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Chapter Text

21 June, 1942

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Athena, the Goddess of wisdom and military victory. A symbol of craft, pride and valor, the sheer epitome of what Evelyn Donovan wished her role in the war would become.

She stood proud of what she had already accomplished, having fought for her place in the 200 women who were now bound for Camp Davis. Evelyn didn't know how many women had applied for a role in the operation, it's secrecy resulting with information being kept from even the people at the centre of the mission, but the girl knew she belonged there, she had earned the right to.

Operation Athena is a largely kept secret within the military. It had been released to the general public that they were introducing women into the war, only the best of the best would be selected to even be offered the chance to train. This revelation was met with large discourse, what would a woman be able to bring?

Within the world, women were viewed as a symbol of weakness and unintelligence, their only true attribute being their looks. Many questioned how women would even make it through the war. But it hadn't been revealed to the public of what their true position in battle would be, the announcement only saying that they would work as soldiers on the front line across the different warfronts.

Every woman selected had known what their true role would be, they would be acting as spies. The American Government had announced their placements of women on the frontline to prevent any questions if they were discovered, but it was truly an excuse to place the women closer to the borders, making it easier for them to act on their designated missions without having to drop into enemy territory.

Strong, smart, brave and beautiful were the words they'd requested these women to be. Each phrase holding a part of Evelyn's being, all 4 creating the value she now held within society. She was strong, both physically and mentally, the constant pressure that her parents had placed on her helping craft the resilient girl that now sat on a one-way train to war, one that she knew she now couldn't get off.

Smart and brave were qualities she too shared with her brother, their upbringing having been in a working-class neighbourhood had instilled a sense of resilience and determination into the two of them. Growing up with a German mother and French father had meant the two were able to understand and speak both languages alongside English, a valuable asset that would be useful in the European war. And of course, growing up with a daring and strong-willed older brother to look up to is what shaped Evelyn to the valor she now was.

Though Evelyn would accept those traits proudly, the one she would never agree she had was beauty. To be in this operation you needed it, the sheer existence of it changed how you were viewed amongst your peers, and therefore how any German man of power would view you. Evelyn knew what that beauty would then lead to with those types of men, hell, she'd been dodging it in America, so she didn't even want to imagine what horrors the men in Germany could cause.

But it was in the army's best interest for their women to hold those qualities, for the safety of both them and the operation, and after all, it was men who were running the operation, and therefore they knew themselves what would best be used to manipulate such beings.

Evelyn was quickly ripped from her thoughts as the train came to an abrupt halt, signalling the end of it's journey. Women surrounding her quickly rose as Evelyn was quick to follow suite, not wanting to be left behind on such a monumental occasion.

Her blonde hair was strewn up into a tight bun, thin, loose strands shaping her features as the sun shone sharply onto her. Her blue eyes reflected the suns rays, though a look of hardened strength is what stood out within them.

Now, Evelyn Donovan had never been one to shy away from a challenge, but as she stepped off the train at the small, desolate station near Camp Davis, she couldn't help but feel a twinge of doubt. She was finally here, ready to begin the training that would determine whether she had what it took to stand alongside the men in the thick of battle. The mission was vital, demanding, and nothing short of perilous—but nothing could have prepared her for the sight that greeted her as she squinted at the horizon.

Rising ahead was a hill, more like a mountain, with a steep incline that seemed to stretch into the heavens. It was massive, daunting, and from her perspective, entirely unreasonable. The path up was a narrow, winding trail that looked more like something goats would traverse than soldiers. A group of women who had arrived on the same train as Evelyn were already muttering among themselves, eyes wide at the sight.

"Good grief." Evelyn muttered under her breath, adjusting the heavy duffel bag slung over her shoulder as she pushed some strands of hair out of her face. "This must be some kind of joke."

A voice from behind her chimed in, dripping with sarcasm. "Well, if it is, I'm not laughing."

Evelyn turned to see a woman who appeared to be just slightly older, with auburn hair tucked messily under her cap and a crooked grin that suggested she found the situation just as absurd as Evelyn did. She had striking green eyes that sparkled with a mix of mischief and exhaustion, and a rifle slung over one shoulder.

"First time here too?" The woman asked, raising an eyebrow as she nodded toward the hill.

"Yeah, though I'm starting to wonder if I should've brought a pair of wings instead of boots." Evelyn replied, shaking her head in disbelief. "Evelyn Donovan, by the way."

"Anna Blake." The woman said with a grin, offering a hand. "Nice to meet you, Evelyn. You any good at mountaineering?"

Evelyn chuckled as she shook Anna's hand, finding herself immediately at ease in her company. "If by 'mountaineering' you mean struggling up a steep incline while cursing every life choice that led you to this point, then I'd say I'm an expert."

"Perfect, we'll get along just fine." Anna said, laughing. "Come on, let's tackle this beast. I hear they've got coffee at the top. Or at least, I'm hoping they do. That's the only thing that's going to get me through this."

Evelyn gave a mock salute, her blonde hair blowing slightly in the breeze. "Lead the way, Captain."

Together, they set off toward the hill, joining the other women who had already started their ascent. The first few steps weren't so bad, but it didn't take long for the incline to make itself known. The path was rocky, uneven, and seemed to grow steeper with every step. The air, cool and crisp at the base, felt thinner as they climbed, making each breath a little more labored.

"Whoever designed this must have a sick sense of humour." Evelyn grumbled as they trudged upward.

"I bet it was a general." Anna said, panting slightly as she adjusted the strap of her duffel bag. "Sitting in his nice, cozy office, sipping coffee, and deciding that the best way to toughen us up was to see if we could survive the climb to camp."

"And if we can't, at least they'll have a good laugh." Evelyn added, wiping a bead of sweat from her brow. "They'll watch us roll back down the hill like a bunch of sacks of potatoes."

"Speak for yourself." Anna shot back with a grin. "I'll roll down with style. I've always fancied myself more of a gracefully tumbling boulder."

Evelyn snorted, trying to stifle her laughter. "I'll give you a ten for technique if you manage to pull that off."

The laughter helped distract them from the strain, though the hill seemed unending. As they continued to climb, more and more of the women around them began to falter, some stopping to catch their breath, others leaning on their duffel bags for support. But Evelyn and Anna pressed on, determined to conquer the hill, if only out of stubbornness.

"You look rather young for this, Evelyn." Anna looked skeptically at the girl beside her.

Chuckling lightly, Evelyn smiled. "Born in '25. I'm 16."

"16?!" Anna shrieked, causing her newfound friend to jump slightly.

"Uh, yeah? I turn 17 later this year, though. How old are you?"

"18." This caused Evelyn to frown.

"You're only two years older than me. Why are you so shocked?" She replied, shrugging her shoulders, confused on why her friend was being rather dramatic.

"Just thought they'd only be bringing in adults."

"Well, I'm nearly an adult." Evelyn reasoned as they fell into silence once more.

"So, what made you sign up for this insanity?" Anna asked after a few minutes of silence, her tone light despite the exertion.

Evelyn paused for a moment, considering her answer. "I wanted to make a difference, I guess. My brother's heading over to Europe, and I couldn't just sit back and do nothing. When I heard they were recruiting for this... special mission, I jumped at the chance. What about you?"

"Pretty much the same." Anna replied, her expression growing a bit more serious. "My dad fought in the Great War. He used to tell me stories about the trenches, the horrors he saw. My brother's also in the Royal Air Force, fighting against the Germans, When the chance came to do something, anything, I knew I had to take it. But I have to admit, I didn't realize 'something' involved mountain climbing."

"Yeah, I thought we'd be dodging bullets, not boulders." Evelyn said with a grin.

They continued upward, the camp still out of sight, though they knew it had to be close. The sun was high in the sky now, beating down on them and adding to the challenge. Evelyn could feel the sweat soaking through her uniform, her legs burning with each step. But the sight of Anna, trudging beside her with that same determined grin, kept her going.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, they crested the top of the hill. The camp sprawled out before them, a collection of barracks, training fields, and the ominous sight of drill sergeants barking orders at the women who had arrived earlier. But in that moment, Evelyn didn't care about any of it. She just cared about the fact that they had made it.

"We're here." She gasped, dropping her duffel bag to the ground and collapsing beside it. "I never thought I'd be so happy to see a bunch of barracks."

Anna flopped down beside her, equally exhausted but still grinning. "You and me both. If this is their idea of a welcoming committee, I'm terrified to see what they've got planned for dinner."

"Probably a three-course meal of gravel, gravel and more gravel." Evelyn joked, wiping her face with her sleeve. "But I think we've earned it."

As they sat there catching their breath, a shadow fell over them. They looked up to see a stern-looking sergeant standing above them, hands on his hips.

"Congratulations, ladies." He said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "You've managed to survive the hill. But don't get too comfortable. That was just the warm-up."

Evelyn exchanged a look with Anna, both of them stifling a groan. "Of course it was." Evelyn muttered under her breath.

"On your feet!" The sergeant barked, and they scrambled up, wincing at the protest from their aching muscles. "Report to Barracks C. Your training starts now."

As they grabbed their bags and headed toward the barracks, Evelyn leaned over to Anna. "So, do you think they'll have that coffee you mentioned?"

Anna chuckled, shaking her head. "I'm starting to think that coffee is a myth. Like a unicorn. Or a friendly drill sergeant."

"Or a flat piece of land around here." Evelyn added with a smirk.

They reached the barracks, the sound of boots crunching on gravel echoing around them. As they entered, they were met with the sight of rows of bunks, each with a small, uncomfortable-looking mattress and a footlocker at the base. It wasn't exactly luxury accommodations, but after that hill, it looked like paradise.

Evelyn tossed her duffel onto an empty bunk and collapsed onto the mattress, her legs screaming in relief. "I'm never moving again." She declared, her voice muffled by the pillow.

Anna flopped onto the bunk across from her, her grin never wavering. "If they want me to do anything else today, they're going to have to drag me by my boots."

As they lay there, the reality of their situation began to sink in. This was just the beginning. The hill had been a test, a trial by fire to see who had the grit to keep going. And while they had passed, they knew the real challenges were yet to come.

But for now, as Evelyn lay there with a newfound friend by her side, she allowed herself a moment of satisfaction. They had made it up the hill. They had laughed in the face of exhaustion and kept each other going. And they would keep doing that, no matter what else came their way.

As the barracks door creaked open and another group of exhausted women stumbled in, Evelyn turned her head to Anna. "So, what do you think the next test is? Climbing up to the moon?"

Anna chuckled, rolling onto her back. "I wouldn't put it past them. But whatever it is, we'll make it through. With style, of course."

Evelyn smiled, feeling the weight of the day finally start to lift. She had a feeling this was the start of something bigger than either of them could have imagined. And with Anna by her side, she knew they could take on whatever the army threw at them—hills, mountains, or even the moon.

For now, though, the only mountain she had to climb was staying awake long enough to hear the sergeant's next set of orders. As she closed her eyes for a moment's rest, Evelyn felt a sense of camaraderie she hadn't expected to find so quickly. She had come to Camp Davis to prove herself, and in Anna, she had already found a partner who would push her to be better, stronger, and more resilient.

The journey ahead would be long and fraught with danger, but at least they could laugh at the absurdity of it all together.

Chapter Text

Evelyn Donovan stood at attention, her back straight, eyes forward, and her heart pounding in her chest. The cold, unyielding ground beneath her boots served as a stark reminder of the reality she had chosen to face. She wasn't in some ordinary training camp; this was Camp Davis, a rigorous military installation where only the toughest soldiers were forged. And she wasn't just any soldier. Evelyn, along with 199 other women, had been selected for a mission shrouded in secrecy—a mission that would place them on the front lines, shoulder to shoulder with the men, under the guise of ordinary infantry soldiers.

The air was thick with tension as the women stood in formation, waiting for the first words from their commanding officer. Lieutenant Colonel Marcus Hayes, a grizzled veteran with a reputation for turning raw recruits into hardened warriors, eyed them with a look of measured disdain. He knew the weight of the mission these women were about to undertake, and he wouldn't allow them to enter the battlefield unprepared.

"Welcome to hell, ladies." Hayes barked, his voice cutting through the crisp morning air like a knife. "I don't care where you came from or what you've done before. From this moment on, you belong to me. You're here because you were deemed exceptional, but I don't give a damn about that. Prove it."

Evelyn felt a shiver run down her spine, not from the cold, but from the anticipation of what lay ahead. She glanced at the woman beside her, Private Anna Blake, who returned the look with a slight nod of acknowledgment. Anna was as tough as they came—sharp, resourceful, and unflinching. The two had quickly bonded over their shared determination to prove themselves in a man's world, and in the secrecy that surrounded their true mission.

The first month of training was designed to push their physical limits to the brink. It started with a 10 run—ten miles through rugged terrain, over hills and through dense forests, with full gear on their backs. The weight of the packs was crushing, and the ground beneath their feet was unforgiving, but the women pushed forward, driven by sheer willpower and the understanding that failure was not an option.

"Keep moving!" The drill instructors shouted, their voices relentless as they paced alongside the struggling women. "You want to fight with the men? Then prove you can survive this first!"

Evelyn's lungs burned, her muscles ached, and her mind screamed at her to stop, but she didn't falter. She had trained for this moment, prepared herself for the grueling physical demands. But nothing could have truly readied her for the sheer brutality of this training. By the time they completed the run, several women had fallen behind, collapsing from exhaustion. They were quickly attended to by medics, but there was no respite for the rest.

Next came the obstacle course—an endless sequence of climbing walls, crawling under barbed wire, swinging across muddy pits, and scaling rope ladders. Every muscle in Evelyn's body was pushed to the edge of its endurance. The instructors were merciless, yelling in their faces, demanding perfection, punishing failure with more grueling exercises.

Evelyn watched as some of the women struggled to keep up, their faces etched with pain and determination. She could see the fear in their eyes, the fear of not being strong enough, fast enough, or tough enough to endure. But she also saw something else—resolve. They had all chosen this path, knowing it would be harder than anything they had ever faced before. And they would push through it, or they would break trying.

"Donovan! Blake! Get over that wall!" An instructor bellowed as they reached the towering structure that loomed ahead. Evelyn didn't hesitate. She grabbed hold of the rough wood, her fingers digging in as she hauled herself up, feeling the strain in her shoulders and legs. Anna was right beside her, moving with the same ferocity and determination.

They cleared the wall, landing hard on the other side, but there was no time to rest. It was straight into the next obstacle, a pit filled with cold, thick mud that they had to crawl through under a web of barbed wire. The mud clung to them, weighing them down, making every movement a struggle. The wire was low, scraping against their backs as they inched forward, ripping their shirts ever so slightly as the cotton caught onto it.

Evelyn's arms trembled as she dragged herself through the muck, her breath coming in ragged gasps. She could feel the eyes of the instructors on her, judging every movement, waiting for any sign of weakness. But she refused to give them the satisfaction. She would get through this, no matter how much it hurt.

By the end of the first month, they were battered, bruised, and exhausted, but they had survived. A small number of the women had dropped out, unable to withstand the relentless pace and intensity. But Evelyn and Anna remained, along with a core group of determined women who had proven their mettle. They had been pushed to their physical limits, but they had not broken.

Many had chosen to cut their hair short, their loose strands often getting in the way during their missions but Evelyn and Anna decided to keep theirs long, throwing it up into makeshift buns and messy plats. They didn't have the heart to remove a small remnant of their former identities.

If the first month was about pushing their bodies to the brink, the second month was about breaking their minds. The instructors knew that physical strength alone wouldn't be enough to survive the horrors of war. Mental toughness, resilience, and the ability to withstand fear and stress were just as important.

Sleep deprivation became the norm. They were given only a few hours of rest each night, if that. The days were filled with grueling physical exercises, forced marches, and intense drills designed to wear them down. But it was the nights that truly tested them.

Evelyn found herself in a makeshift bunker, huddled with the others as the instructors simulated artillery barrages and enemy attacks. The sound of explosions echoed through the night, shaking the ground and filling the air with dust and debris. The instructors yelled at them, demanding they maintain discipline, take cover, and return fire, despite the fact that they were exhausted, disoriented, and terrified.

"Stay sharp, Eve!" Anna shouted over the noise, grabbing her by the arm and pulling her to the ground as another simulated explosion rocked the bunker. "Don't let them break you!"

Evelyn nodded, forcing herself to focus. The fear was real, even though she knew the attacks weren't. The instructors had created an environment of constant stress and anxiety, and it was taking its toll. Some of the women began to crack under the pressure, unable to maintain their composure in the face of the relentless assaults on their senses.

The psychological warfare continued with isolation exercises. Each woman was placed in a dark, confined space for hours, left alone with nothing but her thoughts and the sound of her own breathing. The isolation was designed to push them to the edge of sanity, to see how they would react when stripped of all external stimuli.

Evelyn sat in the darkness, her mind racing as she fought to maintain control. She had always prided herself on her mental toughness, but this was different. The silence was oppressive, the darkness suffocating. She could feel her heart pounding in her chest, her breath quickening as the hours dragged on. But she refused to give in to the panic that threatened to overtake her.

She focused on her training, on the reason she was here. She reminded herself of the mission, of the importance of what they were doing. She thought of Anna, of the other women who were enduring the same ordeal. They were in this together, and they would get through it together.

When the isolation finally ended, and the doors were opened, Evelyn emerged shaken but not broken. She had faced the darkness, the fear, and the loneliness, and she had come out the other side. But she knew the worst was yet to come, they would never leave the easiest for last.

The third month was about simulating the conditions they would face in combat. The instructors recreated battle scenarios, complete with live-fire exercises, explosions, and the chaos of war. The women were thrown into the thick of it, forced to navigate through minefields, take down enemy positions, and perform rescues under fire.

Evelyn's heart raced as she crawled through the mud, rubber bullets whizzing overhead. The sound of gunfire was deafening, and the acrid smell of smoke filled the air. She could feel the adrenaline surging through her veins, the fear and excitement blending into a single, intense emotion.

"Cover me!" Anna shouted as she moved forward, her rifle at the ready. Evelyn nodded, firing at the targets ahead, suppressing the enemy as Anna advanced. The training was as real as it could get, designed to prepare them for the chaos of battle.

The scenarios were relentless, one after the other, each more intense than the last. The instructors pushed them to the edge of their endurance, testing their ability to think and act under pressure. They had to make split-second decisions, assess threats, and work together as a team to survive.

Evelyn and Anna became a formidable duo, their bond strengthened by the trials they faced together. They learned to anticipate each other's movements, to trust each other implicitly. They knew that in the chaos of war, they would have to rely on each other to survive.

But the reality of war was brutal. The instructors made sure they understood that. During one of the exercises, they were forced to witness the aftermath of a simulated bombing, bodies strewn across the ground, the air thick with the smell of blood and smoke. It was a stark reminder of the horrors they would face on the battlefield.

"This is what you signed up for." Lieutenant Colonel Hayes said, his voice cold and emotionless as he surveyed the scene before him. "War isn't just about glory and victory. It's about death, destruction, and loss. You'll see things that will haunt you for the rest of your lives. If you're not ready to face that, then you have no place here."

Evelyn felt a knot tighten in her stomach as she looked at the gruesome scene. The bodies, though fake, were disturbingly realistic, covered in blood and mangled in ways that made her want to turn away. But she forced herself to keep looking. She needed to confront this reality now, in training, before she saw it for real on the battlefield.

Anna stood beside her, silent but resolute. Evelyn could see the determination in her eyes, a reflection of her own resolve. They had come too far to turn back now. This was their path, and they would walk it together, no matter how dark it became.

As the third month drew to a close, the women had been broken down and rebuilt, their minds and bodies forged in the crucible of the most grueling training imaginable. Many more had dropped out, unable to withstand the relentless pace, the psychological torment, or the physical demands. But those who remained were stronger for it, hardened, disciplined, and ready to face whatever came next.

The fourth and final month of training was the ultimate test of everything they had learned. It was a week-long field exercise, designed to replicate the conditions they would face on the battleground. The women were divided into small units and dropped into the wilderness, where they had to survive on their own, navigate through hostile terrain, and complete a series of challenging objectives while being constantly pursued by "enemy" forces.

Evelyn and Anna were placed in the same unit, along with four other women who had proven themselves throughout the training. They were given minimal supplies, just enough to get by, and tasked with reaching a rendezvous point several miles away while evading capture and completing sabotage missions against mock enemy installations.

The first few days were a test of their endurance. They marched through dense forests, over hills, and across rivers, all while remaining vigilant for enemy patrols. The instructors played the role of the enemy, hunting them relentlessly, forcing them to stay on the move and use every bit of their training to avoid detection.

Evelyn's legs ached, her feet blistered, and her stomach growled with hunger, but she kept going. There was no choice but to push forward. The hot nights were the hardest, with temperatures remaining high to the point of insomnia, and the constant threat of discovery hanging over them. But they couldn't risk lighting a fire or making too much noise. They had to stay hidden, huddled together for warmth, taking turns to keep watch while the others slept.

On the sixth day, they reached their first objective, a mock enemy communications post that they were tasked with sabotaging. The post was guarded, and they had to approach it with extreme caution, using the cover of darkness to their advantage.

Evelyn's heart raced as she crawled through the underbrush, her rifle slung across her back. Anna was beside her, silent and focused. They had planned the attack carefully, studying the guards' patterns and identifying weak points in the perimeter.

When they were close enough, Evelyn signaled to the others. Two of the women provided cover, silently taking out the guards with well-placed shots of their rubber bullets, while Evelyn and Anna moved in to plant the explosives. They worked quickly, their hands steady despite the adrenaline coursing through their veins.

"Charges set." Anna whispered, her voice barely audible in the darkness.

"Let's move." Evelyn replied, and they retreated as quickly and quietly as they had approached, blending into the shadows.

