this, alright?" Toye said, before looking at Mercy, "He starts bothering you again, half-pint, you let me know." And without second thought, he turned and took off in the direction of Currahee. Sink was still punishing him - for fighting, Esther thought, by running Currahee. But he wasn't leaving, hell no. Esther looked to Lieutenant Winters and Lieutenant Nixon; Lieutenant Nixon chuckled and popped a cigarette on his lip.


"Toye should've hit him harder, really ring his bell." Lieutenant Nixon commented. Lieutenant Winters slowly looked towards him. Lieutenant Nixon smirked. Lieutenant Sobel was loosing his mind when the two Lieutenants, Esther and Mercy approached and it seemed nearly just the sight of them made him lose him mind even more so, where he came jogging up to them, sputtering and animatedly exclaiming, holding out his arms and putting his hands on his hips.

"Now where in the living hell have you four been? And Private Toye is nowhere to be seen-" he snapped, looking towards the Lieutenants and then Esther and then Mercy, "I have a platoon without a leader and two platoons down a man, Fridays are not the Lord's day, nor any other sort of special day, hell it isn't even a holiday, it is Friday, a day where we still have training." 


"A minute, Lieutenant Sobel?" Lieutenant Winters said unflinching, leaving Esther and Mercy stood with Lieutenant Nixon who wore a smirk on his face. Esther watched him for a moment, before glancing back towards the men and the cadre who stood all facing and staring at the group of them. Whatever Lieutenant Winters had said seemed to be convincing enough for Lieutenant Sobel because once he came back, Esther and Mercy were dismissed into their spots and they were sent off to jump training. No questions asked. Though, without a doubt, the men would have questions. And they'd figure it out. Esther knew that the minute she got the chance for privacy, she'd talk to Mercy, but for now, she'd focus on the jump training that was in front of them.

It went rather smoothly for the most part, with Lieutenant Sobel only telling her once that she looked like a poor flamingo, but otherwise, it was not her worst performance in jump training. Toye showed up about half an hour into jump training, a stoic look on his sweaty face, performing the 50 push-ups from Lieutenant Sobel, unflinching. Esther watched him throughout the jump training, practically his every move. She clenched her jaw. With the men, except Toye, all receiving their weekend passes however, the entire billet was alive with the men getting into their beige pants and tops, with their covers on their heads, talking about the dinners they'd go to, the bars they were hitting, the movies and more specifically, the girls they were going to talk to. 

"Hey, Fubar." she heard and she looked up to find Malarkey stood in front of her cot, adjusting the tie around his neck the best he could, "What's going on with Codona? You two were gone nearly the entire morning with Joe."

"Yeah, Sobel was losing his shit." Williams said from a few cots done, "Cost us an obstacle course run, too. In pig guts." 

"Was someone messing with her? Joe would've definitely cost himself an extra Currahee run for that....'specially someone messing with the bull. You get the horns, ya know?" Malarkey said and Esther stared at him; the attention of the barracks was now on her, sat in her white shirt and combat fatigue bottoms and socked feet, in an attempt to ignore the barrack and focus on the meal she'd have tonight in mess with Mercy and the silence of the barracks. 

"Tripped her I think. Pretty hard fall." was all Esther said," Medics were checking her out. Some jackass guy. Toye took care of him." 

"Eugene." Malarkey said turning to one of the quieter men of the barrack, who sat on his own bed, cuffing his pants and tying up his boots, "Hey, Eugene, Gene, you seen Fubar there with Codona, in the Med-Bay?" Esther's eyes blazed on Eugene who sat on his bed, just about as shocked as a newborn baby with the world, looking up at Malarkey with wide eyes.

"I don't do training at the Med-Bays on Fridays, Malarkey, you know that." Eugene said his voice soft, before glancing at Esther, "I'm sure, now, whoever was there took good care of Codona if that's what you're so worried about." There were a few exclamations and a few childish 'oohhhs' like a big secret was just let out but Esther just focused on the newspaper in her hands again and sighed. 

"Joe's eye looks like one 'em black eyes you get one you punch people though," Grant said from his cot beside her as he adjusted his cover, "he don't like it when someone messes with the people in 2nd." 

"You don't think one of them guys in Dog did that?" Christenson said as he walked past Malarkey with a raised brow, "They always got a comment."

"You think she was fightin'?" Talbert said quietly from his bed, "You know they don't like that sorta stuff here, man or woman. She's still a part of the company..." Esther watched the billet dissolve into mutters of agreement and disagreement on what happened and finally looked over to see Powers on his bed, adjusting his tie and ignoring the hum of men flocking out the door. He looked to her and offered a small smile and shrugged.

"Enjoy your night off from these guys," Powers said with a slight grin, "and if you see Codona, tell her that I hope she feels better." With his kind words, he was out the door with the rest of the men and Esther was left with complete, utter silence. Without second thought, Esther grabbed her fatigues jacket and threw it around her shoulders and headed out the door and over to the quiet barracks of 2nd platoon. Esther took the few steps up and slowly opened the door to find the billet empty, just like her own, save for the singular cot that was occupied. Occupied by Mercy, that was. 

"Hey, Mer." Esther called out quietly, shutting the billet door behind her as she started forward down the center of the barracks towards the cot, "Came to come find you for dinner in mess. We'll try and track down Toye, if Colonel Sink doesn't have him doing more Currahee runs." Mercy stayed quiet and for a minute, Esther was worried that she was actually asleep and Esther had just nearly woken her up. Instead, she heard crying, soft, pitiful crying. Esther stopped dead in her tracks and blinked a few times before rounding around the edge of the cot and slowly approaching where Mercy was, curled into a ball under the covers. 

"Mer?" Esther asked softly, watching as Mercy slowly removed the covers from her face, revealing her tears, "Aw, Mer. Come here." Esther slowly settled herself in the cot beside Mercy and let her curl herself around Esther, shoving away her head and let out silent, quiet cries. They sat there like that for hours it felt, and Esther didn't even try to talk because she knew all Mercy needed right now was a friend and some comfort. 

"The men....they wouldn't shut up." managed Mercy, her voice wavering as she spoke, "With these stupid questions......" 

"No doubt they're all gonna talk." Mercy said, tearfully looking up at Esther and sniffling, "It's like a gaggle of teenage girls practically." Esther smiled sadly at her and sighed.

"They'll soon come to learn that they have more important matters in their hands like jumping out of planes and such rather and that's final." Esther said, watching Mercy wipe at her eyes, "These men can say all they want, but the reality of the situation is that we're not washing out from little things like that. And they can't try to get us washed out because of that." Mercy watched her and slowly nodded.


"You're right." she mumbled, sniffling a little bit more before shutting her eyes, "Very right." The night continued on and they were both in and out of sleep and before Esther knew it, some men were beginning to trickle back in.

Slowly blinking in the darkness, she watched one guy practically stumble in through the doorway, another just behind him, the two giggling to one another as they moved down the row of beds, only before the light to the billet was flicked on, forcing Esther to shut her eyes and Mercy to crawl back under the covers. Slowly blinking open her eyes, Esther found Liebgott waltzing in through the main door, his eyes finding their way to where Esther and Mercy were on the cot and raised a brow. 

"This ain't your billet." Ah, first time being addressed by Liebgott and he's as pleasant as ever! Esther stared at him and then sighed and shook her head.


"No, it is not. But it is Mercy's." Esther said quietly watching as Liebgott glanced at Mercy curled under the covers and then back to Esther. 

"Then why are you here?"


"We were practically the only ones on base, everyone else had weekend passes." Esther said with a gentle voice.

"Ever heard of girl-time, Lieb... for Chrissake." Guarnere said, coming into the billet and moving over to his cot, "If that's what she's trying to say, take a hint." Liebgott rolled his eyes half-heartedly. Though Guarnere was not directly addressing her or Mercy, it was almost nice to hear some words that padded her side rather than Liebgott's, even if Guarnere had no intent for it to seem that way. Esther took a glance down at Mercy and watched as she wearily looked up at her and sighed.


"Get some rest tonight, we'll talk at breakfast tomorrow." Esther said quietly, pulling herself from the bed and tucking Mercy into the bed like her Ma would alway do for her when she woke up with night terrors. Esther slowly sidled past the men of 2nd platoon that were entering the billet and narrowly missed getting knocked over by Luz who was chasing Perconte around, for what reason, she hoped she'd never know. And right as she was coming to exit the entrance to the billet, Toye came running up the steps, nearly crashing into her there. He stopped just short of her and they locked eyes for a brief moment before Esther cleared her throat. 

"Can we talk?" she asked him and he nodded, stepping back off the steps carefully before moving to the side of the barracks, and turning to face her. Esther paused before him and then crossed her arms and sighed.

"What happened?" she asked, "Last night." Toye stared at her before shoving his hands deep into his pockets, the cool night breeze racing down the center of camp. She watched him wrestle with what he was going to say and then sighed.

"I noticed half-pint wasn't in her cot last night as a lot of the guys were getting ready for bed. I knew she still had to shower, just a general thing a lot of us noticed - she always showers last." Toye said, before clearing his throat, "And look none of us do nothing to her, keep our distance, give her space, all that shit. But we all notice, too, when she ain't there." 

"So, I tell the guys I'm going to look for her, and I go to the showers first - figured she was finishing up showering. I was gonna stand by the door, make sure she finishes up no problems." Toye said and then lets out a sarcastic chuckle, "Fucking Christ, I get there and that asshole's yelling at her about something that ain't even important, scaring the crap outta her. Looked like he'd backed her into a corner." Esther met his gaze darkly. Her heart started racing just at his words, the thought of it - knowing Mercy's story, what she'd been through. What her life had been like before W-Sector. Esther placed her hands slowly onto her hips and let out another sigh.

"I just went in swinging I won't lie," Toye said, "you don't do that shit. And frankly, I'd had enough of the bullshit some of the guys in the company were saying. Mind you Dog and Fox got their own opinions, but you two are a part of the company. And I think you gotta protect everyone who is a part of that. No matter what. Some of these guys can say all the shit they please about this, but there's a reason you both are here. Some of them are blinded by whatever is going on in their head." Toye shook his head.

"I don't mind getting a black eye if it means keeping 2nd Platoon intact. That or running Currahee 10 times...." Toye said quietly looking at her, "The guy's a jackass anyways. You just don't do that." Esther watched him and then slowly nodded, slightly let without words. For the past few weeks, it'd been nothing but cold shoulders and grudges. Now.....

"Thank you," Esther said, her civil side overtaking the side of her that was fuming, "why'd you do it?" He stared back at her, unflinching.

"Anyone that can deal with Sobel breathing down their neck for the shit she deals with from him - from the first day with the mud, finally getting over the wall after all that work and her determination. All that. Anyone like that deserves to see the guy bothering her get the lights knocked outta him." 

Chapter Text

In the coming weeks since the events of August 29th, there were inevitably changes in both the behavior of the officers as well as the enlisted. It might have merely been the slightest hint of change, but it was enough for both Esther and Mercy to notice. The men were seemingly coming around and even when they all had weekend passes revoked or rainy nights spent out standing at attention, there was more of an equal togetherness than dismissal of the two women of the company. It was slight, it seemed barely existent but it was there and Esther was not about to ignore it.

At night in the barracks, Esther nearly found it almost more noticeable. The men did their fair share of talking and whispering and jabbing of questions, but as the nights seemed to draw on, there was less of that and more quiet reading, sharing of cigarettes and card playing. There were less demeaning stares and more cautious gazes sent her way. She noticed that even sometimes, Talbert would stand and firmly shut the door rather than just letting it swing shut.

Esther took these actions with a grain of salt and rather continued on forward how she had been. Calm, quiet, stoic, doing as she was told - in a way, being the goody-two-shoes Lieutenant Sobel had clearly dubbed her. She tried her hardest not to make a step out of line when they practiced cadence and salutes, she did her best to answer questions in general classroom instruction, she would meet his gaze and salute and do her push-ups with yells as loud as she could make them so hard her throat hurt the entirety of the day. She half did not even care for what the men's opinions would ultimately be, even after the events of August 29th. There was a reason she was here and she had to prove that day in and day out. Even if she were asleep and curled on her side like a small child.

You couldn't sleep a second longer than the rest of the men or she'd stick out like a sore thumb, she couldn't be a step behind or she was evidently out of line herself.

She couldn't shoot different, aim different, practically look different.

She had to be exactly like the men; in movement, in prayer, in voice and understanding.

And that's what she did.

She did it until she believed it.

This continued daily in Esther's practice and it seemed that even with unspoken words, Mercy was following much of the same pattern of life. Throughout those coming weeks though, Mercy didn't speak on that night; ever. Esther wasn't going to push her either; she'd talk about it when she was ready and when she wanted to, but Esther would not force it out of her especially when it was something Mercy had repeatedly told her she wanted all but merely dropped. There was no discussion or dwindling on it thereafter, even when the men occasionally stared or whispered at meal time. It was like they were still trying to figure it out and work it through their brain; Esther almost couldn't believe that they couldn't get a proper guess on it, when it seemed clear as day and so annoyingly evident.

Dog and Fox would watch the company like vultures and it was only because of the likes of the higher ups that something like this wouldn't happen again. Mercy seemed different though recently, at least in Esther's eyes. She was more quiet and withdrawn than usual and it would take some time in the morning for Mercy to perk up, but she was still the Mercy she had gone to W-Sector with and trained with at Fort Bragg.

Mercy was drastically improving though in training in a multitude of aspects; hand-to-hand, jump training, learning hand signals and other such things in classroom instruction. It was like something overnight had changed, like that was a mere sign that she could do this. All of this. August 29th had done something to the entirety of the company and the people in it, Esther was certain of that very thing.

Today was like no other, except that Lieutenant Sobel had apparently had a field day in their billets by the time they all returned back from a Currahee run and then a PT session with Lieutenant Winters. The cots were all torn up, there were clothes everywhere, things poured all over the ground, helmets and uniforms strewn across beds and the ground and suitcases or trunks of personal items were thrown up and ran through.

A collective sigh seemed to escape the men as everyone moved towards their cots and began reorganizing what had been torn apart. Esther slowly picked her way towards her bed and took a glance at her suitcase there underneath her bed and yanked it out from under. She was almost happy to see that the few tampons she had stored in their place, were still very much there. Either Lieutenant Sobel had missed them or had a slice of humanity still in him. She almost hoped it was the former.

Though of course, standing to her bed, her cheeks flamed the slightest bit at the sight of a few undergarments of her own strewn on her bed that she quickly snatched away and shoved into her suitcase. She caught Grant's eye as he cast his gaze towards her and she averted her eyes towards where her helmet had rolled to as well as her socks that were hanging off of the edge of Powers' bed.

Esther began pulling all her things back to her bed and organizing everything again into its rightful place. Her journal was lying open there on her pillow, her heart sagging a bit at the thought of Lieutenant Sobel finding it. There had been nothing new written in it since at least July, even when Esther had tried writing in it back in August. Her mind couldn't seem to get its gears going, yet she knew she had to get something written, something at least on the page. 

"Hey, Fubar." she heard a voice call and turned to find Christenson flinging her fatigues in her direction onto the cot, "Pretty important." Esther stood there for a moment, vaguely nodding in his direction as she took her fatigues in her grasp and glanced at the breast where her last name was, in its dirty white tag that needed sewing. She took the spare time before lunch to address that; she sewed up different patches that needed sewing and fixed the loose button, she shined up her boots and she wiped down her helmet. She also, rather hastily cleaned up her rifle where there was dirt encrusted in places where it hadn't been before. There was something about training to be merely a regular soldier that made her feel more comfortable than having to be this beacon shown as someone who was a writer and correspondent. Training with the weapon and the mindset of a soldier, was something she couldn't be more thankful for. Esther found Mercy in mess hall, parading towards her with her tray of chicken and white bread and settled across from her with a small smile on her face.

"Did you hear what we're doing this afternoon? Sounds like hell week in a nutshell." Mercy said and Esther raised a brow as she sipped her water, "Hand-to-hand every afternoon, then weapons, then every night we're doing 'marches'.... God knows what. Seems Sobel's trying to bring the war right to us." Esther watched Mercy for a minute and then nodded, cutting up her chicken as she contemplated. Lieutenant Sobel was simply trying to do just that. Bring what he could of actual war right to their front doors here in Camp Toccoa.

When lunch had finished and the group was corralled out to the fields, Lieutenant Sobel lined them up in their pairs again and Esther slowly walked over to where Talbert was and stood in front of him. The sun was hidden behind the clouds this afternoon and there was a slight chill for what was to come of the fall season. Talbert had been keen on saying nothing more to her beyond 'go' and 'okay', but today he watched her with softer eyes. She looked away. 

"I want you all to imagine what I'm about to tell you; you jump out of your plane stick and land in enemy territory and you find yourself face to face with, what do my wondering eyes appear, a Kraut!" Lieutenant Sobel exclaimed in a rather sarcastic manner that did not evade her ears, "What do you do?" Esther glanced around at the silence and looked towards the CO, readying her raised hand but Lieutenant Sobel scoffed.

"That was rhetorical, Armstrong."

How much of a rhetoric could fighting the enemy be?

Esther's cheeks flamed for a moment and she glanced at Talbert who was watching her with a somewhat smug expression.


"Rhetorical." he mouthed with a raised brow. She ignored him. 

"We've spent a few weeks going over practices like this, so let's put it to the test, shall we?" Lieutenant Sobel said, "As we know, the best hand-to-hand combat comes with the least unexpected experiences. It will have no rules, it will have to take your opponent out as quickly as possibly and most importantly...." Esther met his gaze, "you have to be successful in its usage." Esther looked down towards Mercy for a minute who was staring past Sisk's head towards Captain Sobel with her own pair of narrowing, focused eyes. 


"So for this exercise, you and your partner will go one by one, rather than all at once." Lieutenant Sobel said and Esther looked towards Talbert who offered a smirk her way, one that made her eyes dart away from his face as quickly as she could. Her heart gave a rough thump as she wrung her hands together behind her.

They went down the line; Christenson gave his partner a run for his money. Esther discretely caught a glimpse of Lieutenant Sobel's face and seemed to catch on that he enjoyed this. Whatever reason it was for that he enjoyed this, she would probably never know - that they were all improving, if they all got into this situation they would be able to survive - she wasn't sure.

Esther watched Mercy take on Sisk; she was scrappy and it seemed that was the best way for her to make a dent against Sisk, himself. Lieutenant Sobel wasn't calling on winners or losers or anything of the sort, but he would look towards the duos as they came in and out of the center of the circle and sized them up before focusing again.

When her and Talbert were called into the center, a few whistles went up from the surrounding groups and Esther tried to ignore it if anything as she rounded on Talbert and faced him, officially. From behind his head, she could see faces like Mercy and Lieutenant Winters, along with others like Lieutenant Sobel and Christenson. But once she refocused, all she saw was Talbert, nearly standing over her with a smirk on his face and his hands brought up into fists in front of himself for protection.

She'd been getting better; the body-slams practically from Talbert had not been as bad as before, but she still had a ways to go before she was excelling she felt. No matter how many times it seemed she felt she was off to a good foot. She barely saw the signal from Lieutenant Sobel before Talbert was coming out swinging. She managed to duck as his right fist came directly for her head, an exasperated grunt leaving his mouth as she ducked and gave him a hard cut to his right side that was now vulnerable. She was grateful that Lieutenant Moore had been so clear in classroom instruction on the areas of the body that can be the greatest affected; kidneys was one of them.

Her small victory in that moment was harshly received with an upper cut to her stomach that made her nearly collapse to the ground as she stumbled backwards and looked up towards Talbert who was simply rearing up again. Her hunched-over form had barely recovered before she was receiving a knock to the side of her head that made her stumble and regain footing. Esther willingly launched an uppercut towards him and succeeded for a brief moment as Talbert stumbled only before he was regaining a bit of composure and wrapped his arm loosely around her upper shoulders before plummeting her to the ground.

A anguished groan escaped her lips as the wind knocked out of her and she was practically seeing stars as the pale sky above gave way to little wind to get back into her lungs. Her head and shoulders suddenly ached and she barely could feel her limbs attached to her body as she attempted to roll over but felt pinned down by a body.

Grappling....ground control.

Esther blinked her eyes open, blind to the cheering and calls that echoed around them as Talbert made a swing for her face and she shoved her head away into the dust to avoid it, before reaching up towards his neck. Talbert was much bigger than her and his weight that came down onto her body was uncomfortable, but as she sat there, each side gaining on the other with jabs, hooks and uppercuts towards the others, she thought. In the back of her mind, something was telling her that this could very well happen in any given war scenario. She needed to know how to defend herself.

Esther let out a small whimper as Talbert had her arm pinned down and her other behind her head. In a last struggle of hope, she launched her left leg up backwards and knocked him abruptly in the back, hoping that if anything, it did something to her even her lower body loose. Talbert nearly fell on top of her at that and she managed her hands free and shoved him with all the power she had backwards from her body and off of her.

Scrambling on the ground, she struggled to her feet as Talbert readied up in front of her. Her limbs were shaking, there was an incredible lack of energy present in her body and she felt like she could collapse any second. Esther tasted blood in her mouth; she was bleeding. From where, she wasn't sure. In that split second though, Talbert came at her and gave her a blow to her chest that sent her to the ground into a ball. There was something warm on her head - blood, was her first thought - and her stomach ached. She didn't get up for a few moments. But she heard Lieutenant Sobel call time and Esther slowly shut her eyes.

She had gone down and stayed down.

Regret filled her next.

Esther was able to pull herself up from the ground and stumble over to where Talbert was back again, breathing a bit heavy when she finally stood in her position next to him. She avoided the stare he was giving her and focused on the tiny puddle of blood that had been where her head was. She slowly reached up to the side of her head, and touched where the blood was coming from; a pressure wound on her forehead. 

"Didn't mean to take that last shot at ya." she heard Talbert whisper to her quietly. She ignored him. What the hell did that mean? The blood had dried by the time they were all dismissed to get their weapons. Mercy was on her in a second, hurrying over towards Esther who had regained a bit of her composure. 

"I think the fact you stood up after that is more important than anything else, Armstrong." Mercy had told her with a thin-lipped smile, "Talbert could've calmed his ego down a bit though." Esther could barely shrug at that and looked to Mercy.


"I'm just glad I stood up."

When they got to weapons, Esther settled herself in her usual spot next to Dukeman and Malarkey and began her usual routine. Inspect her weapon, make sure it's clean and in working condition then start firing practice shots when given the opportunity.

"Didn't think ya had it in you to fight back against, Tab." she heard Dukeman say after one of his shots, checking his weapon over before inserting more ammo, "He's a helluva fighter." Esther stayed close to her M1, adjusting her specs; she had found more and more in the coming weeks that the men were more open for talking. Between training exercises, at jump training when they stood in long lines, in meal lines, at night before bed. She didn't find herself talking much back, but they were more willing with the idea. This seemed like a new one though. Dukeman had not been someone open to talking on any levels it seemed. Yet, today, he was talking. 

"And, you stood up. You stuck it out." Malarkey said. Esther quietly considered her options and locked her M1 into place and took a few practice shots. She was getting more consistent and used to the recoil the weapon had and more comfortable with her finger on the trigger and the action of firing the weapon. It was a welcome distraction to the rumblings of Dukeman and Malarkey as they continued to chatter on back and forth, seemingly including her in the conversation and not at the same time. Esther found ignoring them to be easier than trying to take a side in whatever conversation was going on. Lieutenant Moore came over and lost it on Dukeman for getting his M1 jammed up, throwing a rag in his face before storming away with the speed of a saint. 

"God, what I'd give to have cadre like Lip or even Bill; Moore just thinks that screaming all the time'll get the deed done." Malarkey muttered as Esther sat back from her M1 and reloaded her ammo, "Hey, hey, Fubar, who'd you want?" Esther glanced at Malarkey for a moment and quietly considered his question, dismissing the unlikely nickname that was still floating about, thanks to Christenson.

"I guess others like Winters." Esther said quietly, "Someone that cares." 

"Or...or, you ever heard of Speirs, over in Dog." Dukeman said eagerly, adjusting his specs again - he did that a lot, "He's batshit, but at least he seems to have some remorse." Esther quietly fiddled with the rear-hinge on her M1 and listened to Malarkey and Dukeman silently debate Speirs of Dog Company.

That's who that Lieutenant had been, the one who had found Kavanagh, the one who ordered latrine duty and make sure he'd do it, too. Esther remembered the split second she'd met his eyes from where he stood in that shadowed corner. She couldn't have gotten any sort of read on him, but there was something telling her that there was a morsel of remorse; he had found the man that had gone after Mercy. That was all Esther needed.

Weaponry training finished just before dinner, the enlisted spending a good half hour cleaning and disassembling their weapons. Esther was locked in on doing so, on top of a thin blanket on her bed, cleaning and shining and making sure each piece she put back together was in the same working order as it had been before. 

"Hey, anyone seen my shine? It ain't where it normally is." said one of the newer guys, replacement for someone else who had dropped in the passing weeks, coming up the center of rows and looking to everyone at each cot, trying to see if his tin of shine was in another's possession, "Anybody."


"Have you tried your ass?" someone called out and Esther had to hide any sort of physical face reaction to that statement as she continued moving in on her weapon and polishing the muzzle up, wiping it down and cleaning it off. 

"It was probably the girl, ain't no way she knows how to clean one of 'em." the replacement muttered stalking towards her bed; she glanced up and found him coming towards her bedside. Usually Williams accused her of stealing while if anything, she was more likely to come back from showers or meals missing socks or her grease kit. 

"Where'd you put it." demanded the replacement and Esther watched him stoically, spitting down on the muzzle a bit to get it shiny, "Don't act like a damn fool, where'd you put my shine." 


"Proper prior planning prevents piss poor performance." Esther said quietly, before averting her eyes away from the replacement and focusing again on her weapon. It wasn't her fault he had misplaced his shine and was looking for someone to blame it on, which so happened to be her. She wasn't about to give into his ignorance and victimizing either. 

"What-what did you just say?" he sputtered and Esther looked up towards him again and stared at him.

 If you kept your cot organized, this wouldn't be an issue. If you put it back the right way after Sobel tore it apart, we wouldn't even be having this conversation." Esther said, "It's going to be somewhere, just don't assume it's me." The replacement moved on without so much as a huff and she simply turned back to her weapon.

Daddy had taught her and Marty that, the 7 P's. He was drilled that in the Marine Corps and to say the least, he took a few lessons home with him for his children. Esther followed that principle to a 'T' to this day. You had to be organized, you had to keep things clean and you had to know where you were putting stuff instead of blaming it on others.

Esther made sure to eat well tonight at dinner; another aspect of the 7 P's that showed its importance right in her face. If they were to be up until God knows when on a night raid practice session or even a night march with Lieutenant Sobel who, fascinatingly enough, couldn't read a map even if his life depended on it, then she'd need plenty of food and calories in her system to keep her functioning until at least 0600. Esther did take a few seconds before heading to her table where Mercy was to grab a few ice cubes and touch it to the mark on her forehead from when she fell from the fist of Talbert, himself. It stung a bit, but it was cool, despite being tender to the touch. Esther came over to the table with the ice cube pressed against her forehead, which was equally slowly melting, and a confused Mercy staring up at her with rice half-raised to her mouth.

"They got medics that do that sorta shit, Armstrong." Mercy said, half-worried, half-joking all at once it seemed. Esther let a small laugh escape her and shrugged.

"It's fine, just a small cut. We have bigger problems in our hands than this." Esther said, waving to her head as she sat herself down and leaned up against the table. Admittedly, she was more worried about it getting infected rather than if it pulled open again, but the cut on her head was the least of her worries.

The days passed on as such though; they finished their nights with night marches and mornings were Currahee runs and classroom instruction, with afternoons of hand-to-hand and weaponry. Each afternoon things were tweaked. Lieutenant Sobel liked to keep it interesting. By the time a new week had rolled around and a Currahee run had already marked the start of the day, Esther was sure that September 28th would be a day she would mark down in the calendar, it would be something she wouldn't forget; it was the first day, in nearly two months any of the men had sat voluntarily at the table her and Mercy were finally adjusting to. And it was none other than Powers who sat down beside Esther and offered a slight smile her way, as well as the paper clasped between his fingers underneath his tray. Esther glanced to Mercy who watched with a spoon half raised to her lips, frozen. Esther looked to Powers and offered a smile, though almost slightly confused as he usually sat with Wynn, Talbert and Christenson, if anything. 

"Managed to get my hands on one of the papers; guess with the beginning of the month, they like to put out an early edition." Powers said with a growing grin as he held it out towards her, "I know you like that sorta thing anyway." Esther felt a smile poke up on her face and took the newspaper from him and smiled, with a nod.


"I do, I do, thank you." Esther said as she looked to the front cover, her eyes glossing over the title "BIG MOVES IN THE PACIFIC PROVIDE COSTLY OUTLOOK FOR AMERICA'S WAR" and sighed, flipping to the next page.

"Oughtta be a page-turner." Powers said with a shrug, leaning towards her slightly to get a look at the next page with her, "Just figured you'd be interested."

"Of course, I really do appreciate this." she said with a smile and a nod his way, "Used to read it every morning back home anyway, so it'll be nice to have that feeling again." Powers smiled and she looked across to Mercy who was looking between Powers and the newspaper, questioningly. She had a right to question and ponder, but in Esther's mind, Powers had been nothing but nice to her. 

"That cut on your head's healing up nice and well." Powers said, nodding to her, "Tab feels real torn up about it still." Esther watched Powers for a moment and then seemed to come back to Earth and looked to him.

"Thanks." Esther said quietly, "Tell him not to worry. I have a brother. Not the worst I've gotten." Powers chuckled at her words and ate a scoopful of rice into his mouth. 

"What are you doing over here, Shift?" The trio at the table looked up to find Christenson stood at the end of the table, his arms crossed, gaze set on Powers, but wandering a bit to Mercy and Esther every once and a while. 

"Armstrong likes a good paper just as much as any other man, Pat," Powers said quietly, looking towards Esther with a nod, "figured I'd at least offer her a turn to read it." Christenson stood there for a minute before looking to Esther.

"If you're that interested, I could lend it to you when I'm done." Esther offered, a slight bite of sarcasm dripping in her voice as she looked up at him, "I'm just not sure if this is too much for you though. I know you're very focused on your physicality at the moment." Christenson smirked at her comment; she almost felt half-joking, half-jabbing it at him to get a reaction. 

"Cute." he said before turning to Mercy and raising a brow, as Esther narrowed her eyes at him.

"Someone got too much of an earful of Liebgott's snoring." he commented and Mercy rolled her eyes, taking a sparing glance upwards at him briefly.

"Clearly not enough, you're still here and annoying the living hell out of me." Mercy muttered and focused again on her food and ignored Christenson, who had been pitifully seemingly trying to make it back up to Mercy for the shove in the mud. He wasn't succeeding in doing so to say the least.

"Aw, c'mon half-pint, it's just a joke. You can take one of those right?" Christenson said with a chuckle and Mercy sighed.


"Yes I can. I can take it and shove it right up your ass, too, okay?" Mercy said, "Thanks for stopping by." The unenthusiastic chortle from Mercy was enough to let a sigh escape Christenson's mouth.

"Okay, here's a deal, I'll make it up to you, the mud, the nicknames, all of it. We get ourselves the weekend pass, I'll buy you a drink." Christenson offered and Esther raised a brow and watched Mercy's cheeks fade to a slight crimson color as she sat there, avoiding eye contact. It was quiet for a few moments at the offer and Esther could feel the tension thickening the longer they sat there.


"When pigs fly." muttered Mercy, going back to her cup of coffee and sipping it periodically as she sat there, staring off. Christenson let out a chuckle and then shrugged.

"I just wanted to make it up to you. The offer's there." 

"I'm not taking your stupid offer." Mercy said, looking up at him, and glaring. Esther awkwardly looked away and towards Powers who was beside her and realized he was doing much of the same and focusing on the very interesting lumps of meatloaf on his plate. It almost sounded like children fighting from the way it was playing out and it seemed neither were going to let up until the last person got in their word that they wanted, whatever that was bound to be. 

"I'm sure you'll be well off enough with one of the girls in town, asshat." Mercy said, "Once again, you are fucking dismissed." Christenson only smirked at her comment and then glanced at Powers.

"You coming, Shifty?" Christenson said and Powers glanced at Esther and then Mercy and then nodded.

"Coming." Powers said and stood with his tray and looked to Esther.

"Enjoy your paper, Armstrong, sorry about him." And then he was off. Esther looked to Mercy and found her with a white knuckle clench on her utensils.

"Okay, okay..." Esther said reaching forward to remove the sharp knife and fork from her hands, "save it for hand-to-hand combat." Mercy sighed and shook her head.


"He thought that buying me a drink would be making 'it up'?" Mercy said with a scoff, "What an absolute asshole." 


"He had that one coming, I'm afraid." Esther said with smirk and Mercy could only shake her head, disgruntled.

Lieutenant Winters stopped by that evening with latrine assignments for said 'infractions', pulling a few of the newer men that had come in within the past week, some cots laying empty recently from things like jump training or weaponry; Esther had figured that there were people in the world that simply couldn't handle holding weapons and the mindset nor jumping from platforms to simulate planes. She knew that was okay. And that's why basic training was important. To figure things like that out now before it was too late.

Esther remembered some of her last conversations with Lieutenant Stellhorn before she'd left; about the importance of reporting, why they were being sent through basic with these men, everything and anything that could exist and live here and be important. Esther watched the sunset that night, outside by herself, after a majority of the men had tucked in for the night, mumbling about Lieutenant Sobel's torturous decision of laying pig guts out along the obstacle course. It was incredibly peaceful to sit out in a whispering silence and watch the sun dip down below the horizon, to appear again tomorrow at dawn.

It reminded her of home; getting to watch sunsets from the front porch, especially in the summer months when she could be outside at 8 o'clock at night and the sun would just be settling towards the horizon. Where the air was sweet and the crickets sang their evening song and she would either have the newspaper out or her journal and would listen to all the sounds around her and the sights above her. From the cars that drove past on the road, music crawling from the radios to lightning bugs that glowed about in her Ma's front garden. That porch was always her place of comfort and she now seemed to grow accustomed to the comfort of the step that led to 3rd platoon's billet and the sunsets of Toccoa.

