'41

He'd found a way out after all - a loophole to be precise. He knew that that time was borrowed, but he'd never planned to give it back in the first place. Something inside him had come together when he’d signed that paper, like rediscovering a long forgotten book and reading the page where you’d left off.

"Would you at least try not to look so pleased," she said after he'd told her he enlisted. Well, he did try - but fooling her was a lost cause at that point.

"You'll have to go to war eventually. You could die,  Lewis," she said then; probably hoping for some sense coming back to him

Another lost cause.

He just smiled and raised his glass of golden whiskey to her.

Part I (danger is among us)


September '43

“Going my way? ”

“Wherever the train takes me ”

The train rattled along the rails as Lewis Nixon looked out the window. A green haze was rushing past them, the landscape of rural New York. Harry had taken a few sips out of Lew’s flask, then wandered off to search for the john. Lew looked back over to Dick, who was still busy with writing that damned letter.

Without thinking about it, Lew moved to sit next to Dick, who was sitting on the bench opposite Lew’s current perch. Dick didn’t even bother to look up, but followed Lew with his eyes nonetheless. He nudged Dick’s knee and made no intention to move it. Instead, he kept it there with a soft pressure.

Lew took a few more sips out of his flask; the whiskey offering a welcomed burn down his throat.

“So, who’s the lucky girl?”

It's been like this for a while - teasing each other like they were playing an unconscious game of chess, the unexpected move-countermove ever present in the back of their minds.

“You know who,” Dick countered, unperturbed.

Lew looked over Dick’s shoulder to try and suss out the letter’s intended recipient. Dick stopped writing, then angled it so that Lew could see the letter outright. Lew’s eyes flew quickly over Dick’s precise penmanship, despite the train. He chuckled at Dick’s description of Sobel’s scouting abilities.

“So, DeEtta again?” he asked.

Dick was fondling with his pen. “Yeah.”

“She seems to be very fond of you.”

If Lew didn’t know better, he would say he felt something like jealousy in his heart. He took another sip of whiskey and ignored it.

Dick met his eyes briefly, one eyebrow slightly raised. “What’s wrong with that?”

“Nothing. Nothing, Dick. Everyone loves a nice girl to come home to.”

It felt like a lie these days. It made him strangely uncomfortable.

“You tell me,” Dick said with a hint of sarcasm evident in his voice.

Check.

“Well, it has its advantages.”

“And yet you’re jumping out of a perfectly good airplane into Fortress Europa.”  

And Mate.

“Touché."

This round went to Winters, and when Lew looked over he could see Dick’s repressed smile matching his own. He increased the pressure on Dick’s knee, feeling the steady muscle of his leg. When Dick pressed back, ever so slightly, Lew leaned against the wooden bench.

And that round goes to me, Lew thought.

A smile was on his lips, and he felt warmth that had nothing to do with the whiskey. Dick began writing again; his hand flying over the paper, seemingly undisturbed by the bucking of the train. Lew watched him for some time, then closed his eyes and dozed off.

---------------------

Richard Winters had gotten him right from Day One, which is something that had impressed Lew immensely back at Fort Benning, though he’d never admit it.

Day by day, the men got to know each other in earnest. After being stripped of their civilian lives, there was nothing to hide behind. It was all about character and personal strength. Who was mentally and physically strong enough. Lew hated that game, but he also hated to give up, so there was only one way to go.

Lew always thought that there was something ethereal about Dick. As Lew got to know him over the course of their training, his impression of this fact only grew. His passion and discipline would animate the others, even him. Dick always took time to help everybody and soon became essential for crew morale. Dick was kind and so serious in everything he did. He was efficient, strong, and incredibly intelligent.

Their friendship evolved naturally, despite the crucial differences in their behaviour and character. Over the years they became each other's shadow, but there was always another dimension to it, something not palpable.

A line that quietly begged to be crossed. Moments that hid universes of desperate forbidden words and looks promising everything and nothing at all.

A dance so subtle, so delicate. Like the universe had decided to indulge in art while creating their relationship.

---------------------

They found one of the rare unfrequented places on the deck of the SS Samaria where Lew could sip at his whiskey and Dick was safe from Sobel. One found the other usually leaned up against the iron rail, watching the turbulent endless sea.

It was there where Lew witnessed the most amazing sunset of his life a few nights before they landed on British soil. The sky was painted in strong colours, melting from one shade in another, illuminating the sea and their faces in a soft, warm light, its large, red disk disappearing below the horizon line.

“Do you think we’ll come back?” Lew asked him then.

“Yes – yes I think so,” Dick said, his eyes never leaving the horizon. Dick's stoic optimism was something Lew found himself becoming more and more grateful for.

“I take your word for it,” he replied after some time.

“Don’t,” Dick said, then looked over to meet Lew's eyes. His cheeks had blushed from the cold wind of the sea and the warm sunlight had turned his hair a shade redder. Lew moved closer, the fabric of their uniforms touching now.

Do you even want to come back was lying on Dick’s lips. Lew could feel it, the bitter taste of it on his own tongue.

Instead, Dick smiled at him. Lew found his own concerns mirrored in his eyes, which calmed his nerves in a way whiskey never could. Illusions had always been something he’d been after. They watched the horizon until the sky went pitch black and they started to shiver in their uniforms.

---------------------

“Should have been born earlier, Nix ”

“What and miss all this? ”

The plane was vibrating violently under his hands. Lew looked out the door and into the black night that was illuminated by flak and gunfire; like a star-studded sky in reverse. Part of him was sure that he would die that day.

He shouted, “Two okay!” and took the step forward, and then he was falling, the sound of gunshots and shells filling the air. I’m gonna die I’m gonna die, was all he could think about. He tried to remember something nice, something you want to think about when you die, but while he tried to remember anything worth, a voice repeated you won't you won't in his head.

A voice that sounded suspiciously like Dick's.

Then his feet touched the ground and he couldn’t think any more. He fell on the wet grass and struggled to get the parachute off. He managed to take a deep breath in between, the absurd mix of sweet summer air and gunpowder filling his lungs, and then started to run.

Dying was no option anymore.

---------------------

Lew’s heart jumped in his chest as he spotted the familiar lean figure with red hair lurking underneath the helmet.

“Going my way?” he said happily and held out his hand to help Dick up on the tank.

“Sure.” Dick smiled at him as though Lew had invited him for a Saturday night road trip in a beautiful car and not for a trip on a tank further into the enemy lines.

“Careful, don’t hurt yourself.”

“Nice ride you’ve got here, Nix.”

“Straight from Utah Beach. We should put them to work before they’re missed.”

They had met shortly before, after the assault at Brécourt Manor when Dick’s eyes were still wild with adrenaline, a hot weapon in his bruised hands and blood on his fingers. Dick had handed him a set of maps that Lew instantly identified as highly classified German. Their eyes had met and Lew nodded to Dick and started to run breathlessly back to Utah Beach where 4th Infantry Division was landing at.

“The maps you gave me – they’re gold”, Lew said afterwards when Dick had settled down next to him. “We could take out several artillery batteries and machine gun positions throughout that area of the Cotentin Peninsula thanks to them. Sink was very happy.”

Dick was still beaming at him, obviously satisfied with the outcome. “That’s great, Nix.”

“Yeah, you’ve been great. They’re talking about medals and promotions, you know? If they didn’t know you before, they all seem to know your name now,” Lew rambled.

The soldier in him was proud that they succeeded in their mission. Lew felt like this day couldn’t get any better.

“Sounds good,” said Dick unfazed, but he seemed to be pleased. “If we can keep this pace up, we’ll celebrate Christmas in Berlin,” he added and gave Lew one of his half smirks.

Lew smirked back and added, “With a big bowl of ice cream.”

“And a bottle of Vat 69,” Dick played along.

“Yeah remember, we meet at four after the war,” Lew said with a wink.

“Happy hour,” Dick replied.

Lew could hear in his voice that the seriousness of their situation had crept back into their conversation. “Yeah – happy hour,” Lew said. He patted Dick’s shoulder again, savouring the small moment. Now was the time to focus on the task that was building up like an iron wall in front of them - the wall that consisted of trigger happy Germans.

---------------------

“Don’t ever get a cat.” - “What's on your mind?"

“I’ve lost a man today. Hall."

“Dick – are you okay? I heard you got hit!”

When Lew finally found him, Dick was sitting on a bench outside the aid station, one leg propped up.

Dick was studying some maps and looked up as he heard Lew’s voice. “Yeah, I’m fine. It’s just a scratch.”

Lew took a few cleansing breaths to calm himself down. “Wasn’t that safe to cross after all,” he said, finally. Dick may have sent Lew into a panic, but the irony of the situation was just too tempting to ignore.

“Oh, shut up.” Dick tried to look annoyed, but a smile broke through anyway.

Lew turned his focus back to Dick’s leg and tried to decipher through his uniform how bad the wound was.

“Show me.”

“Nix, that’s not necessary.”

Dick pulled his leg closer to him. His face contorted with pain, which Lew couldn’t help but notice. He moved closer and took the maps from Dick’s hands, who looked really annoyed by now. Oh-oh, that’s bugging him - being vulnerable, Lew thought. He loved to catch the tiny glimpses of Dick’s temper showing through.

“Show me. I wanna see it,” Lew said.

Dick rolled his eyes, but started to lift his pant leg anyway. Lew looked at the bandage, like he could say anything professional or doctorly about it, but settled on, “Just a scratch, eh? Looks rather painful.”

“It is,” Dick answered, covering the bandaged wound again.

Lew handed him back the maps and gave him a soft clap on his shoulder. “Stay here – I’ll get you some coffee.”

“Thank you, but no – we’re moving out in five minutes,” Dick said while folding the maps and tucking them carefully into the chest pocket of his uniform.

“Can you even walk like that,” Lew asked, honestly concerned.

Dick stood up, cautious not to put much pressure on his right leg. “Yeah, don’t worry.”

“Good – I don’t think I can manage to arrange another tank for you.”

They looked at each other for a moment. Lew knew something more should be said, but then Dick started to hobble his way towards Harry, who was ordering his platoon to gather at the small market square.

As Lew watched Dick leave, relief spread through his whole body, not to mention something else that Lew couldn’t quite put a finger on. Before he could think more about it, he called after him. “Dick – wait!”

As Dick stopped and turned, Lew walked up to him. He met Dick’s questioning gaze and settled for a neutral alternative. “I’m glad you’re okay.”

“Yeah – me too.”

Dick’s hand twitched. Lew thought Dick would reach out to touch him, but instead he just smiled. “I’ll see you later”, he added, walking off again toward Harry.

---------------------

“Nix! ”

“I'm alright! I ’m alright! Am I alright?”

“Yeah. Yeah, you feel alright? ”

“Yeah! Quit looking at me like that! ”

They fought their way along the Devil’s Highway. Lew was sure that the name wasn’t merit to all of it. Blood ran in dark streams, and the men dropped like flies. Back in England, a British veteran had told him when you see someone's last breath for the first time, it triggers something seismic and unknown within you; and when you become desensitized to it, you know it's time to get the hell out of there.