A few minutes later, the night was shattered by the sound of explosions, followed by chaos as the remaining guards scrambled to respond. But Evelyn and her team were already long gone, melting into the forest as the enemy post burned behind them.

The rest of the month continued in much the same way, constant movement, evasion, and sabotage. They had to be resourceful, using the environment to their advantage, setting traps, and outmaneuvering the enemy forces that were constantly on their tail.

By the time they reached the final rendezvous point, they were exhausted, dirty, and hungry, but they were also victorious. They had completed their objectives, evaded capture, and proven that they had what it took to survive in the most challenging conditions.

As they stood at attention, waiting for Lieutenant Colonel Hayes to address them one last time, Evelyn felt a surge of pride. She had made it through the hardest training she had ever faced, alongside some of the toughest women she had ever known. They were no longer just soldiers, they were a unit, forged in the fires of adversity.

"You've all done well." Hayes said, his voice carrying a rare note of approval. "You've proven that you're ready for what's to come. But remember this, what you've faced here is nothing compared to what you'll face in Europe. The enemy won't go easy on you, and the stakes will be higher than ever. You're going to be on the front lines, right there with the men. But you're also going to be something more. You'll be the eyes and ears in places they can't reach. You'll be the ones who take on the missions that no one else can. And that means you have to be better, tougher, and smarter than anyone else out there."

He paused, looking them over one last time. "You've got what it takes. Now go out there and prove it."

Evelyn felt a sense of resolve settle over her. This was just the beginning. The real challenge was still ahead of them, but they were ready. They had to be.

As the women were dismissed and began to prepare for their next steps, Evelyn and Anna shared a look. There were no words needed, they both knew what lay ahead. They had faced the worst of the training, and now they would face the worst of the war. But they would do it together, and they would do it with the knowledge that they were prepared for anything.

And so, with the final month of training behind them, Evelyn and her fellow soldiers prepared to embark on a journey that would take them into the heart of the most devastating conflict the world had ever known.

Only 105 women remained, the challenges having forced many out, but these were the best 105 women the military had to offer. Each woman had been assigned a code name to protect their identities, Anna named Artemis Wilson, Artemis after the goddess of hunt, Anna's shooting ability gifting her such a name.

Evelyn had been named Mary White, a name that carried a legacy intertwined with both history and fate. Her name, "Mary," was a deliberate nod to the infamous Bloody Mary of England from the sixteenth century, a ruler synonymous with violence and death. This historical association was not lost on Evelyn, and as the war raged on, she embodied the darker aspects of her namesake, becoming a feared and formidable presence on the battlefield.

Evelyn's sharpshooting skills set her apart early on, earning her a reputation as one of the most lethal marksmen in her unit. Her accuracy was unparalleled, and with each mission, she racked up the highest kill count among the group of women soldiers, solidifying her role as a deadly figure in the war effort. Her peers began to view her not just as a comrade but as a symbol of relentless efficiency and cold-blooded precision, much like the historical figure she was named after.

However, Evelyn's transformation into a wartime legend was not solely due to her skill with a rifle. She meticulously crafted an image of strength, toughness, and intelligence, presenting herself as someone who was always one step ahead, both on the battlefield and off. She was strategic, calculating, and unyielding, characteristics that not only helped her survive but also thrive in the unforgiving environment of war.

It was this combination of deadly skill and unbreakable will that earned Evelyn her name. Like Bloody Mary, she had become a symbol, this time, of a different kind of power and terror. She was a force to be reckoned with, a woman who had embraced the harsh realities of war and used them to her advantage. In doing so, she etched her own name into the annals of history, not as Evelyn Donovan, but as Mary White, the sharpshooter who commanded respect and fear in equal measure.

Each name had a link to a powerful woman in history, each highlighting the qualities and capabilities that each of the women had, and so they held these names proudly, for they knew that they had earned them.

She felt disappointed she couldn't share this achievement with her family waiting at home, the secrecy of such a high risk mission forcing them to not communicate the news with anyone, though Evelyn knew that once she returned home her younger sister would be bubbling with excitement to hear all her stories, likely having to be held back by her parents so she didn't trample the poor woman.

She now treasured every moment she had gotten to spend with her family. She held them dear, so much so that she kept a photograph of them all together in the pocket that rested just atop her heart.

Evelyn wanted to share the news with her elder brother as well, wishing for a slight chance that it could bring him a small glint of happiness whilst fighting in Europe. But she knew this operation was far too significant to release. All the women had been ordered to communicate with their families as little as possible, the military not wanting to even risk the chance of their secret being found out.

These women would fight, they would spy, and they would do whatever it took to complete their mission and return home—if they could survive the horrors that awaited them on the front lines.

Chapter Text

The sun was beginning to set as Evelyn Donovan and Anna Blake made their way toward the airstrip, the weight of their new assignments pressing heavily on their shoulders. They had been selected for Easy Company, part of the 506th Parachute Infantry Regiment, which held a fierce reputation for being among the best, and the most demanding, units in the entire U.S. Army. Evelyn could hardly believe it when they received the orders, especially considering the secrecy surrounding their selection and the special nature of their mission. There was something both thrilling and daunting about being tasked to serve as paratroopers alongside men who were considered the most elite soldiers in the Army.

Evelyn and Anna, like the rest of the women who had been scattered across various regiments, knew they had a hard road ahead. Some of their fellow trainees were being sent to far-flung parts of the world, others into roles as pilots, tasked with flying deep into Germany on high-stakes missions. Still, others were to be stationed in the Pacific, infiltrating Japanese-controlled territories to gather vital intelligence. But for Evelyn and Anna, the focus was Europe. The grim realities of the war loomed ahead, and though they had only just completed their basic training, the urgency of their assignments was clear: there was no time for easing in.

The transition from basic training to parachute school had been jarring. The intense drills, the constant pressure, the unrelenting expectation to be faster, stronger, smarter, it had been exhausting. But the adrenaline that coursed through Evelyn's veins now was stronger than the fatigue. She and Anna knew the war wouldn't wait for them to catch their breath, and neither would Easy Company.

The C-47 transport plane sat on the runway, its olive-green paint catching the fading light of the setting sun. Its bulky frame seemed to hum with potential energy, like a living thing ready to spring into action. Evelyn stared at it, trying to push down the growing tension that settled in her chest. They were about to leave the relative comfort of the familiar and plunge headlong into a new and uncertain phase of their training, one that would make or break them as soldiers.

As they boarded, Anna nudged her. "Ever imagine this is where we'd end up when we enlisted?"

Evelyn gave her a tight smile, her nerves barely masked by her usual calm. "Not exactly. But I'm ready for it."

"I know you are," Anna said, her green eyes flickering with confidence. "We've come this far together. There's no turning back now."

They settled into their seats along with the rest of the newly assigned soldiers. A few men shot curious glances their way, though none said anything. Their presence, while not entirely unexpected, women had been filtering into more and more positions in the Army, was still unusual. They were the first female soldiers to be assigned to Easy Company, a fact that hung in the air between them and the men.

As the engines of the plane roared to life, Evelyn took a deep breath and cast her gaze out the window. The familiar landscape of the camp was soon swallowed up by the darkening sky, and with it, the last remnants of certainty. They were on their way to Camp Toccoa, where they would meet the rest of Easy Company and face the grueling training that awaited them. A sense of anticipation built in her chest, but she steeled herself against it. There was no room for doubt now. They had made it this far, and they wouldn't let fear or uncertainty get in the way of what they had to do.

The hum of the engines filled the cabin as the plane climbed higher, and the reality of their situation settled in. Both women had earned their places in Easy Company through their skills, Evelyn's pinpoint accuracy as a sharpshooter and Anna's proficiency as a rifleman had set them apart. But they knew that being good in training was one thing. Proving themselves in front of the elite soldiers they were about to join was another. The thought weighed heavily on Evelyn's mind. They would have to prove themselves over and over again, and they couldn't afford to make any mistakes.

After what felt like an eternity, the plane began its descent toward Camp Toccoa. As the wheels touched the ground, Evelyn felt her heart skip a beat. The time for second-guessing was over. They had arrived.

The plane taxied to a halt, and the soldiers disembarked, falling into a neat line as they marched toward the barracks. The camp was alive with activity. Soldiers were running drills, unloading equipment, and shouting orders at one another. The efficiency and discipline that radiated from the scene was almost overwhelming. This wasn't just a training ground — it was a crucible designed to forge the best soldiers in the Army. There was no room for weakness here.

As they neared the barracks where Easy Company was stationed, a group of soldiers stood gathered outside, watching the newcomers with interest. Among them was a tall, stern-looking officer whose chiseled jaw and piercing eyes immediately commanded attention. Evelyn recognized him at once from the briefing: Lieutenant Herbert Sobel, Easy Company's commanding officer.

Sobel's reputation preceded him. He was known for being tough, relentless, and unyielding in his expectations. The soldiers of Easy Company were expected to be nothing short of perfect, and Sobel made sure they knew it. His leadership style was controversial — some said he pushed too hard, that he was cruel in his demands. But no one could deny that Easy Company's performance under his command was exceptional.

"Fall in!" Sobel barked as the new arrivals approached. His voice cut through the clamor of the camp like a whip. The soldiers quickly snapped to attention, forming a rigid line in front of him.

Sobel's gaze swept over them, lingering just a fraction longer on Evelyn and Anna. His expression was unreadable, but Evelyn could sense the scrutiny in his eyes. He was assessing them, evaluating whether they belonged here. Whether they had what it took to survive in Easy Company.

"I'm Lieutenant Sobel," he began, his tone cold and authoritative. "Welcome to Easy Company, the best damn company in the 506th. We don't tolerate slackers, weaklings, or cowards here. If you can't keep up, you'll be left behind. Understood?"

"Yes, sir!" The new arrivals responded in unison, their voices echoing across the yard.

Sobel nodded, satisfied with the response but not relaxing his stern demeanor. "We'll see about that. You'll be put to the test, starting right now. We don't have time to ease you into anything. We need to know you can handle the responsibilities that come with being in this company."

He turned his attention to Evelyn and Anna, his gaze sharp and unyielding. "You two are new to this unit. I'm sure some of these men are wondering what you're doing here, as am I. White, you're a sharpshooter, correct?"

"Yes, sir," Evelyn responded, her voice steady, though she could feel the weight of his scrutiny.

"Good," Sobel said, his eyes narrowing. "You're up first. There's a rifle range behind the barracks. I want to see how good your aim really is."

Without a word, Evelyn followed him to the range. The curious eyes of the men followed her as well, and she felt the weight of their expectations. They were watching, waiting to see if she could measure up. If she could truly hold her own among them.

At the range, Sobel handed her a sniper rifle, its barrel gleaming under the fading light of the evening. "This is your weapon," he said, his tone clipped. "Let's see what you can do with it."

Evelyn took the rifle, feeling its familiar weight settle into her hands. The sensation was oddly comforting. This was something she knew, something she had spent hours perfecting during training. She had honed her marksmanship skills to the point where she could hit a target with pinpoint accuracy, even under pressure. Now, she would prove that she belonged in Easy Company.

Sobel pointed toward a series of targets set up at varying distances. "Five shots, five targets. Go."

Evelyn didn't hesitate. She steadied her breathing, raised the rifle, and lined up her first shot. The world around her seemed to fade as she focused on the task at hand. The target at 100 yards loomed in her sights, and with a controlled exhale, she squeezed the trigger. The shot rang out, and the target was hit dead center.

Without pausing, Evelyn shifted her aim to the next target, then the next. Each movement was fluid, each shot precise. Her focus was unshakable. She could feel the eyes of the others on her, but she pushed it aside. All that mattered was the rifle and the target. One by one, each target was hit with the same pinpoint accuracy.

When she lowered the rifle after the final shot, the silence that followed was heavy. Sobel walked over to inspect the targets, his expression unreadable as he examined the neat, round holes in the center of each one.

Finally, he turned back to Evelyn, his eyes glinting with something close to grudging respect. "Not bad, White. But there's always room for improvement."

Evelyn gave a slight nod, suppressing the surge of pride that welled up inside her. She had passed this test, but Sobel's words made it clear that nothing was ever good enough for him. He would always push them harder, demand more, and expect perfection.

Sobel turned his attention to Anna next. "Wilson, you're a rifleman. Let's see how you handle yourself in close combat."

Anna stepped forward, her posture relaxed but ready. Sobel handed her an M1 Garand and directed her to a different section of the range where pop-up targets, designed to simulate enemy soldiers, were positioned at varying distances.

"Your job is to take out as many targets as possible in sixty seconds. Ready?"

Anna nodded, gripping the Garand with the ease of someone who had spent countless hours mastering the weapon. "Ready."

"Go!"

The targets began to pop up at random intervals, and Anna sprang into action. She moved quickly, her body reacting instinctively to the sudden appearance of each target. Her aim was swift and precise, each shot hitting its mark with practiced efficiency. The distinct ping of the Garand's clip echoed across the range as it ejected after each set of shots. She reloaded with a fluid motion, barely losing any time as the targets continued to appear.

By the time the sixty seconds were up, every target lay flat on the ground.

Sobel, watching closely, couldn't hide the hint of approval that flickered in his eyes. "Efficient," he said, almost begrudgingly. "But you still don't have the experience some of these men do. Keep working on your positioning in combat."

Anna offered a crooked smile. "Thank you, sir. I'll do my best to keep up."

Sobel didn't smile in return, but there was no denying the respect in his voice. Though his tone remained harsh, there was an acknowledgment of their abilities — even if he wouldn't admit it outright. He turned to face the rest of the assembled soldiers.

"As you can see, these women can hold their own. But don't make the mistake of thinking that I'm lowering my standards for anyone. You'll all be held to the same expectations. I want nothing less than perfection from every one of you."

He paused, then added sharply, "And there will be no fraternization. This is not a social experiment."

A murmur rippled through the ranks, but Evelyn and Anna kept their faces forward. The comment stung, though neither of them would give Sobel the satisfaction of seeing it. Did he think they were here for companionship? The suggestion was absurd, insulting even, but they remained silent, determined not to let it affect them.

As the group began to disperse, Sobel fixed his gaze on Evelyn again. His eyes gleamed with a challenge. "White, let's see how you handle yourself in hand-to-hand combat. Step into the ring."

Evelyn's stomach tightened at the challenge. Hand-to-hand combat was a different beast altogether, but she had trained for this as well. She had learned how to leverage her smaller frame, how to use speed and precision against brute strength. Still, going up against Sobel in front of the entire company was a test she hadn't anticipated. But she wasn't about to back down.

"Yes, sir." She replied, stepping forward as Sobel discarded his cap and motioned for her to do the same. The ring was little more than a rough patch of dirt marked off by rope, but the intensity of the moment made it feel like a battleground.

"This isn't about winning or losing," Sobel said, his voice sharp and commanding. "It's about showing that you can stand your ground, no matter who you're up against."

Evelyn nearly rolled her eyes at the obvious power play. Sobel clearly relished the opportunity to assert his dominance. But instead of letting her irritation show, she focused on her training. She would use his arrogance against him.

Evelyn stepped into the makeshift ring, her heart pounding as she squared off against Lieutenant Sobel. His tall frame and hardened demeanor exuded confidence, but she knew that brute strength wasn't the only thing that determined victory in hand-to-hand combat. It was about strategy, technique, and quick thinking — things she had practiced tirelessly.

Sobel wasted no time. He lunged toward her, aiming to overpower her with a quick grapple. Evelyn dodged to the side, her movements swift and precise. She knew better than to meet him head-on. Instead, she focused on staying light on her feet, waiting for an opening.

Sobel's next move came faster, his arms reaching to catch her. This time, Evelyn anticipated the strike. She used his momentum against him, sidestepping and delivering a sharp elbow to his ribs. It wasn't a full-force hit, but enough to make him grunt in surprise. Evelyn felt a surge of satisfaction but kept her focus.

The men around them murmured in surprise, but Sobel's expression darkened. He was clearly not expecting her to hold her own this well.

He moved in again, more cautious this time, but Evelyn wasn't backing down. She blocked his next punch, then landed a quick jab to his side before retreating out of his reach. The pattern continued, Sobel would attack, and Evelyn would use her speed and agility to counter. She knew she couldn't overpower him, but she could outmaneuver him.

Finally, Sobel made a critical mistake. In his frustration, he overcommitted to a strike, leaving his stance wide open. Evelyn seized the opportunity, grabbing his arm and sweeping his legs out from under him in a practiced judo move. Sobel hit the ground with a thud, and for a moment, the air was thick with silence.

Evelyn took a step back, breathing hard but controlled, waiting to see what Sobel would do. She had no illusions about winning, this was about proving that she wouldn't be intimidated, that she could stand her ground. Sobel slowly pushed himself up, his face unreadable, but there was a glint in his eyes that hinted at something more than frustration.

He dusted himself off and stood to his full height, his gaze meeting hers. "Not bad, White." He said, his tone clipped but with a grudging respect that hadn't been there before. "But remember, this is war. There are no rules out there. Next time, I won't go easy on you."

With that, Sobel turned and walked away, leaving Evelyn standing in the ring, adrenaline still coursing through her veins. The men around her exchanged looks, and she could feel the shift in the air. She had earned their respect, at least for now.

Anna, who had been watching from the sidelines, gave her a small nod, a silent acknowledgment of what had just happened. They both knew that this was only the beginning. Proving themselves to Sobel and the rest of Easy Company would be a constant challenge, but Evelyn had shown she could hold her own.

As the company dispersed for the evening, Evelyn allowed herself a moment to breathe. The weight of her new assignment still hung over her, but she had taken the first step. She wasn't just here to keep up — she was here to lead, to fight, and to prove that she was every bit as capable as the men around her.

For now, that would have to be enough.

Chapter Text

The clamor of boots crunching on gravel, accompanied by the distant shouts of orders and laughter, filled the air as Evelyn and Anna approached the barracks for the first time. It was the golden hour, and the sun hung low in the sky, casting a warm, orange hue over the rows of wooden buildings that made up the heart of Easy Company's temporary base. The new recruits had arrived at dusk, with just enough light to survey their new surroundings, their new home.

A sense of anticipation clung to the evening air. The barracks were buzzing with activity as men hurried past, some carrying equipment, others finishing their drills for the day, and all sharing the same hard-bitten look of soldiers prepared for anything. Evelyn's heart raced with a mix of excitement and nerves. She had read about the infamous Easy Company — their daring, their closeness, their reputation as one of the best paratrooper units in the entire U.S. Army. Now she and Anna were about to become part of that legendary story.

"I'd say this place has seen some history." Anna said, breaking the silence between them as they walked. Her eyes scanned the surroundings, taking in the rough, worn appearance of the camp.

Evelyn nodded, feeling the weight of what lay ahead. "Yeah, and we're about to make some of our own."

The barracks stood in stark contrast to the polished, pristine military training facilities they had come from. Where Camp Davis had been orderly and regulated, the camp here in Aldbourne, England, was utilitarian, stripped down to the bare essentials. The wooden structures were scuffed from constant use, and posters adorned the walls — a mix of war propaganda, pin-up girls, and handwritten schedules. The air smelled faintly of sweat, leather, and wet earth, with a hint of something cooking nearby. It was clear that this place had been lived in, worn by months of tough training, and by men who had formed bonds tighter than any Evelyn had ever known.

"Here's your new home," said the sergeant leading them, his voice gruff but not unfriendly. He stopped in front of one of the more nondescript wooden buildings, Bunkhouse 7. "You'll be bunking with some of Easy Company's finest. Get yourselves settled in. Afterward, the men usually head down to the bar for a drink. It's a bit of a tradition for newcomers."

Evelyn glanced at Anna, who grinned, her green eyes twinkling with mischief. "A drink? I thought they'd have us running drills till midnight."

The sergeant gave a wry smile. "You'll get plenty of that too. Welcome to Easy Company."

With that, he left them to their own devices. Evelyn and Anna took a deep breath as the door creaked open, revealing the inside of the barracks. It was as utilitarian as they had expected — rows of wooden bunk beds lined the walls, each equipped with a thin mattress and a standard-issue blanket. The space was functional, with few frills, save for a small table at the far end where a group of men sat around, engaged in what looked like a very heated game of cards.

As they entered, the men paused mid-game, their attention now fully on the two newcomers. The sound of shuffling cards stopped, and a low murmur of curiosity spread across the room. A tall man with dark hair and a confident grin leaned back in his chair, sizing them up with a hint of amusement.

"Hey, look who's here!" He called out, loud enough for everyone to hear. "Fresh meat for the barracks."

Evelyn exchanged a glance with Anna, both of them struggling to suppress their smiles. They had known this moment would come, the test of entering a male-dominated world, where proving yourself meant earning respect the hard way. But neither of them had expected it to happen quite so quickly.

"Well, this should be interesting." Anna muttered under her breath, nudging Evelyn's arm.

The men slowly rose from their seats, stretching, yawning, and casting appraising looks at the two women standing in the doorway. Evelyn, ever observant, took in each of their faces, making mental notes. There was Joe Liebgott, whose sharp, hawk-like features and easygoing demeanor gave him the appearance of someone who could talk his way out of anything. Bill Guarnere, muscular and gruff, had a permanent scowl etched into his features, though there was a glint of humor in his eyes. Next to him was Joe Toye, a wiry man with a mischievous grin that suggested he was always two steps ahead of trouble. George Luz, shorter than the rest but with a smile that could light up a room, radiated charm and warmth. Donald Malarkey stood by the window, quieter than the others, his expression kind but cautious, while Warren 'Skip' Muck, who had been lounging on one of the lower bunks, gave a friendly nod.

Joe Liebgott was the first to break the ice, stepping forward and extending a hand. "Name's Joe. Joe Liebgott. Welcome to the lion's den."

Evelyn gripped his hand firmly. "Mary White." She said, introducing herself by the name she had been assigned.

Anna followed suit, shaking hands with each man in turn. "Artemis Wilson, though most just call me Artemis. Easier that way."