Esther sat out there until the sun disappeared and the moon filled the sky and then headed back inside, the billet aglow with the lights on the ceiling that rain from the electricity from HQ. She found she was no longer bothered as much when she entered billets and the men would stare. She would simply move to her cot and lie down and stare at the ceiling before she began to hear them moving to sleep. No one bothered her though and no one even tried to disrupt her lying there on the cot, rather mingling about and doing their share of their own evening routines. Once the men were asleep and she was in darkness, she'd change and read the paper typically by the moonlight of the overhanging window. Then she'd tuck herself in and fall asleep. The next morning, after they'd tall run Currahee and were bathed in sweat under the broiling sun, Lieutenant Sobel had large crates positioned behind him and a quivering smile twitching on his lips. 

"Today, you will not be participating in the obstacle course, rather you will be equipped with a gas mask and will be running Currahee within the 50 minute mark. You will not remove the gas mask until you are back here. Is that understood?" Lieutenant Sobel explained and Esther watched as he began having the Lieutenants pass them out. In a look of solidarity it seemed, Talbert glanced towards her, seemingly reading the expression on her face and nodded at her. 

"Hey, Armstrong." he said, catching her gaze fully on him, "He's just doing it to freak you out. Breathe and run as you normally do, it'll be fine." Esther watched Talbert for a moment, before turning her head to look forward; the men confused her.

Sometimes they were helpful and then other times they looked like they wanted to be beat them to a pulp, there was no in between that she could figure out for herself, ever, it seemed. Maybe they just didn't know how to act - many came from small towns, large families, and places where all you could do was work to make a living. Maybe.

Lieutenant Moore shoved the gas mask into her hands and she carefully glanced towards the rest of the men before working over her face, adjusting it into place and then staring forward, attempting to get used to breathing in essentially a paper and plastic bag over your head that was suctioned to your neck. There was something strange about looking towards Talbert and seeing the the gas mask there instead of his face.

Once the run started, through the bouncing of the gas mask on her head, she watched Talbert's back again as they ascended Currahee; there was a physical and noticeable difference when running and trying to breathe. Yet, in that moment, she chose to listen to Talbert's words and trust what he had told her seemingly off-handedly. Run as you normally do, he had said. She took that for what it was worth; she had been getting better at running this mountain, faster at that and equally was breathing easier though she didn't dismiss how sore her body was each morning when she pulled herself up and out of the bed. Lieutenant Sobel was training them though, he was preparing them for whatever the circumstance might be, however challenging it might get to be out there on the front lines.

The gas mask was restrictive; she could already feel her lungs fighting for a bit more air with each push she made forward with her body forward. Each pulsing movement forward, she could feel herself sucking in a deeper breath each and every time, eventually choking on her own air from the struggle she had previously had with attempting to get it into her lungs. She could hear others having similar struggles, though muffled and not entirely exposed. Esther kept her eyes on the back of Talbert's head, having grown accustomed to sticking a few feet behind him in runs more often now than she thought she would.

There was something about Talbert that made her trust him, even if there were some comments here and there that he made; other times though, he seemed quick to deter people from making comments and withheld that commanding presence. There was obviously a sense of leadership there, within him, and it was noticeable to her that he tried to exude that, especially in front of the other men.

About half-way up the mountain - she had started assigning a certain large boulder, seemingly propped up against a large oak tree as the midway point - she felt her calves cramping the slightest bit. But there was no water nor removing your gas mask until you were stood in front of Captain Sobel again.

"C'mon guys, keep going, keep going!" she heard from alongisde them somewhere ahead - Lieutenant Winters. He was yelling pretty loud for it to be heard through his gas mask, but she could hear him.

"Just run how you always have, you trained well enough for this to be nothing more than a bump in the road." Lieutenant Winters called again. Esther watched with frantic eyes as he came back towards where a small pod of them were running and she watched him give a nod towards them before he hiked it up forward in front of them all.

There was something in Esther that kept her moving, despite her cramping calves that made her want to disappear into the woods and never come out. It was what existed in Talbert's words and Lieutenant Winters' words and inside her own being. She did not know what it was nor could she guess what it was, but it was there. There was something keeping her going. Deep down inside of her. This was the gateway to getting to report right from the frontlines to the families back home, to people all over the country and the world, to anyone with a listening ear.

She pushed her speed up a bit more than she would've normally, keeping a steady pace as she continued the ascent up the mountain, keeping Talbert's head in her path and the top of Currahee in front of her. There was a split second of relief when she began to see others coming down, the likes of Guarnere and Christenson and Grant being some of the first, followed by others like Perconte or Luz. But she knew she was close and that was enough. Sergeant Evans was up there at the top again, the stupid stop clock in his grasp, hanging by the gold chain, as he watched every member come struggling up the mountain covered in their sweat and their gas masks.

Esther barely remembered hitting the top of the brown pole before she was going stumbling down the mountain again, her heart racing and sweat beginning to pour down the sides of her face as she exhaustedly plundered down the mountain. The last stretch of land before getting back to the positions of the platoons was filled with final gasping breaths like they were her last. Her lungs ached, along with her cramped calves, and she felt that she couldn't fully get in the proper amount of oxygen for her lungs, stumbling forward and barely keeping the presence of the platoons and Lieutenant Sobel in her vision.

Esther watched as Talbert neared and Lieutenant Sobel ripped the gas mask from his face, his hair splaying up in a thousand awkward positions, his body gasping a bit for air as he jogged towards his position. Esther practically stumbled into Lieutenant Sobel and grimaced as he aggressively pulled the gas mask from her face and stared down at her under the sunlight as her eyes felt sunlight and her lungs welcomed fresh air that wasn't stale from sweat and gasping of air. There was hair stuck along her cheeks from sweat and her braided hair was suctioned to her neck as she wavered there before he sent her off with a brutal glare. Esther feigned a salute before turning and wavering as she jogged over to where Talbert was stood, Christenson in his position behind her own spot, watching her with a red, pinched face, sweat crawling over his own features as Talbert side-eyed her.

There was this collective thanks for fresh air it seemed and as more people came back, there were some that took thankful large breaths of air once they were out of the guise of Lieutenant Sobel and some that looked ready to fall to their knees and thank the Earth for air. Esther watched Mercy, whose time was getting faster and faster and watched as Lieutenant Sobel removed the gas mask. Mercy let out a giant gasp for air and then barely managed to jog away, gasping for grateful breaths of air herself as she situated into her own spot. There was something riveting about her and Mercy getting to stand there and neither being last; because that's what they all expected.

The girls to be last.

The girls to be unable to do what the men could do because they were simply that, girls. It was liberating as they stood there, having run the six miles, now with a gas mask. By the time the last few stragglers had made it back, Lieutenant Sobel turned to the group and stared at them for a few moments before ever nearly addressing them and speaking to them.

"You have 2 minutes to go to your billets, change into your fatigues, get your weapons, cleaned and shiny and stand again in front of me. Go." It was almost second nature to hear that word and disperse like removing a rock with a colony of ants underneath. There was no time to think and debate how you went about things like this, you just had to act and get back to your spot within those 2 minutes so Captain Sobel wouldn't be angry.

Christenson was first into the billet, slamming open the door, the rest of the billet clamoring in behind him. Esther took the few seconds before she reached her cot to register where all her things were and without second thought, yanked her boots off and then her shorts and shimmied up the fatigues over her body and over the sweat covered tee, adjusting the dog tags in a split second of time, grabbing her helmet and M1 and then shoving her boots onto her feet, folding and tucking as they should be to Lieutenant Sobel's likes and then swiftly made her exit. She had gotten use to ignoring the formalities of it and would pull off her shorts or shirt when needed. The men could glance but they were all given those 2 minutes and she could not be bothered with the worries if they saw upper thigh or abdomen.

Lieutenant Sobel did this sometimes, she found, after Currahee runs. And he always did it to catch you on something, revoke a pass here or there and in general, would do it to get a dig on you. It was almost as if it were fun for him. Esther got to her spot and barely looked around as others filed in; there were some stragglers who didn't make the two minute mark, the Captain barking at them to perform 50 push-ups, yelling at them to count with all their might, making them repeat until that 50 had turned into nearly 100 instead. You didn't move in that time, and if you did, Sergeant Evans would make sure that Lieutenant Sobel heard about it then. Once everyone was in their places, Lieutenant Sobel would plan his attack and move in on them as the bugs bit at their sweat covered necks and hands, and the sun came out, hanging above their heads. Esther had almost completely forgotten about the gas mask by the time she was stood there at attention with the M1. 

"I expect....that the goody-two-shoes would have her weapon as clean as one would expect." Lieutenant Sobel said, coming in front of her and staring down into her eyes, the sun grilling her face as she stared back at him, "Present your weapon, Private." Esther pulled the M1 from where it was, hilt on the ground at her side and presented it forward towards him and stared blankly forward as he took the weapon from his grasp and observed it. Esther tried not to watch him too intently, but she could see him dissecting each and every bit of wrong that was with her weapon and waited for impact. 

"It looks as if Private Armstrong did not properly reassemble her weapon." Lieutenant Sobel said, stepping back away from her with the weapon in his hands, meeting her gaze, "This weapon will be your number one priority in war. It will help you to survive out there when you have nothing else. Letting it get...dirty or rusted...that is on you. But right now, in front of me, in my billets, on my base, you will have it clean and free of dirt, rust and any other extremity that could lie on your weapon." Esther had tried remembering what Lieutenant Moore had done when they had been doing weapon assembly and disassembly, but late last night when she had been cleaning out behind the billet at the spigot, she must've reassembled wrong. But the longer she looked at the weapon in Lieutenant Sobel's hands, it looked entirely all in place.

"It seems as if Private Armstrong has forgotten that just like the rest of you, she still has to learn how to properly disassemble and assemble an M1. Just because she is a writer doesn't mean she gets excused from this." Lieutenant Sobel said, looking directly towards her, narrowing his eyes towards her as he placed the M1 onto the ground and gave it a shove in the mud and dirt along the ground, back behind him. Esther watched with crimson cheeks as Captain Sobel came sauntering towards her and stared down at her. Esther was swearing to herself inside her head and retracing her steps from last night as best she could, thinking over and over about her process and she swore she had done it correctly down to a 'T'. 

"You may have done all the training you thought you could for becoming a writer, Private Armstrong, but you can not do anything with it until you pass my training, are we clear? Until I see jump wings on your uniform, you are nothing but another enlisted who just so happens to write and have a college degree." Lieutenant Sobel spit out and Esther watched him.

"Yes, sir." she said firmly, hating the way her voice sounded so hopeful and pathetic all at once, like this was just some brief scolding that didn't mean much and which she could bounce back from. But she could feel the warmth on her cheeks that was no longer just from the sun and she caught Talbert taking a sparing glance towards her as Lieutenant Sobel moved away from her with her pass being revoked, and towards 2nd platoon, berating Mercy on her collar of her ODs. Esther stared forward still, briefly catching Lieutenant Winters from in front of 2nd, glancing towards her as well. She felt pity, she felt like she were being pitied and it was embarrassing and uncomfortable. 


"Do you think we tuck our collars into the backs of our necks, Private Codona or are you just a incompetent as your counterpart?" yelled Lieutenant Sobel.


"No, sir!" Esther heard Mercy yell. Mercy yelled 'No, sir' about five more times before Lieutenant Sobel left her to be, her pass also equally disappearing. 

"Private Luz, I expected better from someone who seems to have more talk than action here in Easy Company," she heard Lieutenant Sobel say, "you call this clean as can be? How are you supposed to see through your speck if there's dirt and mud where your eye is supposed to be, pass revoked." Lieutenant Sobel went on to yell at Muck for sagging shoulders and then was on Williams for a dirty bayonet. She was even surprised to hear a few comments made towards Roe, who from her position, as quiet and controlled as he was, having dirty boots that weren't tied properly. Esther watched as Lieutenant Sobel came to stand in front of the platoons again and sighed, as if he were agitated and worn. 

"If we have someone going into to combat with a weapon like Private Armstrong then they can consider themselves dead along with the at least 1/3 of their platoon." Lieutenant Sobel said looking towards the platoons, "Private Armstrong, you may never have to use a weapon in your time in war, but if you are ever stranded all alone and have no one else with you and it is dark and scary, you're going to want a nice, clean and usable weapon, even if it is your enemies. So you will keep yours clean and in proper, working condition, are we clear?"


"Yes, sir." Esther answered watching as Lieutenant Sobel glanced sparingly towards the lone weapon on the ground, now no doubt dirtied up even more so. 

"Because of there being multiple infractions from members of every platoon, all your weekend passes will be canceled and you will spend your upcoming weekends learning how to properly prepare your weapons, clean your boots, wear your fatigues, and stand at attention. I will have the cadre aware of that." Lieutenant Sobel bit out, "I expect Monday to be better than whatever the hell today was." 

"You are dismissed for lunch. Weapons training will be in the afternoon." Lieutenant Sobel said, before nodding to Sergeant Evans and turning around, "Dismiss them, Lieutenant Winters." 

"Dismissed for lunch." Lieutenant Winters called and everyone broke out into dismissal to get to their billets.

Esther though took a moment to stand there and stare at her weapon there on the ground where Lieutenant Sobel had kicked it towards. She would have to forgo lunch to get it cleaned up for weapons practice this afternoon and there was no doubt that if she chose lunch over cleaning her weapon, Lieutenant Moore would chew her out even more so than Lieutenant Sobel already has for the same infractions. Her stomach ached at the thought of leaving Mercy in mess all alone and was ready to take the chance of getting some bread and taking Mercy back to barracks with her or better yet bringing the M1 with her and cleaning it right then and there in mess overtop some napkins. As she hurried over to the M1 on the ground, she fought back at the tears that were waiting to fill her eyes and attempted her best to blink them all away as she crouched down to pull the weapon up and into her hands. There was dirt and mud caked into certain parts from the brush up with the grass and the strap was nearly falling off in one of the parts near the muzzle. 

"Armstrong." she heard from just past her shoulder, her body refusing to move and turn in that general direction as she could feel the tears still lingering in her eyes a bit, "Armstrong." The voice and the body were coming increasingly closer and she could feel panic rising inside of her as she crouched there with the weapon in her grasp, suddenly feeling small and hopeless and tangled in a mess she didn't even think she would be in, in the first place. It sounded weak and horrendously pathetic, especially in the eyes of the men who seemingly didn't trust the women in the first place. Now holding an M1 like it was her child and in near tears over it? Esther was better than this though; she was on-point, she made sure things were clean and tidy, she never let something go out of place ever and now especially under Lieutenant Sobel's eye, too. 

"Armstrong." she heard from nearly overtop of her now. Esther looked up and found Talbert there, his arms hanging by his sides as his eyes stayed trained on the weapon in her grasp and the feign tears in her eyes that she was obliviously trying to blink away, but was failing horribly at.

If Talbert was honest with himself, he didn't want to see either of the women fail; all the men knew they were there for reasons, maybe not entirely understood, but reasons that were important enough for the Airborne to accept them. You didn't want to see a fellow enlisted fail and as the weeks had gone on and Sobel was becoming more of the asshole that they had consistently seen through their first week, Talbert we beginning to get a bit of a grip on everything it seemed. Having stood beside Private Armstrong for weeks now, he could see that what Sobel had done today hit a nerve inside her that she didn't want to have to show to anyone else.

They watched each other for a moment, Talbert looking as if he was not entirely how to approach the situation; a woman with an M1 in her grasp and tears in her eyes and a man, stepping forward it seemed to attempt to help the situation she was already planning on addressing by herself. Talbert sighed and then glanced back towards the billets before looking at the woman again who was now looking away and back towards her M1. 

"Look, we'll head back to barracks and we'll clean her up-"


"But you need lunch though." Esther argued back, pushing herself to her feet and staring at Talbert from underneath the helmet on her head. Talbert seemed to challenge her gaze and looked at the weapon. 

"And I can tell from the look in your eye, that you need lunch, too, but you were just gonna stay back at the billet and fix up your weapon instead," was she that easy to read, "and so, two people doing this'll be better than one. We'll make sure it's assembled properly, too." Esther stared at him, trying to understand him in this very moment.

What made him suddenly want to help? Why was he doing this? What forced him to stand in front of her and offer assistance? Was it a bet? An olive branch? An attempt to poison her time in Easy to get her to wash out? Questions hampered through her mind as she stood there staring at him, her own voice as she spoke distant and cold.

"I'll figure it out." she had said quietly, but Talbert shook his head before she even finished speaking.


"I know Sobel was just trying to give you shit about your weapon, alright? I know its all in the right place, I know that, and I know he don't trust you one bit to complete this training. Hell, half the guys don't either I bet. But these men oughta focus on their training instead of trying everything to get you to fail, okay?" Talbert said, before shouldering his own M1 and taking hers into his grasp, "Shifty'll bring us food, now let's go." They were silent walking back to the billet and once they entered there were only a few still left in there, pulling off weapons and helmets before taking off. Talbert pulled Powers aside before coming towards where Esther had sat on her bed and seating himself on Powers' side. Esther stared at Talbert as he crouched to the ground and began to disassemble the weapon, dirt falling out of different receivers and parts of the model and onto the ground. 

"Why are you doing this." Esther asked him, her voice quiet in the still billet, sunlight streaming in from the nearby window and a warm breeze coming in the open door. Talbert was silent for a moment, busy with pulling apart bits rather than looking up towards her as he crouched over the display of weaponry on the ground. He didn't answer her and instead remained quiet as he finished disassembling the remainder of the weapon. Esther slowly pulled herself to the ground, grabbing the rag she used to polish her boots and began brushing all the dirt and grim she could from pieces of the weapon. It was quiet for a few moments as the duo sat like that, passing pieces back and forth as they wiped and cleaned each, bit by bit. 

"Why'd you come here, wanting to write about the war?" Talbert asked her as he passed her the bolt from the rifle and she began wiping. Her mind momentarily seized up and she focused again on the bolt in front of her where dirt incrusted the edges. 

"My father was in the Great War." she said; she wouldn't hide that fact and Lieutenant Sobel had already announced it to the world it seemed, "My brother joined the Marines. Ma was helping with war bonds, figured I could do something as well....." She cringed to herself at the thought of going on, for there was this unearthed level of embarrassment now merely associated with her degree simply because Captain Sobel and the hull of Easy Company made it out to be one. Saying she should be doing something else, that there were better things to fight a college degree with than a war. Talbert evidently noticed her silence and let out another sigh and propped his knee up and leant against it with his head and looked to her.

"Half these guys don't even got a high school education, dropped out, went to help their fathers at work to get more money, did anything just to scrape by. You ain't ever hear of one of us with a college degree, that's all I'm saying." Talbert said to her quietly, his voice low as if he would be scorned for talking about it any louder, "Lots of these guys with fathers in the Great War and brothers heading out to join the same fight we are. You just don't see ladies like you and Codona doing whatcha doing. It's no wonder they're questioning." Esther didn't answer to his statement, an awkward defense made about him and the men or rather an outreach to her as an outlier; whatever it was, she wasn't sure what it was, but stayed quiet.

"He knew what he was doing." Esther heard a voice saying from behind her and turned to watch as Powers, whom she really needed to start calling Shifty, coming back up into the billet with Mercy just behind him, her cheeks red, her eyes narrowed, and a few slices of bread gripped in her hands, "Pulling shit like that, when he knew he was assigning gun work this afternoon? He knew." 

"Wish I didn't have to say it, but that's Sobel for ya." Shifty said quietly and Mercy sighed as she met Esther's eyes and visibly softened, hurrying over towards her and shoving a slice of bread into her hands, just narrowly stepping on Talbert's fingers on the ground. 

"He knew what he was doing, Armstrong, I don't doubt that for one second." Mercy said, before glancing towards Talbert who was watching Mercy with an annoyed expression. She bit back her lip and shoved a slice of bread his way before turning back to Esther and frowning.


"I got a good look at the rifle," Shifty piped up from his spot on his own cot where he'd settled, "Either Sobel has lost it or I have, but your rifle was all in perfect, working order." Esther offered a grateful nod to Shifty but could only focus again on the bolt and her rag.

"You also don't treat a lady like that, especially carrying a rifle looking like that." Shifty said with a softer bubble of anger and Esther smirked slightly at his words, "Even if it is his job." 

"Damn, Armstrong, you must bring out another side to people, I never hear Shift speak like that." Talbert said with a chuckle as he spit on the operating rod in his grasp and gave it a wipe, "Sure Sobel would have a field day if you told that to his face, Shifty." 

"He don't gotta hear it, Tab." 

Chapter Text

"Talbert invited us to PX tonight." Esther said, first thing to Mercy as she dug into her beef and rice that evening, sparing a glance towards Mercy who was offering a raised brow her way. He had sauntered up to her cot before mess and made a quick invite towards her that the guys were heading out to the PX bar that night and offered her and 'Private Codona' to come with. Esther was caught off guard by the statement and it caught the attention of a few others around them as well, but she had answered with a 'sure' and he had nodded before giving her a thumbs up and walking away. 

"Talbert? Really?" Mercy asked her and Esther nodded; the day had been filled with the exact training that Lieutenant Sobel had wanted from the cadre and almost nobody could imagine that the day would be much of the same tomorrow as well, so she wasn't half surprised that the men were taking the chance of the on-base PX to get a willing distraction. Mercy watched her for a moment before quizzically glancing towards some of the men at their own tables. They were loud and enthusiastic, most likely about the PX tonight, but Mercy was evidently questioning it all. 

"We'll go for a bit, Mer, see how it is." Esther said, "If we don't like it, we hit the hay for the night." 

"I've never had a drink before, Armstrong." Mercy said, looking at her with these suddenly, wide, innocent eyes, "I can't....I don't know, look like a pansy in front of the guys-"


"You can have sips of whatever I get, plus we have instruction tomorrow all day. It won't do much to get ourselves drunk." Esther said and Mercy smirked at her words and nodded.

They all wore their 'Army Beige' that night as a few of the men had called it.

Beige everything.

Covers, ties, belts, pants, dress shirt all except for the black shoes that were laced nice and tight. Pants were pressed along with the dress shirts and hair was done to look exceptionally well. Esther was surprised to find that her own 'Army Beige' had a skirt and black boots.

She had changed in the bathrooms when she knew no one else would be in there and then had crossed back towards the billet as the sun began to set, ignoring the few whistles she got from a few far off platoons of other companies, her crimson cheeks hidden by her hair that fell from its usual braid. Entering the billet, she tried to remain inconspicuous as she entered and moved towards her cot, catching the gazes of a few of the men who were adjusting covers or ties in little mirrors by bedsides. She took a few minutes to add a bit of powder to her face, just enough so that it wasn't screaming out, but enough where she felt a bit more like a woman.

And just for the night, she added a bit of red lipstick to her lips.

Not a lot, but just enough.

It felt like a lot of things were simply just enough, especially now. Esther couldn't help but put her hair into two braids, pinning them back then against one another into a small crown before fixing her cover to her head; it felt more comfortable that way and was off her neck and looked neater overall. 

"Damn, Armstrong," she heard from her right, glancing up to find Talbert swaggering towards her, a lop-sided smirk on his face, hands shoved in his pockets, "almost didn't recognize you over here." 

"Because there's just so many other women on base." Esther said quietly, with a slight raised brow in his direction and Talbert let out a chuckle and then looked towards Shifty who was adjusting his tie in the tiny mirror that he was hanging from the hook above his bed. 

"There's other women on base, right, Shift?" Talbert called to his friend who looked bashfully over his shoulder from the mirror towards Talbert and seemed to want to avoid his cheeks from growing more red.

"Sometimes Tab, you know that. A few that type the reports at HQ, but you've already introduced yourself to them." Shifty quipped quietly and Talbert scoffed, "Tonight you oughta be a gentleman for once and buy Miss Armstrong and Miss Codona drinks. It is their first time." Esther raised her brow in a curious manner and looked towards Talbert who stood, ready to defend himself with a shocked expression drawn upon his face.

"I'm always a gentleman, Shifty, you know that." Shifty let out a small laugh and shook his head.


"We'll call it that." 

"Tab doesn't settle, he likes to move around." Christenson called to her as he passed by towards the door, as if he were annoyed or just trying to have a bit of fun, "So when a tornado comes and forces him to move, he don't like that. It's why he don't settle." Esther almost couldn't help but laugh at that comment as she rose to her feet and smoothed down her skirt, looking towards Talbert who was glaring at the back of Christenson's head. Talbert looked to Esther and shook his head.

"He's got no room to talk." Talbert muttered and Shifty chuckled, "I'm serious, Shift." Shifty stepped past Talbert and adjusted his cover on his head, where his hair was perfectly smoothed back and gelled and smiled at Talbert.

"It's a losing battle, Tab, because neither do you, I suggest you don't worry yourself about it now and enjoy a night out." Shifty offered as the three began to make way towards the door. 


"We're on base, Shifty, there can only be as much fun as a military base provides." 

"They're serving alcoholic beverages to underage people," Muck said hurrying past them and out the door, turning back to call over his shoulder, "I think that's plenty of fun, especially on a military base."

There was something almost comical about the banter of the men, especially when removed from training. There was a lighter, more easy-going atmosphere, where they were talking about things other than Lieutenant Sobel or the cadre. The PX bar was alive with light when they arrived, Esther having opted to stay quiet a majority of the walk over, getting an earful of Talbert's argument about whether he was a settler or traveler (something he was still hung up dramatically on) and Shifty, who tried to bring some sense to him.

Esther peaked her head in a bit and found Mercy stood near the dart board, standing more off to the side, observing rather than playing, watching Guarnere and Toye take on Liebgott and Martin it seemed. Toye's black eye had been long gone now, but he was still as stoic and fiercely loyal to his actions just as he had been on August 29th. Esther excused herself and hurried over to where Mercy was stood and slowly sidled up next to her and gave her shoulder a bump.

"Hey, Armstrong." Mercy said with a grin, "Was wondering when you'd show." Esther smirked at her words and nodded her head backwards towards where Talbert was, currently chatting up presumably one of the women in typing at HQ.

"Ah, right, I'm not surprised." Mercy said with a chuckle, "We clean up well though." Esther glanced to Mercy in her own Army Beige skirt and boots, with the tie around her neck and her hair pulled into a small bun behind her head. 

"That we do." Esther said and Mercy grinned before looking back to the 4 men going at it with the dart board. 

"How'd you get roped into this?" Esther muttered to Mercy who let out a chuckle and held back a snort as Liebgott poorly aimed and missed at wherever he was trying to aim on the dart board. 


"Let's just say, after the events of August 29th, Joe Toye's been real kind. Quite the gentleman." Mercy said and Esther glanced over to her for a moment and watched as Mercy shrugged, "He helped me over the wall for one. He actually gave me some really helpful tips for hand-to-hand combat that he had been holding off giving - you know he boxed?" 

"His name is Joe?" Esther questioned, barely hearing the last few lines Mercy had said, who was then nodding enthusiastically. 

"You also have Liebgott who is also Joe. There's a Joe Lesniewski I think, 1st platoon guy, there's gotta be a couple more Joe's. Whole lotta Joe's. A bunch of G.I. Joe's basically." Mercy said and Esther smirked a bit as she watched Liebgott - Joe - aim again and poorly miss. Esther bit back her tongue as she went to speak next.

"The men...." Esther started, "they're being....well, I don't know...."


"Not assholes?" Mercy stated bluntly and Esther rocked her head back and forth as if to nod along, "Because, well, agreed." Esther glanced sparingly at the men at the dart board and then turned away and leaned towards Mercy.

"I think after seeing you.....with the whole situation with Kavanagh....I don't know....I think something....happened? I don't know just, it's not a light switch is what I'm saying, but like coaxing prey with food." Esther whispered quietly and Mercy looked up at her. Esther watched her eyes and then saw Mercy let out a visible sigh, her shoulders sinking briefly as she stood there.

"I know what you mean." Mercy said quietly, and then went silent and Esther regretted even bringing it up, "I've been meaning to talk to you about that." Esther stopped her though, a gentle hand perched on her shoulder and a comforting smile.

"When you're ready." Esther told her quietly and Mercy smiled up at her, her eyes glowing and she nodded. That silent agreement was enough for the understanding to exist and the respect to mold as well.

Traumatic events that happened always sent people into silence.

It's why when she was little, she'd hear Daddy crying to her Ma about the war. Because Ma had listened and it never seemed like he had anybody who listened to him besides her. He'd talk about the trenches, the sickness, the death, the guilt he still felt. He seemed to ramble on in a trance and Esther would sit on the steps quietly listening as her Ma held him in the kitchen in the early hours of the morning. Though Daddy didn't show that side to her or Marty, she knew. And giving Mercy that factor, of her being there, in time she'd do what she'd want with that memory, but Esther would be there to hold her like Ma did to Daddy. 

"Whoa, Fubar, I didn't think this was your sorta scene." she heard a voice call to her left and watched Luz - first name, she was yet to find out, she seemed horrible with names - slowly walking towards her, two beers in his hands and a widening smirk. Esther had never really talked to the man, she had guessed Mercy probably did since they shared a billet, but she couldn't tell if it was sarcasm or welcoming in his voice. Esther kept her back leaned against the half wall and nodded to him as he approached. 

"Me either." she offered with a shrug and Luz chuckled at that and took a sip of his beer and glanced towards Mercy.

"You disappeared." he told her and Mercy pulled that face - her typical, you're annoying me face - and nodded, "One minute I'm getting drinks and the next, you're gone."


"Sorry, if my attention just isn't always on you." muttered Mercy, with an eye roll, turning back to the dart board game where the four guys were animatedly now yelling, "Asshole." Esther glanced to Luz, with somewhat cold eyes and watched as he shrugged. There was this unannounced weird sense of the men and women trying to get along with each other with this stillborn animosity from the first month crawling in every once and a while that seemed to exist and it was bothersome. 


"Cigarette?" Luz offered, as Esther refocused her attention onto him, watching as he pulled the pack of Lucky Strikes - Army-issued - from his pocket and held one out to her. Esther stared at it for a moment before reaching forward to take it with a nod and set it on her lip.

"Gotta light?" she asked him and he nodded. She watched him remove the light and flick it on and she took the second to stand up fully and take the top of his hand and hold it to the end of her cigarette until it caught. She then leaned back against the wall again and took a small inhale and blew out a stream of smoke again. Luz watched her for a few moments, quietly, as if he were left in some sort of aftershock and Esther refocused her attention to looking around the PX bar. There was a place to send mail, a small little corner to buy cigarettes and other such things, there was the bar and the tables all around, the dart board and a small jukebox for music playing. A Duke Ellington song crooned about the speakers that dangled from corners of the room and it smelled of cold beer and cigarettes and cologne, though the cologne definitely overpowered much of the other smells of the room, even the cigarettes. 

"I'm going to get a drink." Esther said quietly to Mercy, "Want anything?" Mercy glanced at her and then shook her head.

"Nah," she said, "maybe next time." Esther nodded at her with a tiny smile and then wadded towards the bar where a few men stood behind in their own Army beige, skillfully working the counter and serving drinks and most importantly, beer. Esther stepped up to the counter, her eyes training briefly on the tender who slid a beer towards someone sat at the bar, before meeting the gaze of another tender who wiped his hands off on a towel. He offered her a smirk and then wadded towards her and leaned down against the counter and looked up towards her through his eyelashes. 

"'Never seen you on base before." he said and Esther smiled sweetly and then placed the cigarette on her lip again and glanced towards the beer mugs, "You work up in HQ, sweetheart? Gotta name?" Esther slowly looked to him and then removed the cigarette from her lip and leaned forward against the counter herself and nodded.

"Do you have beer?" she asked him and the man smirked at her and slowly leaned back, pulling up a cup of beer and pushing it in front of himself.

"Plenty." he said and Esther slowly clasped her hand around the cup of beer and nodded.

"Thank you." she said, peeling back from the bar and offering a smile his way. She watched something flicker behind his eyes and he leaned up against the counter again with a raised brow.

"You that broad with the college degree?" he called to her and Esther, briefly, felt her heart give for a moment at his words, but then nodded towards him. 

"Uh....what's it, Armstrong, right?" he asked her and Esther nodded.

"That's me." She watched as the tender turned to scramble underneath the bar and then pulled out a newspaper and slid it across the bar towards her. Esther slowly stepped forward to the newspaper, which had been folded multiple times over and crushed and then smoothed out again and held it up to her face. There, on the second page, was her face - the picture used when she was in W-Sector - with her cover on her head and her uniform looking pressed and pristine and a smile on her face. Her eyes slowly trailed to the article title:

GIRL CORRESPONDENT GOING TO WAR

Esther was not one to shield a blind eye to articles like this; she'd seen the ones about Martha Gellhorn and Dickey Chapelle and just about any other woman who was doing virtually anything in the war effort that wasn't sewing or staying on the home front with the kids. There'd been an article on her work in the local paper at Bryn Mawr her senior year by an editor with an ego who talked about her first published article in the recent paper a few weeks before and practically tore her apart. She'd had a few headlines back in W-Sector when she'd put articles into Stars and Stripes and critics would comment their remarks on how bland and cold her words were or when the first issue of Yank came out with Jane Randolph on the cover, just before her and Mercy were due to leave W-Sector and there was a page with remarks from a critic who saw her article in Star and Stripes.

But they'd always said that; too cold in her statements, there was no life breathing across the page, and it was a more stoic take than a newspaper would want to have.

It caught her off guard to see the local paper from Toccoa, Georgia, with her headlining the second page. The only part that stood out from the rest was a quote from one of the writers at the Saturday Evening Post who she had herself acquainted with a few times in DC.

Dominic Worthington. She had been sat next to him at interview sessions and they had shared remarks and a few exchanges of cordiality, but nothing else. Seeing his name though, she could feel her heart beginning to race.