You never hear the bullet. Lew learned that the hard way.

He didn’t know if that knowledge should be soothing or scare the hell out him.

Dick was scared, at least. Lew saw it in Dick’s eyes, which went wide in shock the split second before they crawled to the jeep to take cover.

Dick held onto him far longer than he needed to.

Lew drank that night until he couldn’t move, rolled up in the corner of an unnamed road. He told himself over and over that he drank to forget the cold breath of death and not the picture of sheer horror in Dick’s eyes.

As they moved farther behind enemy lines and into unknown terrain, Lew felt lost in way he could not explain. His maps became his bible and he began studying them even more intensely until he knew every snowed-in hill and fogged-up ditch by heart. Yet, the feeling lingered in his chest. It left him confused and vulnerable, with that vulnerability running through his days and nights like a golden thread.

---------------------

“I don ’t like retreating. ”

“First time for everything. ”

Dick was a true warrior, Lew decided, as he watched him. Archaically wearied and submerged in himself, he stood in front of Dick and observed the enemy line, enclosed by a silvery veil of dim light.

He could weather any storm; Lew was sure of that as well. Unlike him, who he thought to be a storm himself; with a tide of an imminent storm, deep and steady, that had surely been set. Only Dick could stand utterly stricken in its stead.

It’s fitting, Lew thought.

Whenever Lew found himself close to Dick, he could swear they entered another atmosphere. It was subtle, like the air between them became charged with something electric. It felt like summer air the second before a lightning strike, which was absurd, because they were shivering like crazy. He felt a tearing in his chest and the urge to inch closer and closer wherever they are.

He enjoyed the easy banter they had developed in the quiet moments over the years. If he was honest with himself, he looked forward to every opportunity to be on the receiving end of Dick’s smile and dry wit.

Lew had some men flirt with him before and found the smoothest thing to do was treat it like a joke and flirt back, but with Dick, he was still not entirely sure how to react. It was the unsureness that bugged him, whether they were actually joking or not.

It had become the longest game of chicken he had ever played, and the score seemed to be tied.

Ignoring it for now was by far the best choice, Lew decided.

---------------------

“Looks like you'll be surrounded. ”

“We're paratroopers, we're supposed to be surrounded. ”

The inhuman coldness of the Belgian winter had many unforeseen side effects. Lew learned all about the different kinds of snow, how to enjoy coffee that tasted like dirt, and the amenities provided by a well dug foxhole.

In Bastogne, the bitter coldness wrapped around him like a second skin, penetrating layer upon layer of his thin uniform to settle deep in his bones. The cold air had made it hard even to breathe, the floating ice crystals scratching an already sore throat ravaged from screaming and coughing.

Then there was the unwelcome yet so well-known darkness that resettled in his head with a strength and matter of course that took his breath away even further. He fought against it vehemently between skirmishes, when he was loneliest, but the nights were the worst. He stared into the darkness of his foxhole until he saw things he shouldn’t see. He drank until all his resources dried up and he was left all to himself and his thoughts.

During one of these nights, Lew started to make nightly patrols his routine. The nights were his, as he wandered through the darkness, checking up the men and glaring to the enemy line.

---------------------

“How in the world does your leaving help me?"

“It doesn't. I'm not going."

“I’ve got a present for you,” Lew said while he slid down into his foxhole, where Dick had settled down in a corner. Some snow fell in between the space of his neck and scarf as he closed tape. It felt like a million needles were pushing down on his skin. It was full moon and a few streaks of light were illuminating the otherwise dark foxhole.

Dick’s whole body was shivering and the tone of his skin reckoned that all warmth had left his body. “You’ve won another lottery,” he asked, his voice unsteady and thin.

“Ah, no. If I had that much luck, I would have stumbled over a bottle of Vat 69,” Lew said with a weak smile while remembering the phantom taste of the familiar whiskey on his tongue.

“Here – I’ve found some blankets up at Headquarters,” Lew waved one towards Dick. “Gave the other three to the men,” he added, before Dick could protest.

He moved closer to Dick, unfolded the blanket and said, “This one is for you. As for me – I’m not that selfless, as you know.”

The blanket itself was a joke, the material so thin they could look through it, but the illusion of warmth was better than nothing. He spread it out over their bodies and tugged the ends in between the ground and his side, while the sick feeling of worry pooled in his stomach. The last two days had been rough, and the low temperatures somehow managed to scrape on Dick’s ironlike core.

“Fair enough,” Dick said after a few moments, a ghost of a smile on his lips.

Lew watched the lines of his face and the dark shadows under his eyes. “Hell, you still look like a grumpy owl.”

Dick raised his eyebrows, “Cheeky, for someone who’s called Blackbeard.”

“I’ve shaved in the morning,” Nix nudged his shoulder to Dick’s, glad that not all humour was lost on Dick.

Dick pushed back and then leaned fully against Lew’s side. “Yes, but that was two days ago.”

Being allowed to witness the rare moments of Dick’s weakness was the greatest honour he could ever receive, Lew was sure of that. He tried to lighten up their mood with a weak attempt of humour. “Be kinder and you may get some of my chocolate,”

Dick huffed a smile. “Thank you, Nix.”

Their eyes met, and Lew knew that Dick meant everything else but the chocolate.

A warm feeling pooled in Lew’s stomach. He rummaged the chocolate bar out of his jacket and peeled the foil off. His fingers were stiff and clumsy from the cold, but after a few attempts, he managed to free it. He broke it in half and pushed the bigger half towards Dick. As their hands met, his fingers tingled. Lew withdrew his hand quickly.

Instead, he focused on the chocolate bar and took a bite; the heaven like taste exploded in his mouth and his eyes fluttered close. The chocolate melted slowly in his mouth and overtook his senses completely.

Dick interrupted his musings. “The men are okay?”

“Yes, just checked the front line – Buck’s there with them,” Lew said as he ate his last piece of chocolate. He watched Dick’s jawline as he chewed on his piece.

“Good,” Dick’s voice was shaken with shivers.

“You’re still shivering like crazy,” Lew gazed over him, worriedly.

Dick gave him that half annoyed look again. If the situation hadn’t been that serious, Lew would have laughed about the absurdness of it all, but here they were, under the ground, eating chocolate and trying not to die.

“As I’m personally interested in your survival, I think we need to change tactics,” Lew said then, pulling the blankets tighter around them. “This won’t work. I really don’t want to talk Dike into hiding my precious Vat 69 because you decided to turn into an ice sculpture.”

“You have no Vat 69 to hide anymore,” Dick answered, “but what does the intelligence here have in mind?”

“Don’t remind me of this dilemma,” Lew snorted and kept on staring into the darkness, somehow trying to find a sparkle of light in Dick's eyes.

As he began again, his voice was significantly lower, “Come closer, I’ll sacrifice my body heat for you.”

Dick huffed a laugh, but then Lew felt him inch closer, the blankets ruffling. Lew shifted his body so that he could sling one arm around Dick's shoulder. Dick shivered so hard Lew could feel it vibrating through his body. He turned his body and Dick settled tentatively against Lew’s chest.

Lew thought that he should feel weird about this, but he didn’t. Dick was tense at first, but then relaxed against his body. He felt inhumanly cold and Lew drew him even closer. He could feel Dick’s heart pounding against his own chest.

“Better?” Lew asked nevertheless.

“We’ll see,” Dick mumbled against his chest.

Lew felt Dick squeezing him with his right hand as a thank you. Lew smiled and felt that the muscles in his body start to relax, breath by breath. His body must be reacting to the proximity, some sort of automatic response, he thought.

Lew began slowly falling into unconsciousness. He thought about Dick and how incredibly young he looked, despite what they’ve been through. He wanted to tell him how the hope on Dick’s face was brighter than any shadow Lew could create and retreat into, and if he’s giving up, there’s no way Lew’s making it through this hell, there’s no sense in all of this, no present and no future.

Lew knew he needed Dick; he was the light at the end of the tunnel, the voice of reason in the chaos of his brain, and everything he was not.

Then he thought about everything else - the snow melting under his hand, the night’s darkness, and blinding whiteness of the coming day.

England, Holland, Germany.

His own fucked-up self.

The throbbing need in his heart.

As Lew woke in the morning, he found himself alone.

---------------------

Desire is a concept for the weak, his grandfather once told him.

A grandfather who had a heart made of stone and the finest liquor on his lips.

Lew felt like he was falling, spiralling down at a rapid pace. Closer and closer, the heat of it captivating his heart and soul. He thought that he could define it, see it’s shape, but it changed with every heartbeat. So, he got used to it - the slow pulse of desire for more, for -

All at once, Lew understood.

---------------------

Lew woke up in a cocoon of warmth, and for a moment he thought he might be dead because he hadn’t felt anything like this - something - for weeks. Breath by breath, he realized his surroundings, and that he was, indeed, very much alive.

His head was settled on Dick’s chest, and their legs were somewhat tangled up, and his right hand – oh.

His hand must have fallen into Dick’s lap. He could feel the seam of Dick’s trousers, his fingers touching the inner side of his leg, and the firm outline of an erection.

Realization hit him hard. The air became thick in an instant, and he was feeling far hotter than he should be, seeing that he was in the ground of a snowed-in forest in the middle of fucking Europe.

His heart started racing. Before Lew could devote much attention to his own quickened pulse, he became aware that Dick was awake. His body felt tense, and his breathing was controlled. The rising and falling of his chest felt mechanic.

He thinks about a way out of this, Lew thought, and he wondered why Dick didn’t make a way out of it already. Something started to burn inside him, pooling in his belly then spreading all over, and it took all his self-control not to move.

He was close, so close.

Stay still, he said to himself. Lew took a breath, and another. He tried to think about something else entirely, like how low the battalion was on ammo or the bitter taste of Belgian coffee, but with the next breath, whatever took hold of his heart and his brain did the thinking for him.

Slowly, inch by inch, Lew stretched his fingers. Dick twitched under him, and Lew realised that he was holding his breath. I’m mad, he thought. Lew’s rationality gave a desperate cry before breaking through the din of sensory overload. He traced along the outline - not touching - but it left a prickle in his fingers, the illusion of touch. It was too much, a massive disaster, and more than Lew could process; his heart was racing in his chest.

Dick’s voice was hoarse, a mere whisper. “Lew, stop.”

Lew withdrew his hand, holding his breath, suddenly all too aware of the adrenaline in his blood. He waited for the verdict, for Dick’s silent outrage.

Nothing came.

Dick’s body still felt stiff, but somehow softer, like some part of him had relaxed. Careful not to move the blankets and allow the heat to escape, Lew slid up to Dick’s neck, burying his nose there between the space of Dick’s throat and the uniform.