"Artemis, huh?" George Luz grinned as he shook her hand. "The goddess of the hunt. Well, I guess that makes sense. What brings two ladies like yourselves to our fine barracks?"

"Luck," Evelyn replied, her smile sly. "And maybe a little bit of bad judgment."

The group laughed, the tension easing. It seemed that humor was their way of welcoming new recruits, a tactic to break the ice and see who could handle themselves. Evelyn and Anna were both quick to meet their energy, showing they weren't to be underestimated.

Joe Toye, always one to keep things light, leaned back against his bunk and sized them up again. "So, what do you two do? You don't look like you're here to knit socks."

Evelyn smirked. "We shoot. We climb. We run. We jump out of planes just like you lot."

"Is that so?" Toye raised an eyebrow, his grin widening. "Well, I suppose we'll just have to see about that."

"Careful, Joe," Skip Muck chimed in, still lounging on his bed. "They might just show you up."

"Yeah, wouldn't be the first time." Bill Guarnere added with a low chuckle.

The men's teasing quickly morphed into full-blown teasing, and Evelyn and Anna found themselves swept up in the easy flow of conversation. As they unpacked their duffel bags, they noted that there were only a couple of bunks left unoccupied, both situated near the middle of the room. One was on the lower level, and the other directly above it.

Anna took in the scene, then shot Evelyn a playful look. "Looks like we'll have to double up."

Joe Toye, overhearing, snorted. "Double up? That's putting it mildly. You've got the last two beds left, and unless you're keen on the floor, you're stuck climbing."

"I've had worse," Anna said with a shrug, slinging her bag onto the top bunk with an ease that surprised even the men. "I'll take the view from up here."

Evelyn glanced at the lower bunk, chuckling softly. "Fine by me. I'm not much for climbing anyway. Had enough of that during training."

With that, the two women settled in, arranging their belongings in the small space they had been allotted. Evelyn, ever meticulous, carefully laid out her things, taking special care to stow her rifle and field gear in neat, organized rows. Anna, more carefree, tossed her items onto the bed before sprawling out across the top bunk.

As the evening progressed, the men began to relax, and the initial curiosity toward the women gave way to something much more familiar. They were sharing stories, some lighthearted, others filled with the kind of banter that only soldiers who had faced tough times together could understand. George Luz, in particular, had a knack for storytelling, regaling the group with tales of their practice missions under the ever-watchful and infuriating gaze of Lieutenant Sobel.

"Ah, Sobel," Luz said, his voice dripping with exaggerated misery. "The man's a legend. Not for the right reasons, mind you."

Anna, who had been listening with rapt attention, burst into laughter. "So, what you're saying is, we're lucky we missed him?"

"Lucky?" Luz's eyes widened comically. "Lady, if you survived Sobel, you can survive anything."

Guarnere chimed in, shaking his head. "The guy has a radar for mistakes. And if he can't find one, he'll make one up just to have something to yell about."

"That bad?" Evelyn asked, genuinely intrigued.

"Oh yeah," Toye cut in. "But the real trick is, if you mess up, just do it with style. He'll be too flustered to know what to do."

The room erupted in laughter again, the sound bouncing off the wooden walls. Evelyn and Anna exchanged a look, both of them beginning to feel more at ease. Despite the men's rough exteriors, there was an undeniable sense of brotherhood here, a bond that had been forged through shared struggle and hardship. They were outsiders for now, but they knew that in time, they would earn their place.

"Anyway," Malarkey spoke up, his voice quieter but with a warm smile. "You're both in for one hell of a ride. Easy Company's not just a unit, it's a family."

Evelyn smiled softly, nodding in agreement. "Yeah, I can see that."

As the evening wore on, the kindness of Easy Company began to show through in earnest. The men regaled the new arrivals with stories of their practice missions, their victories, and their mishaps, especially under Sobel's command. Despite the tough exterior, it was clear that beneath the rough edges, there was a deep bond of friendship and mutual respect.

Evelyn had decided to let her blonde hair loose from her plat, fluffing it out across her shoulders until she felt it looked okay. Anna's remained in a tight bun, only a few strands shaping her features.

Finally, Liebgott clapped his hands together. "Alright, ladies, it's time to head out. We're not letting you two stay cooped up in here on your first night. We've got a tradition to uphold."

Evelyn and Anna exchanged excited glances. "Sounds good to us." Evelyn said with a grin.

The group made their way to the local pub, a cozy establishment with a warm, welcoming atmosphere. The inside was dimly lit, with wooden tables and a long bar that stretched along one side of the room. The chatter of patrons and the clinking of glasses created a lively backdrop as the soldiers and their new roommates settled in.

As Evelyn and Anna settled into their seats at the large pub, enjoying the calm atmosphere and the warm welcome from Easy Company. Evelyn had noticed a soldier who had been part of the group mingling at the bar had taken notice of their presence, but she chose to ignore it, focusing on the conversation at hand. Yet she continued to watch in the corner of her eye as he approached with a casual confidence, his eyes sparkling with a mix of curiosity and amusement.

"Well, well." Talbert said, flashing a charming smile as he slid into a seat next to Evelyn. "I heard we had some new recruits joining us tonight. I must say, you ladies are making quite the impression."

Evelyn looked up, her eyes meeting his with a mixture of curiosity and caution as Anna remained solely focused on whatever joke George was mustering up at that moment. "Oh? And what kind of impression is that?"

Talbert grinned, leaning slightly closer. "The kind that makes a guy wonder if he's finally found a reason to stay out past curfew. If I didn't know better, I'd say you're here to remind us that it's not just the war that's tough, sometimes it's also resisting the urge to get to know you better."

Evelyn raised an eyebrow, her lips curling into a smile. "Is that so? You use that line on every lady of hour?"

The soldier almost froze, she had been able to work out his entire character in the mere seconds she had spent in his presence, but he chose to not let her question cause him to falter, instead smiling intently at her.

"What can I say? A ladies man has to know a few tricks." He joked, earning a chuckle from the girl in front of him before holding his hand out expectantly. "Floyd Talbert, but they just call me Tab around here, you?"

"Mary White, still haven't gotten a nickname yet." She grasped gently onto his hand before shaking it lightly, a small smile plastered across her face as she did so.

"Dimples." She just managed to catch onto his mumble, a look of confusion painting her features.

"What?"

"You've got dimples, so your nickname can be dimples." Tab explained, his smile not once leaving as she shook her head in response.

"That's horrible, no. Just call me Mary still."

"I'm good, dimples." Floyd taunted as Evelyn could only roll her eyes, a smile once more appearing.

As the evening went on, Evelyn and Talbert's conversation continued, filled with playful banter and unserious arguments. The girl chose to keep him at a distance, already knowing what involving herself with a 'ladies man' would entail, yet she gave him the benefit of the doubt, deciding that he could likely be a great friend and therefore an asset for her time in the war.

"Would you like to dance." Floyd finally asked, holding his hand out to her.

"You're the first person to ask me, tonight." She remarked as she stood up from her seat, returning his smile as they made their way to the dance floor, a slow song flowing through their ears.

"Is that so?" He muttered, surprised.

"Mhm. I was starting to think..." She trailed off, her smile fading slightly as she searched for the right words.

"To think what?" He pressed gently, his hand resting on her waist as they began to sway to the rhythm of the music.

"That maybe I wasn't as interesting as I thought." Evelyn admitted with a chuckle, though there was a hint of vulnerability in her voice.

His brow furrowed slightly as he looked down at her, a mix of concern and sincerity in his eyes. "Trust me, Mary, you're more interesting than you know. They're probably just intimidated."

"Intimidated?" She asked, raising an eyebrow in disbelief.

"Yeah." Floyd said, his smile widening as they moved together across the floor. "A woman who can outshoot all the men in here? That's something to admire, not everyone has the guts to handle it."

Evelyn looked up at him, caught off guard by the compliment. "You're not like most men, then, is what you're saying?"

He shrugged lightly, a playful glint in his eyes. "Maybe not. But I know a good thing when I see it."

She felt her cheeks warm slightly, a rare feeling for her. "You know, you're not so bad yourself."

He laughed softly, his grip on her hand tightening just a bit as they spun together. "I'll take that as a compliment."

"You should." She teased, finally letting herself relax into the moment, the tension in her shoulders easing as they continued to dance. "So, tell me, what brings you out here tonight?"

He smiled, leaning in slightly as if sharing a secret. "To dance with you, of course."

She rolled her eyes but couldn't help the grin that spread across her face. "Smooth talker."

"Guilty as charged," he admitted with a wink. "But it worked, didn't it?"

Evelyn laughed, the sound light and genuine. "I suppose it did."

As the song played on, they continued to dance, the conversation between them flowing as easily as the music. For a moment, in each other's company, the war and everything else seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of them and the shared rhythm of the dance.

"So, where abouts is the pretty little lady in my arms from?" Floyd asked, a flirtatious look in his eyes.

"Hm, see I would tell you, but that would be no fun, would it?" She smirked back him as he rolled his eyes dramatically. "You go first."

"I asked first." He countered as Evelyn breathed a laugh.

"I guess we'll never know where we're from then, huh?" She looked up as if she were thinking.

"Kokomo, Indiana. Born and raised." Floyd finally revealed as he looked the woman in her eyes once more.

"Indiana? A bit far then." She muttered as she watched him gain a cheeky glint in his eyes.

"Already planning on visiting?" His question earned him a light slap on the shoulder before he laughed, noticing how the girls face flushed a tint of red but he chose to not speak on it.

"Boston, Massachusetts for me." Evelyn finally revealed, though she was slightly sceptical to reveal a slight part of her identity she chose to anyway, how would he even be able to work out who she truly was anyway?

Eventually, the song concluded as they quickly settled back down in their seats, Evelyn's feet already beginning to ache from wearing heels.

Slowly, many more of the men came up and introduced themselves to the two women, offering them welcoming smiles as Evelyn found a certain one in particular to be very warm.

He had introduced himself a Carwood Lipton, immediately offering her a large smile and a handshake. His presence seemed to soothe the girl as he treated her as any of his other soldiers.

He reminded her a lot of her older brother, his smile being practically the same as he somehow brought a sense of home to Evelyn, a feeling that she would cherish whenever she was around the man.

By the end of the night, the women felt like they had truly been welcomed into the fold, the many welcoming smiles they received had filtered out the glares from other men.

As they walked back to the barracks, Evelyn turned to Anna with a smile. "You know, I think we're going to fit in just fine here."

Anna nodded, her eyes sparkling. "Definitely. This is going to be big, that's for sure."

They returned to the barracks, exhausted but happy. Evelyn climbed into her lower bunk, feeling the comfort of the thin mattress beneath her. Anna settled into her top bunk, her laughter still echoing in the room at whatever nonsense George had just spouted out.

As the lights dimmed and the sounds of Easy Company's new arrivals filled the air, Evelyn and Anna knew they had made the right choice. They had found a place where they were not just accepted, but embraced. The journey ahead would be challenging, but with their new friends and their shared determination, they felt ready to face whatever came next.

Chapter Text

Evelyn stood at attention, her legs aching slightly, a dull throb creeping into her calves as Lieutenant Sobel marched before them, his sharp gaze scanning the ranks of Easy Company. A look of pure disgust painted his features as he approached. The setting sun cast long shadows across the gravel, and the air was thick with tension.

"You people are at the position of attention!" Sobel barked, his voice a thunderous command that echoed through the yard. Immediately, every soldier snapped to attention, their spines straightening as they mentally braced for whatever tirade he was about to unleash.

"Private Perconte, have you been blousing your trousers over your boots like a paratrooper?" Sobel questioned, halting in front of the man, his eyes narrowing like a hawk poised to strike.

"No, Sir," Perconte replied, his voice steady, his grip on his rifle tightening as he tried to maintain composure under Sobel's piercing glare.

"Then explain the creases at the bottom," Sobel retorted, his voice dripping with scorn.

"No excuse, Sir," Perconte said after a moment's hesitation, his face flushed but determined not to show weakness.

"Volunteering for the paratroop infantry is one thing, Perconte, but you've got a long way to prove that you belong here," Sobel continued, his voice rising as he paced like a predator sizing up its prey. "Your weekend pass is revoked." The Lieutenant's frown was unyielding, and Evelyn felt her heart sink for the man who had just become the latest target in Sobel's relentless quest for perfection.

She breathed a sigh of relief as Sobel strode past her, his disdainful presence lingering like a storm cloud, only to pick on the man standing right next to her.

"Name." Sobel demanded, his voice cold and clipped.

"Luz, George," George replied, his expression a mix of anxiety and defiance as he stepped forward and handed his gun to Sobel, the weight of it suddenly feeling like a lead anchor in his hands.

"Dirt in the rear side aperture. Pass revoked." The Lieutenant's tone was indifferent, almost careless as he tossed the weapon back into George's hands, the impact echoing the feeling of defeat. Sobel moved on, meandering further along the group, leaving a trail of crushed spirits in his wake.

"When did you sew on these chevrons, Carwood Lipton?" Sobel questioned, halting in front of Lipton and pointing at a loose thread dangling from his uniform.

"Yesterday, Sir," Lipton responded, his voice steady despite the tension in the air.

"Long enough to notice this." Sobel held up the thread like a trophy of shame, a self-satisfied smirk stretching across his face. Evelyn felt a wave of empathy wash over her for Lipton, who had always taken immense pride in his appearance and performance. She silently resolved to offer him some help with sewing later on, hoping to ease the sting of Sobel's words.

"Pass revoked," Sobel declared, moving on without a second thought, leaving Lipton visibly deflated.

"Name!" he barked at the next soldier in line, his voice unyielding.

"Malarky, Donald G."

"Malarky. Isn't Malarky slang for bullshit?" Sobel replied, his eyes glinting with malicious delight as he seized Don's weapon, the laughter echoing in the ranks.

"Yes, Sir." Don replied, a wry grin creeping onto his face despite the gravity of the situation.

"Rust on the butt plate hinge spring, Private Bullshit. Revoked." Sobel's voice was mocking, and Evelyn found herself suppressing a smirk at his absurdity. While Malarky could be a nuisance at times, his clever retorts often provided a much-needed relief from the relentless pressure they faced.

Sobel continued his relentless inspection, finding faults in every man he stopped at until he finally arrived at Liebgott.

"Name."

"Liebgott, Joseph D. Sir."

"Rusty bayonet, Liebgott. You want to kill Germans?" Sobel demanded, pulling the bayonet from its sheath, his eyes piercing.

"Yes, Sir." Joe replied, his voice firm, though Evelyn could see the flicker of uncertainty in his eyes.

"Not with this." With a swift motion, Sobel whacked Joe on the helmet with the dull blade, the clang resonating like a church bell tolling a warning.

"I wouldn't take this rusty piece of shit to war, and I will not take you to war in your condition. Thanks to these men and their infractions, every man in the company who had a weekend pass has lost it. Change into your PT gear; we're running Currahee." Sobel's voice was a cacophony of disappointment and authority, slicing through the air like a hot knife through butter.

"Second platoon, fall out. We have two minutes." Winters announced, stepping in as Sobel walked away, the tension dissolving into a flurry of activity as soldiers rushed to comply.

Evelyn quickly found Anna as they dashed back to the barracks, both women silently exchanging glances of disbelief and frustration over the events that had just unfolded.

"I ain't going up that hill." Perconte declared as he plopped onto his bed, shaking his head in disbelief.

"Perconte, what are you thinking of, blousing your pants?" Johnny Martin barked as he burst into the barracks, his frustration evident as he strode through the door like a whirlwind.

"Shut up. He gigged everybody." Perconte snapped, his tone defensive.

"Yeah, well you should know better. Don't give him no excuses." Johnny retorted, crossing his arms defiantly.

"Excuses?" Frank interjected, jumping from his seat with indignation. "Why don't you come here, look at these trousers, and then tell me if there's any creases on them?"

"Alright, let's go. On the road, in PT formation. Let's move, move, move!" Lipton shouted, clapping his hands, his voice a beacon of authority that cut through the noise. Everyone scrambled to their feet, the urgency of the moment driving them to comply.

Evelyn and Anna quickly joined the throng, their movements a chaotic blend of determination and exhaustion as they made their way through the narrow corridors of the barracks. The air was thick with the scent of sweat and resolve, each soldier's energy surging as they fell into formation.

As they marched, Evelyn found herself beside a quiet man, his demeanor introspective and contemplative amidst the chaos.

"I don't think I've properly introduced myself. I'm Mary, Mary White." She said, extending her hand with a friendly smile, eager to break through the heavy atmosphere surrounding them.

"Eugene Roe." He replied, his heavy accent surprising her as he grasped her hand lightly, just slightly reciprocating the smile she offered before they both fell into step.

Evelyn positioned herself closer to the front of the second platoon, grateful for her training at Camp Davis, which made climbing Currahee feel less daunting than she had anticipated.

As they approached the hill, she found herself in a row of three, flanked by Don and Skip. Sobel's voice rang out once more, booming through the air like thunder.

"Where do we run?!"

"Currahee!" the soldiers shouted in unison, the chorus a blend of exhaustion and resolve.

"What does Currahee mean?!"

"'We stand alone!'"

"How far up?! How far down?!"

"Three miles up! Three miles down!"

"What company is this?!"

"Easy company!"

"What do we do?!"

"Stand alone!"

Suddenly, Skip faltered, a groan escaping him as he clutched his ankle, agony etched across his face. Without thinking, both Don and Evelyn bent down to assist him, concern flooding their expressions.

"Do not help that man!" Sobel barked, his voice a whip-crack in the air. They instantly released Skip, returning to their running positions as he adjusted himself with a pained grimace, a slight limp now evident in his stride.

"You have 13 minutes to get to the top of this mountain if you want to serve in the paratroopers! Hi-yo Silver!" Sobel shouted, sprinting ahead with the relentless energy of a drill sergeant on a mission. The soldiers exchanged dubious glances but pressed on, determination fueling their legs despite the rising fatigue.

Evelyn felt the incline pressing against her, but she pushed through, her lungs burning as she climbed. She glanced back, noticing Anna trailing slightly behind, positioned right behind Dick Winters. The sight of her friend struggling spurred Evelyn forward, a silent promise that they would make it together.

As they ascended, the path grew narrower, forcing them into a single-file line. Evelyn found herself leading the way, a sudden burst of energy coursing through her. The peak was in sight, and with every step, she felt exhilaration surge within her.

And then she reached the summit.

The view before her was breathtaking. The mountains stretched infinitely into the horizon, their silhouettes stark against the fading sunlight. The sky was painted with hues of orange and pink, a reminder of the beauty beyond the struggles they faced.

"Hold it." Winters' voice cut through her moment of triumph, pulling her back to reality. She turned around, catching sight of her comrades just as they crested the peak. A sense of accomplishment washed over her, a shared bond forged through the relentless training that had brought them to this moment.

As Sobel marched back toward them, he seemed to swell with unholy pride, grinning as he surveyed his soldiers, who stood panting yet triumphant.

"Back down!" he commanded, his smirk never leaving his face as he watched them descend.

Evelyn turned to Anna, who had finally caught up, her face flushed with exertion but wearing a triumphant smile.

"We did it!" she exclaimed, her voice filled with excitement despite the fatigue settling into her bones.

"Of course we did," Evelyn replied, her spirit igniting with renewed fire. "This is only the beginning."

Together, they moved forward, united in their purpose and the bond they shared as members of Easy Company.

Later that evening, they returned to the barracks, the exhaustion of the day weighing heavily on their shoulders. As they settled into the familiar chaos of the living quarters, the atmosphere felt lighter, camaraderie evident among the soldiers who had just faced down their own limits.

Evelyn flopped onto her bed, her body grateful for the brief respite. The men around her were in various states of disarray, some collapsing onto their bunks while others joked about the day's drills.

She noticed Lip fiddling with his chevron, his face a mixture of concentration and frustration. Taking a deep breath, she made a decision.

"Lip," she called, her voice breaking through the noise. "Do you need help?"

He looked up, caught off guard by her offer. "I guess I could use it." He admitted, a sheepish grin spreading across his face.

With a smile, she beckoned him to sit beside her. He pulled off his uniform and handed it to her, the fabric slightly crumpled but still bearing the weight of his hard work.

Evelyn pulled out her small sewing kit from beneath her bed, the familiar scent of thread and fabric a comforting reminder of home. As she began stitching, her fingers deftly working through the fabric, she looked over at Lipton, who was watching her with a curious expression.

"Where'd you learn to sew?" Lip asked, his voice tinged with genuine interest.

"My mom taught me when I was seven," she replied, a smile brightening her features as she recalled the memories. "I used to help her mend my siblings' clothes. It was a way to bond, I guess."

Lip nodded, an understanding look in his eyes. "That's pretty special," he said quietly, his tone sincere. He was beginning to realize just how much Evelyn valued her family, and it struck a chord deep within him.

A comfortable silence enveloped them as she continued her work, the rhythmic sound of the needle piercing the fabric punctuating the stillness. It felt like a moment of peace in an otherwise chaotic world.

"Here you go," Evelyn announced after a few moments, handing the neatly stitched uniform back to him, satisfaction evident in her smile.

"Thank you, Mary," Lip replied, his gratitude genuine. Their eyes met for a moment, and in that shared glance, something unspoken passed between them, a sense of familiarity that felt deeper than words.

Evelyn watched him rise from his position and head back to his bed, the bond of their shared experience solidifying in the simple act of helping one another. As the rest of the barracks settled into their evening routines, she nestled under the warmth of her bedcovers, the exhaustion from the day washing over her.

Yet, despite the fatigue, her mind buzzed with thoughts of the upcoming days. She knew they would be filled with more challenges, more obstacles to overcome. But as she closed her eyes, she felt a swell of hope and determination within her. Together, they would face whatever lay ahead. They were more than soldiers; they were a family forged in the fires of adversity, ready to stand alone together.