If you told me what I thought of when I first heard the name Esther Armstrong, I would've told you that she was convincing enough to write. That's about it. It is all she had about her. She was too serious, too mucked up and focused on whatever efforts and standards she was trying to uphold. It gave off the wrong impression in my mind; she was doing too much and I don't think she knew that. I read some of her articles, subpar at the least, and eventually moved on just about as quickly as many other regular newspaper readers would do with articles written by someone who does not seem to have the slightest clue about the reality that she is immersed in. Convince me this, you're going to send her into a war and tell her to write? She won't make it past her first day in combat without saying she needs her face powdered. 

Esther suddenly was not at all interested in the beer she had rested on the top of the bar. She looked up towards the tender and found him watching her with a dull expression. 


"I could powder your face for ya if you ever needed it." Esther slid the paper back towards him and then swiftly took her beer and moved away from the tender, ignoring his calls out to her for her name or where she was going. She was too caught up in the whirlwind of those words.

Convincing enough to write? She wouldn't make it in war without her face needing powdering? Too serious? 

"Was wondering what was taking you so long." she heard a voice say that seemed to knock her from her haze and she saw Mercy still leaned up against the small half-wall that looked towards the men playing darts. Mercy went quiet though at that and stared at Esther for a moment before narrowing her eyes.

"What's wrong?" Esther let out a breath and then shook her head.

"Nothing just....interesting bar tender." Esther said as she leaned up against the wall with her beer and took another drag of the cigarette, blowing out the smoke slowly and keeping Mercy in her peripheral. 

"He's got that stare, Armstrong." Mercy muttered to her, "God, he could learn to avert at least, he looks like a love-sick puppy." Esther rolled her eyes and sighed, the article nagging at the back of her head as she tried nearly to bury it. She couldn't let something such as a bland article like that suddenly change her entire course of existing.

It was one man's opinions that clearly were backed with the negative connotation of the fact she was writing and going to war at the same time, an idea he clearly wasn't taking too kindly to. Esther had been pretty quiet though in college though. She went to her classes, stayed up late to study and write papers and do what she needed for her classes. She showed her face at a sorority party here and there, but always found herself back at her dorm, more often than not, and she went early to classes to go over her papers with the professors. She did whatever she could to get through schooling and to start reporting. Some of her peers weren't too keen on that likewise idea, but Esther stayed focused on her goals that got her where she was today. She had worked hard to get here and she knew there'd be people who didn't respect that. But she was here. 

"You in for a shot, half-pint?" Esther looked up and found Guarnere moving towards them, holding out the dart towards Mercy who looked nearly asleep on the wall from boredom. 

"Do you really gotta call me that?" Mercy complained, as she took the dart, offered Esther a half-helpless glance, and rounded the mini wall, "You don't got any room to talk either." Guarnere let out a chuckle and pointed her over to the dart board.


"Just make sure to actually aim." Toye said with a smirk to a grumbling Liebgott, "Aim for the dartboard, not ole Guarnere, alright?" 

"That was one time, asshole." Liebgott muttered, leaning back on the stool with a scowl on his face, "Don't listen to these smucks and just take a shot." Esther took a sip of her cold beer and then watched as Mercy subbed in for Martin, who sat off enjoying his own beer cup.

Mercy wasn't even half bad in her eyes, better than whatever Esther would be able to do with a dart and some anger. In that moment, she noticed something about Guarnere and Toye that she hadn't quite noticed before. Mercy, arguably, was one of the smallest members of the company (and with how easy she had been picked on for a month, it made her smile now in this moment), and seeing Guarnere and Toye extending that arm for her to join, things started to click into place.

Toye helping Mercy with the wall, taking the black eye for her safety, Guarnere staying by Mercy's side when the platoons were broken off into team working activities; they didn't want to see a man falling behind, nor someone struggling. They were willing to go that extra step to ensure someone else got the help they needed, even if it meant breaking their own back to do so or merely getting a big agitated with it. People like that were leaders, in whatever sense of mind they believed they would be in. In a way, just like Lieutenant Winters. The extra steps he'd taken to secure the care of Mercy and her in a variety of ways, even when he was coming down on them telling them to push through the pain of their push-ups. Esther dazed out for a few moments simply staring forward and watching Mercy throw another dart forward. 

"Was wondering where you wandered off to." she heard a voice say, appearing at her shoulder. It didn't take her too long to actually recognize the voice - recognize is the key word here - and look to find exactly who she had figured it'd be.

Talbert. If she were being honest, his first name was still a void in her mind and she came to the conclusion that just calling him Talbert for however much longer she'd need to would suffice. 

"What's your name?" she asked him, causing Talbert to nearly choke on his beer that he was sipping, his eyes meeting her own as she watched him, with genuine curiosity - she couldn't decide, was he a Robert or a Charles or a John....?

"You're joking, right?" he said to her, as he cleared his throat, leaning up against the small wall and glancing her way, "You've been here at least...what, 2 months?" 

"I wish I was." Esther said with a side-long glance his way and a raised brow, "So, what is it? Charles? William?" 

"No and no, if you wanted to speak to a Charles or a William, you'll have better luck with Chuck or Bill. That's besides the point. You don't know my name?" Talbert exclaimed, looking at her with widened eyes, "We're hand-to-hand partners." 

"Seriously, what is it?" Esther asked him, watching as Talbert sighed and looked to her.


"It's Floyd." he said, "But all these smucks call me Tab because apparently my last name is cooler than whatever nickname they could shorten for 'Floyd'." Esther smirked slightly and glanced at him. 

"Never met a Floyd before." she told him, honestly.

"Really? I get to be the first?" Esther glanced at him and smiled slightly and nodded, looking back towards the dart game. 

"Yes." Esther said quietly, "Ready to check that off the bucket list?" Floyd smirked at her and shook his head. 


"You seriously never heard them say my name?" Floyd said, sipping his beer again, "I mean, Shifty calls me Floyd on any off-chance he gets." 


"You don't...." Esther stared at him, contemplating for a moment, "you don't look like a Floyd." Now it was Floyd's turn to pull a face at her and she smirked.

"Why? What the hell do I look like then?" 

"Maybe a Ray? Or Clyde?" Esther offered, with a shrug," I don't know." 

"Ray?" Floyd said in disbelief, "Oh, you're funny, Armstrong, real funny."

There was something about Floyd Talbert that made him indiscernibly easy to get along with. Of course, at first, having to perform hand-to-hand combat with him was less than ideal and having to stand beside him or behind him and get whatever earful of blabbering he was bound to spout was not entirely fun, but the more she stood here talking to him, there was no trace of annoyance or herald with her being there. None of whatever had been there the first day when her and Mercy had been lined up, feeling isolated and distant from this group of men. The same couldn't go for the other men, yet for Floyd, she was willing to let that go for the time being. 

"I meant to say sorry, about that pop in the face I gave ya." Floyd said, glancing her way, with a shrug, "What can I say.....I had the open opportunity, I took it." The corner of Esther's mouth curled upwards and she nodded, thinking back briefly to the impact of Floyd's fist with her face. 

"I should've been blocking myself better, you had a fair shot." she said and Floyd smirked at her, "Not to say I won't get you back, but...." She heard Floyd chuckle at her words. 

"You dropped your arm when I took that shot to your face the first time." Floyd told her, "Just keep your arms up here." Esther watched as he stepped back from the small wall and held his hands up in front of his face and planted himself.

"You keep your guard held there, you won't get a shot to the face like that." Floyd told her, "You can thank Joe Toye for that one. He boxes ya know?" Esther nodded briefly at that comment, but stared at Floyd. It caught her half off-guard that he was giving her advice. But, Mercy had said that Joe Toye was doing much of the same. 

"Hey, Fubar, you look like you've just seen a ghost and I gotta say, look at me, I'm the farthest thing from a gh-" Esther stopped him with a quick couple of blinks and a shake of her head and then stared at him. He watched her eyes for a moment and then raised a brow.


"I can come up with a different nickname, Pat's just-"

"Pat?" she asked him. 

"How many people's names do you not know?" Floyd said with a surprised look of utter disbelief. 

"Enough that I don't have enough fingers or toes to count on." she offered him and Floyd smirked at her. 

"Seriously though, different nickname? Give me 24 hours and there'll be something else I can call ya." 

"No, no," Esther said with a smile at him," it's fine, really, I could care less, just.....what is it? Something I said? Something I did? Is it the lipstick? I mean....suddenly you and half the guys have a set to actually talk to us?" Esther silently began regretting her words; in classic, defensive-Esther Armstrong style, she had done a back track when someone was being nice. But, it had been two whole months and only now the men were...talking?

Floyd stared at her, his face twisted up and contorted and for a second, Esther thought about breaking out into a hazardous apology and taking everything back. She was trying, she was doing all she could, in training, in trying to work with the men....she regretted even opening her mouth. An awkward stab of silence passed through them as Glenn Miller came on the jukebox and a shrill of excitement came from multiple men and ladies from HQ, the clinking of glasses and offered hands for a dance following. 

"Just...forget I said anything-"

"No, Armstrong, no, look just...." Floyd shook his head and waved his hands in front of him in a motion reminiscent of swatting a fly nearly, "I was a bit of an ass..." Esther gave him a look, "alright, a bigger ass, but not as much of an ass as Pat, alright? That first week, we don't even gotta talk about that, but then I started seeing what you were doing. That you obviously had a bit of what it took to be here." 

"I didn't trust that at first and hell, half the guys still don't, but....." Floyd let out a small sigh and looked away from her for a moment, "I can tell you want to be here. Half the time, more than a few of the newbies that are straggling, alright? I can see that....and so can the others...at least the ones that care, but that's besides the point." Esther watched him, with a stiffened upper lip. 

"I figured if no one else was gonna step up besides Lieutenant Winters, that at least I can try talking to ya." Floyd said, watching her with conscious eyes. Esther stood there for a moment quietly, her heart pounding inside of her chest as Floyd stood there. She remembered when she had to stand up to Lawrence Roy back in elementary school when he had pushed one of her old school friends that had since moved away, down on the playground, dirtying her new dress of patchwork and yellow flowers. She had confronted him stood there at the bottom of the slide, her pigtails bouncing, her cherubic face filled with that anger she had towards him for doing what he did to her friend. Esther had hardly let things like that slide in her youth, Daddy called her a tough cookie for it; what was so different now? 

"And I'm glad I did, because you're a pretty fun person to talk to." Floyd told her, "I won't lie about something like that." Esther watched him for a moment and then gave herself a mental smack to open her mouth to stop Floyd from having to keep talking himself when he didn't need to. He had already done more than enough. Just by coming up to her. She appreciated that more than anything. 

"I didn't mean to sound rude," Esther said, awkwardly rubbing the back of her neck like she seemed to always do, "I just.....thank you." Esther cringed at herself internally a bit and watched as Floyd smiled a bit at her, with his hands shoved into his pockets and nodded at her.

There was something incredibly humiliating about practically being shunned by yourself, especially in a training as challenging and grueling as this. You needed allies, you needed people to rely on and trust and ones that you could grab arms with and pull through as well. This olive branch from Floyd was waving in the wind, and she was the bird attempting to land on it and stay. She had never appreciated something so much. Floyd smirked at her and then nodded to her beer.


"Beers' on me." he offered her; Esther smiled the slightest bit in his direction and nodded. Esther found herself taking that offer of a beer from Floyd as her second and final beer of the night as she sat at a table, finishing off the last few sips of the beer, watching Mercy finish up a game of darts. Esther smiled; PX had been a good idea, even if when Floyd had asked, Esther had all but wanted to come down with a fever or something. 

"Fubar." Esther looked up and found Christenson stood there with a half-drunken beer cup in his hand, strands of sweaty hair splayed across his forehead and his tie loosened and face distressed. She looked at him for a minute and then looked back at the dart game, Christenson following her line of sight. An audible sigh seemed to escape him. 

"Supposedly you got a pretty good physical score in the company. Top 20." he told her, sipping his beer, "Some of the guys were talking about it. Wanted to tell you." 

"Thanks." Esther offered, with a glance up his way and a quick smile, "Appreciate it." Pat with which Floyd had told her was Christenson's name, watched her for a moment, the empathy coming off him in harboring waves, enough for Esther to begin to ponder if she should anchor out to sea to discard of this all. Mercy still upheld resentment against him and Esther would back her any day of the week. 

"Look, if you're mad about the nickname, I'll....I'm going to drop it. I thought it would be just...."


"I could care less about the nickname," Esther said looking up at him, "I've been called worse." Christenson pulled a face. If he was trying to get on her good side to make it up to Mercy who already wasn't giving him the time of day, he was a lost cause. 

"I-" Christenson stopped himself and let out a sigh, "look, that first day, the mud...I didn't think she'd go in the mud, I just knew if Sobel heard comments like that, he'd have her head. I was just trying to help." Esther stayed quiet there in the chair, leaned against the table and glanced at him, licking her lips thoughtfully. 

"You could've gone about it better." Esther said quietly, averting her eye contact again, going quiet thereafter as he stood there with the beer cup in his hand. Christenson fell quiet as he stood there.

No one knew what Mercy had gone through to get here, the living hell she was in nearly all of her life, working her ass off just to stay alive and now to get here and make something of herself. Christenson could've pulled that on anyone else, but not Mercy. She didn't take things like that, nor waste her energy or effort out on.

Eventually, the exhaustion hit and Esther had gone over to Mercy with a look of 'I'm hitting the hay' and she had promised to see Esther at breakfast tomorrow. There was a tiny part inside of Esther that was ready to pull Toye or Guarnere aside and make them promise that Mercy got back to the billet safely, but she trusted Mercy.

Esther ducked out and got back to the billet, a few men already there and out cold by the time she had shut the billet door behind her. Getting to her cot, she lowered herself onto the blanket and pulled her shoes off and then lied back on the cot letting out a small sigh in the mellow darkness. She wasn't sure when she fell asleep, but at some point, she began to dream of home and her childhood.

When Ma would begin to cook her beef stew as the nights grew cooler and came faster than summer; Esther would stand at the counter and cube the carrots and Marty would beg Ma to cut up the celery. She would tell him to be careful, that's a knife you're working with Marty. Marty did a real bang up job though with it. They'd all sit at the dinner table and talk about their days - Marty always had school stories, she, herself would go on about the new crossword in the paper, Ma would talk about the luncheon at the school this weekend and Daddy would talk about what he saw that day in the Navy Yard and get the whole table laughing. Usually, her and Daddy would sit out on the porch, watching the sunset. He would smoke his cigar and she'd sip on the tea Ma made her and they'd sit in their comfortable silence until the porch light came up and the air turned chilly and she was swathed in Ma's patchwork blanket.

When she was real young, she would fall asleep out there and Daddy would carry her upstairs to her bed and tuck her in, with a kiss on her forehead and whisper tomorrow is a new day, little one before shutting her door and heading back downstairs, where he and Ma would stay up a little later and talk. All night, she remembered parts of her childhood, something she would never get back, yet the thing she would always remember to have shaped her.

When she woke the next morning, the air in the billet was cool from half-closed windows and snores were filling the billet to the eves. And there, covering her form, still clad in the Army beige, was a blanket, pulled up to her chin. 

Chapter Text

Esther was rather enjoying watching the smoke leave her lips as it curled towards the ceiling that night. Captain Sobel - correct, Captain Sobel, a recipient of a recent promotion to Captain that led to Lieutenant Winters' promotion from 2nd Lieutenant to 1st Lieutenant, a highly publicized affair it seemed - had moved their dreaded Friday night marches to Thursday night as today had been filled with hardened jump training.

She had yelled 1000, 2000, 3000, 4000 plenty of times to run her throat raw, and been chewed out by Captain Sobel himself for her landing positions plenty of times for it to have gotten old. She had been improving all week and could tell her comfort levels with jumping from 6-foot-tall platforms was getting better as well. Of course, there was the constant talk the men seemed to keep up about jumping from real planes, and usually Guarnere or Randleman would calm everybody down or give someone a smack or two.

The mornings and nights were colder; no longer was sweat a factor by 0800, but you could see the breath of the man next to you on Currahee runs or night marches. Enlisted found one another in OD bottoms and short sleeves rather than the shorts they all usually wore. And Captain Sobel's training had become more intense than merely a week ago. Night time maneuvers kept them awake until they were stood with blood-shot eyes and blank stares, while other times he would run them until they were on the ground puking their guts up. Esther didn't want to have to think about the spaghetti incident - she was not touching spaghetti unless it was the last thing she had to do.

Tonight though, even though weekend passes were canceled - Captain Sobel didn't like the way Mercy had said 'yes, sir' - people were in a generally good mood. Mercy was sat on the ground beside her cot, reading the latest paper Esther had snatched.

Stalingrad was taking heavy blows and the Soviets were on the run more often than not.

Cape Town in South Africa was experiencing heavy action from the war, with the sinkings of U-boats happening day in and day out.

The Guadalcanal campaign in the Pacific was equally experiencing heavy resistance; people still pondered whether MacArthur would return.

The media seemed to eat it up with their forks and knives, their napkins pressed into their collars. 

"Don’t try to win this war all by yourself." she heard Luz say from a few cots down to Muck, "That pretty good?" 

"Yeah, yeah, it ain't too bad." Muck agreed - George, with whom Esther had found out was Luz's first name - was a big fan of John Wayne and had seen enough movies to impersonate the man himself and convince others that he could talk and act just like the man himself. Currently, he was on the Flying Tigers kick, having a free pass last weekend into town and seeing it a few days after it had come out in cinemas. Floyd told her that he 'didn't bother to even take a dame with him, he just wanted to watch the movie and figure out what line he could memorize the fastest'. 

"I hear one more John Wayne line outta his mouth, I'm putting a sock in it." Mercy muttered from beside the bed, flipping over to the next page of the newspaper as the rain fell hard outside. There was no doubt at this rate, if the weather kept up that Captain Sobel would have a field day getting them to crawl through mud and grime all day Monday.

"As long as I don't hear that damn penny line from Seven Sinners, I think I can make it." Esther said as she watched the smoke twirl again to the ceiling, a chuckle following from Mercy there on the ground. 

"Whoa, Armstrong...." Mercy said suddenly, her voice still and dull. Esther raised a brow as she stared at the ceiling and then looked over at Mercy.


"What?"

Mercy didn't answer her, but merely shifted her body and the paper towards Esther and stared at Esther with big eyes. Esther sat up and took the paper in her hands and nearly spit out the cigarette, ready to set the billet on fire. There in a small column on the side of page 4, sat a tiny picture of her face and a small blurb in italics. Her eyes raced through the small blurb until she reached a quote, spliced and hammered dead in the center of the paragraph.

Not entirely naive, but heavily resigned from that of vague interest when at conferences and participating in interviews, Armstrong appears to be gaining public interest. All across the nation, women have began to take up the jobs of man and put themselves to work in factories, production lines, the works! Having appeared in papers already, Armstrong has certainly gained attraction. With a figure such as herself in the public eye, there is no doubt that it is encouraging for other women to do much of the same. David Helman, a DC correspondent who regularly attended conferences alongside Armstrong, stated "she was quiet and reserved and quite stoic," and how "nothing really seemed to get to her, which I guess was a bonus on her part". He mentioned how "she was always off by herself" which he couldn't decide if it were merely "voluntary" or not. He couldn't quite figure out what made her "so magnetic with some and disdainful to others". There was intrepid news that broke from Fort Bragg that she be would participating in an experimental offer with an Airborne Division in Georgia, one that General Matthew Ridgeway, of Fort Bragg, stated was "once in a lifetime"-

Esther closed the newspaper and sat back, shoving the newspaper away from her being and towards Mercy again. 


"What newspaper is that?" 

"New York Times. Some asshole stuck up in a cardboard box clearly with not enough going on upstairs." Mercy muttered, closing the newspaper and staring at it, "How the hell did we manage to get The New York Times-"

"They have no other material to write on?" sighed Esther, leaning back against the cot again and shutting her eyes. Her face in newspapers; the one that the tender showed her in PX had been enough of dream that she thought wasn't the reality. 

"You know how it is, the second something is a step out of the norm, people are on it like flies on shit." Mercy said, shooting a glance up at Esther, "It's getting old." 

"What's getting old?" Esther shifted her head over to find Shifty looking at them from his bed, where he had just settled down onto. 

"I'm more flagwaver than correspondent in the eyes of the media at this point." Esther said with a solemn glance up at him, earning a confused look from Shifty, "Valiant and patriotic showman, as it appears." She had written an article, in the 2 month span before the opportunity at the W-Sector was offered, in place of another coworker that was supposed to write it and he had heckled her and mocked her in front of everyone for doing so.

Taking the job of a man.

Many didn't like the looks of that, even if what the papers said were true, even if it were inciting more women to want to take up arms and do something for this war through factory work, USO or warbonds. It didn't take away from the fact that it was her face there; she wasn't a showman, or an advertiser or a promotor. She was a writer. She wanted to write about this war. She didn't want to be another face that people took for surface value.

Shifty offered a slight smile in her direction and settled back on his cot and let out a sigh. 

"You're in the paper?" Shifty asked her and Esther nodded meekly in his direction and offered the paper. She watched Shifty observe the small portion of the paper for a moment before he glanced up at her. 


"You know this guy? Helman?" Shifty asked her as he handed back the paper, "Sure has got a lot to say, especially not even to your face." Esther took the paper back and met his gaze and nodded.

"He was at a few conferences I went to." Esther said quietly, "The fact he took the time to write, just....." Esther could only fold up the paper and shove it under the cot before settling back onto her cot again and sighing as she looked up towards the ceiling again.

There was something about the professionalism and lack there of that existed between men and women who performed the same jobs.

She would ask a detailed question to whoever she was interviewing at conferences and get a contemptuous look before a cold answer, while a man would follow and be provided a clean, clear-cut answer.

She would get raised brows and low-whistles in a skirt.

She would get numbers written on tiny slips of paper, written in crude writing.

She would get coffee invites that were inevitably not coffee invites.

She would get the ones that stared, or the ones that ogled. The ones that just had to place their hand on her shoulder, because they simply had to.

David Helman had been sat beside her on multiple occasions and he had kept to himself, but he always had far too much to say thereafter, whether by word of mouth or paper. Esther choose the only deliberate solution she could counter with; ignorance. It wasn't her favorite thing to have to do, but she had used it plenty of times when it had been incredibly necessary. 

Ignorance. She would be blasted to hell for such a thing.

The weekend was filled with basic instruction in the classroom that Captain Sobel wished to fill the weekend with, since no one had weekend passes. Sunday morning was a quiet one, not many people were up and weekend instruction wasn't until later at 1100, so Esther took the morning to enjoy breakfast and bring out the leather journal she kept tucked into her old W-Sector gear. 

October 18th, 1942 
Camp Toccoa, Georgia 

Esther stared at the date and took a brief minute to flip to the page just on the opposite side and see August 7th, written in big, bold letters, staring right back at her, a numbing reminder nearly. She slowly shut her eyes and let out an exasperated sigh before flipping back to today. October 18th. She stared at it as she sipped her coffee and took spoonfuls of her oatmeal, as if staring at it would make words appear in her mind and dance onto the page. 

"Private Armstrong?" Esther slowly glanced up and found Lieutenant Winters standing there, dressed in his PT gear, his forehead slick with sweat, and a weary smile on his face. It took her a moment to recognize that it was Lieutenant Winters and then quickly stood up, saluting. He waved her off with a pinprick of a smile and nodded to her.

"Would you care if I sit?" he asked her and Esther slowly sat down again and shook her head.

"No, sir." she said and Lieutenant Winters chuckled slightly as he shuffled himself onto the bench across from her and settled his own cup of coffee and toast. 

"I see the rain didn't let up, sir?" she pondered, but that was just her attempt at humor with the Lieutenant - it had stopped raining yesterday around 1400. Lieutenant Winters smiled, with a nod at her and picked up his napkin.


"I run on Sunday mornings." Lieutenant Winters said, "Around base." A surprised expression crossed Esther's face, one she didn't mean to let out and she recovered by nodding. It seems he read her face on a moment's notice and leaned against the table.

"It's no Currahee run, but...." the Lieutenant glanced towards the window where the sun was quietly making its entrance upon the world, "it's nice." Meaning, there was no yelling Sobel, and screaming of cadence up the side of a mountain. Figures. Lieutenant Winters glanced at her leather journal and she shut it, mostly out of respect, and then looked to him and found his eyes wandering back up to hers.

"Captain Sobel can take whatever he pleases....I just don't think his interest is in journals and pencils, sir." Esther stated - she took the hint that he was surprised to see her sitting there with a journal and something to write with, simply because he most likely knew that Captain Sobel had taken the fountain pen she had been using religiously for everything. By the look he gave her, there was no doubt he knew. Lieutenant Winters seemed to smile slightly at her comment and then took a sip of coffee. 

"What did you get your degree in? At Bryn Mawr?" Esther looked up at him and shook the stupor from her face and cleared her throat.

"Journalism, sir...., I did my Master's in a year's times there as well." she explained.

"In journalism?"

"Yes, sir." Lieutenant Winters nodded along to her answers to his questions and glanced at the leather notebook again. 

"Why do you ask, sir?"

The Lieutenant was quiet for a minute and she slowly began to wonder if he'd seen her face in the paper and about every morsel of regret seeped into her body. There was an element of embarrassment to see that, along with the choice words of every man that decided to put out a quote about her from mere, slight, interaction with her. She respected Lieutenant Winters a lot; what he did for the company, for the men, how hard he pushed them, but still kept the camaraderie. 

"You've been excelling in your training here, Private." Lieutenant Winters said, "I feel you could've done well if you had attended OCS."

OCS. Officer Candidate School. Lieutenant Stellhorn had attended OCS school; she went through her famous 'Rise Through The Ranks' story that had headlined quite a few papers when Esther had been finishing up her last semester of college. 

"If the opportunity had been there, sir, I would've taken it, but....." Esther trailed off. This meant too much. The capability to write on the war, from an enlisted's point of view, through training, through every step. To be immersed. Lieutenant Winters met her gaze; he knew. He didn't expect her to continue. She gave a slight nod and he smiled back at her. 

"Anything good?" he asked her, nodding to the leather notebook and she half-heartedly let out a slight sigh and shook her head. 

"I'm afraid not, sir, I wish though." she told him honestly; there was something about Lieutenant Winters that made her trust him with a thought like that. She felt guilty even having to admit that sometimes, but Lieutenant Winters had some of the kindest eyes she had ever seen on a person and it made her feel like she could trust him with words like that. 

"General Ridgeway told me to try and get what ever I could muster from training, but," she shook her head and stared at the limp notebook before, running a hand through her hair tensely and blowing out her cheeks, "it appears my capability to focus on writing and focus on training are two wildly different things in my brain."

She was too worried about the next detail Captain Sobel would pick from her and tear apart in front of her eyes; too worried that she might forget something and screw herself over in its entirety. The thought of putting a pencil to paper and getting something from it seemed entirely out the window.

What's stopping you from writing then? A small voice in her head seemed to speak out into the darkness and she pulled a contorted expression across her face and glanced at the notebook again.


"I just feel like...." Esther shook her head, "I don't know the word to describe it."

Deep-down though, she felt she knew exactly the words to describe exactly what she felt.

Undeserving. Inferior. Unfit for this position. It wasn't like it had appeared overnight, it was a slow, crawling ambition that came upon her and swallowed her whole.

Lieutenant Winters watched her with a quizzical, pensive look and took a sip of his coffee quietly. 

"What's stopping you?" he asked her, "From...writing, I mean." 

"I don't know." Esther said quietly, "I know I need to write, but I'm not....sure, why, or what is necessarily stopping me from doing that." They sat in silence for a few moments. 

"I'm no writer, Private Armstrong," Lieutenant Winters said, leaning against the bench again with a quiet sigh, "but I think of the papers I read as a boy. The letters I send to my mother. They all have meaning, a purpose. Something heartfelt and real." Esther watched Lieutenant Winters with soft eyes; she could see the glimmer in his blue orbs as he spoke, like he were in a far off place, far, far away from here. He seemed to look out the window with a far off look in his eye. He looked back to her and nodded to the notebook.


"If it's the honest truth, then I think that's all you need." Lieutenant Winters said to her, taking in his last sip of coffee, straightening his shoulders a bit as he glanced towards the mess hall entrance.

There was already plenty of fabrications and over-exaggeration in newspaper articles today; the truth could do people some good.

Esther took Lieutenant Winters' words with care; as she went to classroom instruction, ate lunch, showered, napped. The honest truth. How honest could she be before higher ups were writing her off left and right?

At dinner that night in mess, for the first time in over two months, Guarnere had invited them to their table; where there was Joe Toye, George Luz, Perconte (his first name was Frank, if she could remember right), Grant (that was the Chuck that Floyd had mentioned), Randleman (who went by Bull but his actual name was Denver) and Martin (John, but the men called him Johnny).

The men of second platoon she had never been immersed in as much as Mercy, but Esther watched as Mercy scooted into a spot beside Guarnere (whose name was Bill), and then nodded Esther to the spot beside Grant - Chuck - the spot beside Chuck (who was actually Charles - well you get the point).

Esther met Chuck's gaze; he inevitably had a few choice words earlier in training that hadn't made the greatest first impression and Esther had been keen on avoiding talking with him in general. But, she watched as he scooted over and motioned his eyes to the spot next to her.


"Don't make me look a fool now, Armstrong." Chuck said, "We can stick you next to Williams over there-" Esther sunk herself down beside Chuck and looked his way and watched as he popped a piece of potato in his mouth. 

"Glad to see you've made your choice." Esther glared at him.


"Jesus Christ, just eat your goddamn food and stop spitting words at each other." muttered Guarnere, sparing a glance at Mercy who sipped on her water, "You didn't tell me we had fire and water playing each other."

"More like fire and fucking gasoline, Bill." muttered Joe from beside him, shooting a glance at Esther, who watched him with a cold composure; he shrugged, "Just saying." 

"Look, I'm just telling ya the honest truth. Williams is a fighting man, but he's too distracted, too caught up, 'least I put my differences aside. Ain't that right, Armstrong?" Grant said with a wink her way. Esther stared at him and moved her unwavering eyes past him towards Williams, who was in a tense conversation with Liebgott, over whatever matter, she didn't want to know, before moving back to Grant. 

"Sure." Esther said, her voice low as she glanced at Guarnere, who smirked and let out a barking laugh.


"Pretty sure that means she just called you a sissy, Chuck." Joe said with a low chuckle from beside Guarnere, as Esther smirked quietly to herself and picked up a piece of the beef and stuck in her mouth, chewing for a moment as she caught Mercy's own hint of a smirk on her face.

Dinner was actually quite nice. Having it be the first where her and Mercy weren't at their own little table and with the rest of the men, it was something Esther really enjoyed.

George Luz was a very passionate storyteller and if there was anything that Esther got from him, it was that he wanted to keep people laughing. She could sense that about him once he started talking. It reminded her of Daddy; a lot. And for a second, when George had turned and was yelling down to Liebgott about something, a small pit formed in her stomach of homesickness. Daddy always wanted to keep her laughing, she was Daddy's little girl. She couldn't remember the last time she had even been home to see him and hear his jokes and laughter or get one of his warm hugs. In a split second of guilt, the food was suddenly unappetizing and the longer she looked at it, the more sick she suddenly felt. Mercy seemed to pick up on that, though she didn't say anything; she watched her for a few moments and seemed to want to hold her eyes long enough to get an answer. 

"Sobel was a total ass for that." she heard Martin mutter, down a few people from Joe, "How the hell does he want ya to say 'yes, sir', then?" 

"Beats me." Mercy said, "Supposedly, it wasn't in the right tone for him."

"Tone?" Joe said, leaning forward with widened eyes as Guarnere glanced to Mercy.

"This asshole's making us run up and down Currahee until our lungs give out without so much as a bat of the eye over actual bullshit, but he's bent over your tone when you're saying 'yes, sir'?" Guarnere snapped out. Mercy nodded and pushed a few more scoops of potato into her mouth.

Captain Sobel had been going at it with Mercy in recent weeks. If she started doing something right, he did anything he could to make her start again or fail. Then he'd gig her, make her start over, or make her do push ups until her arms were shaking, and he was yelling over her, spit flying as sweat trickled down her forehead. She took it like a champ though; she let him go at it and it seemed it pissed him off even more when she barely responded and simply did as she was told. Captain Sobel didn't like that sort of stuff, because he knew she was more able to ignore him and focus on what was in front of her and her task at hand. 

"He knows he can only do so much though," Mercy said, "I think he's scared of Armstrong." Guarnere let out a low whistle and glanced to Esther who was tapping her fingers mindlessly against the tin, dazed out and looking off into left field. 

"Yeah, he's got a real killer there." Mercy shoved his shoulder.

"No, dipshit, she ain't gonna strangle him. But she knows a helluva lot more vocabulary than he could ever know that could send him six feet into his own grave!" Mercy called, catching the attention of a few other surrounding tables as Guarnere smirked and Esther looked to her. 

"You start talking quid pro quo and all that bullshit in the classroom and he looks at you like you got five heads or something." Mercy said to Esther, leaning across the table, to give her shoulder a squeeze, "It makes seeing him yelling at me for being too short almost worth it."

"You are a little short, half-pint." 

"Bill, my fist will swing so fast-"
 

"I don't need the physics or dimensions of your goddamn fist." Guarnere said as Mercy offered him as much as an eye roll and focused back on Esther.

"All's I'm saying is, he can do all he wants, but I'm gonna get my Jump Wings, and he can stand there and glower as Sink puts them here," Mercy said, pointing to her breast pocket, "but I'm getting 'em." Esther watched Mercy with a small smile as she turned and laughed at something Guarnere muttered and then gave him another shove on the shoulder, pointing her finger at him and looking to Toye with a knowing look. 

"Hey, Fubar," Esther glanced over and found George leaning against the table with a wide smirk on his features, shoving half into Chuck, who looked less than displeased to have to be sitting between the two, "you a big fan of maps?" 

"Depends on the type of map, go on." Esther said to him, earning a smirk from the man himself.


"Good. Then can ya lend me one? I'm lost...in your eyes." George said and it took all of two seconds before Esther was leaning away, shaking her head as George let out cackles from his lips. 