Every cell in his body was on alert, taking in the slightest of reaction and shift of movement. Dick breathed again, harder this time and not controlled anymore. Lew took in his scent and the feeling of stubble against his jaw, memorized any little detail that he became aware of.

“No vices,” Lew whispered in Dick’s ear.

More a statement than a question.

Then he disentangled himself from Dick and the blanket, leaving his body in shock because of the cold, and provided no time for a counter reaction. He had to get out, to get away from Dick and the feeling that his heart might explode. He needed air desperately; he felt like drowning, like all the air was pressed out of his lungs.

When he spoke again, his voice was drowned in guilt.

“Going for a patrol,” he managed to croak before he climbed out of the foxhole, not caring about the snow melting under his hands.

---------------------

Dick had understood the truth of it before he did, Lew was sure of that. The only guarantees Europe gave him were exploding trees, death, and Dick always one step ahead of him.

He still had no words for it, yet Lew felt it more and more. It came in waves and swallowed him up completely, like a thick fog like only the early days of autumn could promise. It tore his heart to pieces, leaving Lew to puzzle them back together.

He was addicted to it now, and he hungrily welcomed the change to the all-embracing numbness that had crawled into his bones.

That’s the closest he’ll ever get to love.

Lew was sure of that too.

---------------------

“Dick!"

“Major Winters!"

The bitter, cold air of Rachamps carried the angelic voices of the nuns from the convent to the little house Sink had chosen as Battalion HQ just across the street.

The atmosphere had changed and Lew found himself in the familiar after-haze of battle; but today it felt unreal and left him with a strange tingling in his arms and legs.

The room had emptied by now, the men joining their friends at the convent. Only Speirs and Dick were left talking about and planning the new command structure. Lew sat down on the dirty wooden floor and leaned back against the wall and closed his eyes. He dozed off easily, exhaustion and the soothing background noises getting the better of him.

He dreamed vividly, a train of pictures racing through his head. He was back on the line in front of Foy. The air was filled with gunshots and shouting. The men helplessly stuck with Dike behind the haystacks.

Dick stood outraged next him, grabbing his rifle. His body was tensed; Lew could feel his inner turmoil like it was his own.

Another man was shot down, more shouting.

Then, suddenly, Dick was running, his weapon levelled. “Dick – Dick come back for Christ’s sake!”, Lew shouted, his lungs burning.

Dick didn’t listen.

Without further thought, Lew followed him. His legs were stiff from the cold and hurt while he sped up. The terrain sloped slightly downwards and Lew felt like he was flying, sprinting so fast his feet barely touched the ground. He heard the familiar fizzle of bullets shooting through the air and he tried to focus on the red spot of hair in front of him as he was breathing and running and shouting Dick’s name.

In the distance, he heard Sink’s angry voice calling both of them back to the line, but he wouldn’t stop – couldn’t stop – without Dick.

Another shot - too close – and Dick was falling. He fell to the ground, blood spilling from his body. Lew was with him within a fraction of a second, pressing his hands to the wound.

Don’t die don’t die he heard himself mumbling, I need you. Dick tried to speak, but all he did was cough up blood. Lew desperately shouted for help, a medic, anything, but no one came and they were enclosed in a white bubble of snow and smoke.

Then a sharp pain shot through his body, numbing him and Lew fell down in the ice-cold snow next to Dick. Warm blood was running from his hip, soaking his uniform and warming his skin. Before he could laugh about the absurdness that he’d been hit – for sure this time - his mind got washed up by pain and dizziness and he tried to focus on breathing, one breath after another.

This is the end, he thought, and then fumbled for Dick’s hand, entwining their cold fingers, pressing them together. Dick tried to speak again, but Lew couldn’t understand him. He inched closer, the ground was hard and wet by their combined blood. “Don’t die,” he repeated.

And then a shell exploded next to him, burying them under snow and dirt. Lew moved to shield Dick and –

“Nix! – Nix!” A voice was coming through, bringing him back to reality.

“Lew, are you okay?” Dick kneeled in front of him, cradling his neck and wearing a shocked expression on his face. Lew was still breathing hard, part of him still dying in the snow. He gripped a corner of Dick’s coat, trying to focus. Slowly, the fog lifted and he managed to steady himself.

“Yeah, quit looking like that, you’re scaring me.”

“You scared me. Was it a bad dream?” Dick’s voice was soft. He was still holding him in that position, reminding Lew of the last time he nearly died.

“Yeah, yeah it was.”

Lew let his head fall back against the wall and closed his eyes. Dick gently squeezed his shoulder and sat down next to him on the floor.

“Wanna talk about it,” he asked.

Lew opened his eyes and looked over to Dick. He realised that he was still holding onto Dick’s coat and quickly let go of it.

“You were hit, I tried to save you. Wasn’t working out.”

Lew’s chest was hurting. He wanted to say something, something meaningful, but all feelings seemed to be pressed out of his heart. He felt numb and his mind felt empty and his body yearned for whiskey.

“Oh.”

Dick looked at him like he realized just then that the possibility of this scenario wasn’t so unrealistic.

“Yeah,” Lew said shortly.

“It was just a dream, Lew.”

But it could happen, Lew thought.

“I know,” he said instead.

Dick gave him an encouraging smile and tapped on his leg. “Come on, I’ll find you some coffee.”

"No! Stay, please - just for another minute.”

They locked eyes, and Dick nodded. Lew took a deep breath and began to relax as Dick inched closer until Lew felt their bodies touching from shoulder to leg. Lew swallowed all the other words that filled his mouth and banned them somewhere away in his heart, locking them up tightly.

They sat together until an orderly stormed in to inform them that the jeep was waiting outside to take them to Haguenau.

---------------------

Haguenau was all grey and muddy, but at least there was shelter.

And beds.

Not good ones, but better than any goddamn foxhole.

Lew managed to arrange quarters for himself and Dick together in one of the better-appointed basements. A few candles cast enough light to be able to orient oneself and the ceiling was low, so both had to lower their heads a bit when moving around.

The night of the “second patrol”, Dick joined Lew after checking if the men were all safe and resting. Lew already had made himself comfortable in bed, lost in thought as Dick arrived, who changed clothes and folded them with care and put them neatly in his footlocker. Lew rolled his eyes and watched Dick slipping into his bed, standing just a meter away from his.

"Are they tucked in safely," Lew asked, amusedly

"The men?" Dick answered dryly, but Lew knew he got it.

"No, your clothes," Lew chuckled.

Dick turned his head towards him and replied slowly, "Yeah and yeah," before he smiled at him.

Lew smiled too. "That's good. It was the right thing to do."

"I know, only Sink won’t be happy without more prisoners," Dick snorted.

"He could go and catch them himself," said Lew, laughing a little about his idea.

"I'm looking forward to your report tomorrow."

"And I'm looking forward to leaving this muddy mess."

"Yeah, me too," Dick replied softly.

One of the candles went out, and Lew watched the last trail of smoke slowly dissolve.

Dick's voice brought him back. "You okay?"

"Yeah, sure," Lew answered, voice going low. "And you?"

"Yeah," Dick said.

Then they lapsed into silence, lost in thought. Lew thought Dick was already asleep, when his voice broke the silence, "Are we, um, okay?"

Lew knew instantly what he meant, his heart beating faster instantly. He really didn't know what to answer. They haven’t said one word about the incident in the foxhole, and Lew didn’t know if he was ready to talk about it yet. To be honest, he didn’t know if he ever would be.

He turned his head again, only to find Dick's eyes already on him. For some time, he just stared at him until he found his voice, "Sure we are." His voice left absolutely no room for an argument. He hated lying to him, but this was how it had to be.

Dick simply nodded in quiet understanding. They held eye contact until the last candle went out, leaving them in darkness.

Lew released a breath he didn't remember holding.

---------------------

Yet nothing was okay.

The circles underneath Lew’s eyes turned darker by the hour, and the night terrors tormented his throbbing head night after night.

Lew's nightmares were almost tangible. Dick told him one morning that he half expected Lew’s hand to actually hit something because of the desperate conviction with which he clawed the air.

Lew knew that he woke Dick up regularly with his nightmares. Most nights he found Dick already sitting on the edge of his bed, shaking the sleep out of him and helping him into a sitting position, at which point he handed him a glass of water, and on the worst nights, Lew’s flask.

The toxic cocktail of loneliness, desolation, and heartache forced Lew to his knees. He knew that he should look in the eye of the storm, but he pinched his eyes together vehemently.

It wasn't the drink he needed. It was the drink after and the drink after that and the comatose sleep at the end.

“I miss you – when you are like this,” Dick whispered to him at the end of one of those nights, sure that Lew wouldn’t remember it the next day.

“But that’s the real me,” Lew remembered himself saying.

“No, it is not. It’s a part of you, but it doesn’t define you, Lew,” Dick said, then and brought a glass of water to his bedside.

The alcohol in his blood made Lew feel hot and dizzy, but Dick’s look was warmer. Lew disentangled his hand from the sheet and stretched his fingers to reach Dick’s hand that rested next to his leg. Before Lew could touch his skin, Dick covered his hand with his own and gave it a squeeze.

“Sleep well, and try not to die,” Dick said before he once again gave him a worried look and left the room.

Lew closed his eyes. Everything was turning around him, but the spark where Dick’s hand touched his remained the only steady point in the haze.

The next morning, Lew told this boy who was dressed up in a fresh and clean uniform with a young sparkle in his eyes, “Welcome to the Second World War.” The young man gave him a dutiful smile and mumbled, “Yes, Sir. Thank you, Sir.”

Lew ignored that and focused his attention on the supply car that had arrived with the new men. He found what he was looking for, a small wooden trunk addressed to Captain Lewis Nixon.

He barely made it to his room before he ripped open a sealed bottle of Vat 69 and drank straight from it.

---------------------

They were in Sturzelberg, and Lew was back at Battalion S3. No surprise at all.

Not for Lew, that was for sure.

As well the jump with the 17th Airborne Division. Operation Varsity – or Operation Hell, which was what Lew preferred to call it.

Everything went down on him in a dark and acid hail.

Lew felt Dick’s anger brewing underneath the surface as they talked. He recognized it in the way Dick answered, slow and demanding. In the way his eyes were sharp and lost the usual softness he devoted to Lew. It scared him to the core, and Lew tried even more to push all feelings away from him.

“I despise the reason, but I’m glad you’re back,” Dick told him at the end.

“Don’t tell me you’ve missed me,” Lew said with bitter sarcasm, glaring at Dick over the table.

“Yes – yes I did,” Dick said, then turned and retreated to his room, leaving Lew with himself and his bottle of Vat 69.

Lew drank until the bottle was empty and the room began to blur. He stared at the wall and damned himself with a strange swirl of feelings.

It was the first time he realized that he was Dick's only true vulnerability; it was obvious in the small tremor of his hand clenching the chair and the signs of stress and repressed anger in the lines of his face. It washed over Lew in a cold shiver and shame broke through the wall of bitterness.