—

The drills at Camp Toccoa were relentless, each day a test of both physical endurance and mental fortitude. Easy Company had grown accustomed to the grueling pace, yet the exhaustion still hung over them like a heavy cloud. The sun dipped low in the sky as they set out on yet another evening hike, the weight of their full gear causing grumbles of discontent to ripple through the ranks. Evelyn felt sweat trickle down her back, mixing with the dirt on her skin. The familiar sound of boots crunching against gravel echoed in the evening air, a grim reminder of the toil that lay ahead.

"I'm gonna say something." Bull Randleman announced, breaking the simmering silence that surrounded the group. His voice was resolute, but the fatigue laced through it was palpable. Evelyn marched behind him, her heart racing slightly, curiosity piqued.

"To who?" George Luz piped up from the side, his tone half-joking, half-concerned.

"Lieutenant Winters!" Bull finally shouted, his voice carrying an edge of defiance.

"What is it?" Dick Winters, their commanding officer, turned his head slightly, arching an eyebrow at Bull, who seemed both brave and reckless in equal measure.

"Permission to speak, Sir."

"Permission granted."

"Sir, we got nine companies, Sir." Bull's tone had shifted, a hint of unease creeping in as he continued. "Well, how come we're the only company marching every Friday night, 12 miles, in the pitch dark?"

His question hung in the air, the silence that followed punctuated only by the sound of the gravel crunching beneath their feet.

"Why do you think, Private Randleman?" Winters replied, his voice steady as he continued to face forward, the shadows of the trees stretching ominously around them.

"Lieutenant Sobel hates us, Sir." Bull said, his frustration spilling over.

"Lieutenant Sobel does not hate Easy Company, Private Randleman. He just hates you," Winters shot back, his answer eliciting a ripple of laughter from the other men marching behind him. Evelyn bit her lip to suppress a growing smile, the camaraderie of the moment overshadowing her concern for Bull's boldness.

The laughter acted like a balm, lightening the tension that had settled over them, if only for a moment. Yet, as they continued their march, the fatigue crept back in, each soldier weighed down by the dual burdens of their gear and the looming specter of Sobel's relentless expectations.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Easy Company reached their designated meeting point, the familiar sounds of the barracks just within reach. Just then, Lieutenant Sobel appeared, his presence instantly commanding attention and respect.

"Lieutenant Winters, I want canteens out of belts with the caps unscrewed." Sobel ordered, his voice sharp enough to cut through the fading daylight. Winters immediately turned to relay the order to the men, a mix of obedience and weariness etched on every face.

"On my command, they will pour the contents onto the ground." Sobel continued, his gaze scanning the ranks with an air of authority. The soldiers obeyed, removing their canteens and twisting the caps off with a collective groan.

"Now, Lieutenant." Sobel demanded, his eyes narrowing as he watched the canteens tip over. The sound of water splashing onto the dry earth filled the air, and Evelyn grimaced as she watched her nearly full canteen empty out, creating a small puddle of muddy water at her feet.

"Who is this?!" Sobel bellowed, marching into their midst with a fierce intensity. "Christenson, why is there no water in your canteen? You drank from your canteen, didn't you?"

"Sir, I-" Christenson stammered, panic etched across his face.

"Lieutenant Winters! Was this man ordered to not drink from his canteen during the Friday night march?" Sobel's voice boomed.

"He was, Sir." Winters replied, his expression a mask of professionalism, but Evelyn could see the empathy lurking in his eyes for Christenson's struggle.

"Private Christenson, you have disobeyed a direct order. You will fill your canteen and repeat all 12 miles of the march immediately." Sobel shouted, his voice a whip crack of authority.

"Yes, Sir." Christenson muttered, his voice barely above a whisper, shame hanging heavy around him as he stepped out of formation, head hung low.

Winters was then pulled aside by Sobel for a private conversation, leaving the rest of the company standing in awkward silence, still feeling the sting of the evening's lesson.

"What I'd do to piss in that man's morning coffee." Skip mumbled, his voice low but resonating with shared sentiment. Evelyn chuckled lightly, agreeing with the thought but also feeling a twinge of guilt for the others who were just trying to keep their heads down.

The atmosphere lightened as they began to disperse, the tension breaking as they returned to the barracks for the night. Laughter and banter erupted, men finding solace in humor after the arduous day.

Evelyn found her bed quickly, the exhaustion of the march weighing on her. The blankets felt heavier than usual, but she didn't mind; it was a comfort she desperately needed. Her eyelids grew heavy as she listened to the sounds of her comrades unwinding, their laughter fading into soft murmurs as sleep began to pull her under.

Days turned into weeks, and the routine at Camp Toccoa became both a blessing and a curse. The relentless training wore on them, but any moment away from it felt like a precious gift. One particularly sunny afternoon, the weight of their training seemed a distant memory as they settled into the mess hall, the familiar clang of trays and the aroma of questionable food filling the air.

Evelyn and Anna sat across from each other at a large table, their plates filled with a suspiciously orange substance they were supposed to call spaghetti.

"This stuff's orange. Spaghetti ain't orange." A soldier remarked from beside Evelyn, squinting at his plate with disbelief.

"This ain't spaghetti; this stuff's Army noodles with ketchup." Frank Perconte chimed in, slumping into the seat next to Anna.

"You ain't gotta eat it." Guarnere interjected, slipping into the spot between Evelyn and Frank with a smirk.

"Come on, Gonorrhea." Perconte continued, addressing Bill with a teasing edge, "as a fellow Italian, you should know that calling this crap spaghetti is a mortal sin."

Laughter erupted, the table filling with camaraderie as they exchanged playful insults. Just as the laughter peaked, a sudden whistle sliced through the chatter, commanding everyone's attention.

"Orders changed! Get up!"

The directive sent a wave of anxiety coursing through the room, and Evelyn barely had time to swallow the mouthful of food before she spat it out in surprise, already dreading the next instruction from Sobel.

"Lectures are cancelled! Easy Company are running up Currahee! Move!" Sobel shouted, his voice booming over the din, making it clear there would be no room for negotiation.

Chaos ensued as chairs scraped across the floor, tables rattled, and soldiers scrambled to exit the mess hall as quickly as possible. The sounds of hurried footsteps echoed around them, and the air crackled with a mix of apprehension and the adrenaline of impending exertion.

As they began their ascent up Currahee, Evelyn could feel her stomach churn. The thought of running again, especially after the mess hall's dreadful meal, filled her with dread. She heard the retching sounds of her fellow soldiers echoing behind her, and she felt her own throat tightening in response.

Sobel stayed close, his presence an omnipresent reminder of their dwindling strength as he hurled insults at them with each step they took. "You call yourselves paratroopers? Pathetic! Move it!"

The collective effort of the company was palpable, their breaths coming out in heavy gasps as they trudged up the hill. Just then, George Luz began to sing, breaking through the oppressive atmosphere with his light-heartedness.

"Mary, I can see your face, don't puke in my direction." Malarky crooned, a mischievous grin lighting up his face.

Evelyn couldn't help but smile, her spirit lifting slightly despite the pressure in her stomach. "No promises!" She shot back playfully, but just as she opened her mouth to join in the song, her insides lurched violently.

The taste of the Army noodles mixed with bile surged up her throat. She turned to the side just in time, spitting out the remnants of her dinner, the vomit splattering onto the ground before her, creating a nauseating mess.

"Mary!" Skip exclaimed from beside her, his face contorted in disgust as he tried to sidestep the splatter. "What the hell?"

"Sorry!" she gasped, a mixture of embarrassment and relief washing over her as her stomach felt a little less tight. The rhythmic pounding of their feet on the gravel continued, the chants from the rest of the company drowning out her mortification.

"Keep moving, Mary!" Someone called, their laughter echoing in the air as they pushed themselves onward.

Evelyn swallowed hard, the sour taste lingering in her mouth as she picked up her pace, desperate to keep up with the others and to drown out her own discomfort. The chants grew louder, a mix of camaraderie and determination echoing off the trees surrounding them.

As they reached the top of Currahee, the familiar boulder loomed ahead. Evelyn's heart raced, the exertion turning into a rush of exhilaration as they finally completed the climb. The view was breathtaking, the sun setting in brilliant hues of orange and pink against the darkening sky.

"Alright, fall out!" Winters called, the words ringing through the air like a victory bell. The company collapsed onto the grass, gasping for air, a chorus of laughter and relief flooding the clearing.

"See? We made it." Anna said, her voice light despite the exhaustion.

"I don't think I'll ever be able to look at spaghetti the same way again." Evelyn joked, wiping the sweat from her forehead.

"Next time we're bringing our own food." Skip chimed in, grinning as he sprawled out on the grass, allowing himself a moment of peace.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in hues of violet and gold, the men began to swap stories, the atmosphere shifting from one of grueling exertion to a relaxed camaraderie. Evelyn felt a warmth in her chest, a sense of belonging that she hadn't quite anticipated when she joined Easy Company.

Chapter Text

Evelyn White was sitting on the edge of her bunk, fingers tracing the stitching on the well-worn letter tucked in her breast pocket. The barracks of Camp Toccoa were abuzz with the usual chatter, the sounds of soldiers bantering, laughing, and complaining about the rigorous training they'd been subjected to. But Evelyn felt strangely detached from it all, her thoughts drifting miles away.

She had discovered a letter hidden deep within her bags, obviously placed there for her to find eventually, likely by her mother in hopes it would soothe her anxiety in some way. She hadn't read it right away. Instead, she had held it close, feeling its weight, wondering what news it carried from the front. She knew it was from James, her older brother's neat, familiar handwriting on the envelope had confirmed that, but she couldn't bring herself to open it right away.

After finishing a particularly grueling day of training, which had included yet another brutal run up Currahee, she had finally retreated to her bunk, the solitude of the moment allowing her the space to breathe and take in whatever her brother had written.

Now, as she sat alone amidst the noise and movement, she carefully unfolded the letter, her heart racing.

"Dear Evie," it began, using the nickname he had always called her.

I hope this letter finds you well, though I know how tough things must be at your new camp. By the time you read this you would have likely made it through Camp Davis, and I couldn't be more proud of you. I told Mom to sneak this into your packing because she said you wouldn't be able to receive or write letters unless absolutely necessary. There's news that a couple of the women from Camp Davis may be placed into one of our company's after they complete training and many of the men are happy to hear that. We all respect you and I can only imagine the kind of training you're going through, but I know you're strong enough to handle it, stronger than most of the guys you're with, I'm sure.

Things over here are... well, let's just say they're as rough as you've probably heard, maybe even more. The weather is terrible, cold, wet, and relentless, and the fighting is constant. There's never a moment to rest, never a moment to let your guard down. But you know what keeps me going? It's the thought of you back home, doing what you're doing. Knowing that you're out there, getting ready, getting stronger, it gives me hope. I'm proud of you, Evie. Proud that you're doing this, that you're part of this fight.

The guys in my unit are like brothers to me, just like you and I are family. We look out for each other, just like I know you'll look out for your comrades when the time comes. But as much as I trust them, it's not the same as having you here with me. I miss you, kiddo. I think about you all the time, wonder how you're holding up, and if you're taking care of yourself.

I don't know how much more of this we'll have to endure, but I want you to know that I'm doing everything I can to make it back home. We've seen some tough days, and I've lost some good friends, but I'm hanging in there. I know you'll do the same. We're Donovans, after all. We don't give up.

Please, take care of yourself. Keep your head down and your spirits up. And write to me when you can, I could use a piece of home out here in all this chaos.

With all my love,
James.

Evelyn's eyes welled up as she read the letter, her fingers trembling slightly as she held the paper. The reality of James's situation hit her like a freight train. He was out there, fighting in conditions she could barely imagine, while she was still here, in the relative safety of Camp Toccoa. Yes, the training was tough, hell, it was designed to break even the strongest—but it was nothing compared to what James was enduring. He was out there, in the thick of it, facing death every day. And she was stuck here, unable to do anything to protect him, to help him, or to even stand by his side.

She swallowed hard, her throat tightening with emotion. She wanted to be strong, to do what she knew James would want her to do, but it was hard, so damn hard. The fear for his safety gnawed at her, a constant, unrelenting worry that she couldn't shake.

Suddenly, she felt a presence beside her. She didn't need to look up to know who it was. Lipton had a way of appearing at the right moment, his calm, steady demeanor like a balm to the frantic thoughts that often plagued her. She quickly folded the letter back up to ensure he did not see its contents, including her real name.

"Mary." He said softly, sitting down next to her on the bunk. His voice was gentle, understanding. He must have noticed her sitting alone, reading the letter, and known exactly what it meant. "You okay?"

She nodded, though the tears in her eyes betrayed her. She quickly wiped them away, forcing a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "Yeah, Lip. I'm fine. Just... found a letter from my brother."

Lipton's expression softened. She hadn't mentioned she had a brother, only that there were siblings, so to have her reveal such a secret meant that she was beginning to trust him. "Good news, I hope?"

She hesitated, then shook her head slightly. "He's hanging in there, but... it sounds bad, Lip. Really bad."

Lipton didn't press her for details. He knew better than that. Instead, he simply sat with her in silence for a moment, letting her gather her thoughts.

"It's just... he's out there, Lip. Fighting, freezing, God knows what else, and I'm here, stuck in training. I know we're getting ready for the real thing, but it feels like I should be doing more. Like I should be there, helping him somehow."

Lipton nodded, his brow furrowing slightly as he considered her words. "I get it, Mary. I do. But you're doing exactly what you need to be doing right now. Training, getting stronger, preparing for what's ahead. Your brother wouldn't want you to do anything different. He'd want you to be ready when the time comes, to do your job and do it well."

Evelyn looked down at the letter again, her thumb tracing the words as if trying to draw strength from them. "I just... I'm scared, Lip. Scared that something's going to happen to him, and I won't even know. I won't be there to help him."

Lipton placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder, his grip firm but comforting. "It's okay to be scared, Mary. We all are. But you can't let that fear paralyze you. You have to use it, turn it into something that drives you, that makes you stronger. You're not doing this just for yourself, but for him, too. For everyone out there who's fighting. And you're not alone. We're all in this together."

She nodded, though the weight in her chest didn't entirely lift. "I just... I wish I could be there for him. He's always been there for me, you know? Ever since we were kids. He's always looked out for me, protected me. And now... I feel like I'm failing him."

Lipton shook his head firmly. "You're not failing him, Mary. You're doing exactly what he'd want you to do. He's out there, fighting for what he believes in, and you're here, preparing to do the same. That's not failing him. That's honoring him."

Evelyn took a deep breath, trying to steady herself. She knew Lipton was right. James wouldn't want her to give up, to let her fear consume her. He'd want her to keep going, to fight, just like he was.

"Thanks, Lip." She said finally, offering him a small, grateful smile. "I needed to hear that."

He smiled back, his eyes warm. "Anytime, Mary. And remember, you're not alone. We're all here for you. Whatever happens, we've got each other's backs."

She nodded again, feeling a little more grounded, a little more like she could handle whatever was to come. The fear was still there, lurking in the back of her mind, but it didn't feel as overwhelming now. She wasn't alone. And she wasn't powerless. She could keep going, keep fighting, for James, for herself, and for everyone else who was counting on her.

"Do you want to talk about it more?" Lipton asked after a moment, his voice gentle.

Evelyn shook her head. "Not right now. But thanks, Lip. Really."

He patted her shoulder one last time before standing up. "Anytime, Mary. You know where to find me if you need anything."

She watched as he walked away, joining the others who were gathered around a small table, sharing stories and laughs despite the exhaustion of the day. She could hear George's loud laugh echoing through the barracks, and Don's quick retort that had everyone else chuckling. It was moments like this that made it all a little easier, the camaraderie, the sense of family that had formed among them.

Evelyn carefully tucked James' letter back into her breast pocket. She'd carry it with her, a reminder of why she was here, why she had to keep going. She wouldn't let her fear stop her, not now, not ever. James was out there, fighting, surviving, and she'd do the same.

The evening passed in a blur of routine and camaraderie. The soldiers of Easy Company unwound in their usual fashion, some with card games, others with banter that lightened the mood after a grueling day. Evelyn found herself drawn into their conversations, her earlier fears momentarily set aside as she laughed along with her comrades.

Later that night, as the barracks quieted down and the lights dimmed, Evelyn lay on her bunk, staring up at the ceiling. The sounds of men shifting in their sleep, the occasional snore, and the rustle of blankets filled the air, creating a sense of shared space and comfort despite the challenges they all faced.

She reached into her pocket, pulling out James's letter once more. Even in the darkness, she could picture his handwriting, the way he formed his letters with a precision that spoke of his steady, reliable nature. She read his words again in her mind, letting them wash over her, grounding her.

The fear was still there, gnawing at her, but Lipton's words echoed in her thoughts, providing a counterbalance. She wasn't powerless. She wasn't failing James. She was doing exactly what she needed to be doing, just as he was. And when the time came, she'd be ready to join him, to fight alongside him, and to protect him, just as he had always protected her.

She was slightly disappointed in herself, however. In a moment of weakness and vulnerability she had given away a small piece of her identity, something she had been strictly instructed not to do. But Evelyn knew Lip was no harm, she could tell he knew there were things she was keeping from him and the men, but he never prodded further than what she revealed. She trusted the man, probably the most out of all of the men, and so she knew she would be able to rely on him if the time came.

Evelyn closed her eyes, clutching the letter to her chest. She could almost hear James's voice, steady and reassuring, telling her that everything would be okay. She wanted to believe him, wanted to hold onto that hope, even when it felt so fragile.

"I'll be there soon, James." She whispered into the darkness. "Just hold on. I'll be there."

With that, she allowed herself to drift off to sleep, the weight of the letter a comforting presence against her heart. Tomorrow would bring new challenges, new fears, but for now, she found solace in the knowledge that she wasn't alone, that she had her brother's strength, and the support of her comrades, to carry her through.

And as the barracks fell into a deep, quiet slumber, Evelyn's dreams were filled with images of home, of James, and of a future where they would both make it through this war, together.

Chapter Text

The sun hadn't even crested the horizon when Camp Toccoa was already alive with the sounds of soldiers stirring. The chirping of birds filled the dense woods surrounding the camp, but their songs were drowned out by the shuffle of boots, the clatter of equipment, and the ever-present bark of Lieutenant Sobel's orders cutting through the early morning chill. The atmosphere buzzed with a blend of anxiety and anticipation, a daily ritual that signaled the beginning of another grueling day.

Evelyn adjusted her helmet, the metal cold against her forehead, and glanced over at Anna, who was trying to shake off the remnants of sleep. Both women still bore the signs of their relentless training; their bodies ached from the constant strain, fatigue etched into their expressions. They had been at Camp Toccoa for nearly a month now, and while the relentless pace was starting to show on everyone, the two women felt an added pressure to keep up. They were acutely aware that they couldn't afford to fall behind, not in this company, not under Sobel's watchful, critical eye.

"You ready for another round?" Anna asked, pulling on her jacket as she dropped down from the top bunk, her hair already tied back tightly in a practical braid. The bunkhouse, filled with the clatter of boots, gear, and the grumbling of men preparing for another grueling day, felt more like a prison every day that passed.

"Do I have a choice?" Evelyn replied, a wry smile tugging at her lips as she laced up her boots. "Sobel's probably got a new form of torture lined up for us today."

Anna rolled her eyes, her lips curling in a half-smile. "He's got a whole encyclopedia of it. Yesterday's mud crawl was just the warm-up."

Across the room, George Luz overheard their conversation and grinned. "You ladies say that like it's a bad thing. Where else can you get free exercise, fresh air, and the soothing sound of Sobel's screaming to wake you up?"

"Sounds like you've got a fan club for him." Anna shot back, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Who wouldn't love a man who reminds you every second how stupid you are?" Luz shrugged, adjusting his gear with a comically exaggerated flair. "It's a real confidence booster."

Before anyone could respond, Sobel's voice tore through the air outside. "Easy Company, assemble! Now!"

The banter immediately ceased as the men of Easy Company scrambled into line outside, the crisp morning air biting into their skin. Evelyn and Anna jogged out with the rest, taking their place in formation. The familiar pressure of Sobel's presence weighed heavily on the group as the lieutenant strode back and forth in front of them, his hands clasped behind his back, eyes scanning each soldier like a hawk looking for prey. He thrived on the power he held over them, a self-appointed arbiter of their worthiness.

"I hope you all enjoyed your beauty sleep," Sobel began, his tone dripping with disdain, the smirk on his face evident even as he glared at them. "Because today's going to be a long one. You're going to run the obstacle course until I decide you're done. And if I see anyone," he paused, his eyes lingering on Evelyn and Anna for a moment longer than the rest. "Fall behind or slack off, you'll be running extra drills until your legs give out."

Anna's jaw clenched, but she kept her eyes forward, standing at attention. Evelyn could feel the tension rolling off her friend in waves. Sobel had made it a point to single them out, reminding everyone that they were mere women in a man's world. And while most of the men in Easy Company had grown used to their presence, Sobel seemed determined to break them.

"Move out!" Sobel barked, and with that, the company started toward the obstacle course that loomed ahead in the distance, a monstrous testament to their impending struggles.

The course itself was a nightmare of physical challenges: towering walls, tangled barbed wire, pits of mud that sucked at their boots like quicksand. Every inch of it was designed to break them down, to test not just their strength but their will to push through exhaustion, pain, and discomfort. And Sobel, ever the taskmaster, would be there to remind them that no matter how hard they pushed, it was never enough.

They arrived at the course, and Sobel immediately began ordering them into groups. Evelyn found herself standing beside Joe Toye, a no-nonsense man whose toughness had become legendary in the company, and Skip Muck, who despite the harsh conditions, always seemed to have a smile ready for anyone, even in the darkest of times. Anna was a few steps behind, next to George Luz, whose steady stream of jokes had kept morale up during the worst drills.