"I'm sorry, Fubar, I'm sorry I had to!" he said, trying to get words out from his lips in between laughs as chuckles rang out around the table, "Lieb used that one on one of the girls at PX last week, I had to try it."

"What makes you think she wants to hear one of your two corny pick up lines, Luz?" Mercy called to him, "Much less one Lieb was using." Liebgott poked his head up from down the table in annoyance and sent a glare towards Mercy who rolled her eyes in his direction.

"What? I can't compliment a pretty girl's eyes?" George said in exasperation.


"You could do it without sounding like your 6 years old, Luz." Chuck muttered from her side as Esther smirked slightly to herself and glanced back down at her food. A shoulder nudged hers and she looked up at Chuck and found him smirking.

"Have I seen you around here before? I'd know pretty eyes like that on just about an Army base here in America. 'Specially ones that got that pretty of a blue hue just like you." he said and Esther couldn't help but let a laugh escape her lips as she heard Guarnere go down in cackles and George watching Chuck with a look of betrayal.

"Just a second ago, you practically wanted to shove her off the booth and now you're flirting?!" George argued and Chuck smirked as he knocked back his cup of water.

"It's called flirting, buddy, I ain't asking her to marry me." Chuck argued back as Esther shrugged with a smirk and leaned up against the table and sent a knowing look to George who dramatically leaned against the wood. Whatever it was for these men, it sure made a smile appear on her face, when moments ago she had wanted to slip off, disappear and cry in her cot in a dark billet all alone while everyone finished up their meals. This, by far, put more of a smile on her face than what anything in the last two months had. 

"Not bad Mr. Grant." Martin said as he sipped on his water, "Maybe next time, I can hold down my dinner." The table burst into hysterics, as voices overlapped one another, and jolts of laughter echoed over the group. 

"Got any room?"

A swift hush sent over the table as eyes looked up and found Christenson standing there, dusted in dirt and drying mud from nearly head to toe, an exhausted look in his eyes. Esther took a sparing glance at Mercy, who had looked up at Christenson with a fleeting look of surprise.

"What the hell happened to you?" George asked, as Esther noticed the drying cuts on his arms as well as the reminiscent of clay on his elbows. Christenson let out a sigh and shifted his weight to one side of his body on his right foot. 

"It doesn't matter." Christenson said and then looked between Mercy and Esther, as the two of them were sat on the ends, "Mind if I sit?" Esther took two guesses as to Mercy not moving, so she gave a shove to Chuck, who feigned a pitiful grunt and moved over, sliding her stuff down and making room for him. 

"It don't matter?" Bull said, leaning forward, "Boy, you're half covered in mud and clay, looking like you were just pulled from a mudslide, what the hell were you doing?" 

"I told ya, it doesn't matter." Christenson said as Esther glanced up at him. Esther briefly looked towards Mercy, who was oddly quiet, looking towards Christenson for a moment before looking down the table a bit. Knowing Christenson was easily one of the most physically-fit members of Easy Company here, there was no doubt that it was not the fact he was getting gigged by Captain Sobel for doing something stupid or falling behind. Esther stared at him for a moment more before looking away and back down to her food.

"Pat, c'mon, what the hell were you doing?" Guarnere said, leaning a hand against the table and nodding to his dirt-clad figure.

"Yeah, don't be embarrassed if you just wiped out trying to shower or some-" Guarnere shoved Joe's side. 

"Some jackass from Dog had a few choice words at the showers, alright?" Christenson said, starting to cut up his beef and stick it in his mouth, chewing roughly as he swallowed, "Fucking asshole." 

"Choice words, what are you saying?" George asked leaning forward, "'Bout you? That's their problem." The table fell silent for a moment, a tense mood falling over the once lively dinner that was now in a bubble of silence as the other tables burst with laughter and voices. 

"Were ya fighting? In the goddamn mud, too? You're lucky Sobel didn't see ya." Guarnere said leaning forward. 

"Yeah, a bit." Christenson answered honestly, looking at his food again, "If it was bullshit statements, I would've ignored it, alright? But I couldn't just let whatever the hell he was saying, go." 

"What was he saying then that got you face planted in the mud?" muttered Chuck from Esther's side as a growing pit filled her stomach suddenly, "If it's a comment about those broken pipes, you know sure as hell that was Fox's-"

"It was about you." Esther looked up and found Christenson, staring down Mercy, who sat stiffly in her own spot across from him. The table fell quiet. Guarnere was the first to lean forward and look up at Christenson, his jaw tightened a bit as he sat there.


"What the hell were they sayin'?" Christenson glanced at Guarnere and licked his lips before looking back to Mercy briefly, who remained idle and completely silent. The last time she'd seen Mercy this quiet was when one of the comments on her photograph had been so crude that Lieutenant Stellhorn had gone to raise hell in General Ridgeway's office. Mercy had kept to herself, curled in a ball in her cot and was saying she was leaving and would figure out another way to do photography; she couldn't handle this, she had said to Esther, but Esther had nearly lost her mind and told her that she's not quitting on something she loves, no matter what someone else might think or believe. 

"I don't say that sorta shit out loud." Christenson said and then looked down and began eating his fill, quiet and reserved. 

"I'll see you guys back at barracks." Esther looked over and found Mercy standing to her feet, scooping her tray into her hands and her empty canteen onto her belt, "Getting tired." 

"You feeling okay?" Esther asked her quietly, but Mercy just gave her a half-hearted nod and then a look to everyone else and headed off, disappearing after placing down her tray, into the night. The table was quiet for a few minutes before conversation started up again and people were soon laughing and jabbing jokes at one another. 

"Where do ya think we're heading after training, Fubar?" Guarnere asked her as she finished up the last sips of her canteen, "Joe's convinced it's Europe, but I don't know....it's gettin' dicey in Africa and I sure as hell gotta see Krauts covered in sand." Esther shoved her tongue into her gums to think for a moment and then shrugged.

"Europe probably." she said, "I'm not sure though." 

"See, she's on my side, Bill and she's the one that can read and write better than you ever will. I think I win." Joe said, giving Guarnere a smack on the shoulder, much less to the dislike of Guarnere who rolled his eyes. 

"Our luck, we'll be in the Pacific. Sweating our asses off, eating canned peaches and swatting at pesky bugs, praying that we were anywhere but there. I'll take Europe, even friggin' North Africa for all I care." Chuck said, popping in a piece of beef.


"I think it's more would you rather fight the Japs or the Germans." Martin said as he stood with his tray, "'Long as I don't gotta deal with guerrilla warfare, I think I'm good." Esther sat quietly for a moment, thinking. She had always seen the battles in newspaper, in fireside chats, on the radio, but being here now she knew what that meant for a future, they all did. Going and fighting the war. She could care less about if it were Japs or Germans; they were fighting the enemy. That was enough to think on in the first place. 

"Well, I think it's time to call it a night." Guarnere said, putting his napkin on his tray, "Christ knows what Sobel's gonna throw at us tomorrow." 

"You can say that again," Chuck said, moving himself out of the bench and picking up his tray, "Our luck, he'll throw gas masks on our head again and send us up Currahee." Guarnere let out a laugh as he followed Chuck away, Toye trailing behind him with a nod to the group. Esther sat there for a moment and then swung her legs around and stood to her feet. 

"I'm sorry, Fubar." she heard George say as she stood there with her tray in her hands and a sad look on her face that a few of the men at the table were having trouble ignoring, "It was just a joke....I didn't meant to upset ya." 

"No, no, I promise." Esther said, "It was funny. It was a good laugh." George watched her for a moment and then smiled and nodded, turning back to his canteen to finish up his water.

Dehydration was a soldier's worst enemy in the field anyway.

By the time Esther had clambered back into barracks, she had wadded over to her cot, collapsing on top of it, her mind racing. What had been said so bad by a Dog Company member to force Christenson to get physical? Was it Kavanagh? 

"You think it was the same guy that messed with Codona before?" she heard Chuck ask her from where he sat in his own cot. For a second, fear filled her with the obscene idea that he had read her mind, but he had been sat at the exact same table when Christenson said that. She glanced his way.

"I have some biases." she offered his way. His lip twitched as he nodded. Esther settled back down on her cot and let out a sigh as her thoughts rampaged her mind. She sat there for a total of 5 minutes before she stood and pulled down her leather notebook and flipped to the page that read October 18th.

She started writing. 

Chapter Text

November was the month of broken diplomatic relations.

Not only was it colder in the mornings, so cold your breath froze in the early mornings when the sun had barely risen, but the night came quicker than before and they had spent many jump routine practices jumping in the new darkness of the oncoming early nights. People now ran Currahee in full ODs without sweating a whole lot - Sobel still made you sweat, don't get it wrong, but you weren't dripping by the time you were stood back under his gaze at 0600. Along with all that, every time she managed her hands on a newspaper now - Star and Stripes had just started daily newspapers and Esther had taken the opportunity to get her hands on it as much as possible - the headlines read more of the horrific news from the Pacific or from Europe and Africa.

The battles going on near Guadalcanal, the battles near El Alamein, the ongoing iron fist of Stalingrad, and the recent broken relations of Vichy France with the United States. It was enough to get inside your head and distract you from what you were doing.

Esther found herself zoning out on Currahee runs and thinking about everything; the Pacific, Europe or Africa, the battles, the KIA counts, the MIA counts, the toll it was taking enemy for ally....her brother. She had gotten a letter last weekend that Marty was shipping out. Her parents' letter had been stagnant and filled with a heartbreak she couldn't quite describe. Esther had sat out behind the billet and took a few minutes to get the tears out before going back inside.

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She had never felt more seasick in her life.

And she'd never been on a boat. Ever.

Plus, leaving America, leaving the place she'd known all her life was daunting enough in every sense.

She'd gone down where they were bunking out for the next two weeks and immediately have never felt worse in her life. Between Lieb and Bill going at it, the sweat, the smell of cigarettes, and the amount of food she'd put down on her stomach earlier that day at lunch, she had never wanted to self implode more. That, combined with the level of panic in her system was enough to send her up to the top deck, in search of a sense of peace, silence save for the waves against the edge of the boat, and fresh air.

Currently, she was hanging over the edge of the boat railing after just having heaved up what felt like her entire stomach. Her head was swimming, her stomach felt sour and raw, her hands clammy, and she couldn't get a sense of even where she was or what was going on. If she had believed in God more as a kid, maybe this wouldn't have been happening. She probably would've even been embarrassed too, but that was the last thought on her mind as she shut her eyes in an attempt to center herself again. She remembered the way she'd been staring at Lady Liberty as she disappeared into the setting sun, her crown and her torch fading to nothing but fog as the boat crawled farther from America and deeper into the sea. The thrill and the fear that had skyrocketed through her stomach had been enough adrenaline to ignore the feeling of the boat swaying, but once she'd settled herself, she'd began to feel it all. 

"That you, Codona?" Mercy could hardly register that voice, but she knew it enough to thank God above - Doc Roe. 

"Yeah." she managed out, her stomach churning again, "I feel horrible." She shut her eyes wearily again and focused on the sound of the waves crashing far down below. She felt a hand on the back of her head, holding her steady, a brief moment of relief as she hard something tearing at her side.

"Here, seasickness pill," she heard Doc Roe say, "you're seasick." Mercy managed to half open her eyes and turn to look over at him, leaning her head up against the railing to steady her eyes on him. 

"Seasick? I didn't even know that was a thing." she managed out, her head sending another wave of nausea at her again. She briefly registered the hint of a smile on Doc Roe's face, as he sat there, still holding out the pill towards her.


"Never been on a boat?"


"Never in my 19 years of living, Doc." she managed out, shutting her eyes again. 

"Here, Codona." Doc Roe said, "I got some water in this canteen, too. You ate earlier, right?" Mercy managed to glance at him.

"I did." she said, regretting her slightly annoyed tone (he was just trying to help), "Majority of it came right back up." 

"Well," Doc Roe started, "take the pill, and then I'll get you to mess. Get you some toast with butter, that okay?" 

"You really are an angel, aren't you, Doc?" 

"Just doing my job, Codona." Mercy accepted the pill, washing it down with water from his canteen before slumping against the railing again and shutting her eyes. 

"This your first time on a boat?" Mercy asked him, listening for his quite usual sigh that would follow like it always did.

"No," Doc Roe answered, "maybe first one as big as this, but not on a boat. Used to go fishing as a kid. In the bayou, with my Pa." 

"Ever catch anything worth eating?" Mercy said with a slight chuckle. She did hear Doc Roe laugh, which was enough for her in that moment. 

"Some, though when I was little, we weren't ever catching anything more than the size of my hand." Doc Roe said quietly, reaching his hand forward to feel her forehead,

"Alright, well, you don't got no fever at least. I say you should start feeling better in the hour." 

"Time for toast?" Mercy asked, the thought of having to get up making her brain spiral for a second. God, she'd feel just as bad or worse. 

"Toast time," Doc Roe said, "c'mon, let's get you up." Mercy lulled her head over to look towards him and finally met his gaze, as he sat there crouched beside her. There was something about people like him, people who healed. She thought briefly of her youth, the few times she'd been in and out of homes, the people who bandaged her scraped legs, cleaned up a split lip from a fight she got in with kids in the home. People who were healers were always kind, with gentle faces and an even more tender touch. And that was someone like Doc Roe. She had always felt safe with him, even back in their Toccoa days. He'd saved her from a sprained ankle, a bloody nose, a knot in her shoulder, and when she'd gotten her period for the first time in months. He seemed to have a knack for showing up when he was needed most. 

"Were you just seeking out which Easy Company guy was hanging out here, spewing their guts up or having a walk along for a view?" she asked him, taking his hand, squeezing it real tight, before he pulled her up and into his arms to adjust her. She grumbled as her legs shook, her head swam and her stomach twisted, but Doc Roe was there, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and locking an arm in front of her body, holding her there for a second to get adjusted.

"I was doing my duty, Codona, you know that." he said quietly, the gentle twang of his voice enough for her to center herself for a moment and realize that she was standing on her own two feet again. 

"Thanks, Doc." she said quietly, grasping on his arm deadlocked in front of her like it was some sort of lifeline, "God, two weeks on this thing?"


"Be lucky you weren't in the Navy," murmured Doc Roe, "c'mon." They began walking, well....walking was a strong word to use here in this situation. She believed it looked more like he was dragging her forward; her, stumbling, tripping, limping practically about, trying to keep her wits about her without feeling entirely like she was going to throw up again right then and there. 

"Here we are." Doc Roe said, and she bleary looked at the door he opened, the smell of food wafting out enough to make her stomach turn and the nausea creep in again.

"Oh God, don't make me go in there, holy shit," she murmured, placing a hand over her mouth and nose, "the smell." Doc Roe glanced at her before looking back inside.

"You need to eat something, 'specially with the pill, Codona." he said quietly. She knew he was right, he always was, he was trained as a goddamn medic, they were always right. She looked at him wearily and he sighed.

"I'll take you to the Med Bay, lay you down, and then go and get you something easy for your stomach, alright?" Doc Roe said quietly and she nodded.

"I'd like that." The walk down to the Med Bay resulted in plenty of moments where she thought she was about to vomit again, but managed to keep herself stable, along with some tripping and spinning of her head. But, they made it down, and by the time she got to a cot, she crawled into the cot quickly, curling up on her side under the covers, and promptly shutting her eyes, willing the dizziness to disappear, vaguely hearing Doc Roe mutter something about disappearing off for some food somewhere. 

"Hey, kid, you awake?" Mercy shifted for a moment underneath the covers, cracking her eyes open the slightest bit and managed a slow blink, "Kid, half-pint, you there?" 

"No." Mercy answered quietly back, her voice hoarse, her body exhausted. 

"Then I don't know who's talking to me right now," the voice said, "and it ain't God and it sure as hell ain't my mother." 

"Bill, what do you want?" murmured Mercy, listening for his footsteps, which moved towards her cot, the squeak of bedsprings across from her face. 

"Quite the sight to see Doc Roe running into the mess hall, gathering up nothing but white bread and soup," Bill said with a chuckle, "especially when you were a no-show at dinner."


"Oh God, Bill," she murmured, curling into a ball, shoving her head against the pillow and cracking her eyes open, "don't mention any goddamn food to me right now. It's gonna make me sick." Bill chuckled.

"What the hell's going on? You sick, half-pint?" Bill asked her as she glanced a quivering eye his way and let out a shuddering sigh. 

"Don't give me that look." Mercy murmured, adjusting against the pillow and sighing again, "I'm fine." 

"Fine?" Bill said with a low chuckle, "You call this fine? And for the record, I ain't givin' nobody no look." Mercy shot him as best of a stern look back. She lied there for a moment, half watching Bill through her barely open eyes - he'd never been terribly serious with her before. She'd grown close to both him and Toye, like they were older brothers to her that'd jack a guy up if they came to close. They'd taught her how to play darts, drink a pint in less than 10 seconds, and throw a mean uppercut. But it'd been with jokes and laughter and slightly teasing jokes. Bill had never looked at her like she was a wounded dog with a tail between its legs, much less a little girl who had gotten her feelings hurt. 

"I'm fine." Mercy told him meekly, regretting it a bit when his eyes turned that sickeningly sad look of worry - God, she never wanted people to have to worry for her. She was fine. 

"You sure say you're fine a lot, even when I know you don't mean it, half-pint. C'mon, I know you." Bill said, tilting his head, "You don't drink coffee often but when you do, you go crazy. You like cigarettes, but especially the Lucky Strikes, none of the fancy shit some of the other guys like. Hey, you even get a kick outta it when Joe Toye sings and I know for a fact he's no professional." Mercy stared at him and felt her throat tighten at his words.

Yes, he knew that much, but no one really knew her. They didn't know all the dark and dimmed parts of her that had once been aglow. They didn't about her youth, her ineptitude in schooling, her fragile, stunted growth it seemed. He inability to trust, to live fully, to entirely give herself to anyone one cause. To allow herself to pull herself thin until she was nothing but the skin of a human being.

"Hey Doc, glad you made it back," Bill said looking behind her, his face changing into one of mild annoyance and a bit of the look he gave when he was about to make a joke, "and a gaggle of a bunch of you clowns to follow. Where the hell you all been?" Mercy shifted her eye and found Doc Roe there, a tray of food in his hands, and a few extra pairs of wandering eyes just behind him that more or less made her suddenly embarrassed to be in this current state. She saw Joe Toye there, George's rather warm and worried looking face, and the unenthusiastic look of Liebgott.

Christ, the whole crew and more were here. She was fine. 

"What's going on?"


"She sick?" 

"Hey," Doc Roe said quietly, stepping forward past the group and crouching beside her head, "give the woman some room to breathe, alright? It's just seasickness, she'll be okay. Gave her a seasick pill. She just needs to eat and get some water in her system." He glanced back at Mercy and offered her a slight smile.

"Figured Bill'd be a comforting face." Doc Roe murmured quietly. 

"Thanks, Doc," Mercy said quietly, almost weakly, "I wonder what lengths the world would go to, to assure that Bill of all people was a comforting face." Bill let out a 'pfft' and shook his head.


"Yeah, she's fine, Doc." Bill said, "The hell would you say that for, kid, at least I came to check in on ya?" George and Liebgott chuckled quietly, as Joe Toye settled beside Bill on the opposite cot. 

"You gonna be okay, half-pint?" Toye asked her, his voice low as she let out a groan.

"I'll be fine. Just some seasickness is all." Mercy murmured, shutting her eyes again and sighing, "I can't figure out what's turning my stomach more though, this damn boat or all your worrying."

"Be lucky we were worried," Liebgott called out from the edge of the cot, "I knew there was an issue when there wasn't some really fucking hungry person sitting right next to me, inhaling food like a goddamn vacuum." 

"You have such a way with words, Lieb." Mercy muttered, cradling the pillow again. She watched as a few heads turn, some footsteps echoing behind her.

"She okay?" she heard a new voice echo, a sigh from Bill to follow.


"Where the hell you been?" Bill murmured, "The kid's seasick, all this rocking from this damn boat-"


"Seasick-"


"Seasick, ever heard of it?" Toye murmured.

"Yeah I've fucking heard of it-"


"Well maybe if you shut your damn mouth, she'd start feeling better!-" Bill hollered, before he grunted.

"Okayyyyy," George said, stepping forward, "listen, Tab's just a good goddamn NCO, checking in on one of the, undoubtedly, more important-"


"Don't try and butter me up, George." Mercy murmured, and then registered his words, "Tab?" She shifted her head, and found Tab there, stood beside Liebgott, a worried smile on his face. Her eyes widened. 


"Hey, half-pint." he said, before Liebgott was stepping forward again.

"Okay, enough of the happy horse-shit, is she gonna be okay?" Liebgott asked, completely serious.

"Have you just listened to a goddamn word he just said-"


"She's seasick, asshole, not dying-"


"That mouth of yours is killing me-"


"Hey!" Doc Roe called over his shoulder, "I told you all because I knew she's your friend. It ain't a time to come in here and yell at each other and say your piece. She don't feel well as is." Doc Roe slowly met their gazes, the silence coming to a pinpoint in the room, before looking back at Mercy.

"If you're not gonna just sit here and make sure she's okay, then I'm gonna have to ask you all to clear out." If she wasn't feeling so shitty, she would've laughed at the whole of them getting yelled at. She'd make fun of them for it later. 

"Here," Doc Roe said, pulling up a piece of white bread, "just take some tiny pieces to start, let it melt on your tongue." Mercy looked at the bread, willing the pill to start taking its effects. 

"Doc, I can't." she managed out, "I just need to sleep this off I think."


"You sleep it off, you'll still be sick, Codona." he said and she groaned again. She couldn't tell if she was more embarrassed or comforted by the fact that she was surrounded by some of the people she'd been able to find the most protection in, in recent months. She couldn't tell. 


"Guarnere," Doc Roe said, "help her sit up, give her a bit of support." 

"Support that ain't your mouth." offered Toye, earning a few snickers as Bill managed a few sarcastic scoffs.

"I happen to be pretty goddamn supportive, okay?" Bill said, before she felt him settle on the edge of the bed near her knees, "C'mon up, half-pint, let's get some of this shit into you."

"My savior." Mercy muttered quietly as she felt Bill lean forward and gently pull her arms from the cocoon they were in, and upwards. That earned some laughs as well as she sat up, head swimming, leaning against Bill in a drowsy manner - drowsy, tired, exhausted. Wait, she didn't mind that. She didn't mind that the nausea had died a bit and she was more tired. 

"Here we go." Doc Roe said, handing her a tiny piece of bread as she leaned up wearily against Bill. Was he always this comforting? She rather fervently reached forward to take a piece of the bread then and placed it gently in her mouth and slowly let it sit, before chewing. It was quiet for a moment, a beat of silence as Joe Toye looked at her deeply, the pestering eyes of George, Lieb, and Tab somewhere to the opposite side of her head. She swallowed the bread and then looked to Doc Roe.

"It ain't no sorta magic, but you should start feeling better soon. Little tired at first." Doc Roe offered.

"I am feeling tired." she told him quietly back as he handed her another piece of bread, Bill's supportive arm still keeping her steady there beside him. 

"That's a good sign, ain't it, Doc?" Liebgott asked from the edge of the cot again.

"It is, Liebgott." Doc Roe said quietly, looking down to the tray he'd brought in and looking back up to her, "I've got some soup here, some water. Keep on eating. Slowly, don't try to force it. And then rest. I'm keeping you here tonight, alright, Codona?" 

"Lucky you," murmured George, with a snicker, "you get to avoid the sewer system that's our sleeping quarters for the night."


"Smells like nothing but piss and fucking shit down there." Liebgott offered back, "And you get to avoid swinging fists-"


"Shut up, Lieb." muttered Toye from his spot as she felt Bill stiffen a bit beside her. 

"What the hell you talking about?" Mercy muttered against Bill, gently taking another piece of bread into her mouth.

"Nothing you gotta worry about, half-pint." Bill said firmly, rubbing her shoulder, "Just keep eating." Mercy's mind was too exhausted to even worry, and just focused on that, continuing to eat.

At some point or another, Doc Roe left, a call from the head doctor pulling him away to another part of the ship, leaving her with the gaggle of the crew that had followed into the Med Bay. She'd been able to keep down the bread and had since sipped on her water very slowly. She was feeling better, exhausted, but better. The pill was working, the food was settling in her stomach and Liebgott was leading a very heated discussion about the food choices - enough to the point she didn't feel sick thinking about things like meatloaf or boiled eggs. 

"It was like a rock, I'm telling ya," Liebgott said from beside her - he always seemed to give her the stubborn shoulder, but whenever shit like this happened, he was sat beside her somehow, giving her that slightly worried, mildly annoyed look of comfort (whatever he wanted to call it but didn't want to admit), and glanced at Mercy, "be lucky the Doc brought you the good shit, you know soup and bread and all." 

"You just think it's like a rock because you didn't get it with gravy," George said back, pointing at him, "you can thank Floyd for that." The group looked to Floyd who was stood at the end of the cot, arms crossed, brow raised.

"It wasn't some sort of new invention, Luz, it's what you do when you got meatloaf and gravy in front of ya. You add the gravy to the goddamn meatloaf." Tab said, raising a brow, "What the hell happened in the Luz household when you were served meatloaf then?"

"Shut up." murmured Luz, as Liebgott chuckled from beside her. 

"How much longer do I have to hear about your goddamn meatloaf?" murmured Toye from his spot on the cot, sat beside Bill, smoking a cigarette with sullen eyes, "You either add the gravy or you don't, it's not something new." 

"Or you just don't add it all together," Bill offered, pointing to Tab, "the gravy had nothing going it for it," he put out a hand to start counting off things with his fingers, "it was tasteless, could've used a helluva lot more salt than whatever seasonin' they were calling that, and had the thickness of water. The hell was that, you know my mother would've-

"She would've had the cook's head, yes we're aware, and yes," George started, "you've said it before."

"I got taste, Luz." Bill murmured and then glanced at Mercy, "How you feeling, kid?" 

"Better." Mercy offered with a shrug of her shoulders, because the truth was, she was feeling worlds better, "Thanks for all sticking around. Robbed you of a night to go play cards or something." 

"Eh," Bill offered with a shrug, meeting some of the mens' eyes, "you're one of us, half-pint, we don't leave a man behind. Plus, who the hell would best us in darts, huh?" 

"Or who'd be my partner in darts more like it," Liebgott offered from her side, as she raised a brow, "oh don't give me that look, we're always partners." Mercy chuckled at his words and then grinned. 

"We are in fact always partners, Lieb." she said, eyeing him beside her in the cot and grinning, "You know, you're a real softie when it comes down to it. All serious and worried, like some sorta mother hen, you know that?" The guys in the room chuckled, as Liebgott rolled his eyes, lulling his head to look over at her. 

"You gotta ruin the moment, don't ya, half-pint," Liebgott murmured, but she didn't miss the slight smile on his face as he rather bashfully looked down, crossing his arms beside her, "gotta have my ace for dart games, you know this." Mercy laughed, leaning back against her pillow again, and surveying the guys. 

"Have you guys eaten?" she asked them, her eyes darting from one face to the next.

"I had half a meatloaf in my mouth before I saw Doc Roe so...." started George, as Mercy sighed and shook her head.

"You all need to go eat and sit down before you end up like me. Okay?" Mercy said, looking at Bill first, "You especially, you've been here the longest." Bill let out a bark of a laugh.

"When the hell did the roles reverse?" he said, shuffling to his feet and grabbing her empty tray by her bedside, "You want some more bread?" Leave it to Bill to rib her, but then rather affectionately do what he can for her. 

"That'd be nice, thank you." she said genuinely - people taking care of her, being there for her.

This was new. The only people she'd had in the past year, before Easy Company, had been Esther and their crew at W-Sector. And even then, it had always been Esther. When they had first met, shaking hands, Esther being so level-headed and caring, a warmth in Mercy's house-on-fire of a life. Esther had protected her in every way possible. But no one else had. Even in her past, when things were bad, times were tough, Mercy was the only person protecting herself. She only had herself. Now, looking around, she had a whole company of men, here for her. 

"What about some soup?" Toye asked as he stood up from the bedside, glancing at Liebgott, "They had soup, right? Any opinions on the goddamn soup?" Liebgott snickered as he sat there.

"Oh they had soup - pinch more salt and it would've been beautiful!" Liebgott called as he sat up and glanced at Mercy, "You got bread, soup, all coming your way - you wanna cracker pack?" 

"You really are such a sweetheart, Lieb." Mercy said with a chuckle, rubbing his arm as he rolled his eyes again and shifted his legs over the edge of the cot.

"Yeah, real charmer." George called as he made way to the door, sending her a winning grin, "Just so you know, half-pint, you still look as beautiful as before you were launching up your guts into the sea." Then he was out the door, following after the others, leaving her grinning.

Then she glanced up - Tab. He was still stood there, looking towards the door, and then looking back to her, a smile on his face as he moved over to occupy Bill's previous spot, arms crossed. Mercy eyed him from her spot on the bed. She had been the slightest bit surprised to see him there with the rest of the men who had shown up.

Tab was well.....Tab. Close friends with Esther, an NCO with a flirty streak, and she could get along well enough with him to where they could banter with one another. But, she really didn't expect him to show up here. 

"Not hungry?" Mercy asked him quietly, tilting her head his way and watching him smirk a bit. 

"Already ate," he said, leaning back against the edge of the cot, hands spread out behind him, a grin on his face, "plus, can't let you sit in here all alone now, can I? What typa person would I even be, huh?" 

"Tab." Mercy said with a look, before cuddling into the pillow again and staring at him over the edge, "You seriously must have better things to do." Tab chuckled. 

"What? I can't hang back and sit with you until some more company returns?" Tab offered in her direction, "I mean, you got the whole company waiting on you. Bread, soup, the works." Tab winked at her, "Should've gotten seasick sooner, half-pint." 

"Oh, shut up. If I’d known it’d bring you all running, I’d have stayed on solid ground." she murmured back, adjusting again in the bed and sighing, before glancing at Tab again. He was still watching her. For all the times she'd been around Tab back in Toccoa, and the few sporadic camps around midwest America, she'd never truly been alone with the man enough. And for whatever reason it was, it was enough to make he somewhat embarrassed that this was the state she was in for that. 

"Nah, you’d miss me too much." Tab said, grinning widely at her like he always did, her cheeks feeling slightly flustered between his tone, his presence, and him. She grumbled a sigh.

Mercy quite honestly was a bit at a loss for words with Tab sat here now - usually she could provide enough content to throw back at him that it was comfortable, it flowed, it bounced back and forth. But with feeling drowsy still from the seasickness pill, her body being utterly exhausted and her mind weary with thoughts, she had nothing. And she hoped it wasn't boring him. She always suspected that's why he came crawling around her - he could make a joke and she wouldn't rib him for it like other girls might. They sat quietly for a few moments, Mercy focusing on a spot on the ground as Tab sat on the edge of the opposite cot, watching her. 

"Do you need anything?" Tab asked her, pushing himself to his feet to crouch beside her bed, offering a smile in her direction, "Another blanket?"

"That'd be great, thanks." Mercy said, offering him back another weak attempt at a smile. He stood up like he'd just won a prize and gently patted her shoulder.

"And here we were, thinking all I was good for was a pretty face." Tab said as his eyes swept the Med Bay room for another blanket. She wasn't about to deny that fact - he did have a pretty face, she'd always thought that. He eventually came back with a cream blanket, lying it over her, before stepping back as if admiring his work. 

"There, don't say I never did anything for you." he said with a quick grin her way,

"My hero." she murmured back, "thanks." He smiled wide again, before glancing at the doorway. 

"Hey Lieutenant." Mercy glanced over her shoulder at Tab's words and found Esther stepping into the Med Bay room, a look of worry drawn over her features as she glanced about the room, spotted Tab and then spotted her. 

"Hey," Esther said coming into the room, eyes zeroing in on Mercy, "just caught Doc Roe and he told me what happened. You feeling any better, Mer?" Mercy watched Esther come towards her, a small frown on the woman's face as she knelt down beside Mercy and gently placed a hand on the side of her face. It felt motherly and tender, caring and warm. It was so Esther. Esther gently brushed the side of Mercy's face, that worried look still written across her face. 

"Better." Mercy said somewhat quietly, "I've had Tab to keep me company." Mercy watched as Esther's face broke into a chuckle, glancing over her shoulder at him.


"And how's that going?" Esther asked. Tab smirked and then came and stood beside them, hands on his hips.

"She's only told me to shut up once, Lieutenant." Tab offered, "I'd say that's a winning record, huh?" 


"Only once?" Esther asked him, before glancing at Mercy. Mercy shrugged.

"He did get me a blanket." Mercy said, before glancing at Tab, "I think he's just trying to earn brownie points, huh?" 

"Aye, I'm being a gentleman alright? Bill'd have my head." Tab said with a laugh, "Am I wrong?"


"No." Mercy said with a laugh as Esther smiled at her before drawing her face into a worried one again. 

"Did you eat anything?" Mercy asked Esther.

"Yeah," Esther said quickly, though Mercy could tell she was just saying that so Mercy, herself, wouldn't worry, "I was worried about you. Have you kept things down?"


"Yep," Mercy said, "the boys ran off to get more things for me. I didn't have the heart to tell 'em that I'm pretty full at the moment." 

"Well," Tab said, "you'll be happy to know that I can happily take care of that for you." Mercy met his gaze and laughed. 


"I thought you said you ate." Mercy asked him and Tab shrugged.

"I did," he said, "but let me tell ya, I ain't full yet. Half thinking of getting dessert." Though food was pleasant now, the thought of dessert made her stomach twist.

"Okay let's not mention dessert right now anymore," Mercy said squeezing her eyes shut, "not ready for that." She could sense both Esther and Tab exchanging a look before Esther's comforting touch was back against her cheek. 

"Get some rest, Mer, okay?" Esther told her quietly, before her presence shifted and she moved away. The two of them must've stood there for a period of time before their bodies began moving again. 


"I can stay around," she heard Tab said quietly to Esther, "I don't mind. And you need to eat anyway, Lieutenant."