He stood up on wobbly knees and walked over to the little table in the corner of the hall where he found another full bottle of whiskey.

Then he drank until the war progressed.

---------------------

“Jesus Christ, the dog? ”

“Lew? ”

When Lew found out his wife was divorcing him, something like relief gathered in his belly and took a stone load of weight from his chest. Finally, there was a legitimate reason to be upset, and Lew took it gratefully. In truth, he couldn't care less. He couldn’t remember one good feeling he once held towards her, or if he ever had.

Only the dog bothered him — that was bitter.

On their ride to further into Germany, Dick kept an eye on him and asked him every now and then if he'd be okay. He seemed to be amused, maybe schadenfreude, thought Lew. He doubtlessly deserved it. Later — still on the road — he dismissed this thought again, when he caught Dick worriedly observing him while Lew pretended to sleep.

---------------------

This is not real, he thought when they opened the wooden gate to the camp.

This cannot be real.

Figures of ghosts and skeletons were moving past him, touching him. They felt lifeless and cold.

The icy touch of death lingered on him for a very long time.

---------------------

His world had fallen apart, but somehow, piece by piece, it pulled itself together again.

In hindsight, he didn’t know why and refrained from thinking too much about it, but the thick fog in his brain began to thin out.

Austria was beautiful, a summer dream. The landscape was green and colourful and nothing like New Jersey. The huge mountains framed deep blue lakes and endless pastures with white and brown spotted cows that happily stuffed their mouths with sweet spring grass. The air was fresh and carried the scents of hundreds of flowers that were blooming everywhere.

The hotel where they were staying was all to his taste and he spent most mornings just laying on the feather soft cushions taking in the sensation of the silk under his body. In a place like this, he thought, you became attuned to certain things, because it was better to focus on the details than on the blinding enormity of the war.

When he looked to the empty side of the king-sized bed he imagined Dick laying there with him. He imagined his red hair in the bright contrast to the silk bedding. The soft lines of his face. He smiled to the vision and the vision smiled back.

The time after was measurable by now and just the idea of returning home made Lew physically cringe. He didn’t want to think about it, about going home, about the Nitration Works, about the possibility of staying in the army (which was ridiculous), about his father, about the empty house he would come home to. It seemed so far way, like another life, another world.

He could stay here, he thought. Buy a mansion in the mountains (not a Nazi one) and a new dog. One of the herd dogs that were big and fluffy and the locals used for looking after the sheep and cows.

Dick would love that, Lew thought before he cracked up with a small laugh. The idea was hilarious.

---------------------

“What do you think about New Jersey?"

“New Jersey? ”

“There's a company in Nixon, New Jersey called Nixon Nitration Works."

“Sounds picturesque. ”

“Yeah, well. Oddly enough, l know the owners. Probably gonna expect me to make something of myself. l thought maybe l'd drag you with me. ”

“Are you offering me a job? ”

“We'll see how your interview goes, but a man of your qualifications... ”

“What is this? Absinthe?“

Harry pointed a finger towards Lew’s glass, the tumbler filled with a colourless liquid.

Lew grimaced, but laughed nonetheless.

“Absinthe? The war has taken a token on all of us, but before I drink Absinthe someone has to kill my taste buds.”

“Well, what is it then for Mrs. Nixon’s precious boy? Liquid crystals?” Harry joked. He leaned against the bar next to Lew and took a sip from the beer bottle in his hand.

“Water.”

“Water? Am I that drunk?”

“Well, no bet for that. It’s Dick’s by the way. Before you start praying to the devil,” Lew said with a smile.

“Okay, good. I was scared for you for a second. Where is Dick anyway?”

“He’s dancing,” Lew pointed with the water glass to the crowd in front of them. The officers of the 101st had been invited to a local traditional fest in the centre of a nearby village. The air was filled with the obtrusive sounds of accordion, clarinet, and flute. Still, Lew tapped his foot to their rhythm.

Harry laughed. “No way.”

Lew just raised his eyebrows and smiled. “Oak leaves. I tell you, they’re like ambrosia. The girls were swooning.”

“Are you sure that this is not a form of kidnapping? He looks very uncomfortable,” Harry asked, faking a concerned look on his face before it quickly formed a grin again. Lew just shook his head and nudged his elbow into Harry’s ribcage.

“Oh, he is. You should have seen him with the blonde one, that was even worse,” Lew said after Harry stopped jokingly complaining about Lew having cracked at least five of his ribs.

“Couldn’t imagine that,” Harry huffed. “He just needs to find his own Kitty. Look at me, I’m the happiest man on earth.”

“You’re drunk, Harry.”

Harry gave him a smile and drank the rest of his beer. “I am, and I am in love. Couldn’t be happier. Why aren’t you dancing? Find a pretty maid for the night? You are free now, aren’t you?”

“I did, but they preferred the Major.”

Lew touched the glass of water to Harry’s beer bottle and then drank it in one. He wasn’t honest to Harry, but Harry was drunk and it didn’t really count then, Lew decided. He was far too sober for such an event and for the awful music they were playing. He didn’t want to dance and he was still absorbed in thinking about his and Dick’s talk at the lake a few days ago.

“Why don’t you save him?”

“That’s my entertainment program for tonight. Give him some more time, he’s not miserable enough for that.”

“Sounds better than the other non-existing options here. I think I’m retreating. Malarkey and Webster look like they need some assistance.”

“Harry, you look like you need assistance.”

“No, no, I’m fine. See ya.”

“Good luck.”

Lew patted Harry’s shoulder before he walked unsteadily toward Malarkey and Webster at the other end of the dance area.

Lew ordered a beer and gave Dick’s glass back to the barkeeper. He found a chair next to the bar and settled down and watched the dancing crowd while he took sips from his bottle. Dick’s form was easy to distinguish from the other dancers. Red hair notwithstanding, his back was ramrod-straight and he moved a bit too stiffly to the music, his hands placed carefully on the woman's body. He looked uncomfortable, too focused on the technical aspect of the movements, Lew thought. The girl smiled at him and Dick told her something that made her laugh.

The music changed and with it the crowd changed directions. Dick’s eyes met briefly Lew’s and Lew raised his bottle towards him. Dick shot him a helpless glance, but Lew just shrugged and waved his hand quickly.

Instead of continuing to dance with the townspeople, Dick stopped moving all together and stared back at Lew, not looking away even once. Lew stared back while taking another sip of his beer. Dick’s look was gentle, those grey eyes watching him, hawk like and expectant. Lew felt suddenly very uncomfortable, and he was left shifting in his chair. Dick shot him a smile when he recognized that. Cheeky bastard, Lew thought.

Lew put his beer bottle on the table next to him, stood up, and walked over to Dick, not caring that he disturbed the dancing couples around him. Dick’s eyes went wide for a second, followed soon by relief.

“Excuse me, Miss,” Lew addressed the woman Dick was dancing with, then turned to Dick and spoke with an overly formal tone, “Major Winters, I need your assistance in a serious matter. It’s urgent.”

“Of course,” Dick replied and mumbled an excuse me to his dance partner and followed Lew away from the crowd.

“As your Lord and Saviour, you’re welcome,” Lew said, and nudged his elbow softly into Dick’s arm.

Dick snorted, hoping to convey through the amount of disdain he felt for such a ridiculous notion.

“Oh, how noble of you. Was about time.” Dick ran his hand through his hair, he looked tired and tense.

“Home?”

“Home.”

They walked silently, shoulder to shoulder, along the small forest path back to the hotel. It was pitch dark and very quiet except for the occasional rustling of leaves and the music from the festival caught on the breeze.

Lew felt giddy for the first time that night. He loved the energy.

Lew broke the comfortable silence after some minutes. “Why don’t you like dancing?”

“I like dancing,” Dick answered while his shoulder brushed Lew’s.

“Then why don’t you like dancing with girls?” Lew asked softly, surprised by his own boldness.

If Dick was surprised by the question, he didn’t let it show as Lew observed him inconspicuously.

“Why do you ask questions when you already know the answer?” Dick countered.

Dick’s face revealed nothing and Lew suddenly couldn’t stand it anymore. He needed to know, he wanted an answer. If he didn’t do it now, while he was still feeling the alcohol pleasantly warming his body, on this lonely path in midst of trees that had to be suspended in time, he honestly didn’t know if he would have the guts ever again.

“I don’t know what you are talking about, Dick.”

Dick ignored him. “Why didn’t you dance tonight?”

“I wasn’t feeling like it.”

“You are a bad liar, Lew.” Dick seemed to be strangely self-assured in his doing, and Lew wondered how he could turn the tables again.

“I am not lying,”

“But you are not saying the whole truth either.”

“Neither are you.”

Lew stopped suddenly and Dick stumbled into him. Just for a moment, Lew’s eyes found Dick’s and they breathed the same air.

Dick seemed untouchable for a long time. That face hadn’t stopped Lew from wanting to touch him, hold him, take him apart. But now, Lew thought, he seemed strangely fragile and human.

Dick knew him better than anyone else. Dick had seen him drunk, relaxed, and as happy as he’d ever seemed. Dick had seen him at his worst and still never left. He had seen him panicked and nearly die in front of him, at his most inhuman and at his most vulnerable.

It all came down to this. Not in its details, but in its entirety.

Just for a moment, he saw the truth in Dick’s eyes.

That’s why when he’d turned away, it was fine, and it would be fine, and even if it broke his heart, it would be worth it.

“No vices?”

Lew’s question hung between them and Dick looked at him, pleading.

Lew nodded then and felt the tension leaving his body. Dick looked immensely relieved. They started walking again, and if Lew didn’t know better, he would be sure that Dick pressed closer to him. He felt the heat of his arm and their uniform fabrics moving against each other. Before he could say anything, the heat was gone and Dick’s shoulder brushed his from time to time, like before.

---------------------

If he was feeling indulgent, Lew let his thoughts run on.

Richard Winters loved him, he knew that now. To be honest, he had known it then. It was revealed in the softness of his voice, the teasing twinkle in his eyes. It was in the focus Dick always had for him, like saving Lew was the only thing that made sense in the whole of the goddamn crazy war and Lew was the centre of the world.

He just didn’t know how much longer he could swallow it all down.

He wanted more.

---------------------

The first few days of May felt like September in England for all the rain they were dealing with.

They had been trapped for the better part of the day in a row of meetings, working around little issues with Sink and a Colonel who was remembering Lew a way too much of Dike.

Dick was still listening and nodding now and then, dutifully, but if he looked closely, Lew could see the tiredness in the lines of his face. He was bored as all hell, like himself. Lew could tell when Dick glanced over to him from time to time. Lew had started to count the spots on the tapestry at one point, but had to stop that when Sink demanded his concentration. They talked with forced civility, and his nerves were frayed and on edge by the time they left.

Dick jumped in the driver’s side of the topless army jeep and started the motor.