"First group on the line!" Sobel shouted, his sharp voice cutting through the murmurs of the soldiers. "Go!"

The first group took off, scrambling toward the towering wooden wall that loomed ahead. Evelyn watched as they struggled to find footing, using every ounce of strength to hoist themselves over the top. Their boots thudded into the mud on the other side as they hit the ground running.

"Next group! Go!"

Evelyn and Anna were up next. Without a word, they sprinted toward the wall, their feet pounding the earth in unison. The wooden surface was slick with mud from the previous runs, and Evelyn's hands slipped slightly as she gripped the top, but with a grunt of effort, she hauled herself over, landing heavily on the other side. The impact reverberated through her body, but there was no time to dwell on it; she had to keep moving.

Anna wasn't far behind, her arms straining as she pulled herself up and over. They hit the ground together, exchanging a quick glance as they ran toward the next obstacle: the dreaded barbed wire crawl.

They dropped to their stomachs, the cold mud immediately seeping through their uniforms as they began to crawl under the low-hanging wire. The metal glinted menacingly in the pale morning light, dangerously close to their backs. Every muscle screamed as they dragged themselves forward, inch by inch, their faces pressed into the muck.

"Faster! Move, move, move!" Sobel's voice echoed across the field, a constant reminder that they weren't moving quickly enough for his liking.

Evelyn's arms burned as she pushed forward, the muscles in her shoulders and back straining under the weight of her body. Her face was streaked with mud, her hair plastered to her forehead, but she kept her focus on the end of the wire. She could hear the grunts and curses of the men behind her, some getting snagged on the wire, others struggling to keep up.

Beside her, Anna was keeping pace, her jaw set in determination as they crawled through the mud together. They had learned early on to watch each other's backs in moments like this. If one faltered, the other was there to help.

Just as they cleared the barbed wire, the next challenge loomed ahead: a series of logs, stacked unevenly, that had to be crossed without touching the ground. Evelyn scrambled up the first log, balancing precariously as she shifted her weight, her arms outstretched for balance. She moved quickly but carefully, hopping from one log to the next, her breath coming in short gasps.

Anna followed close behind, her movements fluid and controlled, her eyes focused ahead. Together, they navigated the obstacle, their teamwork becoming more seamless with each passing drill.

"Let's go, people! We're not out here to take in the scenery!" Sobel's voice grated on Evelyn's nerves, but she bit back a retort, focusing instead on the next obstacle, a steep wooden incline that required them to pull themselves up using ropes.

Evelyn grabbed hold of the rope, her hands raw and sore from the previous drills, and began to climb. The rough fibers bit into her palms as she heaved herself upward, her legs shaking with exertion. She could hear Anna's labored breathing behind her as she followed suit, both of them fighting against their own exhaustion.

When they finally reached the top, Evelyn allowed herself a brief moment to look out over the course. The other soldiers of Easy Company were scattered across the field, some still struggling through the barbed wire, others resting at the foot of the final climb. For a split second, she felt a rush of pride. Despite everything, they were still standing. They were still keeping up.

But there was no time for celebration. Sobel's voice was already calling them back to the starting line, demanding they run the course again. And again. And again.

The hours dragged on, the obstacles blending together in a haze of mud, sweat, and pain. By the time Sobel finally called for a break, every soldier in Easy Company was drenched in sweat, their bodies covered in cuts and bruises, their uniforms soaked through with mud.

Evelyn staggered back toward the barracks, her muscles screaming in protest with every step. Anna walked beside her, just as exhausted, but neither woman complained. They had learned to conserve their energy for the next round of drills.

"Hey, not bad for a couple of girls." George Luz said as he jogged up to them, his face streaked with mud but his usual grin still intact.

"You mean not bad for a bunch of grunts." Evelyn shot back, too tired to even muster a real smile.

"Fair enough." Luz said with a wink. "Still, Sobel's got it in for you, but you didn't let him break you."

"We're still here." Anna added, her voice soft but determined.

They reached the barracks, where the rest of the men were already peeling off their gear and collapsing onto their bunks. Carwood Lipton, as usual, was the first to check on everyone, offering a quiet word of encouragement or a helping hand to anyone who needed it. His calm, steady presence had become a comfort to the company, a counterbalance to Sobel's harsh leadership.

"How're you holding up?" Lipton asked as he approached Evelyn and Anna.

"Exhausted," Evelyn admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. "But we'll survive."

"You always do." Lipton said with a small smile. "You're both doing well. You've earned your place here."

The compliment caught Evelyn off guard, and for a moment, she felt the weight of what Lipton was saying. Despite the constant drills, despite Sobel's endless criticism, they were earning the respect of the men. They were proving that they belonged in Easy Company.

"We couldn't have done it without you guys." Anna said quietly, looking around at the men who had become their comrades in arms.

Over the weeks, the bonds between the women and the rest of Easy Company had grown stronger. At first, there had been hesitation, uncertainty about how two women would fit into the dynamic of an all-male unit. But the men had come to respect their grit, their determination to keep up despite the odds. They had proven that they were more than capable of enduring the same hellish training, and in return, the men had accepted them as part of the team.

But no matter how strong those bonds became, there was always Sobel, lurking like a dark cloud over their heads, ready to tear them down the moment they showed any sign of weakness. His voice was a constant presence in their lives, barking orders, criticizing their every move, pushing them harder than seemed humanly possible.

And yet, in some strange way, Sobel's unrelenting demands were shaping them into a stronger unit. They were learning to rely on each other, to push through pain and exhaustion, to keep going when every muscle in their body screamed for them to stop.

But it didn't stop the growing resentment. Every day, the weight of Sobel's authority became more unbearable. His arbitrary punishments, his refusal to see the progress they were making, it wore them down, and it was clear that the frustration was starting to build within the ranks.

"I swear, one of these days, I'm going to punch that guy in the face." Joe Toye muttered as he collapsed onto his bunk, his knuckles bloody from the rope climb.

"You'll have to get in line." Muck said, shaking his head. "I think half the company's ready to take a swing at him."

Anna leaned against the wall, her arms crossed, watching the men vent their frustrations. "He's not going to make it easy for us, is he?"

"Doesn't look like it," Evelyn replied, her voice heavy with fatigue. "But we'll get through it. We have to. Just think of what we went through to even get this far."

And so they did. Day after day, drill after drill, they pushed through the pain and exhaustion, growing stronger not just as individuals, but as a unit. The obstacles that had once seemed insurmountable became challenges to be conquered. The mud, the barbed wire, the endless running, they were no longer just tests of endurance; they were tests of will, of teamwork, of grit.

Through it all, Evelyn and Anna found their place within Easy Company. They weren't just two women trying to keep up with the men; they were soldiers, just like the rest of them, fighting for the same goal, enduring the same hardships, and earning the same respect.

But even as they grew closer to the men, even as they forged unbreakable bonds of friendship, the shadow of Sobel's authority loomed large. And while they had survived Camp Toccoa so far, they knew that the true test was still to come.

Chapter Text

The morning air was crisp and cool as Evelyn and Anna stood on the airstrip, their nerves tingling with a mixture of excitement and apprehension. The sky above Camp Toccoa was clear, the vast expanse of blue serving as a stark reminder of the challenges that lay ahead. Today marked a significant milestone in their journey as paratroopers: the culmination of weeks of rigorous training and the day they would finally earn their jump wings.

The two women had spent weeks preparing, being thrown into the middle of training having pushed them even harder to keep up with the men. Evelyn had grown tired of running up that godforsaken mountain that rested within the camp. It was not as bad as the terrain they had to run through in camp Davis, however having Lieutenant Sobel screaming in her ear throughout the entire run had put her off of it entirely.

"So, are we ready to be Army paratroopers?" The man up front asked.

"Yes, Sergeant!" They all exclaimed.

"I hope so." The man continued, pointing towards his small board of instructions. "This will be the first of five exits from a C-47 aircraft scheduled for today. Upon successful completion on your fifth and final jump, you will be certified Army paratroopers. There will be a lot of men jumping from the sky today. Hopefully, under deployed canopies. Jumping from 1,000 feet AGL, in sticks of 12 jumpers per aircraft. All you have to do is remember what you were taught and I guarantee you gravity will take care of the rest. Gentlemen and Ladies, rest assured, any refusals in the aircraft, or at the door, and I guarantee you, you will be out of the airborne."

They had spent countless hours in the training fields, practicing everything from parachute packing to emergency procedures. They were ready, or at least, they hoped they were.

Evelyn and Anna stood side by side, their expressions a mixture of nerves and determination. Anna squeezed Evelyn's arm. "We've got this. Just think of it as another drill, only this time with a much better view."

Evelyn managed a reassuring smile. "Yeah, I'm so ready for this."

When the time came to board the plane, a palpable sense of anticipation filled the air. The C-47 transport plane, its engines roaring to life, sat ready at the edge of the airstrip. The soldiers climbed aboard in orderly fashion, their faces a mix of focus and exhilaration. Evelyn and Anna found their place in the cramped cabin, their gear pressing heavily against them.

The flight was a blur of noise and anticipation. The roar of the engines drowned out any attempt at conversation, and the vibrations of the plane's movement were felt through every bone in their bodies. The soldiers sat in silence, each one lost in their own thoughts, preparing mentally for the jump that was about to change their lives forever.

As the plane reached the designated altitude, the jumpmaster began the final checks. "Thirty seconds to jump!" He called out over the emgine, his voice sharp and clear.

The soldiers lined up at the door, the wind howling outside as the plane's ramp was lowered. Evelyn's heart raced as she moved into position, her hands steady as she gripped the safety straps. Anna was right behind her, her face set in a determined expression.

"Go!" The jumpmaster shouted.

Evelyn stepped into the open air, the sensation of weightlessness taking over as she leapt from the plane. For a brief moment, there was nothing but the rush of wind and the vast, open sky. Evelyn's training kicked in, her movements precise as she executed the jump drills she had practiced countless times. She felt a sudden jolt as the parachute deployed and the freefall transformed into a controlled descent whilst she pulled on the cords to control the direction of her fall.

Anna, right behind her, followed through with equal skill. The parachute billowed above her, catching the air and slowing her descent. The sight of the ground approaching rapidly was both exhilarating and intimidating, but the training had prepared her for this.

The landing was a mix of relief and accomplishment as the soldiers touched down, their parachutes gracefully folding behind them. Evelyn and Anna quickly gathered their chutes, their faces flushed with the thrill of their successful jumps.

As they regrouped with the rest of the company, the trainer stood waiting, his expression a blend of approval and reserved satisfaction. The soldiers gathered in front of him, their gear and parachutes gathered neatly.

The company ran through the drill in the same manner for four more times, each growing easier than the last as Evelyn enjoyed the thrill of each jump. The session was eventually concluded as the soldiers completed their fifth and final jump.

As the soldiers celebrated their achievement, the atmosphere was filled with a sense of camaraderie and shared accomplishment. The jump wings were not just a symbol of their training but a testament to their dedication and perseverance.

Later that evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, the soldiers gathered at the local bar for a well-deserved celebration. The bar was lively, filled with the chatter and laughter of soldiers enjoying a rare moment of relaxation.

Evelyn and Anna joined their new comrades at a long table, their jump wings gleaming in the dim light. The men of Easy Company welcomed them with cheers and clinks of glasses, their camaraderie evident in the warm and boisterous atmosphere.

Cheers and chatter surrounded them as Evelyn found herself sat at the rounded table with Joe Toye to her left and Tab to her right.

"Looks good on you." She heard Floyd say as she turned to see him eyeing up her set of jump wings.

"Well, it's where it belongs." Evelyn joked proudly whilst she shifted to fully face the man, earning a small chuckle from him as he looked back up at her.

"Sure is." She heard him mumble, though she was unsure on whether he intended for her to hear it or not she still offered him a smile.

"I could say the same about you, Floyd." The girl responded as she took a light sip of her water, turning back to face forward.

"Corporal Toye, there will be no leaning in my company." George Luz cut through the chatter, once more mimicking Sobel as Evelyn couldn't help but giggle as Tab quickly mirrored her. She had been put under the Lieutenant's torment for weeks up to that point, it wouldn't hurt to have a break from such a serious environment. "Are those dusty jump wings? How do expect to slay the huns with dust on your jumps wings?"

His question caused her to laugh a little more as George sent a quick wink her way, obviously enjoying the attention he was receiving from her.

"Ah-ten-hut!" A voice exclaimed as everyone quickly rose to their feet, Evelyn watched from the corner of her eye as Colonel Sink walked in rather leisurely, a proud smile sculpting his features.

Though the woman had upmost respect for her superior, she couldn't help but zone him out on his speech. She had heard many speeches that day, the words seeming relatively the same to the last. Tiredness slowly overcame her as she waited for him to finish, which thankfully, he did so rather quickly, allowing her to sit once more in the comfortable chair.

"You alright?" She heard Tab ask as she turned to face him.

"Just tired." Evelyn responded quietly, earning a small nod before they turned back to the main conversation happening at the table, or more so, another one of George's jokes.

The evening continued with a sense of shared achievement and anticipation for the future. Evelyn and Anna had taken a significant step in their journey, proving themselves as capable paratroopers and earning their place within Easy Company. As they celebrated their success, they knew that the path ahead would be filled with new challenges and adventures, but they were ready to face them with the same spirit and determination that had brought them this far.

As the group eventually settled in for the night, Evelyn pulled out a small piece of paper and her pen, slowly stringing the words together as she wrote.

October 13, 1942

Today was a day I will never forget. The moment I stepped out of that C-47 and into the open sky, I felt an exhilarating rush that took my breath away. I've spent countless hours training for this moment, and every ounce of sweat and pain was worth it.

As I floated down, the world spread out beneath me like a beautiful, patchwork quilt. For a brief moment, I felt invincible—suspended in time, free from the weight of everything below. It was just me and the sky, and in that moment, I realized why I wanted this. It's not just about the jump wings or the badge of honor; it's about proving to myself that I can do this, that I am strong enough to face whatever comes my way.

Anna stood beside me during those jumps. She's been my rock through this whole journey, and seeing her smile today made my heart swell with pride. We've gone through so much together—laughing, struggling, pushing each other to be better. I'm so grateful to have her by my side.

But as I sit here writing this, I can't shake the feeling of how surreal this all is. The celebrations with the company were wonderful, and it felt so good to finally be part of something bigger. Yet, a part of me is still hesitant, still afraid of what lies ahead. We're not just paratroopers; we're soldiers now, and that comes with responsibility. I'm filled with a mix of joy and anxiety—joy for what we've achieved, but anxiety for what's to come.

Colonel Sink's speech echoed in my mind, a reminder of the path we have chosen. This isn't just about jumping from planes; it's about facing the unknown with courage and grit. We'll have to support each other even more now as we prepare for whatever challenges await us.

I can't help but think of the faces of my comrades, the stories we've shared, the friendships we've built. Each one of us has a story, a reason for being here, and I wonder about the journey that lies ahead. Will we make it through together? Will I have the strength to support them when it matters most?

Today I earned my jump wings, but I also earned something more profound—a sense of belonging. I am proud to be part of Easy Company, to stand shoulder to shoulder with these brave men and women. We've fought hard for this moment, and I refuse to let fear hold me back.

As the night deepens, I'm filled with a sense of hope and anticipation for what's to come. I'm ready to face whatever challenges lie ahead, and I will do it with my head held high.

I am Mary. I am a paratrooper.

Evelyn put down her pen, the weight of her emotions resting heavily on her chest. She felt a mixture of gratitude and hope as she tucked the paper away, a silent promise to herself to remain strong and resolute, no matter what the future held.

In that moment, surrounded by laughter and celebration, Evelyn knew this was just the beginning of something beautiful. The path ahead would be filled with trials, but she was ready to embrace them, hand in hand with her friends, her family, and the unwavering spirit of those who stood beside her.

Chapter Text

The air was cool, damp, and thick with the scent of soil and pine. Evelyn Donovan found herself crouching in a shallow ditch alongside the rest of the second platoon, the cold ground pressing against her knees. The dense forest surrounding them felt oppressive, the weight of the towering trees bearing down on them as they waited for the next command. Her uniform was damp with sweat, but the cold air quickly made her shiver. It was early morning, and the sun had barely risen over the horizon, casting long, dim shadows that seemed to dance among the trees.

Her rifle felt heavy in her hands, the familiar weight comforting and yet ominous. Evelyn shifted slightly, her muscles sore from days of endless drills and long hikes. She turned to her left, her eyes locking onto Skip Muck, who had an almost resigned expression on his face. She could see the frustration in his eyes, the same frustration she felt.

"Second Platoon, move out! Tactical column." Lieutenant Winters whispered, his voice carrying through the stillness like a ripple on water.

Evelyn sighed internally and shot a questioning look at Skip. "What?" she mouthed silently, knowing he'd understand her meaning. She was tired of Sobel's erratic orders, of the endless confusion that seemed to come with his leadership.

Skip simply shook his head in response, his lips pulling into a grimace. He didn't need to say anything. He glanced over at Sobel, who was ahead, looking determined, though his determination was misplaced. The rest of the platoon had begun rising slowly, following Sobel's lead deeper into the forest. The only sounds were the rustling of gear and the soft crunch of boots against the undergrowth. Evelyn rolled her eyes in silent frustration, earning a sympathetic look from Anna Blake, who crouched next to her, already dreading what was to come.

They moved carefully through the trees, but it didn't take long for the inevitable to happen. Out of nowhere, men sprung up from the bushes surrounding them, rifles raised, cutting off their path. Evelyn froze instinctively, her heart sinking, not from fear but from the utter predictability of the situation. She didn't even bother raising her weapon.

"Captain, you've just been killed, along with 95% of your company. Your outfit?" a man stepped forward, clipboard in hand, his voice cold and matter-of-fact.

"Easy Company, 2nd Battalion, 506th." Sobel answered, his voice lacking the humility of a man who had just led his troops into another mock slaughter. His shoulders were rigid, and his face tight with defiance, as if refusing to acknowledge his mistake.

Evelyn glanced at Anna, who raised her brows and gave a small, incredulous shake of her head. The rest of the platoon stood in silence, their expressions a mix of annoyance, disappointment, and barely concealed anger.

"Leave three wounded men on the ground and report back to the assembly area." The evaluator continued, his voice clipped, as if this was just another routine failure he'd seen far too many times.

Sobel nodded sharply, immediately selecting three soldiers to stay behind. He turned without another word and began leading the rest of the platoon back toward the assembly point. The men followed, but the air around them was thick with frustration, a silent but palpable rebellion simmering beneath the surface. Evelyn could feel it too, that same smoldering anger that had been growing with every botched maneuver, every poor decision that could mean life or death in a real battle.

"He's going to get us killed." Anna muttered under her breath, her voice barely audible as they trudged through the forest.

"Not if we kill him first." Evelyn replied, her tone half-joking, though her eyes carried a glimmer of seriousness. Around them, no one laughed, the weight of their future hanging heavy in the air. It was hard to joke about it when Sobel's incompetence felt like a looming shadow over their lives.

The march back to the assembly area was silent, save for the occasional shuffle of feet and the rustling of leaves. The men, exhausted and beaten down by the endless failures of their captain, could only exchange weary looks. They had been training for months, enduring brutal runs up and down Currahee, long nights of drills, and countless tests, only to be led into mistake after mistake by Sobel. It wasn't the physical exertion that wore them down—it was the constant, gnawing fear that when the time came, when they were truly in combat, Sobel's leadership would be the death of them all.

—

The day had finally arrived for Easy Company to leave Camp Toccoa, and the mood in the barracks was electric. The men were abuzz with chatter, relief palpable in their voices as they packed their gear, stuffing belongings into large bags. The air was thick with excitement, nervous energy, and a hint of disbelief that they were finally moving on from this place that had, for so long, been their entire world.

Evelyn emerged from the barracks, her bag slung over one shoulder, her uniform slightly disheveled from the hasty packing. Her hat sat askew atop her head, giving her a slightly lopsided appearance. She took a deep breath, feeling the weight of both her gear and the moment. They were really leaving.

"Finally," she exhaled, a grin spreading across her face as she stepped onto the dirt path. "I was getting tired of running up that stupid hill."

"Yeah, right, Mary," Guarnere teased as he passed by, using her nickname with a smirk. "You were faster than all of us."

Evelyn smiled sheepishly, adjusting her hat. "Gotta thank Camp Davis for that." She cast a look over her shoulder as Anna appeared at her side.

"Our hill was so big it didn't even have a name." Anna added with a chuckle, earning a series of groans from the men around them.

"Jesus." Don Malarkey muttered under his breath, shaking his head. The two women had revealed bits and pieces of their training in the Women's Auxiliary, and every time, it left the men with a mixture of admiration and incredulity. It had become something of a running joke, but the truth was, the respect they had for Evelyn and Anna was real.

The group began to disperse, the last-minute rush of getting ready sending everyone in different directions. Despite the excitement, there was a weight hanging over them, the unspoken reality of what awaited them beyond Camp Toccoa. The war loomed large in the distance, and though they were leaving the physical trials of training behind, the true test was still ahead.

The journey from Camp Toccoa to Albourne, England, was a whirlwind of new experiences, beginning with the long train ride to New York City. The rhythmic clattering of the train tracks provided a steady backdrop to the lively chatter that filled the railcars. The soldiers of Easy Company, now more like brothers than just comrades, leaned back in their seats, some laughing, others leaning against the windows in quiet contemplation as the landscape of America rushed by.

Evelyn sat in a compartment with Anna, her legs stretched out in front of her as she watched the countryside roll past. She was lost in her thoughts, her fingers absentmindedly tracing the seam of her bag, her mind flickering between excitement and apprehension. The war felt so distant still, like a far-off storm cloud, but it was growing closer with each passing day.