"I'll be okay." Esther said, "It sounds like you need to eat as well. Plus, sounds like the guys'll be coming back anyway." 

"Eh," Tab said, "just so she knows she's safe." 

"You're sweet." she heard Esther say before the door opened, "Need anything? I can bring it back." 

"Nah, I'm good, thanks though, Lieutenant." she heard Tab say quietly again, before a "Bye." followed. And Mercy listened to him trail back over before sitting down on the cot again and letting out a sigh. She could hear him breathing, each and every move he made as he shifted and smiled to herself the slightest bit as she felt herself drifting off.

To say she enjoyed his presence was something she'd never admit aloud. 

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If she had known any better, she would have taken her shot at the darkened figure, pressed alongside the tree line a long time ago.

But that would've given away her position.

And giving away her position, whether it be enemy or ally, would have gotten her killed.

And she was in no high spirit to getting herself shot at.

The American face paint that one of the Colonel's had handed her before she had climbed into the back of the Pathfinders' C-47, was slowly melting off her face like wax, itchy and sticky all over, and the sweat that followed from impending stress that awaited her, was like dread that slowly seeped inside the pit of your stomach until it took over.

Normandy was different than the other landscapes she had been dropped into; France was an array of environments though it seemed. With the Îles d'Hyères off the South coast in the Mediterranean, to the seaport town of La Rochelle on the Bay of Biscay, with cities like Paris and Reims scattered about the center and then the neighboring countries that lay slotted along the border with the Rhine River and Alps just a hop and a skip away.

Here in Normandy, the days were almost somewhat overcast, the sun coming out only every once and a while. Its jagged cliffs near where Omaha and Utah, struck out into the English Channel and brought in immense amounts of morning and evening fog that barely allowed one to see a few yards in front of them. It was quieter in Normandy, a bit more secluded; you went from town to town by bike or car and rarely by the trains that existed in the South and center portions of the country.

Yet, on the call of D-Day, Normandy appeared anything but quiet.

And the sight of the figure through the tree lines incited that.

Margot narrowed her eyes towards the figure, her body attempting to control shuddering breaths of air that fell from her lips after her slight dash - okay, it was in fact a run - through the trees. The smell of fresh Earth under her nose as she lay in the dirt and the metallic sting of blood was by far better than whatever excitement a desk at Bletchley Park could offer.

And that was saying a lot because well, it is the Bletchley Park.

The assignment had come as more of a surprise if anything; but they all knew about the Normandy operations on June 6th that were bound to occur. The Pathfinders, the paratroopers with the airborne operations, followed by the landings in the early morning and infantry on the five beachheads.

Idealistic.

Precise.

Exact.

Planned to the detail.

Margot had run reconnaissance in early May and gotten loads of records for a majority of towns scattered all through Normandy to its inner and outer most parts from land to sea. She focused yet again on the figure pressed against the dark backdrop of Normandy at night and narrowed her eyes. They were unmoving, frozen in place - but there was the shine of something flashy on their neck - dog tags like the Americans wore. And the face paint definitely did show under moonlight.

Margot muttered a curse under her breath and then shuffled herself to her feet before scurrying on a long end-around route to get to this person pressed against a darkened tree line - whoever it was, American or not, she'd either shake their hand or lead them to the grave. She approached the length of the edge of the field and slowly crept forward. The closer she got, the more detailed the figure became Margot could feel anger slowly creeping all over her body.

There, hanging from a tree, a cord from the parachute half-deployed behind, wrapped around his neck, was a paratrooper. He was dead. And it looked like it had been instant. Margot stood in the dark for a moment, listening to the hum of the crickets, the wave of the breeze through the grass and the leaves, and shut her eyes. An unsettling pit grew in her stomach at the site in front of her, and all she saw was darkness for a moment of time.

The Nazis were responsible for this.

For making the Allies parachute to their deaths in Nazi-occupied France to try and end this 'Third Reich' that was responsible for more deaths than they'd ever know and were currently letting on.

His body seemed to dangle two feet from the Earth; Margot surmised that he deserved to at least let his feet touch what would've caught him if the tree sprouting from the land hadn't. Margot reached to her belt and pulled the knife she kept hidden there out, before reaching up and beginning to cut him free of the prison entrapped around him, stringing him out from the tree to dangle until the branches gave. By the time she finished cutting the straps of the parachute, his body fell forward and she attempted to gently lower him down.

When she'd gotten him settled there, she stared at his face for a moment before looking away - she had to keep herself moving. She was only just past the edge of Saint Marcouf - she needed to keep point towards Utah Beach by dawn. Margot quickly removed what was left of his gear after his final jump, removing the ammo, his bag that was strapped to his back and ripped in half with supplies falling out, the American rifle strapped to his back, the pistol at his side, the helmet falling off his head. Anger trifled through her body; anger towards this war, the Germans, the people that had gotten this man into this situation. She looked to the shiny chain with the dog tags and shut her eyes, a deep breath following. She placed him on his back, and folded his arms neatly across his body, before resting his helmet on his head and leaving his dog tags pressed against his chest. Then, she removed the ammo from both weapons, stowing it away in her belt and then, she bolted. She couldn't be seen. No one could see her. No one could know she was ever here. Margot raced through the forest, her underfoot quiet, her speed agile, and she was focused on one thing - staying hidden.

Until she heard the voices, which made her stop dead. 

"Saint Marcouf?" the first voice muttered, loud enough to be heard, rather than just a mumble, "We're not supposed to be near Saint Marcouf."


"We must've missed the DZ." another voice answered, "By a mile."


"More than a mile." the first voice chimed in, "Two or three at least." 


"We're near the wrong causeway."


"Say that again, and then repeat it." Margot pulled a face but stayed quiet. Americans - she could tell. 

"Utah's just supposed to be that way, huh." the first voice said, "We could just take the Germans head-on in, from behind. Element of surprise, ya know?"


"We're not doing that." the second voice surmised, "We need to get closer to Sainte-Marie-du-Mont before the sun rises."

"You better start running then, buddy." Margot bit back her lip. Utah, Sainte-Marie-du-Mont, the Germans. She shifted.

"Wait, shhh," the second voice said, a stumble of leaves rumbling about somewhere up ahead, "did you hear that?"

"Couldn't because of your loud mouth," the other voice whispered. It went quiet for a moment. A little cricket sound responded. Shit, Margot thought. 

"Flash?" the second voice called out. Margot could feel her heart slowly beginning to race inside her chest, at the 3-second decision she was about to make. 

"Here." Margot said, moving forward, stepping out from the trees, "Right here." Coming out from the shadowed trees, she found two Americans, two paratroopers to be more exact, stood side by side, their weapons drawn and aimed directly at her. Margot quickly put up her hands in surrender at the sight.

"Correct response ain't that." the shorter one said, adjusting the weapon the slightest bit, a dark armband with bright yellow letters: Official U.S. Army Photographer shining in the darkness,  "What's your outfit?" Margot stood silently for a minute.

Americans.

"What's the correct response then?" Margot said quietly, her voice solemn - an attempt at evading emotion was fruitless, but yet, an option. 

"What's your outfit?" the taller one asked, his voice clearly colder and more firm than it had been than with the shorter of the two. 

"Jumped in with the Pathfinders." Margot responded quickly, eyes looking at the two darkened faces of the shadowed figures, their eyes hidden in indigos and grays, shielded behind a helmet and a facade, "The two of you?"


"The American Pathfinders?" the shorter one asked, "What were you doing with them?" 

"Business," she said, "before taking point to Utah. Have to take care of some stuff." The duo seemed to send each other an exchange of looks. 

"Gotta name?" the shorter one asked.

"Uh, Odette. Odette Ringer." Margot said - Margareta Geringher, she thought quietly to herself, the long-lost name that if she even dare speak would send her 6 feet under it felt.

Odette to the SIS.

Octavia to the Germans.

Margie to friends.

Margareta to her family.

Margot to herself.

The two were quiet for a moment, before slowly lowering their weapons.

"And....you're attached to the Pathfinders?"


"And you're...British?" the shorter one added. Margot dropped her hands to her belt and sighed, pulling the tiny British flag that'd been hanging off her helmet when she'd jumped with the Pathfinders.

"British, yes, attached to American Pathfinders...yes." For reasons you do not need to know, Margot thought to herself.

The two seemed suspicious, uncertain - rightfully so. Everyone on this damn peninsula in this very moment would feel much of the same as they traveled step by step over the trodden Nazi-occupied land, uncaged and set-free to war. Everyone would feel that, even with supposed Allies. 

"Your turn." Margot said, dropping her hands to her sides, "I've said as much as warranted." 

"We're from the 101st. Paratroopers." the shorter said quickly, "Got dropped everywhere but the objective."


"Couldn't relate more." Margot said, crossing her arms, "Names? I can't just call you Abbott and Costello now."


"You certainly can." the taller offered, but the shorter gave him a quick nudge. The two clearly knew each other very well and had for quite some time. 

"Mercy. Mercy Codona." the shorter said, "This is-"


"Floyd Talbert." the other offered. Margot looked between Mercy and Floyd, and it seemed to click. A woman. A female paratrooper. 

"I hear you're trying to get to Sainte-Marie-du-Mont." Margot offered and she watched Floyd's eyes widen the slightest bit.

"You heard that?" he managed out, voice in a low whisper, "Goddamn, Mer, you gotta lower your voice sometimes."


"You're one to talk." Mercy muttered, "What? Are you trying to get there too, or something?"


"Close enough. Utah Beach, but, your stop would be on the way to my coordinates." Margot offered, "If you're up for that sort of thing." Mercy looked to Floyd and made a face. 

"Yeah, let's do it." Floyd said, ignoring Mercy's narrowed eyes and cold look, "C'mon, Mer." Floyd walked forward and stopped beside Margot for a minute, offering a smile and a nod.

"You'll get used to her, she's just like that sometimes." Floyd said quietly, "Hit her head a little hard dropping outta that plane I guess." Then he stepped around her, leaving Mercy there in front of Margot.

Mercy was significantly smaller than Floyd, but not a great amount. She obviously still had to jump out of planes and risk her life for all this bullshit. Her arms were crossed, her eyes downcast, hair tucked away up into her helmet and something hanging around her neck, by a thick, brown strap. A camera.

"You a photographer?" Margot asked her, nodding to the camera. Mercy watched her for a moment. 

"Yeah." Mercy said, stepping forward and meeting Margot's gaze, "You'll get used to him, he's just like that sometimes. Other times, he's asking for it." For the first time on D-Day, Margot smirked. She took a sparing glance down at her watch - 0145. 

"Hey, uh," Margot started, taking a few extra steps to catch up to both Mercy and Floyd who were moving at a fairly quick pace, "what's your time frame? How fast do you have to get to your objective?" 

"Fast as we can at this point, at least before the landings start if we can make it." Floyd offered, glancing over his shoulder towards her, hand steadily held on his rifle, "Don't know how we'll manage that though - looked at our map earlier, and well....I'm not keeping my hopes too high." Margot pulled a face. Floyd raised a brow.


"It's not exactly ideal to go running into a bunch of 88s or 105s with the three of us." Floyd said, "Our odds aren't high to say the least."


"You never know," Margot said walking beside him and Mercy, shrugging her shoulders, "you could have more in you than you think. Especially when it's the Germans. Especially the Germans. There's enough anger there to fuel the entire Royal Navy I suspect."


"Oh plenty." Mercy said softly, her eyes narrowed, voice quiet, "I could fuck 'em up, warranted or not." Margot smirked.

"I like the way you think." Margot told her, watching Mercy smile nonchalantly.

"It's a talent." she offered back. Floyd let out a sigh.


"Don't get her wound up, Odette," Floyd said and then backtracked, "actually, feel free, if we run into some Germans, we might need that extra mighty firepower, half-pint." Margot snickered a bit at the charming nickname and glanced at Mercy.


"Half-pint?"


"Just a nickname that seems to have stuck." she said, reaching up to wipe at some of the familiar military face paint stuck to her cheeks, "I can promise you there's worse." Margot laughed at her words. The trio fell into a hushed silence, a seemingly solemn understanding of what was ahead of them, around them, in them, above them and below. That there could be a hundred Germans every square kilometer or not, waiting to jump at any bit of movement or sound. Margot swallowed.


"I gotta know what you were doing with Pathfinders," Floyd said quietly, "'specially as a limey." Margot muttered a 'pfft' and glanced at him.

"Why do you want to know so bad?" she asked him, watching him look towards her with a wry smile, "Trying to gain intel?" Floyd pulled a face and shrugged.


"Just.....not sure of your deal entirely, but you haven't tried to kill us yet, so...." Floyd glanced at Mercy, who kept her eyes forward. Margot wiped sweat from her forehead under the helmet and glanced at him.

"It won't matter someday soon, so no point in thinking on it now, Floyd." Margot said quietly with a smile, "If the war decides to take me so soon, then it won't ever matter again." 


"Pleasant thoughts at 1 in the morning." Mercy said, a small chuckle following. Margot smiled slightly.

For the next few moments, they walked in silence - Normandy was a sight at night as she had always observed. The gentle wind reminded her of home for a moment. The tiny island of Gurnsey, the Geringher house nestled along the coast, the mornings with salty air, tangled hair, freshly made eggs and biscuits, hugs from Mother. Margot found herself frowning. The war starting in 1939 had cut that clean in half, like a hot knife through butter, ending whatever joy that home had once brought. It turned cold, with harsh waves splashed on the shoreline, bitter winds coming in through cracked windows, charcoal turned to nothing but ash in the frozen stove.

She blamed Father. She always did and always would. 

"Shhhh, shhh." she heard Floyd said, pulling her from her quiet reverie, as he grabbed both her arm and Mercy's yanking them down to the edge of the tree line behind a large birch, eyes wide, holding a finger up to his lips and staring silently. He made movements with his right hand, moving his pointer and thumb together.

"Voices." he mouthed. Margot watched as he dug into his pocket and produced a tiny clicker-looking piece of equipment and clicked at it, allowing it to produce a sound like a cricket. The voices stopped. Margot listened harder, quieting her mind. The voices spoke quickly amongst one another before going quiet again. No answer returned. Silence. Margot glanced over to Mercy who suddenly looked rather ill and pale as she crouched there beside her. They all seemed to know what voices those belonged to in that moment.

Margot knew it all to well. All too familiarly. She listened for footsteps and voices, trying to gain a sense of a number - how many. Something uncomfortable settled in her chest as she popped her head up to glance around the tree and saw two German soldiers slowly walking side by side through the woods, trading a dimly lit cigarette back and forth between one another, their quiet rumble of German rolling right into her ears like a far away, home away from home. A disgusting bit of familiarity that hurt her on the inside. 

"You interested in the rest of this?"


"I'll take a bit."


"Here."


"Thanks."


"Take it back." 


"Alright. Any action?"


"Nah, none. Lithe saw Americans in the skies though." Margot stopped listening and clenched her jaw before dashing down behind the tree again.

"How many?" mouthed Floyd. Margot held up a two. Mercy muttered a curse. 

"Give me 2 minutes." Margot said, glancing at her watch - 0203, "3 for good luck." Then, she patted both on the shoulders and unsheathed her knives in her belt and slowly rose to her feet, keeping her eyes set on the two Germans as she slinked through the woods like a snake, twisting and curling quietly and controlled around every tree.

A bullet could make the sound echo for at least nearly a kilometer or more; a knife would only make one sound. The final breath of where its resting place would be. Margot knelt beside a tree and then hatched her plan.

Slowly, she brought one knife up in her right hand beside her head, aimed and then launched it forward, watching it land right in the neck of the closest German soldier. He staggered into the soldier next to him, flailing his arms in all directions, as he struggled to stay on his feet, crying out the word for mother in German, and collapsed onto the ground. He reached out for the knife lodged in his throat, now coloring the top of his uniform crimson and a deep red, his face paling quicker than the other one had, and his eyelids blinking, over and over.

The soldier next to him cried out and exclaimed and then seemed to get his senses about himself and looked out, calling out for said person to show themselves, and don't throw another one of those here! Margot waited in silence - let them struggle, let them linger in confusion. That's what her and Mother had gone through for months. Let them feel what she had felt. The solider slowly stood from his writhing friend on the ground and brought out his Luger, turning and spinning around, trying to look into the thick wood for a sign of someone, of her.

He'd never find her.

Before he could fully turn, the knife went sailing into his side, right near the kidney, sending him onto the ground faster than the other one had, the two laying there dying side by side.

Like her and Mother almost were.

Margot narrowed her gaze and turned cold, despite the warm breeze. 

"No remorse for the enemy." she whispered in German under her breath. Slowly, she stood fully at her height and emerged from the forest and came to stand above the two German soldiers. She stilled there, letting the moonlight bathe her in darkness, staring down at the two soldiers crying out for help, for a medic, for anyone. In the matter of an instant, two echoing shots sounded off from her left and the two bodies of the German soldiers went still, the blood draining from their faces, the life in their others shriveling up until it were nothing, and their bodies turned cold. Margot felt her hands clench and turned and found Mercy there, rifle aimed directly at the two bodies. 

"What the hell?" Margot practically snapped out, watching as something flashed behind Mercy's eyes, "Why did you kill them?"


"Odette-" Floyd started, but Margot cut him off. 

"Why did you kill them?" Margot practically yelled as she stomped over to tower over Mercy, the rifle in her hands falling to swing around her shoulder as she looked up at Margot, eyes wide, face like that of a small child. Mercy was quiet. 

"After what they did to my people-"


"They were people too!" Mercy said - when she got angry, her voice sounded smaller, it sounded more childlike - it almost hurt Margot through this blinded anger that swelled in her veins, "They were going to die anyway....mine as well make it fast." Mercy stared up at her, eyes frantic, her heart clearly racing at the redness on her cheeks, the speed her chest rose up and down. 

"Hey," Floyd said, immediately stepping in between the two, shuffling Mercy back a bit and looking at Margot, "Mer's right, they were going to die. No use seeing them suffer." Margot stared.

"They forced me to suffer. Writhing like a snake. They deserve the same." Margot managed out, her mind flashing through the past few years and wincing the slightest bit. Floyd stared at her right back, and then glanced at Mercy behind him, placing a hand on her shoulder. 

"I think it's best we keep moving, we have more important shit to get to." Floyd said, and then promptly turned Mercy around, who looked in more shell shock than living and breathing. Margot felt her heart twist as she glanced back at the two German soldiers there on the ground. 

"Oh and," Floyd called, just above a whisper, "it's the first time she's killed someone, give her a little grace." And if that statement didn't send Margot spiraling into the void, nothing else ever would.

By 0216, Margot had removed the two knives from the bodies of the dead German soldiers and followed idly behind Floyd and Mercy who had taken point in front of her. Mercy was either numb or really good at masking her emotions, because she was sharp as ever, holding up her fist to stop them at every sound and alert at giving instructions for what was going on around them. Margot felt guilty doing what she had done back there.

Then, Mercy held up her first for the third time - and this time, there were more voices. Except, they sounded more American, almost...friendlier. Floyd pulled out the cricket-making-noise-thing that Margot was determined to learn the name of, and clicked it. The voices and footsteps stopped, shifting in the trees for a moment, before a clicking sound responded. 

"Flash?" Floyd tested.

"Thunder," the voice responded quickly, "Tab?" 

"Shifty?" Floyd called and then rose up, Mercy following and rushed forward. 'Shifty' revealed himself, alongside another, taller American soldier, a machine gun resting hefty on his shoulders, gazes looking upon Mercy and Floyd with familiarity and comfort. Margot stayed in the shadows of the overhanging birch. Margot watched as Floyd went up and shook their hands, a few friendly jabs and jibs being thrown around. Mercy did much of the same, but 'Shifty' pulled her into a tight hug that looked filled with comfort and warmth and the feeling of family, that Margot couldn't quite grasp. Her stomach soured. She felt she needed to leave. 

"Where the hell have you guys been?" Floyd asked, shouldering his rifle, "We've been wandering around here for almost an hour."


"Looks like they missed the DZ," the taller soldier said, "by more than a mile, God-knows how much, but it looks like we've got a lot of walking in our future. Saw a sign - Saint Marcouf?"

"Yeah, we just came from there," Mercy said and then shook her head, "I think the Krauts had a bit of a clue about all this and had enough suppressing fire to get us to jump later or earlier and miss the DZs."


"You said it, half-pint." the taller responded, "Hey, Shifty here got his first kill. Caught a Kraut trying to take us from behind. Shifty took him clean out through the nose." The taller gave Shifty an amusing slap on the back to which Shifty shook his head and smiled towards Mercy and Floyd.

"It was a last resort," Shifty responded, his voice softer than Margot would've thought, "almost got Smokey here if we weren't listenin' out." Smokey was the taller she assumed now. Interesting name. Floyd and Mercy chuckled quietly, then Floyd glanced over his shoulder.

"Oh, uh, we have a....traveling companion, jumped with the Pathfinders, trying to get to Utah, won't tell us much more than that." Floyd said, waving her forward, "Odette Ringer." Margot slowly stepped forward, helmet strap swinging against her chin and nodded.

"Odette." she said, shaking Smokey's hand, "Pleasure to meet you." Smokey watched her for a moment, as if slightly confused and then nodded along.

"Walter Gordon." he introduced, "But everyone just calls me Smokey." 

"Nice to meet you, Smokey." Margot said, before turning her attention to Shifty who watched her with a distant gaze. The comfort that had lived in the group of 4 reuniting seemed to disappear in an instant. 

"Nice to meet you." she said, sticking out her hand. Shifty hesitated, but shook her hand and nodded.

"Darrell Powers, ma'am, but everyone calls me Shifty. Nice to meet you, too." he said, but then dropped her hand and nodded and looked away. Margot, for a brief moment, stood there awkwardly, but then nodded, a small pleasure to meet you whispered under her breath, and then looked to Floyd and Mercy who watched her quietly. She nodded. 

"Alright, since we've made with all the pleasantries, thank you Lieutenant Armstrong for such big words," Floyd said, "let's make like cake and get the fuck outta here." And with that, the group seemed to mesh into textbook-like procedure for moving along.

Margot stood there for a moment.

These were their first kills - Floyd and Smokey had both said it.

That meant their first time in war.

Because all war seemed to bring was killing.

And Margot had just made a damn-near fool of herself for flipping on Mercy.

Margot reveled in that thought for a moment before following after them, reminiscing in the guilt of her first kill. Which had been nothing but blood. 

Chapter Text

Chapter Text

Chapter Text

She was happy that the first bit of real food that she'd had in at least days was reminiscent of home. It was a K-ration, what the military was calling it, and it was rather rancid if you thought about it hard enough, but it was home. American-made. It was a dry meat-loaf with crackers and spreadable peanut butter - not necessarily a typical breakfast option, but it had been quickly handed off to her. And she hadn't cared if it were to be powdered eggs, stale bread, or watery gravy for biscuits. It was the best damned food she could've had in days.

Rolande beside her seemed just as happy - though, Mildred knew of Rolande's dislike for the Americans and their late arrival to the war. But, in this moment, Rolande didn't seem to care from the way she was shoveling in the food from the K-ration.

It looked like one of the hamburger ones.

Rolande had asked what a hamburger was.

Mildred offered her the comforting words, stating it was basically an Americanized version of gourmet dining - a beef patty to put it better. A classic, Mildred had stated.

They were being held with Intelligence in a tiny part of what she had heard a few of the runners call HQ. Headquarters to be exact. And awaiting the arrival of a certain man - they'd been told his name was Nixon.

Her own orders had been from the get-go; find Nixon. And Nixon, despite being in the 101st, was nowhere to be found. Yet, it was lucky they'd run into members of the 101st when they had - Armstrong had been their ticket. Rolande wasn't exactly one to be quiet about her dislike for the situation; Mildred knew that much. They were sat on wooden crates, chasing their fills of K-ration food with water from canteens, listening to the chatter of the Americans just through the interweaving doorways. 

"Do you trust them?" Rolande asked her quietly, scooping in another mouthful of the hamburger, "I don't trust them." Mildred was quiet for a moment as she sat there, chewing the bit of meatloaf she had been able to manage. If anything, the more food she put down, the more nausea she felt overwhelming her body. Between the lack of substantial food for days, the nerves that had settled into her body, and the heaviness of meatloaf in the morning, it was enough to make her feel sick to her stomach. Trust was another thing; the thought made her insides turn unpleasantly and she couldn't help but gingerly place down the K-ration to her side. 

"I wouldn't say trust," Mildred said quietly, eyeing Rolande before looking towards the one Major - Strayer was his name - who had given them the K-rations before disappearing again, "trust is too strong of a word. Possibly something else. Not trust though." She met Rolande's eyes again and found the young Maquis member watching her back. 

"First time we are on same page." Rolande said with a small chuckle and at that point, Mildred found it pretty easy to laugh as well. The longer she was stuck side by side with Rolande, the more she found her a comfort if anything. She quite honestly only trusted Rolande in this moment, compared to everyone else. And maybe that Lieutenant Armstrong. Otherwise, it was a crap shoot in the trust department. 

"You think they believe it?" Mildred asked Rolande, "Our message? I mean, it's the truth, how could they not?" Rolande glanced at her before letting out a wry chuckle.

"They are American." Rolande said, sipping her canteen, "I would be surprised if they could tell left from right. In my experience, they would not be trusting of you or of me. Especially in circumstance such as this." Rolande sighed.

"We need to find that Lieutenant. Armstrong. She has a brain." Mildred chuckled at her words and took another somewhat shaky sip of water from her canteen again. Mildred liked Lieutenant Armstrong. Amongst the bristle of the men, she was a calming force that had seemed to bridge the gap between the two of them and the rest of the men. She also seemed incredibly level-headed and rather intelligent. Mildred sipped on her water again before sighing and looking towards Rolande. 

"We will have a major problems dirtying our hands....if we do not make it to Omaha. With news such as that." Rolande said, glancing at Mildred with a stern look on her face, "I do not doubt that they are distrusting. Did you see the look he gave us-"


"I know." Mildred said interrupting Rolande for a second as she ran a hand down her tired face with another sigh.


"You sure do sigh a lot." Rolande murmured, sipping her water. Mildred looked over at her and then rolled her eyes before looking forward again. 

"You have quite a lot to say." Mildred offered back. Rolande chuckled at her words, which surprised Mildred slightly as Rolande sighed herself, leaning back against the wall behind the crates and stared up at the concrete ceiling. 

"The best thing military can force you to do." Rolande said quietly with a smile as she shut her eyes, "Wait." Mildred smiled slightly, shaking her head as she looked towards the entrance to where they were being held again and was almost in shock when she saw the very person they had just been discussing moments ago.

Lieutenant Armstrong.

Coming right towards them.

Mildred leaned over and gave Rolande a shove in the side to which Rolande shifted from her half-conscious nap, muttering in French, in a quick dialect Mildred wouldn't even begin to understand. It stopped when they both were looking up at Lieutenant Armstrong there, removing her helmet with a sigh of her own and a quiet look on her worn face. She looked beyond tired, stressed, and overwhelmed. In that moment, Mildred felt bad - she almost didn't want the Lieutenant to have to worry about people like her or Rolande. They knew where they were, what they were doing. They could figure it out. Deliver the message. Without having to stress out a newly dropped in military company. 

"Hey, how are you both?" Lieutenant Armstrong asked as she looked around the small room and settled herself onto a crate herself and looked towards them, "I meant to come find you both earlier but got tangled up with other matters in HQ." 

"Fine." Rolande answered quickly, "We were just sharing a bite to eat. You Americans must really enjoy hamburger." Lieutenant Armstrong smiled at her words, a weak laugh following and nodded.

"Yeah, yeah, you could say that." she said, running a hand behind her neck and sighing, "They give you water, too?" 

"Yes." Mildred answered, hoping it would keep Rolande's mouth shut in the process, as to avoid any other possible jabs at the people who were actively helping them, "Thanks." Lieutenant Armstrong smiled before leaning back, placing her hands on her knees and nodding to them. 

"I'll be honest, I don't know what they're doing with that message you've just given them, but I can assure you, with what information we have and supplies now moving in from Utah and Omaha, we can get you squared away and moving on again." Lieutenant Armstrong explained, "As to not keep you both held up." 

"Thank you." Mildred said, eyeing Rolande who was still sat rather tensely quiet. 

"I also just got out of a talk with Major Strayer," Lieutenant Armstrong said, her voice a gentle drone against the backdrop of distant explosions and gunfire, "you'll stick with us for a few days. Your message will get sent to Omaha. And we'll ensure you're safety for it." MIldred was quiet - she had half expected to hear Rolande start making noise on her side about something or other that had pissed her off in those collections of words. But, she was rather surprised to see how quiet she was instead.

Mildred didn't know much about Rolande and her history. Why she was here. All she had known was that they were linked up together for this mission. What she did know is that whatever Rolande had gone through had made her go cold, like she'd been left in the shadows for too long. And when safety was an opportunity to grasp out and take, Mildred knew Rolande would want it. 

"What is the catch?" Rolande asked, her voice cold as she sat there on the crate, the K-ration in her hand forgotten it seemed.

"No catch." Lieutenant Armstrong said firmly, "It's a two way street. You had intelligence, we'll provide safety."


"Safety? With Americans? We have orders-"


"Rolande." Mildred said quietly, catching Rolande's gaze again. Rolande watched her back for a moment, before looking away, back down at the K-ration and sighing.

"It is whatever Julienne wants." Rolande mumbled, refusing to look up from her food. Mildred nodded slowly, before looking at Lieutenant Armstrong again. Lieutenant Armstrong was still sat there quietly, looking between Mildred and Rolande, her big, brown orbs bouncing back and forth again between them.

It was evident Lieutenant Armstrong had just entered the war. 

"We'll take it." Mildred said quietly with a nod, "Thank you." Lieutenant Armstrong nodded before smiling again. She was quite pretty; it almost made Mildred wonder what the woman was doing in the military, much less knee-deep in a war across the world. She looked like she could be on the cover of Yank. Maybe she had been.

In ways, Mildred wished she had been the French Maquis member she was disguising herself as, that she kept convincing herself she was. That she was Julienne Le Rue, born in Valeyrac, near the sea, to her parents that barely made enough money to get by. The Julienne Le Rue who had gone to an all girls school near Le Mans, and had rebelliously joined up in the Maquis at the start of the war. No. Instead she was Mildred Carter, born and raised in middle-of-nowhere Arkansas, in a tiny ranch with her mother and two siblings. Her father had disappeared during the Great Depression, drunk off his mind, off his meager money he tended to gamble away. She remembered running into him before she had taken her assignments in Europe, stumbling upon the street, smelling of beer and cigars; she remembered what she had felt upon seeing him like that.

The guilt, the pain.

The realization that this was her father.

That maybe she couldn't help him like the younger version of herself thought.

She was the Millie Carter from school, smart as a whip, a funny sense of humor, and who tutored some of the kids in calculus.

She was the Millie Carter that had gone Ivy League, graduated with honors, and been recruited by the OSS for intelligence.

She was the Millie Carter that sat here now, in the hands of the Americans with blood on her hands from things she had done, things she had caused, circumstances she hadn't been able to escape. Lies tied up around her lips. 


"Lieutenant." Mildred watched as Lieutenant Armstrong turned in her spot on the crate to look upwards at a man stood in the doorway. Shaggy, dark hair, a narrowed look in his eyes as they darted between Mildred and Rolande beside her, his face smeared with paint and dirt and mud, and a weary look in his eyes. 

"What's this?" he asked, leaning up against the doorway, meeting Mildred's eyes for a moment before panning back over to look at Rolande again, before looking to Lieutenant Armstrong who ran a hand down her face and sighed, moving to her feet. 

"Julienne and Rolande. With the Maquis." Lieutenant Armstrong said, crossing her arms and shifting her weight to one side - she had been limping, Mildred noted, a lot, even if she seemed like she wasn't letting that on. 

"The Ma....what?" the man said, before glancing quickly at them, "Uh, what was that, ma'am?" 

"Ma'am?" Rolande murmured, "So suddenly you start to become kind with your words?" The group grew quiet as Lieutenant Armstrong glanced back at Rolande who was sat on the crate quietly still, the man looking at Rolande coldly, his gaze unsettling and distant. 

"She holds rank." the man quipped out at Rolande, "Take a look at the bar on her collar, why don't ya?" 

"You Americans and your manners." Rolande scorned.

"What was that?" the man muttered, taking a step forward, only to be stopped by Lieutenant Armstrong's rather stiff arm across the chest.


"Calm down, Lieb." muttered Lieutenant Armstrong. Lieb, this man, whoever he was, seemed to listen to her words immediately, which said enough about rank in this situation it seemed like to her, "They'll be with us for a few days. It'll be best if you're a gentleman now, huh?" Lieb glanced at Lieutenant Armstrong before looking to Rolande again who was still sat there, coldly staring him down right back. 

"Yes, ma'am." he said. 

"How was the whole ordeal, huh?" Lieutenant Armstrong asked him, returning her arms to be crossed over her chest, before frowning, "You're bleeding."


"It's nothing, Lieutenant, I swear," Lieb said, wiping at his lip before placing his hands on his hips and looking at her, "it was fucking 105s, you believe that. 88s. Yeah right. Took 'em all out, but there's a helluva lot more 'a Krauts all out over that way. Suspect that's why they got us on in the move in 15." 

"105s, huh." Lieutenant Armstrong said quickly, kicking at some dirt near her boot, "Everyone make it back okay?"


"Popeye got socked in the ass. Bullet right into his left cheek, swear to ya, they knew what they were trying to hit out there." Lieb said with a sour chuckle, "Joe Toye almost lost his head. The guy's okay though, made it back fine. Lost Cowboy." Mildred watched Lieutenant's Armstrong face turn sickly for a moment before it disappeared just like that. 

"Hey, that crazy Lieutenant, uh....Speirs is it?" Lieb started, "Came running in, launched himself into one of the guns, took out the whole crop of 'em. Waving like a madman." Lieb chuckled as Mildred turned to look at Lieutenant Armstrong's face again. There was a worry in her gaze that had appeared the longer this 'Lieb' got had continued talking and it seemed at the mention of this 'Speirs' character it was heightened.