“You coming,” he asked over his shoulder as Lew crossed the road lazily and climbed into the passenger’s side. Lew leaned back and put his sunglasses on. Lew felt Dick’s eyes on him for a second, but then he drove off.

The weather had been bad for the last few days, typical spring storms with lots of raining. The streets were rain soaked and small streams were running along the paths. Lew held his hand out to feel the slipstream, but as he felt more and more rain drops that felt like small needles, he retracted it and made a grimace.

“Hurry, it’s getting worse,” he said to Dick and watched the dark clouds over their heads with concern.

Dick only nodded.

They drove in silence for some time. The sky was pitch dark by now and the rain worsened with every minute. Lew noticed with discomfort that his clothes were soaked through and water was dripping out of his hair. The streets got washed out by the streams and soon the jeep was lurching more than obeying to Dick’s driving.

“We need to stop somewhere – this is too dangerous!” Dick shouted to Lew after they’d nearly hit a tree.

“If I remember correctly, there is an old hut right next to the road if we take the left one at the crossroads,” Lew answered, equally loath to fight against the downpour and the jeep’s motor.

A few minutes later, Dick parked the jeep under a huge oak next a skew whiff wooden hut, and hurriedly they ran to the door. The pouring rain was awful, at least to Lew. Dick gave off the impression that he seemed to enjoy the drops of early summer rain.

“Rain is so refreshing," he said.

Lew was unsure if he was just kidding with him. Dick sighed and Lew rolled his eyes as they entered the shelter. Ridiculous, Lew thought. Dick just smiled, shaking the raindrops out of his hair. Lew caught himself watching before he followed Dick’s action.

“The worst should be over in half an hour,” Dick said after he’d looked out of one of the dirty windows, the only source of light in the room. It was dim and the air was thick, the smell of old rotten wood and dust were dominating.

“Let’s hope so,” Lew answered thoughtfully while observing Dick’s athletic silhouette at the window.

“Nature loves the rain, it will be so green in the next few days,” Dick mumbled and turned around to face Lew.

“Is that the farm boy speaking,” Lew asked, a smile forming on his lips.

“Lancaster is bigger than Nixon,” Dick countered dryly and shot Lew a mischievous smile, knowing Lew couldn’t talk himself out of this fact.

“So, the Pacific,” Lew said then, abruptly changing the topic.

“I’m thinking about it,” Dick answered, meeting his eyes.

Lew crossed his arms and leaned against an unsteady table that stood in the middle of the room.

“You really want that – going back to war?” Lew asked, curious if he will get an honest answer.

Dick shrugged. “It’s an option,”

Lew snorted.

“You never thought about it,” Dick asked.

“Hell no,” Lew laughed.

He did, and he knew that Dick could see the lie in his eyes.

“You could be useful over there,” Dick said.

Dick walked over to Lew and leaned against the same table that moved slightly with new pressure. He smiled at him, sad and radiant.

“Or dead – and you too,” Lew countered.

“Lew,” Dick said solely and Lew rolled his eyes. When he met Dick’s eyes again, he knew that it’s time to get serious.

“You really want to go,” he stated.

“I’ve considered it,” Dick repeated and nodded once.

Guts and Glory was in his blood by now, Lew thought. What angered him was that he understood it and felt the same, to a certain point. Going back to war was everything he wanted to avoid, and yet he felt prone to it in a strange way.

On the other hand, returning without Dick was also unacceptable.

“Let’s hope the weather is better over there. I hate to get wet.” Lew said and glanced over to Dick to witness any reaction to his sudden change of mind.

Dick seemed to be honestly surprised. “You thought about it?”

“Do you even know where it is,” Lew asked, raising an eyebrow and giving Dick a lopsided smile.

“Lew...” Dick tried to sound annoyed, but he smiled and Lew detected relief in his voice.

“You either want me to talk you out of this, or you want me to join,” Lew said, getting back to the core of their underlying argument.

It’s time to end it, Lew thought.

Dick didn’t answer and just stared at him.

“See,” Lew said, “That’s what you want, right?”

There was a bitterness in Lew’s voice he couldn’t hide anymore.

“No – I don’t want you to do it for me,” Dick said finally. Lew imagined a hint of desperation in his voice.

Dick’s stoicism was getting on his nerves right now. He needed an answer.

“You -,” Lew growled and pressed out, “Do you want me to come?”

“Not like this,” Dick stood up and stared at him. He was confused by Lew’s sudden anger, Lew could tell, and felt immediately sorry for it.

“Do you want me to come?” Lew repeated a little bit softer. He held the eye contact until he saw something undefinable washing over Dick’s eyes.

“Yes.” Dick’s voice sounded hoarse and reminded Lew of that night in their foxhole. It was what he wanted to hear, but he still wasn’t satisfied with it.

“Why?”

“Lew, I –“

“Why?”

“You are my friend, and we work very well together.”

Lew's laugh sounded like something between a wheezy cough and a bark. It was absolutely without humour.

He took a step back and Dick's eyes flew up to meet his, expression completely unreadable but not blank; instead, it was charged with something impossible to identify. If Lew had to choose an emotion it would perhaps be excitement, which was just crazy.

“Oh yes, we do,” Lew said then, not breaking the eye contact.

“Than what is the problem, Lew?”

Dick knew what he wanted to hear, Lew was sure of that. He was dancing around it, however; for his own sake, or for the sake of them both, Lew didn’t know what was better. He closed his eyes for a second. He knew he was making everything worse again.

Lew turned on his heel, taking a step towards the door. “It’s clearing up, let’s go.”

“It’s not. Will you wait for a second!” Dick’s voice got commanding and Lew felt a shiver run down his spine. He felt Dick’s hand grab his arm and turn him around. They were close now, too close; Lew could see each individual eyelash, fluttering before the grey of Dick’ eyes.

They were both quiet for a while. Lew’s heart was thrumming in his chest. He supposed he should be more anxious than he was, but his mind was strangely clear. Dick’s gaze got soft and simultaneously burned straight through Lew’s heart. His pulse stuttered. He could feel his heart beating so hard by now. It could jump out of my chest, he thought. Any second.

He needed to get some space between them. He shook his arm to loosen Dick’s grip on it, stumbling while taking a step backwards, but Dick’s firm grip steadied him before Dick snatched his hand back quickly.

Something happened to Lew when he met Dick’s eyes again. His arm shot out and their palms smacked together, and suddenly he could have sworn that Dick entwined their fingers on purpose. Lew would never know which one of them was the first one to move and -

Their lips met.

A surge of adrenaline shot through his whole body. Lew hesitated for a second, pushing back a little. Their faces were still very close together, and he could feel Dick’s hot, uneven breath on his face.

Lew’s hand drifted back to Dick’s neck and he pulled him forward gently so that their foreheads met. Despite the rain, the air was suddenly hot, burning up his lungs. He breathed in and out, slowly.

"Sorry," Dick breathed. Dimensions of emotions shot right through Lew, tearing his heart apart and piecing it together elaborately. It hurt - but in the good way.

Lew felt no need to answer, instead he moved forward and kissed Dick’s lower lip, carefully. Dick kissed him back, shyly at first, but more confident with each touch of lips. It felt like falling off the edge of the world.

Lew pushed their bodies closer together.

This time they would fall together.

Heat rushed into his ears and then down his body. It seemed like the bitter coldness of Bastogne was finally pushed out of his system. Dick’s fingers were in his hair and Lew’s throat vibrated with a growl he didn’t dare release.

He traced Dick’s bottom lip with his tongue. Dick sighed and opened his mouth. It was so damn good, it was too good and he heard himself moan greedily when Dick pulled him softly by his hair. Their mouths moved together wildly, unabashedly, desperate to taste, to feel, to know one another.

Lew had never felt this before, so desperate and necessary. It had never been like this with anyone.

Lew’s head started spinning. Dick’s hands were everywhere; needy, frantic, but careful. He was kissing Dick as though he was trying to carve every second of it into memory, as if this would be the only chance he got, painfully aware that this truly could be the first and the last.

Dick mirrored him, as he could read his thoughts, pushing into every touch, exploring Lew’s mouth with a blinding intensity. Dick’s tongue was heavy and hot against his, and a little bit clumsy. Lew knew that Dick didn’t have much experience, if any; Lew felt overwhelmed, and it hurt with how good, how impossibly right it felt, it made his brain white out.

He could feel the desire coursing through him, the sharp edge of arousal, Dick’s strong arms around him and the warmth of his mouth. He knew his is not the place to take this further, nor is it the time, never mind how much he wanted it, how much he ached with it.

A shuddering thunderclap exploded right over their heads, and instinctively, they paused.

After a second passed, Lew felt Dick’s lips smiling against his and realised how out of breath he was.

Dick's breath was coming in little shudders, leaving doubt to creep quickly into Lew’s mind. Dick had been right a thousand times. How could he possibly ever forget and how could he possibly let go of it? Lew was not entirely sure he possessed the ability to do so. Or would ever.

Dick reached out for the little scar on his forehead, hesitated, but then carefully traced with his thumb along the red line on his skin and pushed Lew’s thoughts miles away.

“There’s no need to be sorry for that,” Lew croaked finally, not trusting his voice at all, as lightheaded as he felt.

“Lucky me,” Dick whispered against his lips, then brought some space between them, but still holding onto Lew’s collar. He didn’t stop moving his hand through Lew’s dark curls, either.

No, lucky me, thought Lew and kissed Dick again.

---------------------

“Don’t go,” Dick said that night back at the hotel.

Lew didn’t, of course.

They embraced in bed, huddled close together. It reminded Lew of Bastogne, but it was much warmer, much safer, and felt incredibly perfect.

As he lay in the soft cushions, Dick caressing his back and sleep coming over him, he forgot for once the past and the future. He felt caught in the little cocoon of warmth and safety, far away from any measurement of time.

That’s what love must feel like, he thought before he drifted away to a peaceful sleep.

---------------------

“You didn ’t tell him? ”

“I couldn ’t shut him up. ”

“What? Tell me what? ”

“Guts and Glory here asked for a transfer. ”

“What? ”

“13th Airborne, heading out to the Pacific right away. If I ’m going, I wanna get it over with.”

“Are you in this too? ”

“I can ’t let him go by himself. He doesn't know where it is."

What they had was built on friendship and need and love, but was tempered with terror and pain, Lew thought afterwards. It was exactly what they needed. It was delicate, now. Raw and intoxicating and so much better than what it used to be.

They came together in the shadows of the night, in the dark corners and the safety of their rooms. It was so damn dangerous, and Lew loved it. He loved the adrenaline in his blood while he whispered sweet nothings into Dick’s ear. He loved the swift passing brush of hands. He loved to feel Dick’s body under his.

He loved him.

“You’re my whole world,” he told Dick one night when Dick was already fast asleep in his arms, a fresh gust of May air cooling the sweat on his body.

“My whole world,” he repeated before he too fell asleep.