Around her, the men were buzzing with energy, exchanging stories about home, about their hopes for what lay ahead. The camaraderie was infectious, and soon enough, Evelyn found herself pulled into the conversation, laughing at Guarnere's tall tales and Luz's endless jokes.

But there were quieter moments too. As the train approached the city, the noise began to die down, and Evelyn noticed several of the men growing more introspective, their eyes distant as they thought of the loved ones they had left behind. It was a bittersweet reminder that for all the excitement of leaving, they were also stepping into the unknown.

When they finally reached New York, the atmosphere changed once again. The station was alive with activity, soldiers swarming the platforms as they made their way toward the docks where their ship awaited them. The city loomed large around them, its towering buildings and bustling streets a stark contrast to the rural landscapes they had just passed through.

The docks were a chaotic scene, with soldiers, equipment, and supplies being loaded onto the massive ship that would carry them across the Atlantic. The ship itself was a marvel to behold, its sheer size overwhelming as it sat in the harbor, a symbol of the vast journey ahead.

As they boarded, Evelyn felt a flutter of excitement in her chest, tempered only by the gravity of the situation. They were leaving behind the familiar, the safe, and stepping into a world they had only heard about in passing—the world of war.

Once aboard the ship, Easy Company quickly settled into the cramped, stacked accommodations that would be their home for the duration of the journey. The ship was a maze of narrow hallways and tiny cabins, with beds stacked high, leaving little room for comfort. Space was limited, and the soldiers had to make do with what they had.

Evelyn and Anna claimed their bunks, with Evelyn taking the top bed and Anna below. As they lay there, staring up at the dim ceiling of the ship, the reality of what they were doing began to sink in. They were crossing an ocean, leaving behind everything they knew, to fight in a war that was still, in some ways, abstract.

That evening, a group of soldiers stood on the deck, gazing at the distant silhouette of New York, with its iconic skyline fading into the horizon. The Statue of Liberty stood tall, her torch held high, a symbol of the freedom they were leaving behind.

"Look at that." Talbert said softly, his voice barely carrying over the wind. "That's a sight to remember. Makes you think of home, doesn't it?"

Evelyn stood beside him, leaning on the rail as she stared out at the distant city. "It really does," she replied quietly, her voice laced with a mixture of nostalgia and longing. The thought of home felt heavier now, as if the miles between them and the familiar shores were growing wider by the second.

"Me too." Talbert sighed, his eyes fixed on the shrinking figure of the statue as it disappeared from view. There was a silence between them, a shared understanding that this moment, this image, would stay with them for the rest of their lives.

The first night was restless. The constant rocking of the ship, combined with the tight quarters and the nervous energy of the men, made it difficult to sleep. Evelyn lay awake, listening to the soft murmurs of conversation around her, the creaking of the ship as it cut through the waves. Her mind was filled with thoughts of what awaited them on the other side—England, the war, the uncertainty of it all.

By the second day, the mood aboard the ship had shifted. The initial excitement had worn off, and now the men were settling into a routine of sorts. They gathered on the deck whenever the weather allowed, staring out at the endless expanse of the ocean, the horizon stretching out in all directions, as if they were floating in the middle of nowhere.

The close quarters of the ship, combined with the long days at sea, led to a unique kind of friendship, and frustration. The soldiers passed the time with games, conversations, and, inevitably, teasing each other in the way only close friends could. Yet beneath the surface, there was a simmering tension, a collective anxiety about what lay ahead.

Evelyn and Anna sat together on Evelyn's top bunk, watching the chaos unfold below them as men jostled for space in the narrow walkway. It was a controlled kind of madness, with soldiers laughing, yelling, and occasionally swearing as they navigated the cramped space.

"Right now," Skip's voice rose above the din, as he elbowed his way through the crowd, "some lucky bastard's headed for the Pacific. He'll get billeted on some tropical island. Sitting under a palm tree with six naked native girls helping him cut up coconuts so he can hand-feed them to the flamingos."

Evelyn and Anna exchanged a glance before rolling their eyes in unison. It was typical of the men to fantasize about such things, though they all knew it was nothing but wishful thinking.

"Flamingos are mean. They bite." Someone piped up from a nearby bunk.

"So do the naked native girls." Another soldier quipped, sending a wave of laughter through the group.

"With any luck." Perconte added, though his bravado quickly faltered when he caught the unimpressed gazes of Evelyn and Anna. He slunk away, clearly unnerved by the hard stares from the two women.

"These guys are a bunch of idiots." Evelyn muttered, watching Perconte's retreat with a mixture of amusement and disgust.

"You can say that twice." Anna replied, leaning back against the cold metal frame of the bunk.

The men, of course, were oblivious to the girls' scorn and continued their banter. Joe Toye, holding a small knife in his hands, spoke up next.

"Guys, I'm glad I'm going to Europe. Hitler gets one of these right across the windpipe, Roosevelt changes Thanksgiving to Joe Toye Day, pays me ten grand a year for the rest of my fucking life."

The soldiers roared with laughter, though a few shook their heads, as if already seeing the absurdity of the conversation.

"What if we don't get to Europe?" Smokey asked, his voice curious but cautious. "What if they send us somewhere else, like North Africa?"

"My brother's in North Africa," Bill Guarnere chimed in, taking a long drag from his cigarette. "Says it's hot."

"Really? It's hot in Africa?" Don Malarkey asked sarcastically, rolling his eyes, and earning a chorus of laughter from the nearby bunks.

Evelyn, listening from her perch, shook her head in disbelief. The men could go on for hours like this, caught up in their own absurd theories and musings. A bunch of idiots, she thought to herself again, though she couldn't help but feel a strange affection for them. They were, after all, a family now, bound by their shared experiences and the war that loomed over them.

Guarnere's voice cut through the noise again, this time quieter, more serious. "Point is, it don't matter where we go. Once we get into combat, the only person you can trust is yourself and the fella next to you."

"As long as he's a paratrooper." Someone added, and there were murmurs of agreement from around the room.

"Oh yeah?" George called out as he climbed up the bunks, sending a smile the girls' way when passing. "What if that paratrooper turns out to be Sobel?"

There was a collective groan before another soldier spoke up. "If I'm next to Sobel in combat, I'm moving down the line. Hook up with some other officer, like Heyliger or Winters."

"I like Winters. He's a good man. But if the bullets start flying, I don't know if I want a Quaker doing my fighting for me." Guarnere said, pulling his cigarette from his lips and blowing out a long stream of smoke.

"How do you know he's a Quaker?" Skip asked from his perch above.

"He ain't Catholic." Bill replied with a shrug, his tone matter-of-fact.

"Neither's Sobel." Skip pointed out.

"That prick's a son of Abraham." Guarnere muttered under his breath.

Liebgott, always alert, caught onto the words. "He's what?" He asked, his voice sharpening.

"He's a Jew." Guarnere said bluntly.

There was a beat of silence before Joe pushed himself off his bunk and stood, his posture tense. "I'm a Jew," he said, his voice low, but filled with a quiet anger.

Guarnere barely looked at him. "Congratulations. Get your nose outta my face."

The room tensed as Joe shoved Guarnere back, and in an instant, fists were flying. The other men scrambled to pull them apart, shouting and swearing as the scuffle intensified. Evelyn and Anna watched from their perch, unimpressed by the spectacle.

"A bunch of idiots." Evelyn said again, her voice tinged with exhaustion.

"Damn straight." Anna muttered in agreement.

The fight was eventually broken up, and the men, breathing heavily, returned to their bunks, grumbling under their breath. The tension had passed, but the underlying frustrations remained. They were all on edge, anxious about what was to come, and it didn't take much to set them off.

The ship's long journey across the Atlantic was punctuated by moments of calm reflection and nervous energy. As they neared the English coast, the men of Easy Company grew quiet once again, their thoughts turning to the task that awaited them. They had left behind the familiar shores of America, and now they stood on the precipice of something far greater—war.

When the ship finally docked in England, the soldiers disembarked, their boots hitting the cold, cobbled ground of a foreign land. The air was crisp and cool, a sharp contrast to the humid warmth of the ship, and as Evelyn stepped onto the dock, she felt a chill run down her spine.

She and Anna stood side by side, their bags slung over their shoulders, taking in the sights of their new surroundings. The historic landscape of England stretched out before them, a mix of old stone buildings, narrow streets, and green fields that seemed to roll on forever.

"This is it." Evelyn murmured, her breath visible in the cool air. The reality of their situation settled over her like a heavy cloak. They were here. They were really here.

Anna nodded beside her, her expression unreadable as she stared out at the distant hills. "Yeah. This is it."

The men of Easy Company gathered around, their voices low as they absorbed their new reality. The journey from Camp Toccoa to Albourne had been long and grueling, but it had forged a bond between them that was unbreakable. They were no longer just soldiers—they were brothers.

As they settled into their new surroundings, the weight of the war ahead hung over them like a dark cloud. But they faced it together, united by their shared experiences, their camaraderie, and their unwavering commitment to each other.

And for Evelyn and Anna, standing amidst their brothers-in-arms on the foreign soil of England, they knew that whatever lay ahead, they would face it with the same determination and resilience that had brought them this far.

The challenges that awaited them in Europe were daunting, but they were ready. Together, they would face the trials of war, and they would endure.

Chapter Text

Training in Albourne, England, had only just begun for Easy Company. The regimen was grueling, filled with countless variations of drills: shooting, hand-to-hand combat, positional fighting, and endless lectures on various techniques. Each day blended into the next as they pushed themselves to the limits, preparing for the inevitable day they'd be thrust into the heart of battle.

Evelyn now found herself crouched behind a large bush, every muscle tensed, waiting for Lieutenant Winters' command. Her heart pounded in her chest, not from fear but from the anticipation that always came with these exercises.

"Sobel's late." Winters muttered, his voice low and annoyed, breaking the tense silence. Evelyn couldn't help but sigh inwardly, her thoughts drifting to Anna and how she was faring under Captain Sobel's command. That man could wear down even the most resilient soldier.

"We have to move." Winters spoke again, this time with more urgency.

"Sir, without Captain Sobel and the first platoon?" Lipton's voice cut through the night, his eyes locking with Evelyn's, sharing a moment of concern and uncertainty.

"It's a T-intersection, we improvise." Winters replied, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Evelyn listened intently as Winters laid out the plan, then quickly followed the rest of her squad as they moved over the bush and onto the other side of the road. They moved swiftly, their boots barely making a sound on the dirt path. A few yards away, an elderly man pedaling a bicycle nearly collided with them, but quickly veered away, startled by their sudden appearance.

"Hi-yo Silver!" The familiar, irritating voice echoed through the still night, sending a shiver down Evelyn's spine. She settled into her position on the grass just as Sobel came into view, leading his squad at a belated pace.

"Good work, second platoon. We took the objective." Winters remarked as Sobel finally appeared before them, directly in the line of fire if this had been a real ambush. Sobel's face betrayed a mixture of surprise and skepticism, his eyes scanning the scene with barely concealed confusion.

—

It wasn't long before word spread: Sobel had been relieved of his command. Relief swept through the ranks of Easy Company, who had long worried about how the man would perform in the heat of battle. Sobel's abrasive and often irrational behavior had caused more than a few of them to question whether they'd survive long enough to see combat.

A loud creaking noise filled Evelyn's ears as the latch on the back of the truck released, and the soldiers poured out like water from a burst dam. Evelyn followed suit, her feet hitting the ground with practiced precision.

Buck Compton's voice boomed across the tarmac as he shouted orders, the group quickly dispersing toward their designated tents along the airstrip. They moved with purpose, their minds already racing ahead to the next task, the next challenge.

Lieutenant Meehan soon corralled them into a makeshift lecture hall, where he outlined their operational criteria and the exact course of action each soldier must take. The gravity of their mission settled over them like a heavy fog, but it did nothing to dull their resolve.

Soon enough, Easy Company found themselves lined up along the airstrip, preparing for the mission that had loomed over them for weeks. Evelyn stood between Liebgott and Floyd, struggling to adjust the weight of her gear so that it didn't dig into her shoulders.

"Floyd, could you help me tie this, please?" She asked, holding up one of her straps. Without hesitation, Floyd stepped forward, adjusting the position of her pack with the deftness that came from years of doing the same for himself and others.

"Thanks." She murmured, offering him a small smile of gratitude.

"Talbert!" A shout echoed through the crowd, pulling their attention to Vest, who was lugging a sizable parcel.

"Floyd. Floyd M. Here." Floyd called out, raising a hand as Vest maneuvered through the throng of soldiers to deliver the package.

"Heavy. Condoms?" Vest quipped as he handed over the box, drawing a look of mild disgust from Evelyn.

"I don't know. Probably." Floyd responded with a nonchalant shrug, earning a playful knock on the shoulder from the girl next to him.

Liebgott, ever curious, slid between them, his eyes sparkling with interest. "What you got?"

"'Dear Floyd, give them hell.' It's from the chief of the Kokomo police department." Floyd explained as he tore into the box. Evelyn's gaze locked onto the small handgun nestled within the packaging, the weapon gleaming under the dim lights.

"Wow. You gotta love cops." Floyd grinned, pulling the gun from its resting place and admiring it with genuine appreciation.

A sudden envelope was held out at Evelyns side as she quickly turned to see Vest holding it out towards her before speaking. "For Mary White."

Evelyn practically sprung out at that as she ripped the letter out of his grip and tore it open, a smile resting across her features as she realised who it was from.

My Dearest daughter,

We know you had told us not to write to you, but we just had to after hearing your unit would be heading out. We have been receiving updates about you from a local army department here in Boston and we posted this letter through there as they would be able to make 'necessary changes', though we do not quite understand why, this was the only way we could write. Your father and I always knew that you were destined for great things, but knowing that you've come this far, achieving something so extraordinary, leaves us in awe. We are so proud of you, love, more than you can ever imagine.

Your father actually cried when he heard the latest update, not that he'll admit it, of course! He's been walking around the house ever since, showing off your designated army photo from '42 to anyone who will listen, beaming with pride. "That's my girl." He keeps saying, his chest puffed out like a proud rooster. And I can't blame him, really. I feel exactly the same way.

It's not just about the wings, though they are a tremendous achievement. It's the courage, determination, and strength you've shown in going after what you believe in. We always knew you were strong, but hearing about your progress, hearing about the challenges you've faced and overcome, it's like getting to know a whole new side of you, one that we always suspected was there but hadn't fully seen until now. You've grown so much and while we miss you terribly, we are comforted knowing that you are doing something so important.

I shared the news with Maggie, and she couldn't stop talking about how her big sister is a real soldier now. She's telling all her friends at school that you're a paratrooper, and she's already decided she wants to be just like you when she grows up. You've always been her hero, but now, it seems you've become the hero of every little girl in the neighborhood. I even overheard her pretending to be you in a game of make-believe with the kids down the street, she was leading them on an imaginary jump mission, and it was the sweetest thing I've ever seen.

As for James, your father and I hold him in our thoughts and prayers every day, just as we do with you. We worry about both of you, of course, but there's also a sense of peace knowing that you're both out there doing your part. By now you must have discovered his letter that I had snuck into your luggage, and I hope you know he meant every word. It's comforting to all of us to know that he's still able to write to us, though we know it must be difficult for him to find the time and the strength. He's been through so much already, but if there's one thing we know, it's that our children are resilient, something you've both proven time and time again.

As you prepare for whatever comes next, I want you to remember something very important: No matter where you are or what you're facing, you carry our love with you. It's with you in every step, every jump, every moment of uncertainty. And that love is as strong as any force on this earth, it will keep you safe, keep you strong, and bring you home to us.

I won't pretend that we aren't worried. The thought of you heading into battle terrifies me, as I'm sure it would terrify any mother. But we've also come to accept that this is the path you've chosen, and we trust in your judgment. You've always been level-headed and wise beyond your years, even when you were a little girl. I know that whatever challenges you face, you'll meet them with the same strength and determination that got you through jump school.

We don't know exactly what the future holds, but we do know that you're part of something much bigger than any of us, something that's going to make a difference in this world. And that gives us hope, even in these dark times.

Before I close this letter, there's one more thing I want to say, something I think you need to hear. No matter what happens out there, remember that you are loved. Deeply, truly, and unconditionally. Whether you're soaring through the skies or marching through unfamiliar terrain, that love will be with you, always. And when this war is over, because it will end, and you will come home, we'll be here, waiting with open arms.

Take care of yourself, my love. Trust your training, trust your instincts, and remember that your family is with you in spirit, every step of the way. We're counting the days until we can see you again, until we can hold you in our arms and tell you in person how incredibly proud we are.

With all our love and prayers,

Mom and Dad.

"Who's that from." Floyd spoke as Evelyn quickly folded the paper, hiding it away from him in secrecy.

"Just my mum and dad, telling me they'll keep me in their prayers." She answered whilst placing the letter in her breast pocket, right alongside the one she had received from James as Floyd sent a nod her way, acknowledging her words.

The group quickly returned to organizing their gear, the earlier distraction replaced by the grim reality of the task ahead.

"Parachute's gonna be useless with all this extra weight." Evelyn muttered, shaking her head as she surveyed the pile of equipment before her. "Might as well just chuck us out of the plane as we are."

Her remark elicited a quiet chuckle from Floyd, but before he could reply, a letter was thrust into Evelyn's hands.

"Colonel Sink." The courier said, the name alone enough to silence any further questions. Evelyn's eyes scanned the document, the weight of the words pressing down on her as the importance of the mission became clearer.

"Easy Company, listen up!" A commanding voice cut through the buzz of conversation, drawing everyone's attention. "The channel coast is socked in with rain and fog. No jump tonight. The invasion has been postponed; we're on a 24-hour stand down."

Disappointment etched itself across every face as the soldiers slowly dispersed, their nerves temporarily settled but their hearts still heavy with anticipation.

As Evelyn and Anna made their way toward the small cinema set up by the army, they were intercepted by a smirking Lieutenant Nixon.

"I'd like to talk to you two." He said, his tone laced with something between amusement and intrigue. Without waiting for a response, he turned and walked away, the two women hurrying to catch up with him as he led them to a more secluded area.

"I know what you are." Nixon began, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. Evelyn and Anna exchanged confused glances, trying to decipher his meaning.

"What are we?" Anna asked, her voice tinged with suspicion as she turned back to face Nixon.

"I knew there was something off about you two when I first saw you." He continued, pausing just long enough to let the tension build. "I just never would have guessed spies."

At his words, Evelyn and Anna shared a moment of panic, their eyes darting around to ensure no one else had overheard.

"Shut your mouth." Evelyn demanded, stepping closer to Nixon, who remained unfazed by her aggressive stance.

"Regiment sent a plan, addressed to Colonel Sink, but Colonel Sink isn't here." Nixon explained, his smirk never wavering. "I opened it, thinking it contained details on the jump, but it turns out they have a special mission for one of you. Which one it is will be decided by Colonel Sink, but you'll be carrying out this plan in Normandy."

"You do realize that prying into classified information can get you shot?" Evelyn snapped, her patience wearing thin.

"That is correct." Nixon replied smoothly, showing a lack of care for that threat. "But Colonel Sink has now tasked me with briefing you on your missions. Oh, and by the way, whichever one of you is picked will also be carrying an added load on the drop tomorrow, as you'll be posing as a French citizen to infiltrate an important German post."

His words hung in the air, the gravity of their situation becoming all too real. Every moment of their training had been leading to this, and now, the stakes had never been higher.

"I knew there was something up with you." Nixon continued, shaking his head as if to clear away the lingering doubts he had harbored about them.

"Only you know?" Anna asked, her tone wary.

"Of course. I wouldn't want to get shot." Nixon answered, his nonchalant attitude only serving to irritate Evelyn further as he contradicted his previous reaction to that threat.

"Colonel Sink decides tomorrow." he concluded, his tone turning more serious. "This mission is a long one, so I suggest you both get some rest. Mary, Artemis, if those are really your names."

With that, Nixon turned and walked away, mumbling something under his breath that Evelyn just managed to catch. "I knew there was something up."

The two women let out simultaneous sighs of relief, the tension easing just slightly now that the confrontation was over. Nixon had proven to be too perceptive for his own good, and Evelyn couldn't help but wish he'd channel his talents into more productive areas of intelligence gathering.

"What's his problem?" Anna muttered, her frustration clear as they resumed their walk toward the barracks.

"Too smart for his own good." Evelyn replied, shaking her head as they disappeared into the night, the air around them thick with the weight of what was to come.

—

The morning of June 5th arrived with a sense of grim determination. Easy Company moved across the airfield like a well-oiled machine, each soldier burdened by the knowledge that today could very well be their last.

"Ow! You pulled my hair too hard!" Evelyn exclaimed as pain shot through her scalp.

"Sorry, sorry. I'm trying to do it lightly." Anna apologised, patting the woman's head lightly in an attempt to soothe her pain. Her fingers gently twisted the hair within her grasp, the movement slowly creating a tight braid along one side of Evelyns head before she quickly replicated it on the opposite side.

"Thank you." Evelyn smiled as she patted her hair down, remembering how her mother too used to braid her hair similarly.

"My pleasure."

Anna was soon called away from the airstrip for a briefing with Lieutenant Nixon, and Evelyn found herself weighed down not just by the heavy gear strapped to her body, but by the oppressive sense of foreboding that hung in the air.

She soon moved across the field, standing in front of her comrades who she now saw had painted etched on their faces.

"Can I get some of that?" Evelyn asked as she sat before them, pointing at the large tin that was placed in front of the men. They quickly jumped into action as she shivered gently as a cold substance touched her skin, the hands of Don and Skip helping paint the liquid across her features.

"Why is it cold?" She grumbled.

"Quit whining, Mary." Don retorted, earning some more grumbles from the girl as she crossed her arms in front of her chest in annoyance.

Her face became smeared with dark paint, applied by the two men in front of her in a valiant attempt to help them blend into the night. The paint felt cold and sticky on her skin, a stark reminder of the darkness that awaited them on the other side of the channel.