"He okay?"


"Oh yeah, yeah, he's fine, Lieutenant," Lieb said with a snort, "just a fucking lunatic that's all." 

"Winters alright? And Buck?" 

"Fine, the both of 'em. Thank fuck we got those two and not Sobel though, amiright, Lieutenant?" Lieb said with a chuckle and Mildred watched a small smile form on a fragment of Lieutenant Armstrong's face before disappearing.

"Well," Lieutenant Armstrong said quietly, glancing at her shiny wrist watch, "we oughta get moving then. We'll be moving out in 12." 

"Yeah," Lieb said, before glancing over at Mildred and Rolande, "we're just outside, Lieutenant." And then he was turning, heading out, saluting to a few higher ups before stepping outside, helmet on his head.

"He was interesting-" Mildred started, only to be cut off by Rolande who let out a dry laugh.

"Lot of nerve he has to call someone else lunatic," Rolande muttered, before muttering something under her lips in French, throwing down the piece of grass she'd been twisting around in her fingers, "is he always like that? Lieb?" Lieutenant Armstrong watched them for a moment before sighing and reaching down for her helmet.

"I'm afraid so." Esther said quietly, adjusting her strap before glancing over her shoulder out the door, "Joe Liebgott. He's got a bit of a mouth."


"A bit?" Rolande said with a sarcastic laugh, "We must not think of 'bit' in the same ways then." 

"That," Mildred offered, before glancing at Lieutenant Armstrong, "or he's just as angry about this whole situation as the rest of us. The war. It does stuff to your mind." Lieutenant Armstrong watched her for a moment before smiling and nodding.

"Couldn't have said it better myself." she said, before nodding to the door, "C'mon, you can stick with me." Mildred glanced at Rolande who was unmoving for a moment before standing to her feet. Mildred took that period of time to do the same, watching as Lieutenant Armstrong turned to the threshold and stepped through. Rolande glanced back at her, a questioning look in her eyes, and an equally pessimistic one. Mildred nodded her on.

The duo followed after Lieutenant Armstrong, with the remnants of their K-rations, into the outside world. Bleak sunlight, the hum of bugs in the bushes, the breeze in the trees, the chatter of voices, the grind of military-grade tanks somewhere muffled behind a wall. It smelled like burnt wood, metallic like blood, and there was something suffocating about the stares and the eyes pinpointing towards them. 

"You have a lot of friends with funny names." Mildred heard Rolande ask from in front of her, trailing beside Lieutenant Armstrong with a mixture of curiosity and content,

"Winters. Buck. Liebgott.....Speirs?" Mildred heard Lieutenant Armstrong laugh.

"Winters and Buck....well, Buck Compton. They're officers in the company. Liebgott's an infantryman. That guy you just had the pleasure of meeting back there. And Speirs....he's just another officer. Different company." Mildred listened to the way Lieutenant Armstrong had put it, talking about the men, their ranks, their roles to play. She evidently knew it efficiently and well. 

"I must ask, Lieutenant," Rolande started and Mildred watched as Lieutenant Armstrong laughed a bit as they walked, placing a hand on Rolande's shoulder.

"Just call me Esther, please," Lieutenant Armstrong said, "Esther works just fine." Mildred caught the slight smile on Rolande's face.

"Okay....Esther." Rolande seemed to test and the Lieutenant smiled before nodding her on.

"You were saying?" 

"Julienne. She tried explaining hamburger to me. What is hamburger. Why do you Americans like it so much. Enough to put it in your rations?" Rolande questioned and Esther seemed to get a good laugh out of that, throwing her head and helmet backwards as she did so.

"Well, I'm not sure of the whole origin of the hamburger," Esther started with a chuckle, but I will say that people back home get quite the kick out of it at barbecues, summer get-togethers, and birthday parties." Rolande's eyes widened in slight amazement is appeared, and Mildred found herself smiling a bit sadly at that realization. Whatever Rolande had been through in her youth had clearly been nothing close to that of what Esther had experienced, even to what Mildred had experienced. 

"Amazing." Rolande said quietly, "One day, I will try your hamburger. In America." Mildred caught the sad look that drifted over Esther's gaze, before fading again. 

"I'll make you that promise then," Esther said with a smile, "once this whole thing's over, I'll get you a hamburger. A real one. Not one mashed up in a K-ration." 

"I will take your word for it," Rolande said with a smile, a real one, the first one that Mildred had seen appear on Rolande's face since arriving in Normandy it seemed.

The trio regrouped with a majority of the men they had met earlier that morning when it'd been dark, a bit humid, and quiet. Now, it was much louder, the men chattering, bumping each other's sides, sharing cigarettes, loud-mouthing as they moved down one of the dirt roads of Normandy towards the next relocation point; near Saint-Marie-du-Mont.

Mildred trailed a bit behind Esther and Rolande - where Rolande seemed to be chattering away next to Esther - asking questions, pointing, rather animatedly describing things. And there was Esther, attentively listening, nodding along, laughing where appropriate, completely tuned into the Maquis member's words. Mildred wished she knew more about Rolande; what she was doing here, why she was here, how old she was, where she came from, what her favorite meal was as a kid growing up, her favorite color. In a different time period, they might've been friends, good friends, who knew everything about each other. But it seemed the war had different plans for them. 

"Uh, it's Julienne, right?" Mildred looked up and over and found big brown eyes meeting her own. She was almost surprised she'd turned her head so fast at the name - Julienne. God, what a name. A name that wasn't even her own, but was slowly molding into every bit herself. Becoming more and more a part of her in ways she couldn't ponder for more than a second. She watched the man beside her and tried to get a grasp on why he looked familiar to her, why she couldn't seem to put a name to his face. She was usually better at stuff like this. 

"Malarkey," he said quickly, a flash of a smile, "Don. I was with Armstrong, earlier this morning?" She blinked for a second there as they continued walking and then, remembered. Yes, he'd been the one to introduce himself first and tried to shake her hand and she'd all but stared at him. 

"Yes." she said quickly and then stuck out her hand between them, "Sorry about this morning." Malarkey grinned, shaking her hand back, and holding onto her hand for a second longer than she would've thought he would.

"No, no," he said quickly, shaking his head, before meeting her eyes again, "we sorta just came up on you guys, it's nothing. I would've probably done the same." Mildred watched him for a moment, before letting out a small laugh and nodding. They watched each other for a moment, before, almost awkwardly, dropping their hands between each other and giving each other a quiet look. 

"So, you're French?" Malarkey asked her, sending a look her way again, eyeing her uniform and her bright red hair for a second before meeting her gaze again. Admittedly, you could place her in Belfast and you could say she was 100% Irish and everyone would believe you. French? French. She was the farthest from French as you could be, but she merely had to be convincing enough that she was. As per usual. 

"Yep," she said with a nod, "can speak it pretty fluently, but my parents wanted to leave France when I was a baby. Move to America. They knew there were better opportunities than here during the time." Lying was something she had gotten quite used to, she had to admit. Lying, right through her teeth, going to the extent of living the lies, day in and day out. Hell, she lived it now - for she was Julienne Le Rue. 

"Amazing," Malarkey said from beside her, looking forward again towards where Esther and Rolande were still side by side, before looking back at her, "so, you came back? Got the call?" Mildred watched him for a moment, trying to see if he could see through her - but of course he couldn't. These men, this company - Easy Company - had merely just gotten to war. They'd just arrived. Mildred had been here since the start. It was no different. And soon, her and Rolande would be back by themselves, only having each other until Mildred was extracted. Until the job was done. And then she'd be placed elsewhere - Germany, Poland, Russia - who knew. But she'd be far from here. 

"Yeah," Mildred said with a nod, eyeing him, "had to answer it." Malarkey smiled wide again and nodded, before looking forward, nudging his chin in the direction of Rolande. 

"She had quite a bit to say," Malarkey said, his smile falling a bit at his own words, "to Bill it seemed." Mildred glanced at Rolande again; it was the happiest she'd seen Rolande since meeting her. Again did that thought live deep inside her mind. What had Rolande gone through to get herself here? So upset and angry with life and the world around her?

"She speaks her mind," Mildred said honestly, catching his eyes for a moment, before letting her mind roll back to earlier that morning, "she's been through a lot of shit."

Whether Rolande had or had not - and Mildred agreed with herself that she had - experienced a whole lot of shit, despite the two of them seemingly coming as a package deal to the doorstep of Easy Company, they were their own, separate person. Mildred was the way she was because of how fucked in the head the war had been for her. Rolande was how she was because of the shit she'd been through at the age of a mere teenager; at least Mildred had gotten that much.

Mildred feared that she was boring Malarkey - she didn't have much to say, nor discuss with him. She'd honestly been quite rude this morning towards him, so it was a wonder he was coming up and talking to her now. And she hadn't gotten a bit of sleep in at least 36 hours.

The company moved together, quite slowly, through the open fields of Normandy, the tanks now coming in from Utah and Omaha bleeding into the coastline of France, her thoughts wavering to that bit of parchment she'd lended to Esther. Her mind wandered to that woman - Yvette - having seen her disappear with a medic not too long after they'd all come to the relocation point. Her mind seemed to wander to a lot of different things on this walk, either that she hadn't thought about in years or months or days, to things that weren't even merely important to her, but somehow managed to strike a cord deep within her enough for it to consume her mind.

They were stopping by 1030, regrouping with other straggling groups of people that constantly appeared, taking notes, figuring out logistics, smoking cigarettes. Mildred was leaned up against a tree, shading by the leaves, the sun beating down, when she was approached - a rather disheveled looking man, though vaguely astute, with the map in his hands, the aviators covering his eyes, and the look of pure annoyance on his face. 

"Julienne Le Rue?" he asked roughly, approaching and then stopping a few feet in front of her, weight shifted to his one leg rather exhaustedly. Her eyes trailed over him before rising up to meet his eyes - well, his sunglasses - his eyes were hidden. Her thoughts seemed to cluster and build. Nixon. This was Nixon. Mildred stared at him for a moment, watching as he flipped from the map to many lines of scribbles and notes on a sheet of paper.

"Alright," he said smirking slightly, giving a shake of his head, "I'll take that as my answer." Mildred had been in plenty of instances where she'd had to interact with different countries and their leaders and their intelligence officials. Though America always seemed to have quite the characters - Nixon was quite a character.

"Lewis Nixon." he said, holding out a hand to her, which she did shake firmly back, "Pleasure to meet ya. Glad you found us." 

"Your men sort of found me." she offered back, eyeing him warily for a moment, but keeping herself blank-faced. Nixon let out a laugh, shifting his weight again and looking to his notes.

"I'm gonna guess they haven't figured you out yet, huh?" Nixon asked her and Mildred watched him again.

"No." Mildred answered back coldly, "I didn't expect them to. But that one Lieutenant of yours, Armstrong, did see the message. She at least did take us to Intelligence." Nixon smirked again.

"Not surprised, she's smart, quick-witted, ya know?" Nixon said, "She understand the message?" 

"No." Mildred said quickly, before backtracking, "I mean, she knows it's intelligence, for Caen, for what's to come. But that's it. She didn't push." 

"You meet some of the men?" Nixon asked her, "Considering you'll be attached to us for a few weeks? As planned?" 

"Unfortunately." Mildred offered him, "Quite a bunch of characters." Nixon chuckled.

"Got that right." he said, and then looked down at his notes again, "They know your deal?" Mildred frowned.


"They know that I am Julienne Le Rue, that I'm a Maquis member. And that is all they will know." Mildred said, before narrowing her eyes, "Don't let it slip." Nixon chuckled at her again and then glanced over his shoulder towards the bustle of people all about, before looking back at her. 

"Look, we got this easy back and forth dialogue," Nixon started, "but intelligence is typically kept between exactly two people. Me... and me when I've got some coffee in my system. No one's gonna know." He smiled at her wide again.

"Of course, only that you and your little friend are here for intelligence and vice versa, not that you're-"


"Got it." Mildred said. After what had happened last time - failure, after failure, being sent down for more training, locked in jail cells, after all because of her slip up. She couldn't handle the spindle that was Lewis Nixon at the moment. All easy-going, loose-lipped, and far more relaxed in a war zone that she ever will be, she couldn't let it get to her. She had to act how she always did. Not let the facade fall and act as she was. A maquis member. Mildred glanced up and briefly saw Lieutenant Armstrong stood at the edge of a jeep, notebook out, pencil between her lips and a fountain pen in hand, eyes holding Mildred's. She looked calm but slightly confused. 

"What are your orders?" Mildred asked quickly, looking back at Nixon with a cold look, "Because your men seem like they are starting to get curious and the least amount of time spent talking, requires the least amount of time lying." Nixon watched her, before reaching up to remove his aviators from his eyes. She met his gaze, brown eyes meeting her green ones, and he smirked the slightest bit again. 

"Stay quiet then," Nixon offered, "keep up the facade. Keep it simple, too. Don't try and complicate things by getting to know these men too well. Or Lieutenant Armstrong. She's got a notebook and the woman can write. Spin a story from nothing." Mildred watched him for another moment longer before breaking eye contact and looking down at her booted feet. Her makeshift clothing, dressed as if she were Maquis, was a rather poor indicator of where she really stood. She looked back up at Nixon and bit her tongue. 

"Staying quiet then seems to be my specialty." Mildred said, before eyeing his hands, "You read my file." She stopped closer to him and briefly leaned near his ear.

"You should know." 

Chapter Text

Normandy was quite beautiful in the late morning sun.

The day had been spent with breaks, hiding out when the first whispers of German words entered their ears, and walking. Lots of walking. And most of the time, it was pretty quiet. The occasional joke, someone mentioning 'this direction is best', and offers of water. And that was about the extent.

Mercy squinted as she looked upwards at the sky, from beneath the visor of the edge of her helmet. The sun was bright, the clouds had broken and every so often, the rumble of a plane overhead filled their ears. It was quite extraordinary really. All of this. Sounds and sights she'd never seen, things she'd never had the opportunity to experience in her life, and yet she was here. She looked towards the front of the group again though. 

"It's eerie." whispered Mercy, as Tab brushed against her arm, the two of them bringing up the rear behind Smokey, who had willingly taken the lead, followed by Shifty whose shoulders were ridged, body tense, finger dancing on the trigger and then Odette Ringer.

Odette.

The wild card.

Mercy's eyes had been on her since they'd regrouped as a 5-member platoon moving forward. Odette was quiet, but she also was someone who seemed to have outbursts if warranted. She was on the shorter side, but still taller than Mercy, with dark eyes, dark hair, a dark look living on her face like she'd been to hell and back, and had yet to tell the tale. Her clothes were dark, a rugged looking British Airmen uniform for clothes, a helmet covered in dirt and grim, pockets hidden and stowed away with various necessities that she didn't want to uncover, and a shiny gun that was hidden beneath the edges of the airmen coat draped over her shoulders. Her hair was cut short above her shoulders and shaggy, and there were various scars that dotted her face. It told Mercy one thing - she'd seen some shit. 

"What's eerie?" Tab said quietly back - right, Tab. Mercy glanced upwards at him, catching that glimpse of worry in his eyes in the soft glimmer of sunlight, before looking forward again. 


"That the sun sets and the moon rises, and it repeats every damn day," Mercy admonished under her breath, receiving a questioning look from Tab before giving his shoulder a shove, "seriously Tab, she just happens to be going to Utah beach, all alone, can't give straight answers - you're telling me that's not suspicious?" Tab shrugged and readjusted with his M1, before looking her way. He sighed.

"Look," Tab said, stopping Mercy briefly a few feet behind the group and watching her closely, "she tries anything, I got this." Tab nodded down to the M1 in his hand, a smile beginning to grow on his face. 

"And....even better, if she's trying to lie to us, I'm sure once we regroup with Winters or Meehan, they'll let her have it so, let's just keep moving." Mercy stared at him, before nodding slowly, her heart pounding as she looked towards Odette again. They began walking, Mercy's eyes staying on Odette as they continued moving forward. Mercy couldn't help but let the silence bite at her ankles, through the leather of her boots and her socks and her slightly shaky knees. She couldn't help but feel overwhelmed by it all, merely holding onto the way the sunlight was falling through the trees about them, to steady her.

"Hey, you okay?" Tab said, bumping her shoulder lightly, "Your face is saying more than you are right now. And that's saying something."

"Thanks, Tab." Mercy muttered, looking over her shoulder for a moment before turning forward again, "It's like the woods back.....home."

Home. It was weird to say that word especially when home was nowhere to be found. Home was not a little corner home, with a yellow mailbox, freshly painted panels along the windows, fresh flowers in the garden, a shiny door handle to welcome all into the home. Home now felt like movement, like something rushing by, sending a sour feeling into her stomach. Like it was running circles around her and every time she reached out to touch it, it slipped right through her fingers. There, but not. The only time she'd even felt at peace was sitting in the Armstrong home back in Norfolk, Esther beside her, love, warmth and a feeling of belonging and comfort enveloping her. She shut her eyes. Home had been nothing but yelling, sharp edges and stale cornmeal. She felt chills run up her arms at the though.

But there it was again - Tab's voice. 

"Never did really tell any of us where you're from, half-pint," Tab said with a small chuckle, watching the glare tremor in her eyes as she sent him a look, "hey, Pat had the right idea. Executing it....not so much, but half-pint works, it fits ya."

"I appreciate it." she deadpanned back to him and sighed, "Fort Wayne, Indiana. Home. Outskirts though, never deep in the actual city. But, it was home." 

"You're shitting me," Tab said with a chuckle catching the look on her face, as he pointed to himself, "Kokomo. Kokomo, Indiana. Huh, who knew." Mercy watched him for a minute and then smiled with a nod.

"Not everyday you hear someone coming from Indiana." she said with a shrug, watching as a grin grew onto his face at her words. 

"Well, it's your lucky day, half-pint, you got one of 'em here. Alive and well." Tab offered and Mercy side-eyed him.

"That's a rather questionable and arguable statement." she offered him back as her eyes jutted forward again towards the three people in front of them.

"Questionable? That's a deep cut, Indiana." he murmured from beside her and she rolled her eyes, but smiled a bit at his words - Indiana, hm - nickname? A jeer? An olive branch? He was just trying to lighten the mood, she knew that much. That's what he was always trying to do in times and moments like these - lighten the mood to the best of his capabilities, in the parameters they were given. It just so happened to be June 6th, H-Hour, D-Day. Well, nearly H-Hour.

Up ahead, Smokey was holding up his fist - agreeably, his persistent want to take the lead as a machine gunner was less than necessary, but it seemed in his right mind, he felt it was right to do so. Slowly, Mercy crouched down towards the ground, watching as Tab disappeared from her side and slowly picked his way forward, past Shifty, past Odette and up beside Smokey. As an NCO, he seemed to get that privilege. Mercy chuckled quietly to herself. There crouched on the ground, where it was completely and utterly quiet, save for the crickets, the wind in the trees and their breathing, it was almost peaceful if the war could be removed from the world around them. But, whenever the reality came pulsating back, she always knew the reality of what was going on. The war around them. Mercy watched as Tab circled back, whispering quietly to Odette, muttering to Shifty before coming to her. 

"There's a road way just past this tree line," Tab said, nodding back over his shoulder, "'suspect it's best if we walk alongside it, in the trees. Smokey thinks we're somewhere near Azeville....or, something or other. We're getting closer. Seems they dropped us just past the coastline." 

"Someone studied their sand tables." Mercy said with a chuckle as Tab snickered, shaking his head.

"You could say that." Tab murmured, before glancing over his shoulder, "That or it was an order that would've resulted in my dishonorable discharge from the company it seemed, but I guess will just go with the fact I was doing my studying the way it was needed, hm?" 

"Sure." Mercy said, staring up at him from under the helmet hanging over her eyes. He grinned before giving her shoulder a pat.

"Almost was wondering when I'd get humbled by you today." he said, as his gaze turned to watch Shifty go inspect the roadside ahead.

"Why? Were you expecting it?" Mercy asked, almost surprised at the thought, but keeping up her tone. 

"Mhm, expecting it, maybe...bracing for it?" he looked at her with a knowing look, "Yeah." 

"You're such an asshole." Mercy muttered, shoving at his shoulder as he laughed quietly again. Mercy looked forward again, watching Shifty's tiny figure along the tree line again, darting in between shrubbery shadowed by the drops of late morning shadows from the sun and low-hanging leafy branches, just as the sweet smell of the breeze through the trees, mixing with burning wood and metal began to run over her.

In another world, she was back in Indiana, enjoying a moment like this - truth was, there wasn't much in Indiana that had been enjoyable.

Mercy shifted her gaze towards Odette again; the woman was crouched by a bit of shrubbery, picking at a bit of dirt underneath her nails, her face scrunched like a small child, her shoulders hunched, her body tense. After just their few hours together on this fateful morning of June 6th, Mercy felt she'd seen a part of the war that had yet to be unearthed; a part of this world discussed in articles in the newspaper, shown in photographs that were plastered to every headline in America. And she'd seen that part of the war in Odette. She sighed before watching as Shifty came quietly back towards them, his M1 pulled protectively against his chest.

"We're clear." he said, "I'll take point." 

"You sure?" Odette asked, her dark eyes meeting Shifty's for a second - and in that moment, Mercy had never seen Shifty so taken aback it seemed, a bit confused at the question it seemed. 

"Yes," Shifty said quietly, "I'm sure." He glanced at Mercy and Tab for a second before looking back to where Smokey was. Odette was quiet for a moment, watching Shifty before looking at Tab. 

"Alright," Tab said, clearing the awkward tension that had started moving through the group, "Shifty takes point." Shifty looked at him, nodded, and then glanced at Odette. He didn't say anything - Mercy didn't expect him to - and then he turned, moving to his full height and started forward again. Smokey, who'd been on lookout, began to follow.

"I only was suggesting because I don't doubt I know these woods better than the lot of you combined." Odette said quietly, looking to Tab with a knowing look.

"Sweetheart, you may know these woods better than we do," Tab started, locking his M1 gear and bouncing on the balls of his feet, crouched in the group, "but I sure as hell know it's 4 to 1 right now and Shifty Powers knows his way with that-there gun, alright?" Then he smiled, winked and moved to his feet. "Let's go." Mercy watched him move away, following after Smokey and Shifty and then looked over and met Odette's eyes, who was watching Mercy right back. 

"Is he always like that?" Odette asked her pensively. Mercy balked for a second, caught off guard by Odette's question. She glanced quickly towards where Tab was, slinging his rifle over his shoulder and adjusting the helmet on his head. Her face heated unexpectedly. Tab? Yeah. He was always like that. She'd be surprised if he wasn't always like that. 

"Yeah." Mercy said quickly, almost without second thought, "He sweet-talks his way into and out of every possible conversation and situation he gets himself into. Get used to it." With that bit of finality, Mercy stood up, nodding in the direction of where the other three were and then turned on her heel and began walking towards them again. Her bulky bag was filled with a rangefinder, about 8 rolls of film in a water-tight canister, a 50 mm, 75 mm and 135 mm lens, respectively, along with her notepad to record photos - which she was already behind on. She did manage to stick a Weston light meter in there as well. Of course, courtesy of Lieutenant Meehan and the US Army - which she would be endlessly grateful for. For once, it felt like she owned something, like this was hers and her name was written across the top of it.

For once, she was something.

Mercy began to quietly trail after Tab, her fingers clasped to the edges of her camera hanging around her neck, her eyes twisting about across the scenery around them. The crickets were a sense of peace that she hadn't felt in a long time; their gentle hum, mixed with sunshine was enough to settle the jostled up nerves of her entire body. The sky was so bright and blue, the few clouds there making it look somewhat peaceful. She kept going back to these thoughts, over and over, like they were some sort of self-soothing comfort to remedy the reality that they were in.

Mercy couldn't help but let her eyes trail to the back of Tab's head. He was still the same Tab from their time stateside and in England - there was no doubt about that - but he was also Tab. Tab, who had been the first person she had been able to find once they'd made the jump. She barely remembered that moment in time - too freaked out and somewhat jittery with adrenaline to register, but there had been a hug at one point where she swore, she had never felt safer. And that was just it, wasn't it?

When they'd regrouped together, he had shared some of his water with her (where her canteen had a bullet right through it and in fact no water), they'd walked for a bit and met Odette.

And suddenly Tab had been there, standing in front of her, defending her.

When was the last time someone had done that?

The only person that came to mind was Esther Armstrong - of course it was Esther, it was always Esther. But this had been different - this had been someone they'd just met, barely just exchanged names with, and he was defending Mercy like his life depended on it? She didn't know how to feel when someone did what he had done. Stepping in, turning her away, shielding her - dare she even say that despite being in Normandy, with Germans surrounding them, she'd never felt more safe? Safe. What a word.

Growing up, safe was never a word she really used, nor touched on it lightly. Safe meant you felt protected, cared for, and could be loved and comforted. Safe meant that there were people that cared about you, that you had a warm bed at night, that you were somewhere far from the troubles of the reality of the world around you. But even from day one of her life, she was never safe. From her father, from her mother, from that damned house, from the yelling, the alcohol, the fear that had eaten her alive until she had turned 18. How could she even use the word safe in a place like this? They moved along the road Shifty had pointed out earlier, moving alongside the dirt path that stretched just near the tree line they were shaded by and an open field where a few barn houses lay on the outskirts, burning from smoking fire, their scent mixed with blood and death. The fact she could even distinguish the two. Her stomach soured. 

"Alright," Tab said from ahead of her as they came to a crossroads, "I say we stop in this burned out house, take a look at the map, eat and drink. I don't wanna see none of you dehydrated, okay?" 

"What are you, Tab, our mother?" Smokey called over his shoulder as they started moving towards the house just past the crossroads.

"Starting to feel like it, Smokey." Tab answered back, a few chuckles to follow, save for Odette, who was still quietly trailing with them, but saying absolutely nothing either. The house was in fact incredibly burned out, the door barely hanging on to the support beams it was attached to, the windows blown out, the carpets and fabrics shriveled to nothing but dusty crumbs it seemed. What was even more chilling was how everything was set in it. As if before the fire had been set to the house, people had been here - about to read a book, sit down to a meal, have a drink. Everything was left behind right in its place, exactly where you'd think it all to be. 

"I'll stay on lookout." Shifty said quietly, nodding to the doorway after everyone had filed inside, reaching up wipe at the sweat trickling down his cheek, "You all take your fills." Tab glanced at Shifty before stepping forward in their little circle. 

"Have a sit down, Shifty, we'll be fine." Tab said, "I'll take point by the door anyway. Just make sure to drink something. We need that accuracy incase we gotta take down a few Krauts now, got it?" Shifty looked to Tab, chuckling slightly.

"Whatever you say, Tab." Shifty said, then stepping past him to the kitchen, Smokey following. Tab watched him go, before turning to Mercy and Odette who were still stood there. Mercy was quiet for a beat, looking between Tab and Odette, waiting for one of them to open their mouths and say something - she could sense it brewing. Instead, Tab reached into his bag on his back and produced a K-ration, forking it over to Odette with one of his wide grins.

"Here," Tab said, holding out the package towards Odette, "eat up." Mercy watched as Odette gently took the K-ration from him, inspecting it carefully for a moment, before flashing her eyes upwards towards Tab again. 

"What is it?" she asked, seeming genuinely curious, her eyes looking over the package again. 

"It's a....it's a K-ration. Type 'a shit that's non-perishable." Tab offered, shrugging his shoulders and smiling wide, "Ready-to-eat, ya know?" 

"Real inventive." offered Mercy, nodding and smiling encouragingly to her, "Once you get past the plastic taste, it's pretty damn good." Tab snickered as Odette offered her a look. 

"Ah, plastic," Odette said, nodding and offering an uneasy smile to the two of them, "equally....quite the invention." And with that, she was turning away and moving towards where Shifty and Smokey had gone. In that moment then, it was just her and Tab. She looked up at him, stood there, already staring at her quietly. 

"Gonna go eat? Have a sit down?" he asked her, raising a brow with a slight grin, "I'll keep watch." 

"I actually wanted to talk to you." Mercy said, observing him there in the sunlight that bathed his features through the cracked, wooden doorway. He looked a little confused, in comparison to his normally confident, rather impressive Floyd Talbert grin he wore, but nevertheless, he smiled wide again and nodded.

"Step into my office," he said, nodding over to the doorway, "have a sit down." He settled himself on the ground and then looked back over at her stood there. Mercy felt her insides twist for a moment as she shuffled over, settling on the ground beside him, lowering her M1 to the ground and adjusting the camera comfortably around her neck, into her lap. She sat there for a moment beside him, shoulders hunched, mind racing. Now she was here - she had to speak. 

"Quite the office you got here," Mercy said with a small laugh as she glanced around the doorway they'd all just stepped through, looking briefly through the opening to the dirt road just a hundred feet in front of the house, before looking over at Tab again, "I bet it's got quite the mortgage."

"Krauts burned it down before I could pay it off." Tab offered her way, grinning lopsidedly at her this time, before gently knocking her shoulder, "C'mon, what's on your mind?" Mercy knew she'd been avoiding it, even after opening her mouth with every hope to speak to Tab in a manner where she could compose herself. No longer was the war just where she stood, but the one in her mind was alive again, seeping out into every part of her being, no matter how hard she tried to shove it away, hidden in a locked box into the darkest parts of her. Mercy glanced at him and offered more a grimace than a smile and met his eyes. He was still smiling. 

"Look, Tab," she said quietly, her shoulders dropping, "it's nothing super serious, or anything of real importance, if I'm being honest...." She shouldn't have even said she had to talk to him. She just should've followed after Odette with her K-ration and sat at the blown-out kitchen table, with the open windows and the creaky floor while Tab kept watch, let him play the good NCO he always was. But no. She had to open her mouth. 

"Are you alright?" Tab asked her, leaning his head down a bit to catch her eyes, "You start talking like that, half-pint...."


"I'm fine, I swear." Mercy said, doubling down on her words as she felt her world caving in - this is why she never said anything, this is why she never opened her mouth. This was why - because the feeling physically ached, it clawed her insides trying to escape. It hurt every part of her being to have to say anything. She had to bite the bullet.

"It's just..." Mercy started, looking to Tab, "back there, this morning. After the jump. With Odette." Tab nodded slowly, continuing to watch her. 

"After I shot those two Krauts," Mercy said softly, her voice tightening, her eyes flicking to Tab again, "and Odette....she sorta freaked out. When I did it. And you stepped in." Mercy let her gaze flick to Tab again and this time, he was already watching her right back, continuing to hold her gaze in a firmer manner this time, his jaw clenched the slightest bit as he watched her. Mercy sucked in a breath.

"No one's ever done that for me before." Mercy managed out this time, sounding half-strained and choked as she did so, her eyes fighting to well with tears, before she blinked them away as quickly as she could. Pathetic, pathetic, pathetic, that voice inside her head seemed to scream repeatedly, over and over again. Tab was quiet beside her, save for his gentle breathing to her side - Tab being quiet. That was a new one. She almost regretted saying anything, even opening her mouth, voicing any of this to him. But something this morning made her want to say that to him. To confide in him. Tell him. 

"Hey. Half-pint....c'mere." Tab said quietly; she could feel him watching her, his eyes burning into the side of her head as she sat there. He scooted closer and wrapped an arm around her shoulder. His touch was gentle and blanketed her entire body in a comfort she'd never quite experienced before if she was honest. Tucked into his side, his hand rubbing up and down long the side of her ODs over her eagle patch. It was almost like when Joe Toye had watched her break that morning in Aldbourne; just trying to even talk about her parents. She couldn't get over how suffocating it had been, how jaded she still was. All of it.

Mercy looked over at Tab as he squeezed his arm around her comfortingly and offered another smile her way. She could tell there was something past the kind facade he was putting up, something simmering below - she always knew when someone was putting on a front. She had gotten good at it, especially from a young age.

She always knew when her father had been angry at least, even if he didn't show it. 

"You're telling me no one's ever stepped in for you?" he asked her, his words sounding a bit angrier than they were intending to be. Mercy glanced over at him - tell him, tell him, tell him. Her stomach ached as she looked back down to the camera in her lap, fiddling with a loose thread of the strap.

"I...." Mercy started, before shaking her head and looking over and up at him, "it just....it reminded me of....another time, in my life. When no one had been able to step in. For me." She met Tab's eyes and offered a shaky smile, before it disappeared and she felt her throat tighten.

"And so, I just didn't know. How to react, that's all." Mercy said, nodding again, smiling up forcefully at him. 

"What the hell are you talking about, half-pint?" he asked her, leaning forward a bit to catch her gaze again - he knew she was avoiding looking at him. She could tell just from his persistence, that worrying tone in his voice. She'd been around him long enough to sense it. Mercy could feel it again - the world around her. It was caving in, getting darker and darker, more suffocating. Her eyes grew watery - don't cry, don't cry, don't cry. Tell him, tell him, tell him. No one's ever done that for you before, tell him. Someone stepped in for you, tell him, tell him, tell him. 

"Mercy," Tab said quietly from beside her as she squeezed her eyes shut and blinked them open again, her throat tightening - she couldn't look at him, "Mercy, what happened? Is this about that asshole from Dog? Back in Toccoa? I thought he got kicked out. Or...was it that dickhead from Swindon - the pilot? Anthony or whatever the fuck his name was. I'll show hi-"


"It was my father." Mercy managed out quickly, looking up at him, her eyes blazing to his in a second, "It was my father. It reminded me of my father. Odette did." It grew quiet between them, the sounds from the kitchen of the other three echoing a bit through the burned out home, the breeze outside the doorway picking up a bit, as a few lone planes sailed overhead nearby. 

"And....you were the first. To step in. Between that." Mercy said brokenly, her voice cracking again, "And it's so hard....to get that out of me because I didn't expect it to ever happen." And it contradicted anything she'd ever known. She'd never had a man step in for her or her mother, or a man stand up for her or her mother. He father had never stood up for their family. No one ever had. Mercy stared at him, her heart racing as she held his gaze firmly for the first time since she'd been able to sit down there. Tab watched her, the previous anger that had been simmering, now replaced with a crestfallen look written on his face, that particular gaze in his eyes unwavering as he sat there, arm wrapped around her shoulders, his figure stilled. 