---------------------

Lew’s pulse hammered in his throat as he ran along the hallway. He stopped in the middle and knocked harshly against the door and opened it in a swift motion, not waiting for a signal. Dick looked up from his desk, papers piling in front of him. Immediate concern was showing in the lines of his face, but Lew gave him no time to react.

"War is over – Japan surrendered!" Lew shouted while he rushed to Dick’s side.

"For real," Dick said, knocking over piles of papers while pushing himself away from his desk to stand up.

"Yeah, it's over - it's over!” Lew pulled Dick into a tight embrace, digging his fingers into Dick’s back and pressing himself to the crook of his neck.

“So, New Jersey,” Dick whispered in his ear.

Lew smiled and kissed his neck.

“Yeah, New Jersey.”

---------------------

Joigny was quiet at night.

The camp had emptied out in the last two weeks, and the remaining soldiers either slept all that time or spent their nights in one of the inns in the town center.

Lew moved quietly along the row of tents until he found the one he was looking for and swiftly slipped into it.

Dick was sitting on the edge of his pallet, cleaning his boots with fast and steady movements, looking up as Lew entered his tent, greeting him with a smile on his lips.

He’s ridiculous, Lew thought, but then Dick was wearing his suspenders, which brought Lew’s thoughts in a complete different direction.

“Need any help with those?” Lew said, pointing at Dick’s boots.

Dick looked up to meet his eyes, then eyed him up and down, smiling brightly.

“You could start with yours first,” he said.

Lew laughed, “Ah no, they’re fine. Can’t raise the level now.”

Dick’s lips twitched at that. He tilted his head quickly, like he wanted to show Lew that he’s missing out a great opportunity. Lew just shook his head slightly, a non-movement that was so unquestionably his. Then Lew turned and secured the door of the tent before he walked over to Dick.

Dick stopped his work in progress again and followed him with his eyes. Lew flashed him a bright smile and slowly kneeled down in between Dick’s legs, holding onto them for support.

“What are you doing?” Dick asked, lowering his voice. Since they’ve left Austria for France, their chances of spending time together had decreased and the tents provided next to no noise control, not to mention the sparse safety the tent doors were offering.

“I’m pretty fine down here,” Lew countered, and travelled with his fingers upwards on Dick’s legs.

Dick played along now; a smile was curling on his lips. “What do you have in mind, Lew?”

“Oh, I don’t know.” Lew flashed one of his famous grins. “What about this?”

He leaned in closer and gave Dick a soft kiss on his lips. Dick slung an arm around Lew’s neck and pulled him in closer, deepening the kiss.

“We have to be quiet,” Dick mumbled in between soft kisses.

“I know.”

“You can’t do that, you know, the thing you’re doing with your mouth. I can’t stay quiet.”

“I know.” Lew was proud of that fact and he smiled against Dick’s lips. Lew sank both hands into Dick’s hair and pulled him into a deeper kiss. Dick’s hands were everywhere, but they were moving slowly, languidly almost, as if he didn’t want to rush it and miss anything.

His rough fingers pressed softly and caringly against Lew’s heated skin, and his slender yet muscular legs tangled with Lew’ own when Dick pulled him up, over his body and together they sank into the pallet.

“I love you,” Dick whispered in between kisses, and Lew’s heart stopped for a moment. He pressed his palm against Dick’s neck and tried not to think at all or he felt like he might burst into tears. It was earth shattering all the same, and Lew cradled Dick’s face gently in his hands.

He met Dick’s eyes, seemingly looking for something, maybe a flash of remorse, or a hint of deceit, but Lew found nothing but genuine affection. The rawness of it was utterly disarming, and Lew had to catch his breath before he found his voice.

“I love you, too.”

Dick looked as vulnerable as Lew felt, and he drew him in for another kiss. Their mouths barely touched, then Dick opened his mouth and kissed Lew more firmly. And Lew fell back into the warm embrace, joining their hands together.

He felt like he was dreaming, that this was entirely unreal and real all the same.

Part II
(blank white spaces)

“We were the people who were not in the papers. We lived in the blank white spaces at the edges of print. It gave us more freedom. We lived in the gaps between the stories. ”

Margaret Atwood, The Handmaid’s Tale

Early '90s

Lew had always hated hospitals. He hated the smell, the food and atmosphere, he hated the hectic, rude nurses and the fact that death was always lingering right around the next corner.

He hated being old and being ill, he hated that he was practically waiting for his death on this too hard hospital bed while machines around him were beeping with different sounds and he hated that his organs suddenly decided not to work anymore. He wanted to fight, to rebel against the illness, but his body was too weak and it was much, much too late.

The bed sheets had tangled around his legs during his afternoon nap and his toes were freezing, but he didn’t care to call the nurses.

Your life really does flash before your eyes before you die. A very old man in his eighties told him that in the first night when Lew had lied restlessly und scared in their shared hospital room. To sooth him, Lew supposed. Little did he know that all Lew could think about was his life and the past. The details were blinding with a burning intensity and the pressure between his eyes sometimes took his breath away. Maybe I’m already dying, he thought bitterly and he knew that it was closer to the truth than he liked his sarcasm to be.

1945

Coming back to the United States was like entering a parallel world where Lew could not escape. He felt like another person, another life, and that he had to go to Europe to be real.

He planned to go by train back to Nixon. He didn’t want to call someone, just the thought of his family made his stomach turn around. He almost turned on his heels and took the train that had the opposite direction as its destination. Making a home in Boston seemed suddenly very appealing.

But his definition of home had shifted and transformed in the last year.  It wasn't a place anymore, his old house felt cold and dead and everything looked grey and dull. It had become a feeling, a heartbeat, a smile and Lew was very close to taking the next ship back to England where Dick was waiting.

In the next few weeks, he cleaned out the house and bought modern furniture, tried to avoid his father and successfully any possible responsibility. He restocked his Vat69 but felt a stitch of guilt when he drank more than two glasses at night. He missed Dick, he missed his smile, his voice and the touch of his hand on the small of his back.

He counted the weeks, the days and sometimes the hours to the date Dick’s ship was scheduled at. D-Day minus far too long.

---------------------

When they had met again, on the docks of New York that were filled with thousands of people, Lew’s heart was hammering in his chest. He suppressed the sudden urge to salute as Dick stood right in front him, imposing in his uniform. Lew said hi and Dick said it too, and then Lew pulled him into a tight embrace.

The hug felt charged and electric, the way their first kiss did, as though they’re connected magnetically. Lew was hugging too hard for being in public, and so was Dick, their bodies pressed firmly together. Lew felt his fresh shaven cheek against his own stubbly one, and it felt better than anything.

Much later, behind the safety of the heavy curtains in Lew’s bedroom, Dick tasted like coffee and honey and a town called Berchtesgaden, like blood and relief and the irreality of his dreams.

---------------------

Funny, wasn't it, that Dick always smelled of gun powder no matter how long the war was over?

Even then, when they were more civilian than ever. Working eight to five, an occasional Sunday family dinner, a house with garden and no more adventures than some trips to Chicago and Lancaster.

Lew had always loved the Saturdays, they carried no pressure of anything. When they were lying in their bed, basking in the afterglow of all languid, unhurried movements and sweet whispers, having taken their time because it was storming outside and nothing else to do and nowhere else to be. Dick was kissing him, soft little kisses on his cheek, his forehead, his lips and Dick’s voice sounded hoarse when he said, “This is our eternity.”

They laid like that in silence, curled together in the darkness, and Lew began to imagine that Dick was right. That the world beyond their bedroom had faded away, and they were alone.

---------------------

When it happened, Lew felt caught in a tear in time. Time rushed and stopped and his brain couldn’t keep up with it. Korea, Dick’s military craft, the rumours about their situation, like Lew’s father liked to name it. They had to decide what to do and the options were rare and none of them were in any way something they would like to do.

The day Dick left their house and their life for good, it was storming outside and the autumn wind was howling in the streets. Like even the universe wasn’t content with the outcome.

Lew remembered that in detail.

How Dick went to the door and put his hand on the iron knob, but then Lew whispered his name and Dick stopped mid movement and turned around. He came over, his face so intense and so – whatever the word was for the kind of pain that made his stomach twist and ache like that – and then they were kissing, as deeply and passionately as they ever have, and Lew knew that it was goodbye. They kissed and Dick’s hands stroke over his back and through his hair, their bodies pressed together, and Lew’s hands were everywhere they shouldn’t be, too.. When they finally parted, and looked each other for a long moment, Dick got to the door open behind him and made himself walk through it. Lew stood there long after the engine sounds had been swallowed up and the door was slammed close by the wind.

Lew drank that night to forget his name. He forgot his own first.

---------------------

Sometimes he called the phone number of Dick's new house and quickly hung up before someone could take the phone. His head felt lightheaded and it was much, much worse than alcohol or pain, or hunger and sleepless nights.

And he could swear that his phone rang, too, always, after an hour or so, but he was always far too drunk to get it before the ringing stopped and silence crept back.

He never could let down his guard when he's sober, but he's not sober then, and he thought vaguely that he got drunk on purpose, just so he could lower his walls a little, let himself forget his guilt and his shame and the pretty wife at Dick’s home who believed whole heartedly in his loyalty and love.

---------------------

He’s a shadow at first, thin and wispy.  Lew certainly didn’t expect him, had not planned on seeing him again so soon, yet his heart did a quick stutter, skipped a beat or two, and then they had stood and looked at each other uncertainly. There was an air of anticipation, a subtle excitement between them, yet neither of them wished to make the first move, to take it for granted that nothing had changed in the months they had been apart. They both knew what was going to happen, yet neither wanted to be the first to make the move of no return.

An instant later Dick pulled him back into the blackest corner of the room, and Lew felt a warning hand upon his lips.

“Don’t think about her,” Dick whispered and Lew was painfully aware who he was talking about.

“Why,” he asked instead, provoking him with his ignorance.

“Because I think about you,” Dick said against his ear and Lew felt a shiver running down his body.

Lew wrapped a hand around the back of Dick's neck and tugged him down so that his head rested against Lew’s throat. Dick moved even closer, seeming to relax against him, one muscle at a time until the last of the tension has drained from his body.

---------------------

He married Claire not because she filled that hole in his heart or brought light back into his life. She wasn’t interested in that either; he had learned that quickly. He married her because she brought his life in a complete different direction. She lived her life in such an intense way that he sometimes felt like a bystander and there was nothing that he could do about it than to follow her.

She had asked him one warm night when they were sitting outside the patio of their hotel sipping at fruity cocktails somewhere at the Riviera. He shouldn’t have been surprised, he expected it for some time. The question was long overdue, for years actually. But when she asked him then, under the small palm trees, far away from the States, from their lives, from Dick, he was surprised nonetheless.

“You are in love with him, right?” she said and her voice was so soft and full of quiet sympathy that Lew couldn’t take it amiss.