Evelyn grimaced as she could feel her loose hairs stick against her face, the makeshift double braids Anna had done for her already beginning to fall apart.

"Doc Roe is handing these out for air sickness. Orders are every man takes one now, and another 30 minutes in the air." A voice announced, snapping Evelyn from her thoughts. She looked up to see Eugene making his way down the line, handing out small doses of medication.

"Thanks." Evelyn murmured as she accepted the pill, offering the medic a brief nod of gratitude as he quickly returned it with a smile.

"2nd platoon, listen up." Lieutenant Winters' voice rang out, commanding their attention. His expression was steely, his words heavy with the weight of what was to come. "Good luck. God bless you. I'll see you in the assembly area."

One by one, Winters began pulling them off the ground, his hand steady and reassuring as each soldier filed past him. When he reached Evelyn, she offered him a small smile, a fleeting moment of warmth in the cold morning. Then, with a deep breath, she followed the line toward the waiting plane.

The queue moved slowly as the men struggled to pull themselves into the aircraft, their heavy packs and equipment making the task all the more difficult. When it was finally Evelyn's turn, she barely needed help as she clambered up, her muscles straining under the weight of her gear.

Once inside, she settled into her seat, the engines roaring to life around her. As the plane began to taxi down the runway, Evelyn's thoughts drifted to what had brought her to this point. Memories of Camp Toccoa and Camp Davis flashed before her eyes, the intense training and relentless drills that had forged her into the soldier she was today.

She thought of Anna, her constant companion through it all, now in another plane, separated to ensure that if one were lost, the other might survive. The thought of losing her friend, of the possibility that they might not even make it to the ground, sent a harsh shiver down her spine.

The plane's engines roared to life, the vibrations rattling through Evelyn's bones as the reality of their mission settled over her like a cold, damp blanket. The air inside the plane grew tense, every man lost in his own thoughts, each one silently praying for the strength to face what lay ahead.

Evelyn closed her eyes, the weight of her role pressing down on her. She was a part of something much larger than herself, but in that moment, surrounded by the men of Easy Company, she knew that every one of them carried a piece of the future on their shoulders. They were all important. They were all significant. And now, they were all bound by the same unyielding fate.

Chapter Text

Anna's heart pounded in her chest, louder than the drone of the C-47 engine surrounding her. The cold metal floor beneath her boots vibrated with the hum of the aircraft as it surged through the night sky over the French countryside. Outside the small, round window, the world below was shrouded in darkness. Occasionally, bursts of anti-aircraft fire illuminated the clouds, lighting up the sky in brief, terrible flashes. Normandy was below them, and with every second that passed, they drew closer to the jump zone.

Anna's fingers tightened around the harness of her parachute, her knuckles pale against the dark fabric. She wasn't a paratrooper, not by trade, anyway, but the training had been intense and thorough. She knew how to jump. But tonight wasn't just about landing safely. Tonight was about infiltration, about stepping into the heart of enemy territory without so much as a ripple.

Around her, the men of Easy Company were silent, grim-faced as they prepared themselves for the fight to come. These were men trained for war, hardened by endless drills and ready for combat. Anna's mission was different, more dangerous in some ways, though she'd never admit it out loud. She wasn't there to fight head-on. She was there to blend in, to gather intelligence, and to ensure that when the Allied forces hit the beaches at dawn, they had the upper hand.

The red light blinked on above the door at the front of the cabin. Her pulse quickened as she went over the plan again in her mind, mentally rehearsing every step, every contingency. The most critical part of the mission was the infiltration itself, changing from the Allied uniform she wore into the simple civilian clothes hidden in her pack. She would become Marie Delacroix, a French citizen living in a nearby village. Her mission: infiltrate a German outpost that housed critical communication equipment and gather intel on the enemy's defenses.

She glanced at the others around her, each lost in their thoughts. Nixon was seated near the front, his face set in a grim expression. He wasn't going in with her, his job was later, in the aftermath, when the smoke had cleared enough to make sense of what was left. But Anna's work had to come first.

The green light flicked on, and suddenly, everything was moving too fast.

"Go! Go! Go!" the jumpmaster shouted, his voice cutting through the din of the plane's engine.

Anna stepped into the line of men moving toward the open door. The wind roared, and for a moment, as she reached the edge, she hesitated. The night sky yawned before her, vast and black. But there was no time for fear. With a sharp intake of breath, she leaped into the void.

The wind howled in her ears as she tumbled through the air, the earth rising to meet her far below. Her training kicked in instinctively, her body orienting itself as she plummeted down. The violent tug of the parachute deploying jerked her upward, and for a moment, the world became silent save for the rush of wind. She looked down at the patchwork of fields and forests below, dark and eerie in the night.

The ground rushed up faster than she anticipated, and she braced herself, knees bent, for the impact. She hit hard, rolling to absorb the force, her parachute collapsing behind her. For a moment, she lay still, catching her breath, listening for any sound of enemy patrols. There was nothing, just the distant rumble of explosions and the faint buzz of aircraft engines overhead.

Quickly, she unfastened the parachute, bundling it up and stashing it in a nearby hedgerow. There was no time to waste. She had to disappear, and fast.

Her hands moved swiftly as she unzipped her pack, pulling out the bundle of clothes that would transform her into a French citizen. The fabric was simple, a wool skirt, a blouse, and a shawl to cover her shoulders. She stripped off her paratrooper uniform, shivering in the cool night air as she changed into the civilian clothes. Her heart raced as she worked, every second spent exposed feeling like an eternity. Once dressed, she carefully rolled up her uniform and tucked it, along with her gear, into a hollowed-out tree stump nearby. The only thing she kept on her was a small pistol, hidden beneath the folds of her skirt, and a tiny knife strapped to her thigh.

A French citizen would carry no weaponry, but Anna Blake wasn't about to go entirely unarmed into enemy territory.

With her parachute hidden and her gear stashed, Anna set off toward the village. She kept to the shadows, moving quickly but cautiously. The German outpost wasn't far from the drop zone, a small building at the edge of a sleepy village that had been overtaken by the occupation forces. The villagers had no choice but to coexist with their occupiers, but Anna knew there were whispers of resistance here. Whispers she would soon be part of.

As she neared the village, the landscape changed, fields gave way to cobblestone streets and narrow alleys. The air smelled faintly of smoke, and the occasional bark of a German shepherd or the murmur of conversation carried through the night. She pulled her shawl tighter around her shoulders, her head down, hoping to blend into the background. The key to infiltration wasn't about being invisible, it was about being unremarkable.

The German outpost loomed ahead, a squat, nondescript building that had once been a small-town schoolhouse. Now it was fortified with sandbags and barbed wire, a guard stationed at the front door. Anna could see the flicker of light through the windows, communications officers, no doubt, working late into the night.

She walked past the building at a slow, measured pace, eyes forward, as though she had no interest in it. The guard glanced at her but said nothing, dismissing her as just another local. Once she was clear of the building, she ducked into an alley and waited, her heart pounding in her chest.

Now came the tricky part.

She needed to get inside, to find a way to access the communication room without drawing attention. The outpost had been studied meticulously from a distance, maps drawn and redrawn by the Allied intelligence officers, but there was only so much they could tell her. What the inside looked like, where the guards were posted, that was up to Anna to figure out on the fly.

She circled the building, keeping to the shadows, until she found what she was looking for, a back entrance, unguarded but locked. She pulled the small knife from her thigh and worked the lock quickly, listening for any sound of approaching soldiers. Her training had paid off; within moments, the lock clicked open, and she slipped inside.

The air inside the building was thick with smoke, and the low murmur of German voices echoed down the hall. Anna stayed low, moving silently through the dimly lit corridor. She could hear the crackle of radios nearby, the sound of orders being relayed in sharp, guttural tones. The communication room was close, she could feel it.

She turned a corner and froze. Ahead, a pair of German officers stood talking in low voices, their backs to her. She pressed herself against the wall, holding her breath, waiting. Her heart raced as they continued their conversation, oblivious to her presence. Finally, they turned and walked away, their footsteps fading down the hall.

Anna exhaled slowly, then continued down the corridor, her footsteps barely audible on the worn floorboards. The communication room was just ahead, its door slightly ajar. She peered inside, her eyes scanning the room. Two officers sat at a desk, headphones on, their attention focused on the radios in front of them. Charts and maps lined the walls, detailing troop movements, artillery positions, and coastal defenses.

She had to move quickly. Every second in this place increased her risk of discovery.

Anna slipped into the room, staying close to the wall, her eyes darting to the charts. She mentally cataloged what she could, locations of artillery batteries, reinforcement schedules, supply routes. There wasn't enough time to write anything down, but her training had prepared her for this. She committed the critical details to memory, her mind racing as she processed the information.

Just as she turned to leave, one of the officers shifted in his chair, muttering something in German. She froze, her heart hammering in her chest, waiting for the moment of discovery. But the officer simply adjusted his headset and continued his work, oblivious to the intruder in the shadows.

Anna slipped out of the room as silently as she had entered, her breath coming in shallow bursts as she retraced her steps through the building. The temptation to run was strong, but she forced herself to move carefully, deliberately. She couldn't afford any mistakes now.

She reached the back door and slipped outside, the cool night air hitting her like a wave of relief. She didn't stop, didn't pause to catch her breath. Instead, she moved quickly through the streets, heading toward the rendezvous point where she was to meet Nixon.

The village was eerily quiet, the tension in the air palpable as the hours ticked closer to dawn. The invasion would begin soon, and the streets would be filled with the sounds of war. But for now, it was still, as if the world was holding its breath.

Anna reached the small barn at the edge of the village, her designated meeting spot with Nixon. She slipped inside, her eyes adjusting to the darkness. A figure moved in the shadows, and for a moment, her hand went to the pistol hidden beneath her skirt. But then she heard the familiar voice.

"About time you showed up." Nixon said quietly, stepping into the faint beam of moonlight filtering through the cracks in the barn wall. His tone was light, but there was tension in his voice.

Anna let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding, her heart finally slowing its frantic pace. She wiped a thin layer of sweat from her brow, despite the chill of the night.

"Nice to see you too." She whispered back, glancing around the barn to ensure they were truly alone. She didn't sit down, still on edge from the infiltration. Her senses were heightened, every creak of the wooden structure, every distant sound of a dog barking or a shout in German kept her alert. The adrenaline was still coursing through her veins.

Nixon pulled a small flask from his coat and took a quick sip before offering it to her. She shook her head, eyes still scanning the entrance.

"Everything go smoothly?" He asked, his tone more serious now.

"As smooth as it could, considering I was tiptoeing through a hornet's nest." She allowed herself a brief smile, but it quickly faded as she focused. "I got in, got a good look at their communications center. They're relaying constant orders and receiving updates from the coastline. I memorized as much as I could, the maps on the walls showed troop positions, artillery placements, and it looks like they're expecting the invasion to hit further north. I didn't get everything, but it's enough to help us."

Nixon nodded, his face darkening. "That's good. But you're sure they think we're coming in at Calais? It's not just a diversion?"

"It looks that way. From what I saw, the heaviest defenses aren't centered here in Normandy. They're spread out but thinner than they would be if they were anticipating a full-scale assault."

Anna's mind raced back to the maps she'd seen. The intricate web of supply lines and troop movements she'd memorized was still fresh. The Germans had underestimated the scope of what was coming, and that would give the Allies the upper hand.

"Good." Nixon's voice cut through her thoughts. "Then we still have the element of surprise. But you've got to get this intel to the right people." He paused, his eyes narrowing slightly. "I'm heading to Easy Company once things get underway. You'll have a little more time, but not much."

Anna knew what he meant. Her mission might not involve storming the beaches like the rest of the troops, but her part was just as critical. The information she'd gathered would shape the battlefield in the hours to come. It was information that could save lives.

"I'll be there," Anna said quietly. "But first, I need to finish this mission. I have to check in with the resistance."

Nixon's eyes met hers, a flicker of understanding passing between them. "Be careful. There's more German patrols out tonight than usual. I've already heard some of the locals mention increased activity."

"I will."

With a final nod, she stepped back into the shadows of the barn, slipping away into the night as quickly as she had arrived.

The narrow streets of the village felt different now. There was an edge in the air, a thickness to the silence. Dawn was approaching, the hours creeping closer to the moment when the world would explode into chaos. Anna moved quickly, avoiding the main roads, sticking to the alleyways and narrow passageways that only locals would know.

She had one more task to complete before meeting up with Easy Company. The local French resistance had been instrumental in securing the region, gathering intelligence, sabotaging German supplies, and relaying information to the Allied forces. Anna's mission wasn't just about her own reconnaissance, she needed to connect with the resistance to ensure they were ready for what was about to come.

The meeting place was a small farmhouse on the outskirts of the village, where she was to meet the local resistance leader, a man named Julien. He was young, but sharp and fiercely dedicated to the cause.

As she approached the farmhouse, she heard the faint murmurs of voices. She moved cautiously, her hand resting on the hidden pistol at her side. Trust was never absolute in these situations, and she had learned early on to stay on edge.

She knocked softly on the door, three quick taps followed by a pause, then two more. The coded knock was answered almost immediately by the scrape of a chair against the floor inside. The door opened just a crack, enough for a dark pair of eyes to peer out before the door swung wide.

"Wilson." Julien greeted her with a nod, using her alias even though they were alone. "Come in."

Anna slipped inside, her eyes adjusting to the dim light. There were three other men in the room, all locals, all part of the resistance. They nodded in acknowledgment but remained silent.

"You were successful?" Julien asked, gesturing for her to sit.

She nodded, sitting at the small table in the center of the room. "I made it into the German outpost. Their communications center is up and running, but they're not as fortified as they should be. I gathered information on their troop positions and artillery placements. They're expecting the invasion to hit further north, at Calais."

Julien's face remained calm, but his eyes gleamed with quiet triumph. "Good. That gives us more room to maneuver. The resistance is ready to support when the landings begin. We've set up explosives along the main supply routes, ready to disrupt their reinforcements."

Anna glanced at the men seated around the table. They were all young, their faces drawn with fatigue but determined. They had been fighting this war from the shadows for years now, risking everything for a future that was still uncertain.

"Anything else I should know?" She asked.

"Just be cautious." Julien warned. "There's been an uptick in German patrols in the area. We're not sure why, but it's possible they suspect something is coming. We've had to move some of our people out of the village. Tensions are running high."

Anna's stomach tightened. She had felt the shift in the air, the unease that seemed to permeate everything in the past few hours. But there was no turning back now.

"Understood," she said, standing. "I need to get back to my unit. I'll relay what we've discussed."

Julien stood as well, offering her a firm handshake. "Good luck, Wilson. The next time we see each other, it will be in a free France."

"Let's hope so." She said, managing a small smile before slipping out the door into the cool night.

Anna made her way through the village once more, the weight of her mission heavy on her shoulders. The roads were emptier now, as the hours slipped toward dawn. Soon, the skies would fill with the sounds of planes and artillery, and the ground would tremble with the force of the invasion.

She kept her pace steady, moving through the narrow streets, always aware of her surroundings. The sounds of distant engines and faint voices drifted through the air, but she saw no German patrols, at least not yet.

As she reached the edge of the village, a flash of movement caught her eye. A German soldier, standing near the bend in the road, his back turned to her. He hadn't noticed her, not yet, but her breath hitched in her throat. She instinctively slowed her pace, keeping her head down, her shawl pulled tighter around her shoulders.

Her pulse quickened, adrenaline surging through her as she slipped into the nearest alley, her mind racing. She couldn't afford to be seen, not now, not when she was so close. She waited for several heartbeats, listening, but the soldier hadn't moved.

Taking a deep breath, she continued toward the field she had first emerged from. Dropping to her knees, Anna soon arrived before the large tree, pulling out her gear quickly as she practically ripped off her clothes, attempting to be as fast as possible.

She managed to throw her uniform back on almost silently before stuffing the civilian clothing under the tree. It would be no use to her now anyway. She quickly pulled out her map, catching her bearings before quietly making her way to the meet point with Easy Company.

It wasn't long before the sight of the rendezvous point came into view. A small cluster of ruined farmhouses lay ahead, their stone walls crumbling from neglect and war. This was where she was supposed to meet Easy Company, or at least Nixon, who would relay her information back to the unit's leaders.

The sky was beginning to lighten with the first hints of dawn, the faintest glow on the horizon signaling that time was running out. She could almost feel the ships in the distance, the planes loaded with paratroopers, the massive Allied fleet about to strike.

She crouched behind a collapsed section of the wall, scanning the area for any sign of movement. No Germans. No civilians. For now, it seemed safe, though she knew better than to trust appearances.

Anna waited for a few more minutes, every nerve in her body coiled with tension. She was about to move when she heard the soft crunch of boots on dirt. She pressed herself flat against the wall, her hand reaching instinctively for her gun. Then, a familiar figure emerged from behind a nearby outbuilding, walking with the confident stride of someone who belonged here.

"Nixon." She whispered.

He looked up sharply, his hand moving to his sidearm before recognizing her. His expression softened, but only slightly. He was just as on edge as she was.

"Good to see you made it." He said quietly, moving quickly toward her position. He crouched beside her, his voice low and tense. "Any problems?"

"None that I couldn't handle." She replied, though her heart was still racing from the close encounter with the German patrol. "The outpost's intel was as we expected. They've bought into the Calais diversion. Their focus is there, not here."

Nixon gave a brief nod, his lips pressed into a thin line. "That's what we needed to hear. You get a look at the artillery placements?"

"Yes." Anna's mind raced as she recalled the details she had memorized. "They've got most of their big guns stationed further inland, probably expecting to move them after the initial landing. But the beach defenses here are still formidable. You'll face machine-gun nests, anti-aircraft guns, and a lot of barbed wire. It's not going to be easy."

"Nothing ever is." Nixon muttered under his breath, but there was no trace of fear in his voice. Just grim determination.

Anna handed him the small notebook she had carried, filled with hastily drawn maps and notes she had made during her infiltration. "It's all in there. Everything I could gather."

He flipped through the pages, eyes scanning the rough sketches and scribbled notes. "This is good. This'll help a lot." He glanced up at her, a rare flicker of admiration in his eyes. "You've done your part. Now we just have to do ours."

Anna nodded, though the weight of what was coming pressed heavily on her. She had done what she could, but now the fate of the invasion rested on thousands of soldiers preparing to storm the beaches. Her mission wasn't over yet, but she knew that the hardest part would fall to men like Nixon and the paratroopers of Easy Company.

"Where are the others?" She asked, glancing around the deserted farmhouses.

"Scattered." Nixon replied, tucking the notebook into his jacket. "We're regrouping, but it's a mess out there. The drops didn't go as planned. Some of the guys are miles off course, others got stuck in trees or landed directly in German outposts. We're pulling everyone together as fast as we can."

Anna's stomach twisted at the thought of what may be happening to the men at that moment, though the thought of her dear friend Evelyn is what made her truly anxious. She knew Evelyn was a strong soldier, probably stronger than the majority of the men, but no one is ever strong enough for war.

"Mary?"

"Not here, yet." Nixon revealed as he watched the woman in front of him let out a deep sigh. "But if anyone would make it, it would be her. I'll tell you that."

Anna smiled lightly at his comment, he was right. She quickly shifted back into her normal stance, not letting her emotions take over. There was no time for doubt now.

"I need to get back to the others," Nixon said, rising to his feet. "Go up there to the meeting point."

"Yes, Sir." With that Anna made her way to the large barn, a small group of soldiers beginning to form under light chatter as they all awaited to see who else would make it.

Chapter Text

The plane jolted violently, buffeted by rapid, aggressive tremors as explosions erupted all around them in the sky.

"Get ready!" Lieutenant Winters shouted, his voice cutting through the chaos. The soldiers, packed tightly in the dim compartment, held up their ziplock bags, the red light by the door casting an eerie glow over their faces. "Stand up! Hook up! Equipment check! Sound off for equipment check!"

A chorus of shouts rippled down the line of soldiers, each confirming they were prepared. A sudden explosion rocked the plane, sending several men crashing sideways into the wall before they scrambled back to their feet.

"If we get any lower, we ain't gonna need any frickin' parachutes!" Skip yelled, his voice tinged with nervous humor. Evelyn squeezed her eyes shut, trying to focus on the training that had drilled these moments into her mind.

The red light blinked off, replaced by a glaring green. "Let's go!" Winters barked. The line of paratroopers moved swiftly towards the door, Evelyn following closely behind. The moment she stepped out, she was engulfed by the roar of the wind, the relentless sound drowning out even the explosions.

Her body jerked upwards as the parachute deployed. Evelyn glanced around, seeing her fellow paratroopers descending like shadows, the battlefield below them a patchwork of fire and chaos.

Her heart pounded as she hit the ground with a jarring thud. She quickly disentangled herself from the parachute ropes, her hands moving with the practiced precision of someone trained to survive. Grabbing her rifle, she attached the sniper scope and scanned her surroundings.

The silence was unnerving, broken only by distant gunfire. Evelyn crouched low, creeping through the tall grass, each movement deliberate as she searched for any clue to her location.

She found a large tree, its base obscured by thick bushes, and settled against it, sighing softly as she patted herself down. Her frustration spiked when she realized her leg bags were missing. With a quick, annoyed breath, she pulled out her compass, studying it intently as she formulated her next move.

A sudden crunch behind her froze her in place. Before she could react, a sharp pain flared in her neck, a knife, cold and unforgiving. She felt the trickle of blood seeping from the wound.

"You will die." A voice snarled in German, the words chilling her to the bone. Evelyn's eyes widened as she processed her options.

Instinct took over. She surged upward, the knife slicing deeper into her flesh as she slammed her elbow into her assailant's wrist, sending the blade flying. Whirling around, she delivered a powerful punch to his face, sending him sprawling backwards.