"Your father-"


"He hit my mother." Mercy managed out, feeling like a spew of a waterfall, unable to stop, "And.....sometimes....me." Mercy grew quiet at those words, trailing off, feeling small all the sudden, as she looked back down at her camera again, her eyes continuing to well with tears as she sat there. She couldn't even bare to look at Tab now - knowing how he'd see her. Weak, pathetic, vulnerable, submissive. She'd be viewed as someone who couldn't defend herself, get away from a father with a drinking problem and a twisted mind, from a life he had built without the proper foundations, from the child he had never wanted. 

"Jesus, half-pint...." Tab said softly, his voice sounding strained with a caught-off-guard tightness that she'd rarely heard before from him, evidently, as he was trying to contain himself, she could tell, "I'm so sorry, you didn't deserve that sorta shit." She looked up at him briefly and he watched her with those big, sad eyes, layered with an anger and a pain bottled up just behind that gaze.

"You never did." She'd gotten good at keeping her chin up, at holding it in, the emotion, the feelings she felt. She had become a damn-near natural at not letting emotions like that get in her way. But, sitting there with Tab, hearing his words, hearing him say those words? Her eyes remained welled with tears as she sat there. 

"Thanks, Tab." she managed out firmly, working through the lump in her throat. She looked to him - he hadn't even looked away - and offered the slightest hint of a watery smile. His face hadn't really changed, he'd just let the anger seep in a bit more than normal. 

"That's why sometimes....I just spiral. Different things trigger something inside of me," she said quietly, grasping at her upper chest like a hand was being wrapped around her throat, "and it just sets me off completely. Emotionally, mentally. Just like that." Tab was quiet watching her, processing her words in the best way he seemed to. It was too much, she thought, telling him. But he offered her the pinprick of a smile, and a tilted head. 

"Thanks for telling me," Tab said again, as if offering a landing perch for her emotions, "I know...shit like that, anything like that. Just to get out of your system.....I just...." Mercy watched him, at a loss for words as he sat there, trying to come up with a coherent thought, "I don't know if there's any right way to put this, but I don't think I'm letting anything like that ever happen to you again." He said it in a way with finality and a firmness she couldn't really ignore - a slight jab at her father, a sarcastic bite of anger to his voice as he looked to her. 

"I saw that look in your eye," Tab stated quietly, "when Odette had started yelling like that at you. I saw it. I...." He cut himself off and looked at her, deeply this time, his eyes soft and focused directly on her. Mercy should've felt uncomfortable underneath his gaze, just from the way he was staring at her, their proximity to one another. But if anything, she wanted to stay there. She wanted to believe it, believe him. That nothing like that would ever happen again. She wanted that. Mercy had never felt like this, so broken and vulnerable, baring her foundations, those pivotal moments of her life to someone she hadn't known nearly two years ago. Showing the deepest parts of herself to someone who had his eye on her ever since they'd reunited after the jump. Mercy wished she could say more to him in this moment, rather than staring at him, slightly lost in her own thoughts and quite possibly that look in his eyes as he watched her right back. 

"Thank you, Tab, I know it's....a bit much, especially right after we've just jumped into Nazi-occupied France." she said, hoping her joking tone would lighten this dimmed mood that she wasn't planning on inviting this late morning. Tab managed a chuckle, glancing at her as he shook his head. He knew and he was still looking at her the same; it hadn't changed a bit the way he was looking at her. She just kept telling herself that. Over and over. He hadn't changed. Yet..... 

"You're making me soft now, half-pint," he said with a laugh and she felt her cheeks warm slightly, "don't tell the guys that, but we're here for you, I'm here for you, too. Esther is too, that woman would probably set the world on fire for you. Screw the damn war, I just don't need someone like Odette getting under your skin again. Or him." Tab's tone dipped when he said that word, him, and she could sense the finality of saying that - how it didn't seem like he wanted to reopen that wound. So Mercy nodded. Tab looked like he wanted to say something more, like he was going to open his mouth and continue on, but he remained quiet and instead looked to her quietly again. 

"Hey, you two ready?" Mercy shifted around, Tab's arm falling from around her shoulders, to find Shifty wading towards them, a gentle smile on his face as his eyes flicked to Tab and then Mercy again, "This gun isn't just gonna shoot itself, now, huh?" Mercy chuckled as Tab let out a whoop of a laugh.

"Yeah, yeah," Tab said pulling himself up to his feet, without second thought offering a hand to Mercy, who took it, "we're ready - you all eat something?"


"Oh we ate," Shifty said, shouldering his M1, "I think Smokey ate the most. Odette didn't really care for much more than the crackers, but....it was something. She said thanks by the way." Tab cracked a grin and Mercy offered Shifty a grin, too. 

"Always know how to put a smile on my face, don't ya, Shift?" Tab said, adjusting his weapon on his shoulder and grinning at his friend. Shifty smirked a bit, but shot him a quiet look.

"You're just trying to get something from me," Shifty said in a knowing tone, only half-joking it seemed, "what do you want?" 

"Does it always have to be something I want?" Tab said, moving forward to wrap an arm around Shifty's shoulders with a grin, "I can't give props to a friend, one of my best friends?"


"Yeah, you can," Shifty said looking at him, eyeing him unevenly, "but it's usually 'cause you also want something." Tab let out a whooping chuckle, as Mercy found a grin widening on her face.

Whether it was merely a rough day for her debut, D-Day would manage to tangle its way into her heart and stay there until the end of time. 

Chapter Text

Chapter Text

The rain was less than pleasant, something that reminded her somewhat of her youth, of home.

Wherever that was.

Her brown, muted trousers were now soaked to the bone - nothing like the olive drab of the Americans, and her bleak, cream, collared top was clinging to her skin in a depleting fashion that she was sure she looked like a washed-out cat rather than Rolande Pelletier. Her boots though were playing their part well - sturdy, keeping out the rain as well as keeping her feet dry.

Her hair was another story.

She'd always been prideful of her hair as a young girl - she'd braid it ever so gracefully, or she'd do it up in pretty bows that her mother always brought home from trips to the market, or she'd even leave it in rollers through the night, to let her luscious, brown locks fall down her back. Now, her hair was shorter, the shortest it'd ever been, just past her shoulders, and her braids were rushed and flimsy. Dead weight it seemed. Her hair couldn't have meant more in this moment to her than a dying limb.

Julienne was across from her, messing with her Sten - again. She was always trying to make it look better, always trying to make it look new. It never did, Rolande wouldn't say that, but to some extent, it was better to put your energy elsewhere. Rolande wouldn't say that either though. Beside Julienne was that man - Bill Guarnere. He always looked pissed off, he always looked angry. Of course, Rolande only had about 38 hours total of complete interaction and nearness to him to base those judgements off of, but nonetheless they could die anyway, and war was war (and all that bullshit) so she'd make her judgements from that.

They had sat there in the dugout foxhole for at least an hour by now, listening to the rain, the 'ping-ping' of the rain drops hitting Bill's helmet and the tiny puddles of muddy soil below them. Julienne was the restless one, cleaning her Sten in a rainstorm (as one intelligently does) - Rolande rolled her eyes and leaned back against the muddy Earth, feeling the rain streak down her bare cheeks. 

"You sure you don't want some sort of jacket?" Bill murmured, glancing sideways at her as he wrapped his arms around himself, looking at her from underneath his helmet. Rolande peeked her gaze at him before shutting her eyes and letting out a sigh. 

"You really don't seem to take 'no' for answer." Rolande said quietly. She heard Bill huff in annoyance - that was another thing he did a lot. Huff and puff and seem annoyed and tired and pissed off at the world. Welcome to her world! She was pissed everyday from dawn til dusk, waking up pissed that the sun was there to warm her skin and send her to bed nightly with a whisper of burnt cheeks and a tired gaze. Welcome to life! Rolande didn't mean to act so pissed - her 19-year-old self had been through enough though to know that everyone was angry and pissed and a war only did so much to continue to harbor that into reality. 

"What you seem to miss, Bill," Rolande said, listening for a scoff to leave his lips as she addressed him, "is I grew up here. In France. The rain is a part of me. And a part of me is here. With the rain. I am used to such thing. It is no different - war or not." She listened for words from him but found him utterly silent. She understood - he was pissed that he had to share a foxhole with the two of them - with her and Julienne. The two pick-ups from a chaotic morning of life, June 6th, 1944! Who knew there could be people other than blasted Americans in a foreign land! Who knew!

Rolande did not want to be intermixed with this strange group of Americans. She did not want to be having to put her trust into people like this - rowdy, loud, obnoxious, noisy. She would rather her and Julienne had left the area, gone on their merry ways from this situation towards Omaha, as intended. Now, they were trapped in this sandwich of American men, the female Lieutenant, and American higher-ups. Though, Rolande wouldn't have admitted it days ago, but sitting there with Julienne was a comfort. It was nice to be sat with someone so familiar yet not familiar at all. But, it skewed her mind when she thought like that. Thinking she was safe, especially with someone like Julienne.

In the past few days, Julienne had still seemed to manage to treat her like she was a small child, the one time even daring to hold up a finger to her mouth to keep Rolande quiet. It felt childish, she felt childish. Being told to stay quiet like she was 10.

An explosion of artillery echoed off somewhere in the distance - though the only person to really jump or have some sort of reaction was Bill Guarnere. Swinging his head over his shoulder, fabric strap of his helmet slapping against his cheek as he grumbled a string of curses under his lips. Rolande was surprised at the way she hardly even flinched. Years ago she would've. She probably would've heard the explosions and the gunfire, the yelling, the screaming - all of it - and ran for cover. Just like back home when the Germans bombed Marseille in 1940 and had taken everything from her, right under her nose. She deemed herself lucky that the Maquis had even taken her in - with how stubborn, quiet and cold she'd been. How hard the war had warped her mind and made her a shell of a human. Barely able to keep food down, shriveled into a curled up human-form on the ground each night.

But then she got her bearings about her; she sucked it up. She put the facade on. She looked to Julienne again as Bill clambered for a more comfortable position. She remembered their first meeting; distant, cold, quick if anything. A handshake, a nod, an information session with coordinates, discrete blacked out sentences on a sheet of paper and a codename for only them to know. Yeah, she didn't know much. But, there was a war on. You did what you could. 

"You two know that other broad?" Bill asked, leaning back against the muddy Earth again and letting out a sigh. 

"Which one?" Julienne asked first, beating Rolande to her words. Bill snorted and glanced at them.

"What the hell you mean which one?" Bill asked, looking between the two. Rolande pushed her lips into a thin line. 

"You have a lot to learn in war," Rolande said, holding his gaze, "as careless as to realize there are two other women just like us in this mess. In holding at your company's HQ. Pfft." 

"Rolande." Julienne said, eyeing Rolande wearily again, like a mother did to a child. Rolande's anger boiled. 

"The one that came in with us? The blonde? Or the one that arrived today - with the photographer?" Julienne asked Bill politely. 

"The one that arrived today," Bill said with a grunt, "didn't know that other broad was still around." Rolande narrowed her gaze, but had to be honest - she hadn't either. She didn't have a clue what happened to that woman - Yvette - since that morning of D-Day where she'd been taken away with some of the medics. The woman that had arrived earlier though - Odette was her name? She was a wild card. Rolande could guess that. And Rolande didn't like her. She figured that the Americans should just cut her lose. Rolande wasn't one to immediately take to liking anyone, but she liked Lieutenant Armstrong - Esther - and had overhead Esther talking to some of the higher ups, that Lieutenant Winters, about what Odette had said to her. And therefore, Rolande didn't like her. 

"Odette," Julienne said quietly, still messing with her Sten, "I'm afraid I don't know much about her, but she's a firecracker. Snapped at Esther-"


"You're telling me she snapped at the Lieutenant?" Bill said, his voice a mix of shock and disbelief, "What the hell'd Armstrong say?" 

"I don't know." Julienne offered back, "But supposedly, the girl was pulled right up to HQ - that one guy, Liebgott, I think? Sorta lost it. Yanked her on up. It looks like they're going to get what information they can from her before cutting her loose again." Rolande glanced at Bill for a moment, trying to gauge his reaction. She couldn't quite tell the closeness of the crew to the highest extent, but she could see the coldness in his eyes, the pure anger and drive filling his system.

But Rolande also saw the other side - Odette's side. There was a level of desperation that had transpired for many different types of people the morning of June 6th, 1944. Knowing the Americans, Canadians and British were invading and that the Germans might be more ruthless than ever before because of it. Despite all the training and the experience and the time spent, there was still a part of all of them that clung to allies that might've just dropped in. Despite it all, there was still that human part that longed for connection and hope and another person to help them through this all. She wasn't surprised by Odette linking up with men from Easy Company, hoping to get through to safer passage. Just like Julienne and Rolande (begrudgingly) had done. There were always two sides to the story through it all, always two perspectives.

Some beats of silence seemed to pass - minutes, hours, she wasn't sure. But at some point, the rain had let up a bit and it was only spitting, though sitting soaked in your clothes wasn't all that fun. Rolande eventually fell asleep - and she knew she'd been asleep - because she started feeling a shaking on her shoulder, out of her usual preview of nighttime nightmares, and found Bill Guarnere stood beside her, shaking her shoulder over and over again.

"C'mon, we're moving." Bill was saying - at least it was something along the lines of that, she was certain, "Get up, we're leaving at first light." Rolande blinked blearily, squinting a bit as she glanced upwards at Bill - Julienne was nowhere to be seen. 

"Where is Julienne?" she asked quickly, still trying to keep herself awake. 

"She's talking with our intelligence officer," Bill said, looking at her, "I'm your babysitter now, c'mon, get up." Rolande narrowed her eyes.

"I do not need babysitter." stammered Rolande, staring at him coldly, "That is for a child." 

"How old are ya, kid?" Rolande, for the first time, felt her cheeks warm - whether embarrassed or what, she wasn't sure. 

"19." Rolande mustered out and she was sure she watched Bill's eyes soften the slightest bit. 

"What the hell you doing in the war?" Her warmed cheeks cooled and she went back to staring up at him. 


"I wish I knew the answer." Rolande said quietly, still holding his eyes in her own. Bill eyed her before reaching down, locking his hand under her armpit before pulling her up and out of the foxhole - though, she fought a bit as she got situated on her feet, shaking off his hand as she continued to look upwards at him, her height ever the weakest factor of her being it seemed. 

"You hungry?" he asked her, placing his hands on his hips, staring down at her underneath his helmet. She wanted to say no, she wanted to act as she always did and rebel all help and natural human givings that normally were offered her way. But there was something in Bill's gaze that was different than other people that had helped her in the past. He won't betray you, a tiny voice whispered in her head. And she willed herself to believe that. 

"I am." she instead said rather quietly, eyeing him for a moment. 

"C'mon," he said, nodding over his shoulder, "they got some bread and coffee. Can't promise it'll be good, but it'll fill you up a bit." Rolande stared at him - she wanted to say no. But she couldn't. 

"Okay." she said instead - again. She followed Bill towards where a field kitchen had been set up, the bitter scent of fresh-brewed coffee hitting her nose as they approached. 

"Hey Joe," Bill called to one of the cooks inside the tented kitchen, leaning over the wooden tabled barrier between the inside and outside, "can I get some coffee over here or what?" She stood there, watching as the cook - Joe - glanced over his shoulder, recognizing the voice, and then let out a laugh. He eyed her warily for a moment, before grabbing two silver ladle-like cups and then moved over to the counter.

"You already yelling and its only 6:30 in the morning, huh?" Joe said as he came over, "How much you want?" 

"One for me and one for the girl." Joe eyed her again, before seemingly going along as normal and serving up two cups of coffee. 

"Gotta name?" Joe asked her, leaning up against the wooden barrier and raising a brow, "Gotta have a name." Rolande stared at him, before eyeing Bill. 

"It's Rolande-"


"You do not pronounce anything right, do you?" Rolande interrupted, looking at him firmly, before glancing at Joe again, "It's Rolande." She said it just how her mother said it - light, full of love. Not the cold way it had been said over the years. 

"Beautiful name." Joe said with a nod at her, "What the hell does it mean?" 

"I am famous." Rolande offered, looking at him, "Or, famous throughout land." Her words seemed to leave both Joe and Bill in silence and it made her crack a smile at their complete, utter dumbfounded looks on their faces. 

"Have I finally seemed to silence you?" she asked, looking to Bill with a winning grin. Bill watched her for a moment, before cracking a slight grin and then looking to Joe.

"Rolande." Bill said, in a somewhat sarcastic manner, nodding his head to her as he looked at Joe, "Now ya know. C'mon." Rolande looked to Joe and nodded.


"Merci." she said with a smile this time, before turning and following after Bill. 

"Merci to you!" Joe called to them as they rounded on the field kitchen. 

"Don't start sweet-talking all the guys now, alright, Ro?" Bill said as they rounded on a cargo-load of jeeps and tanks, their drivers lounged beside them, scrubbing with grubby towels or smoking cigarettes, "They'll start thinking things." 

"Ro?" Rolande asked him, watching as he stopped to turn to her, that familiar annoyed look on his face. 

"Ro. Rolande. A nickname," Bill said, before shifting his weight, she liked the way he said her name, her full name, "ever had one?" Rolande stood there, the coffee gripped in her hands for a second before she considered his words.

"My sister called me bout de chou," Rolande said quietly, giggling a bit at the confused look on Bill's face, "um....I believe in America, you have green head of lettuce. That's stiff?" 

"You talking about cabbage?" Bill asked her, looking like he was trying to hold back the laugh dancing on his lips. 

"Oui! Yes!" Rolande said with a laugh, "It was only when we were little. So....little cabbage. My father used to call me cheri....beloved, I believe? In English?" Bill watched her. "Otherwise, no, no nickname for me." 

"Sounds like you had quite the few nicknames then." Bill said, then shrugged, "Ro's quick, flies off the tongue, ya know?" 

"Ro." Rolande said quietly, then glanced up at him, "And you? Just Bill?" Bill smirked at her.

"You don't get to call me what the guys do." he said, before looking away. Rolande let out a laugh.


"Why? Is it too funny? Am I not allowed to hear it-"


"It's because you're a lady-"


"That does not mean much in war-"


"Ro." Bill said looking at her and she stared back, pouting slightly, "C'mon, we gotta regroup the boys, get them situated. And you're stuck with me until Julienne gets back to ya, alright?" 

"Why? Did she say I was not allowed to be left alone?" Rolande asked him. Bill watched her.

"Listen, I don't know what the hell's been going on between you two, or what, but you're stuck with me. Drink some coffee, wake up a bit, we'll be moving soon." Bill said, then nodded over his shoulder. Rolande stood there for a moment and watched him begin walking forward. She took a sip of the coffee, reminding her of mornings with her family just a few years where they would sit, sipping espresso, enjoying mornings on the coast, the smell of low-tide.

Her mother had been Russian, escaping a life of cold and darkness that she had never wanted to return to; that's when she'd met her father, a French fisherman on the coast and they'd loved each other enough to get married and have a family. And they'd loved that family - until the war. Until her father stopped. She blinked, just before hurrying after Bill again.

The sun was only just rising, sending the sky colored like a painting, and the birds were singing sweetly from up above, the hum of cicadas deep into the shrubbery. The quiet chatter of the men waking up and bustling about was enough to send a sense of familiarity through her for some weird reason. Back when she had first joined the Maquis, being taken under the wings of men who became her brothers, people that cared for her, fought alongside her, they had showed her what it meant to be a part of a group at such a young age. 15 and fighting a war, losing family, losing her mother, losing her brother, deranged from her father.

4 years later and she's 19 and in a war that she's still fighting.

Rolande approached Bill again, watching him talking with a few of the men. As well as a girl. It wasn't Lieutenant Armstrong - Esther - or that other girl - Yvette was her name? Or even that quite angry English woman - Odette? No, no, this was someone different. She was shorter, a cigarette hanging from her lip, arms crossed, and big, brown eyes. If another life, Rolande thinks they would've been childhood friends. 

"This here's Rolande, we crossed paths on D-Day with Lieutenant Armstrong," Bill explained, pointing over his shoulder at Rolande with a small smile, "she'll be sticking around with us for a bit. Along with Julienne. They're Maquis-"


"You do not say it right," Rolande said, stopping at his side, glancing up at him, "It's Maquis-"


"That's what I said." Bill argued back, raising a brow.

"Not from what I heard." Rolande offered back as Bill sighed for a moment. 

"Anyway, you all be on your best behavior, got it?" Bill said, "Tell your boys that, too." 

"Armstrong put you up to this?" one of the men said with a chuckle, passing the cigarette to the man beside him. 

"Shut up, Johnny." Bill murmured, then glanced at Rolande, "Don't mind these two, they got mouths on 'em."


"You're one to talk." the girl muttered, sending chuckles towards the other two, before glancing at Rolande, smiling slightly, "Mercy. Mercy Codona. It's nice to meet you." Rolande watched her for a moment, before managing the slightest hint of a smile. She reached forward and shook the girl's hand firmly and then nodded. 

"Rolande Pelletier." Rolande said with a smile and a nod. Mercy grinned at her, then plucked the cigarette from her lip and offered it forward. 

"Merci." Rolande said, taking a drag of the cigarette, and then exhaling the smoke into the air in front of her. She couldn't remember the last time she'd had a cigarette, even if it was an American Lucky Strike one. It was enough to ease her mind for a moment. 

"C'mon," Mercy said, looping an arm through Rolande's and tugging her forward a bit, "give you a break from the men. We'll be around if you need us, Bill!" And before Bill could even respond, Rolande was surprisingly being pulled by Mercy under the dawn of the rising sun, feeling like a young girl in the streets of Marseille again. 

"Here we are," Mercy said as they approached a foxhole, "home sweet home. Well," Mercy sent her a glance, "home sweet hole in the ground." Rolande smirked, before glancing over a bit and finding a man clambering up from the edge of the foxhole, letting out a sigh and then glancing over at them.


"Hey Joe," Mercy said, "you getting some coffee?" Rolande glanced at Joe, with her coffee tin still in her hands, and tilted her head. She recognized him. From the other morning. 

"Yeah, was planning on it," Joe said, glancing at Rolande, "think you yapping in my ear at 0530 was enough of that." Rolande watched Mercy chuckled and crossed her arms.

"You're just saying that, but you know you love it." Mercy chortled back, "You meet Rolande yet?" Joe met her gaze as he tipped his helmet onto his head.

"Yep," Joe said slowly, "I have. Few days back when we dropped in." Rolande watched him for another moment before glancing at Mercy who stood, glancing back and forth between the two before seemingly, giving up, and focusing again on Joe. 


"Know when we're moving out?" Mercy asked him, raising a brow.

"Gonna go find Bill, get an idea of the time, get coffee," Joe said, then smirked, "then I'll report back." He gave a mock salute to her, then nodded to Rolande and moved away from the foxhole. Rolande watched him go quietly, before turning and glancing briefly at Mercy again.

"He gets grumpy in the morning." Mercy offered her way before settling herself down on the edge of the foxhole and waving her down, "C'mon." Rolande shuffled herself to sitting on one of the side of the foxhole, legs hanging over the edge into the ditch in the ground and then looked to Mercy again. 

"I talked to Lieutenant Armstrong," Mercy said with a slight smile Rolande's way, "and she wanted me to keep you company." 

"I like that better." Rolande offered back, and Mercy quirked out a grin.

"Why?" 

"Bill said I needed babysitter. That was him." Rolande offered, then shrugged, "I do not need babysitter." Mercy let out a chuckle and then placed her cigarette onto her lip again. 

"Sounds like Bill," she said with another chuckle, "hey, where'd you say you're from again?" 

"France." Rolande said with a nod, "South France, near Marseille." 

"You have an interesting accent." Mercy said again.

"So do you." Rolande offered back to her. Which made Mercy chuckle again.


"Gotta bit of a midwest accent going on, somewhat southern," Mercy said, then glanced at Rolande,  "I didn't get much schooling when I was a kid so...don't exactly talk all fancy like Armstrong does." Rolande shrugged.

"Me either." Rolande said back and she found Mercy smiling at her. 

"Well, what're you doing here then? Fighting the war?" Mercy asked her. 

"Yes," Rolande said with a nod, "that, and running from it. Always running." Mercy took another puff from the cigarette again, the sun's rays beginning to bathe the side of her face honey gold, just as she was narrowing her eyes. 

"What the hell does that mean?" 

"It destroyed me and my family," Rolande put simply, taking the cigarette as Mercy handed it to her, "politics, la guerre est la pire des choses." Rolande glanced to Mercy again.

"War is worst of things, it destroys everything." Mercy looked at her for a moment with a look of pity drawn across he features; one that was sullen and sad and somewhat innocent in comparison to the features she wore not even a few moments previous. 

"What about you?" Rolande asked with a grin, "What are you doing across the ocean in middle of France?" Mercy watched her as Rolande took a drag from the cigarette herself. 

"Same as you, but different." Mercy offered warily, "Except my family was already destroyed before I came. I'm just now trying to run further from my past, from everything." In a matter of moments, Rolande had gotten deeper with this member of Easy Company in comparison to the rest. It didn't take much. Rolande knew she could trust Mercy - whether it was the look in her eyes, the chortle she gave to Bill, and the look of sincerity in her gaze - Rolande knew. 

"I am sorry, Mercy." Rolande said quietly, offering the cigarette back to Mercy with a sodden gaze. They watched each other for a moment, the smoke of the cigarette lingering up between them before a voice called out behind her.

"Hey there, Indiana!" Rolande glanced over her shoulder to see a man, All-American looking, wide smile on his face, waving a hand with a German handkerchief wrapped around his neck. She briefly glanced back at Mercy who was sitting there, a smile slowly growing on her face. 

"Hey Tab." Mercy called, "Whatcha doing over here?" 

"Doing rounds, making sure everyone's up and at-um." 'Tab' stated with a smile before glancing over at Rolande for a moment. She stared up at him, her lips pulled into a thin line as she sat there, trying to get a read on him. Clearly, there was a dynamic in play between him and Mercy, just because of the easy-going nature he had approached with - oh, and the nickname? Indiana? She knew that had to be something American-related. You couldn't even begin to ask her what it was though. 

"You meet Rolande?" Mercy asked him as he came to crouch between them beside the foxhole.

"No," Tab said, before sticking a hand forward, "nice to meet ya. I'm Floyd. Floyd Talbert. People call me Tab." Rolande stared at him, watching as his smile grew. And she shook his hand before retracting it back into her lap. 

"Rolande Pelletier." she said quickly with a nod, before taking a sip of her coffee again. 

"Rolande and her other Maquis friend - Julienne? You meet her? They're hanging with us for a bit. Intelligence matters I believe." Mercy said with a smile, before looking to Rolande.

"That is right." Rolande said with a nod before looking at Tab. It grew quiet, both girls looking at Tab with questioning looks as he seemed to glance back and forth, before letting out a low sigh and offering a smile. 

"Sleep well I'd assume?" Tab asked, looking back and forth, "The both of you."


"What do you want, Tab?" Mercy asked with a chuckle - she seemed to read him well because from Rolande's impression, he was a hard read right away. She couldn't figure out what he wanted other than to sit here and ask questions. 

"You got some cigarettes?" Tab asked her with a pleading look on his face. Rolande watched as Mercy gave Tab nothing more than a chuckle and then sarcastically patted the side of his face. 

"Of course, Tab, anything for you." Mercy said sarcastically with a snicker and then handed him the box. Tab smirked, taking the box, and opened it to reveal nothing but emptiness and the crumbled card paper. Tab lopsidedly looked at Mercy with a fond look.

"Alright, very funny," Tab said, pocketing the empty box, "seriously, you got any? I had Smokey a foxhole over snoring all night. I need something. More than just a pretty face." Mercy rolled her eyes.

"Huh, that's a first," Mercy said, lulling her head to the side, "you tell that to all the girls who glance your way?" 

"Oh shut up, half-pint." muttered Tab with a growing grin he couldn't seem to hide, "Seriously, anything?" 

"Yeah, yeah, hold on," Mercy said, digging into a pocket and producing a few roles of cigarettes, "have at it." 

"You're a godsend, thanks, Indiana," Tab said, patting her shoulder and then standing to his feet and placing the cigarette on his lip, lighting it up quickly, "I'll make it up to you, I promise. I'll see ya around." Then he was wandering off. Rolande slowly glanced back at Mercy who was folding down her pocket and then looking to Rolande again, where the cigarette was still hanging from her lips. 

"You'll get used to him," Mercy said as if the exchange had just been nothing out of the norm, "just don't take the flirting for anything more than what it is." Mercy said with a chuckle as Rolande raised a brow. 

"Oh just wait. Fucking character." Mercy said, letting out a bark of a laugh, before retying her shoelace.

When the sun was finally beginning to peak through the leaves on the overhanging trees, the men had been mustered and were beginning to start their move more inland. She stuck close to Mercy, her companionship and kindness enough for Rolande to tether herself to her, and surprisingly, found herself taking glances back over her shoulder every so often to keep her eyes out for Bill.

It wasn't really the fact that she had taken a liking to him or really even cared entirely about his well-being. Taking her to get coffee that morning, knowing she had not had sufficient food or drink to eat in days let her know enough about that man in 5 minutes more than a few days had been able to offer. He looked different with the helmet on his head, the mud-crusted strap swinging side to side as he called over his shoulder or talked animatedly to the men around him and beside him.

Rolande was surprised with herself - she thought she'd have been more inclined to go running to look for Julienne, but in this moment, she didn't really care where her counterpart was. Sure, she knew Julienne was an agent - whatever important duties or formalities Julienne then had to follow, Rolande had absolutely nothing to do with it. So she felt it was only right that she didn't give a care in the world about where she was or what she was doing. She had nearly successfully assassinated one of the top leaders of the Nazis (yes, Rolande had learned that much about her and Julienne did not know); Julienne was fine. Of course, what happened after and with her counterparts on that mission, Rolande did not know their fates, but if anything, Julienne was still fighting and still alive. She had to be fine. Right? A fine as fine could be? 

"So, where the hell you learn to shoot a gun?" Bill had asked her as they came to a crossing in the road, a few open fields splitting from various directions as tanks continued to roll through, their metallic creak and crank of engines, gears, and tracks shuttering in her ears. Rolande turned on him and looked upwards, a brow raised. 

"The Maquis." Rolande said firmly, "Where else would I have?" Bill let out a chuckle, popping the cigarette between his fingers onto his lip and then removed it, the smoke blowing across his face and dissipating into the air. He shrugged, a genuine look of honesty crossing his features.

"Pftt, I don't know, seems like your father would've wanted to make sure his daughter could shoot a weapon if she were running around with one?" Bill asked her. Rolande stared at him, her heart beginning to race as she stood there, continuing to look up at him. Her father didn't have clue - he either thought she was dead or trapped in a prison cycle. Either way, Rolande was very much alive and well and fighting against the very thing he father swore would bring the world to a greater hierarchy. She stared up at him still. 

"Not as much as he wanted to run away with one." Rolande said quietly, before turning away before she could see his face, "What about you?" She turned to look back at Bill, watching as whatever look had been on his face beforehand shifted to one of surprise.

"The army." Bill said, "And even more-so when I joined the Airborne. Why?" Rolande watched him.

"What about knife-throwing?" Bill smirked.

"What the hell you gotta do that for when you got a bullet and a trigger?" Bill asked her, looking down at her from under his helmet. Rolande reached into her pocket, unsheathing the knife she kept on her ever since leaving the confines of Marseille with a group of Maquis, and held it out in front of her.

"Well," Rolande said, eyeing him, "would you suspect I had this on me?" Bill looked between her and the edge of the shiny knife and then glanced back at her. 

"Well," he started, "now I know." Rolande frowned at him. 

"You do not understand." Rolande said, turning to flip the knife against her inner wrist, before sliding it into her sleeve, "I can throw far." 

"I think I understand it pretty well," Bill said, "all's I'm saying is that when you find yourself in a trench or in a bombed out room in the middle of France, a gun's whatcha want to do your fightin' for you." 

"At least a knife you can twist." offered Rolande. Bill smirked at her again. 

"Hey," the two turned to find Mercy standing there, wide smile on her dirtied and mud-dusted face, another cigarette lingering on her lip, "we're on the move again." Mercy glanced at Bill.

"She show you the knife trick?" Bill raised a brow as Rolande glanced at Bill with a smirk, before turning and following after Mercy again. She could play the game Bill was trying to play - despite really knowing what that game was - she understood it enough to play it back. 

Chapter Text

Chapter Text

Chapter Text

It was the first night in Normandy that she didn't sleep.

Not including the jump into Normandy at 0500. Of course, that was warranted. That was different. But this was also different. Her body fought to get itself to sleep, but she just couldn't get her eyes to shut, she couldn't get her body to settle down. All she could think about was that short exchange with Esther - about Tab. And she hated to say, she hated to even think it - but for that night, all she could think about was Tab. She felt slightly suffocated, like her throat had closed in a bit. 

"Hey half-pint, you there?" she heard a voice say quietly from her left. She glanced over to Joe Toye beside her, looking down at her from underneath the edge of his helmet, eyes trained on her own - looking halfway between worried and pissed off - a normal look for Joe Toye and just about anyone else in this company. 

"Yeah," she answered quickly, trying to knock the worried look on her face off, ignoring the way the worry in his voice made her voice almost break and the tears build up, "all good." She had to look away in front of herself to get her mind readjusted and her emotions in check. If he asked if she was okay again, she'd start crying, she knew that much. 

"Don't dodge the question, half-pint, what's eating you?" Joe said knocking her shoulder, "I know yesterday was....a lot-" That was probably the best way to put it, Mercy had thought, "but you can talk to me, you know that? I ain't Lieutenant Armstrong that's for sure, but I got ears that can listen-" Tab's face flashed in her mind again as she sat there, listening to the hum of the cicadas in the morning, feeling the pounding of her heart inside her chest. How had it even happened? How much had it hurt? Had someone been there right away or was he screaming for seconds? Minutes? Did he think he was going to die? Did he know this was going to happen? What was going through his mind? She'd been heckling the screaming, and then to find it had been Tab? Mercy sucked in a shaky breath and glanced at Joe, who was still watching her closely, looking a mixture between pissed and worried - again. 