“Tell me about her,” he said instead. She looked at him and raised an eyebrow, then she averted her gaze and watched the calm sea for a while.

“We’ve met at university. We’ve come along brilliantly from the start, like we knew each other for a life time. I’ve admired her for her intelligence and humour, she’s radiant. I’ve took her to the movies and she’d shown me all the hiking trails. One day, she kissed me. I was taken aback at first but then I understood what all these feelings were about, you know. It was a real eye opener. Last year she had to marry a broker from New York, her parents. We meet as often as we can.”

“And you had to marry me,” Lew raised his glass to her.

“That was a conscious decision, my dear husband,” she responded and sipped on her red cocktail before shooting him a grin.

“I don’t want to talk about him.” Lew said before she could ask again.

“It hurts too much, doesn’t it?”

Lew didn’t answer, but nodded slowly. She stayed quiet after that, too.

---------------------

Sometimes, he would walk and walk until he tired himself out. Until he didn’t have to feel anything anymore except the ache in his legs and the warmth of the sun on his skin and the whisky in his system. Sometimes he would just sit down on the stairs and sip on his Vat69, listening to the rushing of the wind through the leaves and the distant traffic sounds. If he tried hard enough, he could almost make himself believe that he was back in the late 1940s, waiting for Dick to come back home.

Sometimes he thought maybe he loved Dick so much because he got to discover him and everything that came with it. Dick had been new land: an undiscovered place outside the confines of heaven and hell and for this sweet blessed time, it was almost as if they were two perfectly real people meeting for the first time, again and again.

---------------------

One thing never changed in all the years: the intense charge of their infrequent meetings was darkened by the sense of time flying, never enough time, never enough.

You return to each other in waves. This is how water loves, she told him once and Lew really loved that idea and the sweet poetry of it. The circles have not faded from underneath Lew's eyes, and neither have the night terrors from his throbbing head.

---------------------

It was insane and not right - it's never been right - but against a soft, familiar mouth, Lew felt something settle deep inside him. He was deep, deeply in love, the kind that doesn’t die with hardship and absence.

And this never changed, not after a year, not after decades. Lew understood the progression of being love and in war and even though they were the very same thing. It was painful, just in the right way. And he never got enough of it.

---------------------

One night – just a few months before his health got worse- Lew sat next to Dick on the patio of the Winters’ family home and poured himself a drink. Dick turned his head and gave him a small smile, the one that’s just for him Lew thought. He lightened a cigarette and resumed his careful watch of the street. And Lew’s more than okay with that, just the mere presence of Dick next to him is enough to comfort him.

 “You remember that night of VE day when I told you that you have my heart?” Lew said after some time with a toned-down voice. Dick started laughing and kicked his leg softly with his foot.

“That you remember that surprises me.”

“Every second of it – well okay, maybe I’ve lost some parts over the years,” Lew admitted and kicked back.

They stayed silent after that.

“So, you want it back now?” Dick said out of nowhere into the buzzing silence of the summer night.

Lew busted into laughter that made his stomach ache.

 “That’s the funniest you’ve ever said Dick.”

Dick locked his glass with Lew’s, they clinked and the sound was carried out into the silent night. Maybe because the Whiskey seemed to demand that kind of gesture, even though Dick was drinking water.

Lew dangled his glass of whiskey in his hands between his knees, his eyes never leaving Dick’s. There was a lengthy silence as he seemed to consider how to go on from there.

“They say I have become a collector by now,” he finally said. His voice sounded strange in the quiet night. - You know what they say about collectors?”

Dick regarded him with curiosity. “They’re dedicated?”

“They worship the past.” Lew stated.

“Do you? Worship the past?” Dick asked, a serious tone layered over his soft voice.

“Trying not to.”

Their eyes met again and Lew didn’t dare to break the eye contact until Dick’s wife came back with fruits and a handmake cake.

Early '90s

A soft knock on the door raised Lew’s attention and he arduously turned his body slightly to watch the door.

It was Dick who entered, his red hair had all whitened out but Lew could recognize him anywhere.

“Hi Lew,” he said while he walked over to him, deep concern washing over his eyes.

“Hey. I don’t remember inviting you to this party,” Lew said with a weak attempt of sarcasm.

“Claire called me. It’s worse this time, right?” Dick asked and he took Lew’s hand in his. Lew stared a few moments to their conjoined hands, savouring the feeling.

“The doctors say I drank too much, poisoned my liver and kidneys. They can’t make it anymore, there’s not much time left.” Lew broke their eye contact to look at the ceiling.

“Well, that’s…” Dick’s voice was uncertain, full of sympathy and sorrow.

“… Not a surprise I know.”

“I’m so sorry Lew.”

“Yeah well me too. You always knew what I was doing or intended to do.”

“It has been an exquisite way of killing yourself.” Dick said and pressed his lips together.

“No, the most exquisite way of killing myself was loving you.” Lew said and instantly regretted it.

Dick was obviously taken aback by it. His eyes hardened and sadness flooded through him. Lew could feel too, the heaviness and the sharp pain.

“I didn’t mean it like this,” Lew added quickly.

“Sure you did.”

“But not like this. I’m sorry.” Lew squeezed his hand.

Dick sighed. “Lew, what is this here?”

“A goodbye.”

“When you want this to be a goodbye then be honest at least.”

“I’m thinking of Bastogne. The foxholes, when we laid next to each other and you were so close. And I couldn’t… I never thought that this will ever happen. Now being here, knowing that I will never have you again. That all I want – all I could have had -  is lost in the past, it’s so… Dying is so scaring, Dick.”

“You never lost me, Lew.” Dick returned the squeeze and sat down on his bed.

Lew tried it with a smile, but his muscles weren’t working with him anymore.

“Could you lie down with me?”

Dick shot a concerned look to the door and Lew added reassuringly, “Their next ward round is in two hours, don’t worry.”

Dick pressed his lips together and smiled at him. Then he stood up and walked to the other side of the bed. He lied down carefully, not to remove any of the various tubes, and pressed himself against Lew’s body. Lew felt his scalp being kissed and he sighed happily. He took Dick’s hand and kissed it before he pressed it against his fast beating heart.

He listened to Dick’s even breathing and remembered their first night together in the hotel, it felt like a life time ago and simultaneously like it had happened yesterday.

“I love you. I never stopped loving you.” Lew whispered.

Dick cradled his face and Lew shifted his body so that he could look in Dick’s eyes.

“I love you too, Lew. With all my heart. It has always been you.”

Lew felt suddenly tears running down his face, and he damned the weakness of his body. Lew’s eyes fluttered close as Dick started to kiss the tears away. When he opened his eyes again he saw that Dick was crying too.

“I don’t want to die,” he whispered with a weak voice. Instead of answering, Dick kissed him properly this time. Trying to give comfort and to distract, like he always had.

Lew couldn’t change fate and fight this like a battle and he felt the darkness was rising within himself. There was no air in the room, no air in Lew's lungs. He couldn't breathe. Lew vowed silently, when life ends, they'll meet again.

I love you Dick whispered, like a prayer and Lew felt that some time had already passed, both eons and nanoseconds, before he drifted off into a peaceful sleep.

Part III
(prisoners of war)

 “We are like islands in the sea, separate on the surface but connected in the deep.”

William James

The house was silent when Dick Winters came home that night, his wife fast asleep. He went up to the study and sat down in his old leathern arm chair. He decided against a shower as Lewis’ scent pleasantly lingered in his clothes and hair, reliving memories. He leaned back, closed his eyes and indulged in them. Pictures and scenes of smiles, kisses, sunsets carried him in a restless sleep.

He came awake hours later, his back hurting and with a sharp pain in his head. He moved downstairs to get some medicine against the headache. He found it in one of the kitchen units and filled a glass with cold water out of the tap. He swallowed the pill and drank the water in three big gulps. The clock said it was ten after three and when he looked outside, the night sky was still pitch black.

The sudden ringing of the telephone broke the silence of the house. Dick hurried to get the phone receiver. The shrill sound of the ringing worsened his headache instantly, but he felt numb. He knew, he knew what that meant in the second the phone started ringing.

“Hello?”

“Mr. Richard Winters?” A female voice answered him.

“Yes.”

“It’s Dr. Rohan from the Sacred Heart Hospital. I have to tell you that your friend Lewis Nixon died twenty minutes ago.”

Dick stayed silent. His heart started beating like train. Everything rushed over him and he had to cling to the kitchen counter before his legs could give up.

“His wife asked me to inform you. I’m very sorry.”

Dick still couldn’t find any words, he felt a big lump in his throat.

“Sir?”

“Yeah, uhm, thank you for doing so. I need to…” His voice gave up, tears built up right behind eyes. His throat was dry and it hurt, everything hurt suddenly.

Dr. Rohan began speaking again, her voice significantly softer than before, “He passed away while he was sleeping, he didn’t suffer, there was no pain. You can see his body tomorrow, if you wish.”

“Thank you,” Dick repeated.

“Goodnight Sir and I am very sorry.” Her voice was like a distant sound against the humming in his ears.

“Goodnight.” He said automatically and hang up.

Dick didn’t know how much time had passed before he could move again. He went upstairs to his study, locked the door, opened the last drawer of his desk and pulled out a heavy green bottle of Vat69 that he kept there for Lew’s visits.

He poured himself one glass and drank it in one. The liquid burned down his throat and the pain brought tears to his eyes. He drank another one and after that one more, until he didn’t know if the tears came from the sharp taste of the whiskey or from crying.

He felt nothing and everything, like his heart had been teared out of his chest.

If Lew could see him now, he thought, that he had chosen this moment after all the time to get drunk for the first time, he would be filled with indignation.

Dick raised his glass to the sky and smiled bitterly.

---------------------

several months later

A golden something fell out of the envelope and rolled across the table. Dick caught it and held it into the light of his desk lamp.

It was a beautifully crafted golden ring; too wide for the hand of a woman, Dick decided. He turned it carefully and observed how the light caught the edges of the band. He was fascinated by it.

The ring had an aura that transferred him back into the past. Looking at it, Dick could swear that he smelled the faint scent of whiskey, and in the back of his mind, he was sure that Lew’s dark hair would appear any second.

An inconsistency inside the ring caught Dick’s attention. What he found there was an engraving that ran almost the whole way around, the script so small that Dick had to get his glasses before he could read what was there. As he read the inside of the ring, Dick couldn’t breathe – all air was pressed out of his lungs and he suddenly felt like he was drowning in ice-cold waters. He closed the ring in his hand and squeezed it while he tried to fight the swelling of tears behind his eyes:

For a time that will never be. L

He recognized a piece of paper in the envelope and unfolded it carefully. It was by Lew’s wife, a two liner:

Dear Mr. Winters,

I guess this one is for you.

Claire

late ‘90s

A sweet tension of nostalgia had filled the air of the big dining hall. Years ago, three times of space were needed for all the attending veterans than they do now, but instead faces were seen who had not appeared since the end of the war.