"Look, Joe, I'm fine," she said quickly, going to messing with her camera - cleaning the front lens, wiping some dry, crusted mud away from the edges, "just thinking about yesterday-"


"I-"

"And no I don't want to talk about it." Joe narrowed his eyes.

"You had Doc Roe picking out itty bitty pieces of stone from your leg and you're saying you don't want to talk about it?" 

"Yeah," Mercy said quickly, scoffing a bit, "it was a little bit of an explosion, I'm fine, seriously." Though her ears were still quietly ringing a bit, but she refused to say a word and make him or Bill worry more. 

"A little bit of an explosion," laughed out Joe, "you seriously got a different look on life or something, because you launched five feet, half-pint." 

"Five feet ain't that big 'a deal." Mercy said quietly, but Joe laughed.

"You're practically only five feet tall, how the hell you think you got the nickname?" Joe said bumping her shoulder, as she let out a small laugh, before falling quiet again. They both sat silent side by side, staring up at the sky, changing from the night to the dawn. It was somewhat peaceful, despite what was just over the hedge. 

"Ever figure out what all that yelling was last night?" Joe asked her, lighting up a cigarette beside her, and blowing the smoke into a cloud before her. Mercy's breath caught in her throat, rather surprisingly, and she cleared it up with a cough.

"Uh, yeah - Tab." Mercy said quietly, not daring to look Joe's way, "One of the younger guys. Stabbed him." Mercy's throat tightened.

"Thought he was a German." Joe let out a low sigh, a small 'fuck' following.

"Young guys still pretty green, huh." he said, blowing out more smoke from his lips, "How the hell they think he was a fucking German?" Joe glanced her way, but all she could do was still stare forward, willing her body to come back to its senses. 

"Hey, you okay?" Joe asked her again, bumping her shoulder quietly. She looked at Joe, blinking a bit to rid her eyes of tears and offered a quick smile.

"He had a stupid German poncho." Mercy managed out quickly, before grimacing, "Fucking idiot." Joe chuckled beside her and shook his head.

"He alright?"


"Yeah," Mercy answered quickly, "he'll be...fine." Joe smiled, chuckling lightly and then leaned back, placing the cigarette on his lip again as Mercy sat there, heart racing. She couldn't understand this feeling, why she felt like this - maybe it was because Tab finally knew about her, her past, why she was like this and now he was just gone? Like everyone else in her life who saw the vulnerable sides of her and then disappeared. Because no matter what, nothing good ever seemed to stay - except if your name was Esther Armstrong. Esther always stayed.

But this was different.

Tab was....Tab. And she'd poured her heart out to him. And he was wounded, most likely sent to England - and that's when she spiraled a bit. Would she ever see him again? Would it be so bad that he was sent back to the States? Were his organs smooshed all about now- a whistle above broke her out of the trance she was in. She briefly registered Joe's arms wrapping around her and pushing her down into the base of the foxhole, the smell of mud creeping up the side of her face, the cool blanket of dirt and rain water encasing her body.

The world continued to shake around them - mortars. Falling from the sky, exploding around them, sending debris from the soil and the trees right into their foxhole as Joe lay over her, encasing her body against the ground. Her eyes were squeezed shut as she found herself silently begging for it to end, just as quickly as it had started. She couldn't take it - the sound of the explosions, the mortars, the gunfire - how loud it was inside her ears. She curled into a ball, clutching onto the front of Joe's ODs, willing her camera wasn't broken and that Joe was still alive there on top of her.

For a moment, it seemed to stop - she could hear Joe's heavy breathing in her ear and the distant sound of yelling somewhere over the edge of the foxhole. Okay - Joe's alive and her camera lens barely seemed to have a scratch. Good. But then an explosion sounded right next to the foxhole, and the pelting of gunfire appeared just over top of them.

At the moment, what little film she had was filled with stagnant photos - snapshots of time that had led her through her first day in Normandy - that first jump, that first photo in the sky, the shaky camera, her frozen hands, to a few shots of Carentan. The sporadic gunfire, the harrowing moment that explosion went off and Joe Toye had seemingly watched in horror as she lay there, clicking the camera off with a flash to get the shot, before nearly passing out from exhaustion and the fear. To now, explosions raining down in a hedgerow at 0530, and a camera in her hands - again.

The camera was her only separation from her and this war.

It was the only way to build some distance and keep herself grounded there but also distant. Yet, it was one of her only comforts now. Sure, the camera couldn't talk, it couldn't say what it was feeling, but it was there and it had always been there. And there was always the weapon on her back, and the spare grenade at her hip, but the camera....the camera was there.

Her ears were ringing as she was hauled up by Joe - he was yelling something or other about moving - Go, go, go! - he was screaming into her ear. The weight of his body disappeared as she scrambled up and out of the foxhole, slipping a bit on the mud, reaching up a hand to adjust the helmet on her head as launched herself into a bit of dried out shrubbery, in hopes to protect herself.

Somewhere to her left, a machine gun open fired. She uncurled from the ball she had warped herself into and looked over at the site of Smokey and Alton More unleashing their bullets across the open field to the opposite hedgerow. It was quite the view - lying there, watching their teamwork, side by side, knowing the flying bullets were no-doubt hitting their targets. It didn't take long for her to adjust, setting her elbow steady on the ground, clicking her camera in place - capturing the moment. In the background, there was the scattered disarray of paratroopers racing about, a few dead bodies crumpled upon the ground, and a spare leftover helmet or two left behind. Shifting her head, she watched as a few of their men fell back away from the previous position they'd taken up, falling into the hedgerow again, fear of the German line pressing forward evident. 

"Keep low! Go, go, go!" she briefly heard Lieutenant Winters' yelling from somewhere behind the machine gun fire, briefly looking up and catching his gaze on her. For a split second she had no reaction - she was sure it looked more like that of a ghostly figure there - and he simply nodded, stealing away again, yelling and pointing, his narrowed eyes continuing to move on down the line. The gunfire was an odd spectacle in front of them - little dots shooting across an open field into a similarly opposing hedgerow, looking similar to that of a childhood dogfight between nothing but sticks for swords - except this time, you'd die. A mortar explosion went off right next to her, sending her body catapulting to her right, rolling along the ground as she tried to readjust herself. 

"Hey!" a voice was yelling from above her, her eyes sporting black dots at the edges, "Hey, you there?!" Mercy blinked a few times, readjusting to get a better look and found Rolande there, a stolen German MP-40 in her hands, her face covered in similar face paint to that of the paratroopers and her eyes wild. She looked perfectly fit into the world around her, perfectly adept, molded into the world of D-Day plus Seven in Normandy - like it had grown to become a part of her and vice versa. 

"Yeah!" Mercy yelled back. 

"How many fingers do I have?" Rolande yelled, pulling her hand from the trigger and holding them in front of her - Mercy could barely see from the black spots covering her vision and the associated double-vision that followed.

"Five, I don't fucking know!" Mercy screamed back as another mortar round echoed around them. Rolande's head shifted and in an instance, Mercy seemed to register the look of pure fear on the Maquis member's face. Shifting her head the slightest bit, she looked through the shaky world in front of her and watched as German tanks - Panzers - began crawling through the opposing hedgerow and shrubbery, pulsating through the line, their illustrious armor suddenly staring them all right in the face. A rustle of noise, a distant rather grunt of a curse echoed in her ear as Bill Guarnere came tumbling right into her side, his face slick with sweat, his frantic yet rather calm exterior meeting hers by her side. 

"How much fucking film you got left?" he called over a bit of sporadic gunfire from himself, popping up to his knees before scrambling back down to his stomach again and looking over at her. Her ears felt clogged, muffled in a way, where she couldn't exactly hear what he was trying to say to her. 

"Film?" she called back over the noise. The world gave a groaning shake again as she covered her head for a brief moment, the shells from the Germans going off around them again. She shifted her gaze to Bill. He was still watching her.


"Not as much as I want!" she called back. He reached beside him and grasped her shoulder. 

"Then forget the camera and start shooting your weapon." he said, before giving her shoulder a tight, rather comforting squeeze and popping up again to shoot his Thompson. Of course - Bill was a rank above her - he was an NCO for Chrissake.

In that moment, she didn't know whether to take him seriously or not because well....friendship was a funny thing, especially when the guy was replicated enough into a form of an older brother and was always hooting and hollering about something, cracking jokes, making her laugh and then doubling down on some crazy joke he was trying to make. But in this moment, she knew it was in fact serious. He was an NCO telling her to shoot a weapon she had trained endlessly on.

Mercy disregarded the camera in a hurried fashion, enduring the spits of dirt clouding her features, debris in her eyes and nose, causing her to cough and hack, the bits of smoke and burning metal floating in the air in front of her. Her mind briefly thought back to that morning - the morning of D-Day - when her and Tab had run into Odette. How she had wasted no time in shooting those Germans who were already marked for death by Odette's knives. How quickly she had pulled up her weapon and in no time, let the bullets sink into their skin. How angry Odette had been with her.

A jolt of rage spiked through Mercy as she settled on the ground and began firing off rounds on her M1. Each time she pulled the trigger, she could felt the pent up anger building - for this war, for the Germans, for whatever had been going on with Odette Ringer. For everything she had endured day in and day out in the matter of a week since making the jump here into the war.

There were brief moments in the firefight that she saw Panzers shifting about, breaking through hedgerows and either being blown up or shifting back. Tiny dots of people with bazookas laying low in the short grass, firing off rounds before retreating, others shooting mortars from high up in the tall, wheat-like grasses in the overlooking hills. It was a spectacle, it was a total desolation - trees exploding, the ground being curled up like spoiled milk, the screams for a medic, for life and for death, the cries that wrung out about in her head. It was like some sort of mechanical functioning that kept her pushing through - adrenaline, she thought. Because otherwise she would've passed out or collapsed. Either way, whatever mode she was in wasn't normal as she continued to reload and fire off shot after shot.

Rolande was at her side again, in a crouched position, body coiled in on itself as she shot. She was clean and practiced, routined in a way Mercy and the others weren't. She hardly looked frazzled and she took orders like a saint. Mercy's mind fumbled a bit as she thought, reloading her weapon again. Rolande was picturesque here - why was she so filled with anger, with hatred, with a spite that seemed to outlast her will to live? A knock on the shoulder took Mercy from her spiral.

"Are those yours?" Rolande was yelling in her ear. Mercy shoot up to her knees, the adrenaline propelling her form forward. Pushing her helmet from her eyes, she watched the front of a Panzer get charred off into smoldering bits, just as another shot was fired to silence the metal enemy. Looking over, Rolande was right. It was theirs. It was Shermans. An uncontrolled grin found its way to Mercy's face as she glanced at Rolande, looking caught off-guard and slightly confused. 

"Yours?" Rolande asked again. 

"Hell yeah they're ours, Ro!" Mercy called, her throat hoarse, her eyes brimming with wetness from the smoke and the emotion and the way her heart was pounding. It was like a sweep of momentum took over the entirety of 2nd Battalion in the hedgerows - increased gunfire, some cheers, laughing. It was cynical yet so sweet. Mercy let out a cackling laugh, before looking to Rolande again, a deep frown on the girl's face. 

"I will never understand you Americans." Rolande said with a low chuckle. Mercy smirked. The Shermans began pushing forward through the hedgerows and cheers, blowing the lives out of the other opposite hedgerow, the start of a German retreat starting. It was more beautiful just seeing the Shermans moving further and further into German lines. It was something Mercy wouldn't forget.

In the moments between gunfire and awe, she shoved down her M1 over her shoulder and pulled up the camera. Taking a shaky breath in, she pulled up the camera, put her eye to the piece for viewing and hovered a finger over the button. In a second, she snapped three shots, maneuvering in between each. They were three precious shots as cheers of celebration went off around her, a clear win in this battle, distant echoes of gunfire somewhere behind them as the world seemed to go quiet. The Germans had retreated. 

"Half-pint, that you?" Mercy looked over to see Bill picking his way through the shrubbery and tree debris towards her, his eyes pinpointing her there on the ground. 

"Yeah, it's me." she said, shifting a bit and grimacing at her achy body. Bill came to a stop beside her, resting a hand on her shoulder and let out a chuckle.

"You alright there, everything still in one piece?" 

"So far." Mercy murmured out, pushing herself off her stomach a bit and sighing again.

"Hey Ro, you all in one piece?" she heard Bill ask and the lack of a response from Rolande was enough of an indication she seemed to be alright.

Every bit of her being was tired and weary, exhausted and worn down and - she glanced at her watch like it would help settle her wonder and lightheadedness - it was only 0704. A bit of a chilling numbness washed over her body at the thought, at the realization that had come forward to wash over her very being. That was just one battle out of many.

The company was moved back behind the line about an hour after the world had seemed to settle - for food and an equal bit of restoration. They had tents set up with metal crate-like boxes of water, along with the medical station just beside it, a few people hanging outside holding bloody rags to eyes, cheeks or heads. There was a general chatter everywhere as groups of people pulled open K-rations or shared bits of food they'd managed to scrounge up.

Esther was beside her - writing up a storm it seemed. Her pencil was racing across the water-damaged notebook pages, the pen held between her lips, eyeglasses perched on her nose. Mercy took a sip of her water and munched on her K-ration again - she was used to the way that military-grade food tasted. And it seemed that after the battle had been won, she'd never been more hungry in her life. It was some of the best K-ration she'd tasted. 

"Whatcha writing, Armstrong?" Mercy asked her, chasing down the dry cracker with more water and offering Esther a soft look. 

"A report - for Strayer." Esther offered, sending Mercy a smile, before pulling a piece of paper out from underneath the report, "As well as an article for the Stars and Stripes. A mix of both." Mercy managed a smile and watched as Esther dotted her i's and crossed her t's before flipping to a clean sheet of paper.

"And.....trying to write to Ma and Dad....and Marty. If I can finish it this morning. Marty says hi by the way." Mercy smiled, before footsteps approached.

"Lieutenant." Esther and Mercy both looked up to find Martin and Bill settling across from them on the ground, along with Joe Toye, "Half-pint." Mercy chuckled.

"You say half-pint like it's a rank to hold." Mercy said with a laugh, looking to Johnny with a raised brow.

"'Cause it is, kid." Johnny said, pulling open his K-ration as Bill cackled, "Who the hell else is supposed to be half-pint around here, huh?"


"Except for Perconte." Bill said, knocking Johnny's shoulder.

"Except! For Perconte!" Johnny yelled over his shoulder to where Perconte was laying out next to Malarkey, Skip and Penkala. 

"Shove off, Martin!" The group chuckled as Esther removed her glasses and let out a sigh.

"Whatcha working on, Lieutenant?" Joe asked a bit tiredly, but still curious, the group's eyes pulling to Esther there on her small bit of rock.

"Documenting, reporting," Esther said, before offering a smile, "you know me." But God, she looked exhausted. And then, it seemed to flash in Mercy's mind. When Esther had come to tell her about Tab. They were good friends, great friends even - Tab and Esther. Mercy had been so lost in her own thoughts she hadn't even considered for a second how Esther had been feeling, what emotions she'd been wrangling at having to see Tab the way she clearly had. And then enduring the rain and the foxhole and the orders and writing assignments. But Mercy knew Esther - she had for over two years by this point, having seen her in various settings. She didn't let people see that side of her - the tired side. It was a rarity. 

"You want some of this, Lieutenant?" Bill asked, opening his K-ration and pulling open the canister for the meatloaf, "We'll split it."


"No, no, you keep it, Bill." Esther said, pushing herself to her feet and wiping at her ODs - which were sodden with drying rainwater, mud and some blood, "I have to head to HQ anyway. You eat your fill." Then she smiled at the group. "I'll see you all around."

"Lieutenant Armstrong?" a new voice called, breaking through the stream of voices in their small circle already. The group looked to find a runner, a bag of mail in his canvas bag at his side, a letter outstretched in front of him, held out towards Esther. 

"Mail call, ma'am." he said, nodding to her. Mercy's eyes darted from the envelope to Esther's face. She watched as Esther's face seemed to fall a bit, the color in her cheeks receding from a flushed pink to a dull pale. 

"Thanks." Esther said, before seeming to clear herself up, looking to the group with a forced smile, nodding, and heading on her merry way. Mercy watched as Esther disappeared, the chorus of 'Bye, Lieutenant' following from the mouths of the men as she went, disappearing into the hazy sunlight shining down. 

"Is she alright?" Johnny asked, looking at Mercy with a raised brow, entirely unconvinced it seemed. 

"She's fine." Mercy managed out, taking another bite of the cracker from her K-ration, "She was up late dealing with stuff-"


"She was one of the one's that saw Tab come in, right?" Bill asked, his voice more stoic than Mercy had ever heard it. She felt herself go quiet before nodding, seeing Joe's gaze form her peripheral.

"Mail call - Guarnere?" the runner said, Bill raising his hand. 

"Toye?" 

"Martin?" Mercy watched as the men got mail, the first they'd gotten since making the jump into Normandy, before they seemed to await hearing 'Codona'. But of course, as usual, nothing would come and she'd sit there. The runner walked away after and she couldn't help but catch the slightly saddened faces of the men. Joe watched her though - Joe knew nearly as much as Tab and Esther did. 

"No mail, huh, half-pint?" Bill asked her quietly. 

"Guess not." Mercy said, her voice straining to get the words out as she spoke. She could never imagine in a million years her father sitting down at a desk to write her a letter. The thought made her insides sick with guilt and anger and dread. She put down the K-ration and ran a hand over her face - she couldn't keep thinking about it, she'd get herself sick over it.

"Tab'll be fine though," Mercy supplied quickly, diverting back to their previous conversation, hoping the emotion teetering at the edge of her voice wasn't entirely detectable, "nothing too harmful." But being stabbed by an ally who suspected you were something else was in fact that - harmful. A shadow appeared on her right and the group looked up to find Gene there - he looked equally as weary, his helmet just slanted above his sunken in eyes, his lips chapped, his brow furrowed. 

"Anyone need medical?" he asked, his voice like a hard line on a paper. 

"You alright, Doc?" Bill asked, "You want some water?" 


"I'm alright, Guarnere, thank you," Gene said, before glancing at Mercy, "you alright, Codona?" She nodded firmly - she knew Gene had been keeping tabs on her ever since the spiral the day before D-Day. He did his foxhole rounds nearly every night and usually stopped by first thing to make sure she was okay. Honestly, it warmed her heart a bit to know Gene kept that in his mind like he did. Especially as a medic. 

"All good, thanks Doc." she said, offering a smile his way. Gene began to walk away as the general chatter started again in the group, but she couldn't help but pop up to her feet and hurry after him a bit. No letter like the other men meant the only thing on her mind was what she could stomach - and that was Tab. 

"Gene?" Mercy asked quietly, catching up to him. He turned to look over his shoulder briefly, his tired eyes finding hers as she paused there. 

"Any update on Tab?" Mercy asked softly, "Uh...Sergeant Talbert?" Gene offered her a small look, the pity on his face growing.

"He was sent back to England this morning," Gene said, his voice a gentle thrum on her ears, "gonna need a whole lotta stitching. But....he'll be fine. Just needs to get some rest, heal up. He'll be back in no time." Mercy watched him and found herself only able to simply stare forward. 

"Codona?" Gene asked, placing a hand on her shoulder, "You alright?" Mercy blinked a few times, righting herself and then nodded.


"Yeah, fine, sorry Doc." Mercy said, before offering him a small smile and then heading back to the trio of Johnny, Bill and Joe, who had all opened up their letters and were reading them with evident mixes of joy, homesickness and love.

As she settled herself down onto her spot again next to her camera, she could read the looks on all their faces. Johnny's was no doubt from his wife - Pat - she could see the slight smile on his face as his eyes hurried over the words, drinking each and every sentence in like it was life. Bill's expression was similar, though, there was a hint of emotion behind it that she couldn't decipher. She knew about some of his recent outbursts, the anger behind them, but she usually lent it towards the war and nothing else. Joe was reading his with a rather sad expression on his face - she knew he loved his mother a whole lot, along with his dad and siblings. She wondered what that was like, what that feeling let you feel like when you read words from people you loved. Her heart quenched.

Mercy had never received letters addressed to her before - never when she was at home and a little girl, never when she was in training or when she was with W-Sector, or even since Toccoa and Aldbourne. Every week people would get letters. And she'd sit and watch and try to push down the feelings in her throat and in her mind.

No one ever talked about what it was like going through this without family back home.

Everyone always talked about what it was like to have a family back home and how much it hurt to miss them and be away from them. But she had no one. She truly had no one back home that she loved. Everything she had ever owned in her name and loved was here with her - across the Atlantic. Sometimes, she thought it was better that way. She knew the pain it cost others when they talked about home or siblings that were in the Pacific or in Italy or in North Africa. When they talked about parents back home state-side.

Mercy never experienced that.

She didn't know what that felt like, what the level of love withheld.

But at the end of the day, it was just as bad, Mercy felt.

To be here and not be loved by anyone else back home. To not have a family. 

"Half-pint?" Mercy blinked, looking up from her cocoon and found Bill beside her, his hand on her shoulder, both Johnny and Joe staring at her, eyes filled with concern and worry. She didn't realize that tears had welled in her eyes and that her palms had grown clammy or that her stomach was in knots and her throat was parched into bits. She couldn't even begin to gather the words to let them understand what this felt like. And she didn't want them to have to understand this type of pain. It was too hollow and defeating. 

"Hey Bill," the group looked up - Mercy saying a silent prayer of 'thank you' for the interruption - to find Bull there, eyes narrowed, face tired, "you might wanna get a'hold of that girl of yours." Mercy peered at Bill and watched as his face morphed, his brow raised in confusion and equal annoyance and his jaw slack.

"What the fuck you talking about, Bull?" Bill said, the presence of his hand disappearing as he went to stand.

"The French one?" Bull supplied, "She just snapped at Lieb, riled him up-" Mercy watched as Bill's face shifted the slightest bit and he stepped around Mercy.

"Well he oughta have said something to make her snap-"


"Listen, I don't know what's going on, but she don't trust none of us except you it seems." Bull said, "And if we gotta deal with her and Carrot," Mercy pulled a face (Julienne was the other one's name, right?), "then you gotta step in there and break it up. I ain't touching that with a 10-foot-pole."


"Where the hell's Julienne then, huh?" Bill said, his temper beginning to boil. Bill was like this, he always had been and always would be. When he was given a responsibility, no matter how dull, stupid or ridiculous it seemed, he took it head-on and did what he had to do to uphold it.

Keeping an eye out for Rolande Pelletier was one of those things it seemed. 

"Damned if I knew, she disappears here and there all the time." Bull offered back, "Ain't that right, Johnny? Slipped out from under your nose just the other day."


"It's true," Johnny said, shrugging his shoulders, "was there the one second, gone the next."

"I don't know what Intelligence needs so bad with those two, but they oughta get it sorted real quick," Joe murmured quietly. Mercy glanced at Bill again.


"Where are they?" Bill asked tiredly.

"Surprised you didn't hear the screaming, then huh?" Bull said, "C'mon." Mercy popped up, eager to follow and get her sights on what was going on. She liked Rolande a whole lot. Mercy saw herself in Rolande, even if the girl was a year or two younger than Mercy was now. And Lieb - he usually didn't say something unless it was warranted or needed to actually be said.

She heard Rolande's voice first as they moved towards a small divot in the road, two roads splitting out towards rogue tree lines as a small group of some of the guys laid about, sharing cigarettes and K-rations. And there was Rolande, her finger pointed at Liebgott, whose arms were crossed, with a downturned frown. She'd seen that look before on Liebgott and it was sure a sight to behold. 

"Ey, ey! What's going on here!" Bill called, stepping through some people on the ground towards Rolande and Liebgott, placing a hand on Rolande's shoulder and pulling her back a bit before rounding on Liebgott, "What the fuck are you yelling about?" Liebgott let out a chuckle that was on the border of sarcastic and bitter.

"Taking her side, huh there, Bill?" Liebgott said, shifting his weight from one leg to the other, "You don't even know what the fuck this is about!" 

"Then tell me for Chrissake." Bill stammered out, raising a brow, "'Cause I ain't getting any younger."


"It's always 'You Americans' this, 'You Americans' that with her! I can't listen to it anymore!" Liebgott hollered before pointing at her, "You're just lucky we came to save all your asses-"


"Alright, cut it out!" Bill said, placing a hand up in between him and Liebgott, narrowing his eyes, "We're all pissed about all this, alright, Lieb? She's just a kid." 

"We're all just kids at the end of the day, aren't we?" Liebgott muttered back, though it really was a mutter, more of a growl of words out, a split of anger beneath his words. He was right. Liebgott - ever as intentional with his words as he was - was right. It grew quiet there for a moment, the buzz of the tree leaves and the breeze starting to become unbearable to listen to as Mercy stood there, her mind spinning. 

"Look," Bill said quietly, holding Liebgott's gaze firmly, nearly unwavering as they stared at each other, "I got a responsibility, a'right?" Mercy's eyes dipped towards Rolande, stood there, completely silent, her eyes drilling holes into the back of Bill's head. There was something on her face that made Mercy's stomach twist so unpleasantly, that she was nearly sick with the familiarity of it. Someone standing up for her. Just as Mercy had felt with Tab. 

"She's not apart of this company and neither is the other chick, so why are you so hellbent on protecting them." murmured Liebgott, "You're an NCO, you got your own squad to worry about." Bill's face turned sour. 

"I got a company to help lead and my squad to manage, but we're also a goddamn airborne division that's fighting a war on soil that ain't ours. With people that ain't our people. But they're people on our side-a the war. And we gotta help them. Work together. All that bullshit." Bill said, crossing his arms, "How'd you feel if you were dropped in with some Maquis members-" Mercy watched Rolande pull a face at the pronunciation of the word 'Maquis' and smirked-"and left to your own, with no help, no guidance, no one stepping up for you? Huh? How'd you feel, Lieb?" Liebgott stared at Bill, for once not fighting back, not saying a word and Mercy was almost beyond surprised at his sudden hesitancy and lack of response. 

"You're a better man than me, Bill." Liebgott said, before stooping down, pulling up his M1 to his shoulder and his satchel, before turning on his heel and stalking out, brushing past Mercy quickly, a scowl on his face, unsettled and disrupted. He looked beyond pissed off and annoyed, clearly a mixture of distaste, anger and contempt strewn upon his features.

Mercy watched as Liebgott moved away, racing around the edge of one of the jeeps, before her eyes were drawn back to the circle that had formed around the Rolande and Liebgott mouth-off, where Bill and Rolande now stood. Mercy knew the current look on Bill's face was one he used with her constantly - that somewhat disappointed, but not entirely displeased look, his arms crossed, his eyes tired. And Rolande was standing there, her own arms crossed, looking up at Bill, with guarded features. Mercy did what Liebgott would've done - and turned to race after him. She found Liebgott on the ground a couple hundred feet away, plopped under a tree, his back to the rough bark of an oak, his head leaned back, his hair having had his hands run through too many times, his eyes shut, his face distraught. 

"Lieb." Mercy said as she approached, her voice a hair above a whisper. He cracked an eye open and looked at her before shutting it again and letting out a sigh.

"Bill send you my way? Like a fucking passenger pigeon?" Liebgott managed out. Mercy almost snorted at the comment. If anything, sometimes she felt like she was carved from the same seed as Liebgott was, two sides of the same coin, with far too many similarities than there were to count for. Which is why she understood him in this moment, in this very environment and air. 

"Nah," Mercy said, settling beside him, enjoying the brief moment of shade the oak leaves provided, staring out towards the morning sunshine and length of jeeps paraded down the dirt road, bodies scattered about, voices overlapping each other, general chatter here and there, "you just look like you needed a punching bag."


"Yeah and who the hell's that?" Liebgott muttered, "'Cause I know it ain't you." Mercy chuckled slightly and then let her shoulders drop. It warmed her heart a bit that even in the heat of the moment, Liebgott would take the moment to say something such as that.

"That was the intent."


"Real funny, half-pint." Mercy smirked and then glanced sideways at Liebgott, trying to gauge his facial expressions at rest. Everyone always looked younger when their guard was down. When they weren't stressed to the high heavens. 

"Seriously, Lieb, what's up?" Mercy asked quietly, knocking his shoulder gently, "Bill's just being-"


"Look, half-pint, I said what needed to be said." Liebgott said, looking to her, his eyes weary as he stared at her, slightly pointed, "She's always going on, bashing us, calling us all types of shit - I can't take it. She don't belong in the company, she didn't train with us. I don't care what kinda honor bullshit I gotta put up with because of high brass rules and fuckery, alright?" Liebgott stared at her.

"She's not apart of this company. And I don't wanna even know why Bill's all up in arms about her." Mercy watched him and juggled his tone and his features with his withdrawn shoulders and hunch. 

"What if it was me?" Mercy asked him quietly, "In Rolande's spot, what if it was me?" Liebgott watched her before making a clicking noise with his mouth and shaking his head.

"Not what I'm talking about, half-pint."


"Answer my question." Mercy challenged back, raising a brow in his direction. Liebgott watched he, before poking his tongue into his cheek and sighing. 

"I wouldn't know you either then, you wouldn't have trained with us," Liebgott said quietly, in a way looking as if he was trying to keep his reaction calm, as her face fell - Liebgott seemed to sigh and regret his words for a split second as he watched her, "it's not.....look, half-pint, it's just. It's bullshit. All of this. And I'm tired of it. We're here to move inland and kill some fucking Germans, not babysit some Maquis members." Mercy watched him, her eyes bouncing back and forth between his gaze and his shaking hands that he pressed into his knees in an attempt to keep himself calm. Liebgott stared at her.

"Ever since I joined up, I've been waiting for the moment I could finally fucking kill a German, okay? After everything they've done, and everything they're still doing. The waiting was eating me alive, alright?" Liebgott said, "Knowing what my family could've been going through if they were still here? Knowing what they would've had to experience?" Liebgott let out a breath.

"It's why I don't care, I could honestly care less about whatever the fuck those two are doing with our company. Because no one else gets it. The Germans are killing people. My people." Liebgott stared at her again. "And the high brass are focused on shit like paperwork, reports and random prisoner snatches or embankment sweeps that don't do shit for us." Mercy wasn't sure if she was still breathing right as she was sitting there, her breaths haggard, her mind a bit all over the place, her gaze a mixture of teary-eyed and filled with unspent anger. 

"Look," Liebgott said, "I'm sure in a different time, a different place, Rolande and Julienne are great people. Honest. But right now, with what I'm feeling, I don't care. It's not my responsibility. My job's to get the killing and this war over with, so I can go back home at the end of this thing." His words hit her like knives and silenced her very being as she sat there, her own hands shaking as she pressed them against her chest, crossing her arms, attempting to stop her shoulders and body from shaking in that uncontrollable way that happened when she grew into discomfort.

She hadn't known. Any of this in any capacity. What Liebgott was feeling, why he was feeling this, his own perception of the war. Tears filled her eyes at the thought. She couldn't understand because she had no one. No one back home to remind her of why she was fighting the war, who they were actually doing this for. And she felt like a horrible person. The discomfort hit her again at her inner thoughts - she was being selfish. This was about Liebgott and she was sitting here wallowing in her own self-pity. Mercy looked over at Liebgott and caught his gaze, hoping he could ignore the unshed tears in her eyes. 

"I'm sorry, JoJo." Mercy whispered, the sudden child-like nickname slipping from her lips without second thought, "I didn't know-"


"Nah, nah," Liebgott said waving her off, a frown appearing on his face as it struggled against a slight smile - maybe at her attempt at kindness or the nickname, "it's my own shit, my own things I feel. I don't talk about this typa shit with people. It upsets them, it's uncomfortable, I just....I couldn't deal with it today. Rolande doesn't get it and that's what it is, ya know? Some people just don't get it." Mercy's eyes welled with tears again as she blinked, willing them away. 

"Yeah." Mercy whispered softly, "I'm here if you ever need me then, JoJo. Even if you don't want to have to talk about shit like this. It just helps to get it out of your system, too." 

"Yeah." Liebgott said quietly, letting out a sigh and scratching the back of his head, "And I know what Bill is doing is what he's always done. Just like with you and Lieutenant Armstrong. He's doing the right thing." Mercy looked up at him.

"He's being the better man about it all. There's a reason he's an NCO-"

"JoJo," Mercy said quietly, placing a hand on his shoulder, meeting his gaze, "just because Bill's doing that doesn't mean you're not a good person either. You just got different morals and all that shit. Still both good sets of morals, but for different things." Mercy swallowed.

"And that's okay. Doesn't make you any less of nothing." Liebgott clicked his tongue again and sighed, looking forward again. Mercy couldn't help it. There was something about Liebgott that had always felt kindred - like they needed to protect one another because they'd both been born to houses on fire with catching flames that they'd never been able to fully escape in their own ways. She pulled him into a hug, wrapping her arms around his neck and holding him there, listening as his breathing slowed a bit and the tension began to fall away a bit. This is what Esther was good at - Esther wasn't the biggest hugger, Mercy knew that, but sometimes just getting to hide from the world a bit was all you needed. No matter how complicated and messy things got.

"JoJo - that just slip out?" Liebgott managed out with a slight chuckle, his tone and words kinder now it seemed. 

"Maybe." Mercy said quietly. 

"No one's ever called me anything other than Joe or Lieb or hell - Joey like my mother." Liebgott said quietly then shifted to silence again, as if deep and lost in thought, "Fuck." 

"Well then, you're JoJo to me, alright?" Mercy said with a small, somewhat sad frown. 

"Don't tell the guys." Liebgott said with a somewhat watery laugh as if his eyes had welled with tears. Mercy sniffled, overcome with emotions that had enveloped her mind and heart. 

"Wouldn't dream of it, JoJo." Mercy whispered quietly. She'd be lying if she didn't let a few tears squeak out past her eyes and fall down her cheeks. 

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