Although they had laid down their helmets and weapons fifty years ago, emotions still ran deep and many wounds haven’t healed and most of them never will. It was written in the lines of their faces, in their aching bones and the flash of sadness in their eye.

When Ron Speirs decided to visit the reunion, it was right out of practical reasons than nostalgia. He had travelled through Germany to visit his colleagues of Spandau Prison and decided to make a short trip to Normandy to meet his fellow D Day veterans. That’s the advantage of Europe, before you blink an eye you’re in another country.

He kept in touch from time to time with a handful of them, but as he stayed in the army as a career the urge to delve in the past never occurred to him. Dick Winters wrote him a few times and updated him on the relevant information.

Now, seeing the aged version of these former super soldiers made him feel uneasy. It was like a mirror for him and he never liked to age, to lose his strength and fitness year by year. He considered himself lucky that at least his brain wasn’t victim of the ageing process yet.

He was hesitant at first (so unlike him) when he entered the room. He knew that he was considered a living legend and the fascination about his war actions were still very existent. Not only once a younger soldier told in his presence the stories about this awesome crazy Second World War captain. Speirs thought to have lost the badass in him years ago, especially after his wife died. He didn’t like it when people were talking to him like he was still a younger version of himself.

He saw a figure standing up from one of the round tables and walking in his direction. It was Richard Winters who was now all white haired and crinkly but still moving smoothly and with an ephemeral grace. He greeted him warmly and as the others recognized him he was soon in the middle of an excited crowd of people he hasn’t seen for fifty years and want now to introduce him to their spouses and relatives. He never felt more out of place and yet more himself than he had since decades.

Two hours later, as dinner had been served and loud conversations had quieted down he found himself sitting outside, sharing and looking at pictures of wives, sons and daughters, houses and pets with Lipton and a few others.

As Dick Winters approached him he looked up from a picture of Malarkey’s grandson’s college graduation.

“I want to walk a few steps, care to join me?”, Winters asked. His voice was clear yet his age was humming with it.

---------------------

They followed a sandy path that ran along the sea line. Winters started talking about the men who had died recently that Speirs knew. He told him about what lives they had lived, which people they loved, their professions and their families. Then he told him everything about what they have achieved in their later lives and how they coped with their war memories. Speirs began feeling a knot in his stomach, flashbacks of their faces appeared in front of his inner eye. Speirs was impressed by the details Winters remembered. He noticed that Winters never mentioned Nixon and made a mental remark to question him later.

“Are these pictures of your family?”. Winter’s calm voice snapped him out of this unforeseen mournfulness he never thought himself to be capable of for these men and this time.  He realised that his photographs were still in the firm grip of his left hand.

He handed Winters a picture of his wife. She had been very beautiful with a radiant smile and pure intelligence sparkling in her eyes. The familiar painful tear in his chest reminded Speirs how he missed her. Then Winter asked him about his children and he proudly handed him picture after picture.

„And this is my grandson with his husband.” - A statement that he never thought to bring over his lips as casually as he did now.

He carefully watched Winters’ reaction who regarded the picture of the two men arm in arm with a warm smile.

“They have a beautiful daughter. She’s the wildest you’ve ever seen. Tougher than any of the boys,” Speirs said then.

Winters chuckled and replied, “That’s the Speirs blood running in her veins.”

Speirs laughed loudly at that. “No one believes she’s adopted.”

Winters smiled again.

“Times have changed. Everything’s seems to be possible by now,” Speirs slid the pictures back in the inner pocket of his jacket.

“Yeah, times really did change,” Winters added. He seemed to be miles away.

They walked a bit farther.  The sea wind brought a fresh breeze and he hugged his yellow jacket tighter. As the path ended and they began the walk back to the others, Speirs found his voice again.

“I’m sorry for your loss, Dick.”

Winters stopped and turned to look at sea, waves crushing on the shore.

“It’s not my loss, it’s hers.”

“As it is yours,” he didn’t mean it like that and then he did. A vague kind of sadism had always been a part of his nature but this came from something entirely else.

He raised his hand to pat Winters’ shoulder but stopped in mid movement. He wanted to say, I know. I saw you and him. He stayed dead silent.

Winters turned to look at him in a quick motion and but then settled his eyes back to the turbulent sea.

“You know,” he said in a carefully measured voice. The statement hung heavy in the air. He didn't know what has given it away but Winters caught the tiny glimpse of ambiguity.  Winters always had been larger than life.

Meeting his eyes, Speirs spoke, “I know nothing.” Nothing is relative, Speirs knew that and Winters knew it too.

Winters hold the gaze for a moment, then turned and continued the walk back. Speirs stayed a few steps behind him before he closed up on him.

Night of VE Day
8 – 9 May 1945

The rooms were crowded, full of soldiers of any ranks, and drowned in cheers, laughers and playful banters. The air was sticky and the sharp cent of alcohol stung in the air. You could get drunk by breathing only. In the corners hero stories were exchanged, the tables were used for gambling.

It was long after midnight when Ron Speirs wound himself through various gatherings of men, then nearly tripped over a leg. He glared at the sergeant who swiftly pulled the leg back as he recognized who stood in front of him and took nervously a big gulp out of the wine bottle in his hands.   “Where’s Nixon when you need him,” Speirs muttered. A poker game was all set up, Lipton and Welsh were already waiting, but the fourth player was still missing.

He scanned the room again but the night black hair of Lewis Nixon was nowhere to be found. To spot one drunken man under a horde of drunken soldiers is a mammoth task, especially because he stopped considering himself sober since the early afternoon. The room spun for a moment and Speirs gripped the back of a chair and then decided to change his tactics.

“Listen up,” he ordered, but the noise of chatting was too strong to reach a wider radius then a few men around him, “Has anyone seen Nixon?” He looked around. He got a few shrugging’s and two differing directions as Malarkey passed him, taking a gulp out of a gin bottle, “He’s somewhere outside, Sir, catching some air. I think Winter’s with him.” Speirs nodded, then mumbled, “Thank you,” and then turned to find a way out.

The door to the balcony was secluded from the rest of the rooms and he met only two men on his way out. Both passed out and lying on the floor, one still cradling a bottle. Speirs didn’t even give them a look. The temperatures had fallen significantly and no one liked to freeze anymore.  The men preferred to stay inside. Step by step, the noise quieted down but was still evident.

A sudden rush of dizziness made his sight go blurry and his knees weak. Annoyed, Speirs groaned and placed a hand against the wall. The coolness of the stone focused him after a few moments, but he didn’t dare to open his eyes yet. He took some deep breaths and then leaned against the wall. Breath by breath the blur began to vanish. He found himself right at the open door to the balcony. The cool air of the May night filled his lunges and he imagined the scent of spring in the air. The night was moonless; the sky was black and only the dim light from the windows were elucidating a few parts of the balcony.

The sound of low voices speaking was carried to his ears. One was the distinctive voice of Lewis Nixon, deep and smooth. They were not far away, talking quietly.

“You still have to do your interview. Gifting me a wine cellar won’t change anything,” Nixon said.

“It was worth a try,” the other voice was Dick Winters, softer than Nixon’s and full of underlined dry humour.

Speirs made two slightly uncoordinated steps towards the open door to the balcony. Then he had to close his eyes again and to be on the safe side he leaned back against the wall. As he opened his eyes again, he had to blink several times until the darkness cleared and he could make out two figures in the shadows. With his fingers strung tight against the coolness of the wall, and with his breathing forced short, he watched.

Nixon was sitting against the wall, legs stretched out and eyes closed.  Winters was right next to him, and waiting for Nixon’s reaction.

“Kudos for that. And I really really appreciate your effort,” Nixon slurred, his voice was drowned in alcohol. He’s one of the lucky people you don’t recognize when he’s drunk until he’s far over the point. And even in his own state of drunkenness, Speirs realized that Nixon was far ahead of him.

Nixon stretched his arms in front of his body then nudged his shoulder to Winters who also leaned closer.  Winters followed Nixon’s hands with his eyes.

Nixon had to recognize this; he leaned over and whispered something in Winter’s ear. A smile was playing on Winters’ lips. Speirs understood some undefined syllables and something like sweetheart, but he decided to have misunderstood that part. But then Dick laughed loudly and carefree, something he’d never seen him doing before. “You are not particularly sweet, Lew,” he said then amused.

“Hey, I beg to differ,” Nixon seemed to be genuinely offended. He nudged Winter’s arm and after a few silent moments he added in far lower voice than before, “You’ve got my heart, that should make up for it.”

Winters stared at him, like he wanted to detect how much truth was in this statement. “You are very very drunk Lew.”

When Nixon finally spoke, his voice was soft and full of something Speirs couldn’t make out. Then Winters took Nixon’s hand in his and gently stroked it with his thumb. Nixon followed Winters’ hand with his eyes and then pressed their adjoined hands to his chest close to his heart.

With that something in Speirs snapped and he realized what he was watching there. A weird feeling settled in his stomach that had nothing to do with the amount of alcohol that he had drunken. Drunkenness sharpens the senses in some mysterious ways, sometimes.

It wasn’t the action itself that took him aback. He felt like intruding something he should have never witnessed, something so incredibly private that not even Nixon and Winters were aware of its extent.

Carefully, Speirs retreated into the darkness of the shadows and walked back to the corner of the hall. His thoughts were racing as he had to lean once again against the cool wall, his body betraying him. Silently, he decided that he had seen several forms of crime in his time in war and even committed a fair amount but the scene he had just witnessed was not one of them. Suddenly, he felt protective about them and about their little secret. He slid down at the wall, blocking the way for anyone who could come through.

“Earth to Speirs”

Speirs slowly opened his eyes and found Nixon standing right before him who was kicking his leg with his boot.

“I was looking for you,” Speirs croaked with a voice full of sleep. 

“In the land of dreams?” Nixon huffed a laugh.

“If you tell this anyone, I have to…” Speirs growled, but was interrupted by the other man.

“All right, calm down. My lips are sealed. Now care for another round?”

“Hitler’s finest for Toccoa’s toughest,” Speirs said with a smile while Nixon helped him to get up. He padded on Nixon’s back and added, “If we’re lucky, there’s a poker game still waiting for us”

---------------------

“Why have you never reported it?” Winters voice finally broke the silence between them.

Speirs chose his words carefully before answering, “I had a blind eye for several actions that were considered a crime back then. And I really didn’t care”

They fell in silence once again. Short before they reached the others, Winters looked at him and asked, “When?”

“Night of VE Day, on the balcony.”

“Oh, yeah – yeah that had been unwise,” Winters spoke slowly and Speirs could swear that was a small smile curling on his lips.

“Thank you, Ron.”

“There’s no need to thank me, Major.”

“So, it never ended?” Speirs got curious now. Winters met his eyes and Speirs worried for a moment that he had overstepped some boundaries again. But Winters smiled this time, fully and very sad.

“No, never.”