She reached for her handgun, but he was faster, launching himself at her and driving her back to the ground. She groaned, the pain in her neck flaring as she struggled against his weight. His hands found her throat, squeezing with deadly intent, the pressure intensifying the agony of her wound as she cried in pain.

Evelyn's vision blurred, her mind screaming for air. Desperation surged through her, fueling one final act of defiance. She smashed her forehead against his, the impact stunning him and loosening his grip just enough for her to wrench free. Gasping for breath, she grabbed her handgun and, without hesitation, aimed at his head.

The gunshot echoed across the field, and the man's body collapsed on top of her, lifeless. Evelyn exhaled a shaky sigh of relief, pushing him off and wincing as her neck throbbed in protest as crimson continued to seep from the opening, dyeing her uniform a dark shade of red.

1

Something suddenly caught her eye, a small flower tucked into the dead soldier's uniform. Its delicate white petals were now speckled with blood, a stark contrast against the brutality of the scene. She reached out, fingers trembling, and carefully plucked it from his chest pocket. For a moment, she held it gently, as if cradling the last remnant of innocence in a world consumed by war. The flower was a symbol, a fragile beacon of hope, now marred by the blood of two souls caught in the conflict.

Evelyn sighed again, placing the flower back where she had found it before standing up. She scanned her surroundings, the silence pressing in on her as she strained to detect any sound, any sign of danger.

Finding the coast clear, she moved cautiously towards the line of trees edging the field, her mind returning to the plan she had hastily constructed before the ambush. The wound in her neck still bled heavily, but she couldn't afford to stop. She had to keep moving.

The trees eventually gave way to a long, deserted road, lined with dense bushes. A sudden burst of gunfire shattered the stillness, making Evelyn freeze in place. The shooting ceased as abruptly as it had begun, leaving only a single shot to punctuate the silence that followed.

Slowly, she rose from her crouch and began following the road, sticking close to the edge to remain hidden. The low rumble of an engine soon reached her ears, and she quickly buried herself in the bushes.

Through the foliage, she watched a car full of German soldiers pass by, her camouflaged face blending perfectly with the leaves, for which she thanked Don and Skip greatly for. She waited until the vehicle disappeared into the distance before emerging from her hiding spot, resuming her journey through the oppressive darkness.

Her eyes caught sight of a small German outpost ahead. She counted four, maybe five soldiers standing. Evelyn raised her rifle, aiming with precision at every head that popped up, and squeezed the trigger. One by one, the soldiers fell as more began appearing, each gunshot a sharp crack in the night until silence reclaimed the air.

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She approached the post cautiously, her breath hitching as she realized there had been twelve men in total. She had severely underestimated their number, yet she had managed to eliminate them all without suffering any additional injuries.

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Evelyn's footsteps were light as she moved forward, her ears attuned to the slightest sound, her senses on high alert. The road led to a dead end, where the bushes met a vast, open field. A series of grunts caught her attention. She turned to see a fellow paratrooper struggling against a German soldier, his movements sluggish, betraying the severity of his injuries.

She steadied her rifle, her sniper's scope offering a clear view as she waited for the right moment. The opportunity quickly came when the American was shoved to the ground, the German raising his knife for the kill.

Evelyn exhaled softly, her body relaxed as she pulled the trigger. The German was thrown back by the impact, collapsing lifelessly beside his intended victim. The American, frozen in shock, watched as Evelyn emerged from the shadows, offering him a small, reassuring wave.

14

She approached him cautiously, noting the blood pouring from a wound in his upper thigh, soaking his uniform in crimson.

"Can you walk?" Evelyn whispered as she dropped down to his side, her voice low whilst she grabbed onto her aid kit and pulled out a bandage, wrapping it gently around the bleeding hole.

"Barely." The man replied, his words strained with pain. Evelyn sighed lightly, slinging her rifle over her shoulder before helping him to his feet.

"You got your handgun?" She asked, steadying him as he leaned heavily on her.

The soldier nodded, gripping the weapon tightly in his free hand. "You better be ready to shoot anything coming up while I'm helping you."

They moved slowly through the field, keeping as low as possible to avoid detection.

"What company are you from?" Evelyn asked, breaking the tense silence.

"I Company." He replied, his voice tinged with exhaustion.

"I? I'm from E." She muttered, her mind struggling to comprehend the chaotic dispersal of their forces.

"Those fuckers dropped us all over the place." The man chuckled weakly, the sound devoid of humor. Silence fell between them once more as they trudged forward.

As the first light of dawn painted the sky with a soft orange hue, Evelyn finally saw the man's face. He was pale, his features twisted in pain with every step on his injured leg. Evelyn knew she looked no better, her skin smeared with dried blood, her hair falling out of the braids Anna had so carefully done. Every part of her ached, exhaustion weighing heavily on her shoulders.

The day bled into night, and still, they pressed on. Neither had slept in over 24 hours, the relentless pace taking a brutal toll on their bodies. They encountered more German soldiers along the way, each time forced to draw their handguns and add to their growing tally of kills. The numbers mounted, the weight of it settling into Evelyn's bones as they journeyed deeper into Normandy.

"I never asked for your name." Evelyn mumbled, the soldier in her arms chuckling slightly.

"James. James Adams." He responded, prompting the woman to widen her eyes slightly.

"My brother's name is James."

"Really?" He asked, smiling at her revelation.

"Yeah, haven't seen him in a while, though. He'd be in one of the boats that arrived on the coast, I think." Evelyn spoke once more, her eyes sparkling as she thought about the man she held at such a high regard.

"So, what's your name?" James questioned her.

"Mary White." She said, realising her mistake of revealing her personal information to a man not aware of the true intentions of Operation Athena.

"Well, thank you for saving me, Mary." He offered her a light smile, his face still strained in pain through the constant placement of pressure on his wound.

"Pleasure's mine." Evelyn answered before a silence cast over them once more and they continued their journey forward.

When the sun rose once more, the gravel beneath their feet gave way to cobblestone, leading them into the remnants of an abandoned village, their assembly area.

"Mary! Where you been?" A voice called out as Evelyn emerged from between two buildings, her steps heavy and labored. She looked up, meeting Don's concerned gaze within the small gathering of Easy Company soldiers.

"Been looking for you guys." She muttered, her voice barely above a whisper. Don's eyes scanned her up and down, noting the blood that soaked her uniform.

"Jesus, you look like you've been through hell." Bill added, his tone a mix of awe and concern. "Who's he?"

"I Company. Met him on my travels." Evelyn replied, her eyes flicking back to the familiar faces she had so desperately sought. "Doc here?"

"Right up ahead." Bill answered, earning a nod from Evelyn as she guided the injured soldier through the street, the men's eyes following her with a mix of respect and unease.

"Think she had the worst of it?" Skip asked quietly, watching her retreating figure.

"Definitely." Liebgott agreed, his voice somber as Evelyn finally reached the aid tent, stepping inside with the wounded man still leaning on her.

"Mary?" Eugene spoke, shocked at the state he saw the woman.

"He was shot in the upper thigh. Don't know if the bullets in there or not." Evelyn explained as she helped the man lay down onto one of the makeshift beds, him immediately breathing a sigh of relief as he was off his feet. Eugene immediately began working on him as the woman watched from afar.

Eventually, she turned away and moved out of the room, her head spinning as she looked for a place to lay down on.

"Dimples?" A voice spoke out as Evelyns eyes squinted at the sun, looking up to see the figure that spoke.

"Hi." She answered, trying to ignore the look on Floyd's face before turning back to look around.

"Dimples, are you alright?" He grabbed her arms, forcing her to look at him once more whilst he looked at the large cut that crossed her neck.

"This isn't all my blood." She motioned to her uniform, large splotches of crimson staining its exterior.

"That's not what I asked."

"Floyd, I'm fine." Evelyn responded, forcing her arms out of him hold before scanning the surroundings. "Is Art here?"

"Have you seen Doc for that cut?" Tab asked, ignoring her own question as she sighed in frustration.

"No, I don't need to. Is Art here?"

"Yeah, she's up ahead." To that Evelyn nodded at him before walking away, leaving him standing there watching her closely.

"Mary!" A familiar voice screamed before the woman is wrapped in a tight hug. "I thought you were gone."

Evelyn watched as the fellow men from Easy watched the two women, looks of both relief and concern plastering their features.

"You done it?" She asked Anna as she was finally released from her grip.

"Of course." She offered Evelyn a smile which she was too tired to return before they began to make their way over to the small group. "So, how many you got?"

"21."

"21? You've killed 21 Krauts?" Liebgott asked as he caught onto their conversation, Evelyn nodding in response before she finally sat down on the ground, her muscles screaming in agony.

"Jesus Mary, how you done that?" Bill questioned as the men all looked at her in surprise.

"Just pulled the trigger." Evelyn spoke nonchalantly as the men continued to look at her in shock, a silence quickly casting over them.

"Well her nickname back at Camp was Bloody Mary." Anna added breaking the silence, earning a warning look from the woman on the ground. She was walking on a thin line of secrecy that was not worth the risk of stepping over.

"Fuck." Bill mumbled.

"Glad you're on our side, Mary." Skip interjected as a few of the men chuckled.

"Mary. I'm gonna need to see that cut of yours." Eugene spoke whilst he walked up to the group, bandages in hand before sitting down next to the woman.

"Mhm. Whatever you say." Just as she finished a stark stinging sensation caused her to jolt as Roe poured sulfa onto her wound, her sudden movement earned a concerned look from the medic.

"You shoulda stayed at the aid station, this a serious one." He complained, Evelyn waving her hand in dismissal of his words,

"I can survive." She mumbled as he tied the bandage around her neck, the scratchy material causing her neck to itch.

"Not if it gets infected." The medic added before leaving just as fast as he arrived, not giving her the chance to argue back. Evelyn sighed lightly before closing her eyes and lying backwards onto the ground, finally grasping onto the small moment of rest she wished for.

Chapter Text

"Let's go! First platoon!" A voice jolted Evelyn from her slumber. She blinked against the early morning light that spilled through the window of their temporary quarters, the harshness of the call breaking the fragile calm of sleep. Her muscles protested as she quickly stood, still sore from the relentless days of marching and fighting.

The call rang out again, "Easy's moving out! On your feet!"

With a sigh, Evelyn fell in line with the small group of soldiers gathering in front of Lieutenant Welsh. The air was thick with tension, each person bracing for the inevitable. She felt the familiar weight of her rifle in her hands, a constant reminder of the role she had taken on in this new reality.

"Listen up!" Welsh's voice cut through the murmur of the group. "It'll be dark soon. I want light and noise discipline from here on out. No talking, no smoking, no playing grab-fanny with the person in front of you."

Evelyn found herself beside Floyd, who absently fiddled with his lower lip, his eyes betraying the same weariness she felt. She turned to him, sensing the tension coiling within her.

"Are you ready for this?" She asked quietly, hoping to lighten the mood, though uncertainty gnawed at her insides.

Floyd met her gaze, his expression serious. "Ready as I'll ever be. Just another day at the office, right?" He attempted a smile, but it didn't quite reach his eyes.

Evelyn rolled her eyes playfully. "If by 'office' you mean running headfirst into gunfire, then sure. Just another day."

Floyd chuckled softly. "You're not scared, are you? I thought you were tougher than that."

"Scared? Me?" She shot back, feigning indignation. "I'm just worried about your survival skills, Mr. Peacemaker."

He raised an eyebrow. "Oh? And what makes you think you'll survive better than me?"

"Because I'm not going to let you get us killed." She replied, a smirk dancing on her lips.

"Fair point." He admitted, his tone lightening. "Just remember, if you see me doing something stupid, like charging into enemy fire, you have my permission to drag me back."

"Deal." She said, relief washing over her momentarily as they shared a brief moment of Warmth.

"Where we headed, Lieutenant?" A soldier's voice broke through, but Evelyn kept her gaze locked on Welsh.

"We're taking Carentan." Welsh revealed, his tone flat yet heavy with the gravity of the mission ahead.

"Sounds like fun," someone muttered from the back.

"It's the only place where Omaha and Utah Beach can link up and head inland. Till we take Carentan, they're stuck on the sand. General Taylor's sending the whole division."

Evelyn sighed, feeling a sense of dread gnawing at her. The stakes were higher than she had anticipated, and the weight of responsibility settled heavily on her shoulders.

"Remember, boys, give me three days and three nights of hard fighting, and you will be relieved." George's voice broke through the air, mimicking a popular saying among the soldiers. A few managed faint smiles at the jest, a brief respite from the looming threat.

"Lieutenant, I'll take point." Hoobler stepped forward, his confidence evident.

"Corporal Hoobler will be lead scout," Welsh confirmed, slinging his rifle over his shoulder. "Blithe, glad you could join us."

"First platoon, fall in behind Fox Company. Second and third platoons, follow us."

The formation quickly took shape, the soldiers moving with the mechanical precision born of routine. Evelyn walked alongside Floyd, her breathing heavy, her throat still tight with anxiety. As they advanced, she could feel the anticipation and fear coursing through the ranks, an electric current of emotions.

"Now the thing to remember, boys—flies spread disease, so keep yours closed." George joked again, this time earning a small giggle from Evelyn despite the persistent ache in her neck.

As dusk descended, the group moved in silence, the landscape around them gradually swallowed by darkness. They passed a lake, its waters reflecting the eerie glow of fires still smoldering from past explosions. Suddenly, they halted, word spreading that they had lost contact with F Company for the third time. The soldiers crouched, tension rippling through the ranks as they waited for further orders.

"Where do you think they are?" Evelyn whispered to Floyd, a knot forming in her stomach.

"I don't know, but I don't like it," he replied, his brow furrowed. "I have a bad feeling about this. We need to stay sharp."

Eventually, the march resumed, the night stretching on in a relentless, silent procession. When dawn broke, Evelyn found herself captivated by the sunrise, its beauty a stark contrast to the horrors she had witnessed. It was a rare moment of serenity she hadn't been able to appreciate in days.

"Look at that," she breathed, momentarily forgetting their dire situation. "It's beautiful."

Floyd turned to her, taking in the colors painting the sky before facing the girl once more. "Yeah, it is."

Easy Company finally arrived at the outskirts of the village, a small hill providing them a temporary shield. Lieutenant Winters peered over the crest, studying the cluster of buildings below.

"White. Wilson." The whispered command cut through the stillness. Evelyn's head snapped around to locate the source, her eyes landing on Lieutenant Nixon.

Feeling a nudge at her side, she turned to Floyd, who was staring at her with a puzzled expression. "What's going on?" He asked, confusion etched on his features.

"Not sure yet." She admitted, her eyes darting between Nixon and the Lieutenant. "But it doesn't look good."

Evelyn and Anna quickly slipped out of formation and approached Nixon. "What's the plan?" Anna asked, her voice low.

"I have a mission for you." He began, his tone serious.

"One that you couldn't have informed us about earlier?" Anna interjected, her irritation evident.

Nixon ignored her sarcasm. "Regiment believes one of these buildings may hold important Kraut intelligence. You need to engage in the fight whilst also retrieving that intelligence."

"What are we looking for?" Evelyn asked, her tone sharp.

"Maps. Letters. Just grab anything that looks important," Nixon explained. "You need to get in there before the Germans can destroy or escape with it."

"Nix. Is there a reason you've pulled them out of formation?" Winters suddenly spoke from beside them, startling the three as they looked at him wide-eyed.

"Uhh..." Nixon began, clearly caught off guard.

"We can explain after this." Evelyn cut in, realizing that Nixon wasn't going to help in any way.

"We will speak after capturing Carentan," Winters concluded, looking at the two women. "Head back to formation."

"Yes, Sir." They replied in unison before rejoining the formation. Evelyn returned to Floyd, his confusion still etched on his face.

"What was that about?" He asked, his eyes searching hers as she settled into position.

"Asked if we'd seen any alcohol." Evelyn lied with a casual shrug, the excuse slipping out effortlessly. She quickly turned her attention back to Winters, avoiding further questioning.

"Let's go first, let's go." Welsh whispered urgently. He rose to his feet, his platoon following suit as they descended the hill.

"Fire!" A voice screamed from within the village, and suddenly, the air was filled with the deafening crackle of gunfire.

"In the ditch! Down! Down! Down!" A lieutenant bellowed. The soldiers dove for cover, fear and adrenaline mingling in their eyes as they watched comrades who had charged ahead fall under enemy fire.

Glancing back, Evelyn locked eyes with Nixon, who offered her a quick nod. She turned to Anna, crouched on the opposite side of the ditch, and signaled their plan.

"You go around, I'll go through." Evelyn signalled with her hands, her movements swift and precise. Anna responded with a thumbs-up before they split up.

"Let's go, Easy! Let's go! Get those MGs moving, will ya?!" The command spurred Evelyn into action. She bolted from her cover, sprinting straight into the village despite the shouts of protest from behind her.

"Mary! Wait!" Floyd called after her, but she was already too far ahead.

She ducked behind a wall, narrowly avoiding a hail of bullets. When she risked a glance back, she realized she was the only one who had made the dash forward. She silently thanked whatever luck had kept her out of the MGs' line of fire.

Steeling herself, Evelyn raised her rifle, taking aim at a window. A single shot rang out, and the enemy gunfire ceased.

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She breathed a momentary sigh of relief before darting deeper into the village. More gunfire erupted, forcing her to dive to the ground. She quickly took out another machine gunner, then made a break for a nearby door.

She slammed into the door, forcing it open, and was immediately met with the startled gaze of a German soldier. Her reflexes took over, and she fired a shot that echoed through the room, the German crumpling to the floor. Evelyn scoured the building, her heart pounding, but found nothing of value.

Emerging back onto the street, she dashed across to the house opposite, its door already ajar as if inviting her in. She raced up the stairs, her eyes scanning every corner until they landed on a map sprawled across a table. She grabbed it, quickly attempting to fold it before stuffing it under her uniform.

"They got us zeroed! Spread out! Spread out!" Lip's voice rang out as Evelyn exited the building. The ground shook violently with the impact of explosions as she sprinted toward a warehouse.

She saw Lip standing amidst the chaos, shouting orders when a sudden blast sent him flying.

"Lip!" Evelyn screamed, running towards his direction before she skidded to a stop beside him. She felt a presence beside her and turned to see Floyd, his face etched with concern.

"You take care of him; I'll shoot the bastards!" She ordered, not waiting for a response. Floyd nodded, ignoring how she was giving him orders despite him being a higher rank as he immediately attended to Lip.

Evelyn rose to her feet, rifle at the ready. Each shot she fired found its mark, picking off the group of German soldiers huddled behind a wall.

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With the immediate threat neutralized, she helped Floyd carry Lip to a safer location, placing him against a wall before then charging back into the fray.

"Mary!" Anna's voice called out. Evelyn spotted her, waving her over. "You got anything?"

"A map. You?" Evelyn shouted over the din of battle.

"I got something with writing on it!" Anna replied, waving a sheet of paper. Evelyn nodded, patting Anna on the shoulder before turning back to the street, still alive with the sounds of war.

Gradually, the gunfire diminished, and a tense silence fell over the village. The battle was over; Easy Company had taken the village, but the cost was evident in the bodies and wreckage strewn about.

Evelyn and Anna found Nixon amidst the aftermath, handing him the documents they had retrieved before Winters suddenly joined them.

"What's this?" He questioned, quickly snatching the papers out of Nixon's hands before he could even react. "Maps? Letters?"

Evelyn looked to the two soldiers standing sheepishly beside her before sighing. "We had a mission."

"A mission?"

"To gather intelligence," she revealed, growing nervous under Winters' skeptical gaze. "That is why we are here."

"Mary," Anna protested at the girl's revelation.

"What? He'd work it out anyway."

"Work what out anyway?" Winters prodded further as he eyed the two girls.

Looking around to make sure no one was listening, Anna sighed. "We aren't here to just be soldiers, Sir. We're here to... act."

"Act as what?"

"We're spies." Evelyn finally spat out, growing annoyed with how the conversation was going.

"For us, I hope?" The man asked.

"You think I'd be alive if it wasn't?" She replied, shrugging her shoulders as she pointed to Nixon, who stood rather quietly beside them.

"Nix? You knew?"

"He tells us our orders." Anna revealed as Winters gave the man an almost betrayed look.

"You can't tell anyone." Evelyn spoke up, looking at the Lieutenant with a hardened look in her eye.

"Wasn't planning on it." The man answered as he handed the papers back to his friend's hands before slowly making his exit.

"Can we go now?" Anna asked Nixon before the two women were quickly waved off by him.

Grateful, they soon retreated to a set of steps in the village center before collapsing onto the stone, exhaustion weighing heavily on them. For a moment, neither spoke, simply catching their breath.

"Let's hope next time they tell us about a mission before we're actually put in front of the enemy." Anna chuckled, breaking the silence. Evelyn managed a tired smile, too drained to respond with words.

Together, they stared out at the street, watching as their fellow soldiers slumped to the ground in exhaustion, awaiting the next set of orders that would inevitably come.

Chapter Text

"Let's go! First Platoon, weapons on me! We're moving out!" Welsh's voice shattered the silence, jarring Evelyn and Anna from their brief respite. The adrenaline was still rushing through their veins from the previous engagement, and now it was time to move again.

Evelyn exchanged a glance with Anna, both women quickly rising to their feet and falling in with the rest of the platoon. The soldiers moved in tight formation, their gear rattling softly as they marched through the fields. The sun had barely risen, and the air was still thick with moisture, though the previous night's cold lingered in their bones.

The terrain ahead was wide and open, a stretch of farmland that seemed to go on forever. Evelyn had always been told that France was beautiful, but in war, beauty became a distant memory. All she saw now were fields of death waiting to be sown. She adjusted her helmet, the weight of it pressing down on her head, as if to remind her that every step could be her last.

The sudden downpour took her by surprise. Cold rain slashed down on them without warning, instantly soaking her uniform. The heavy fabric clung to her skin, making her movements sluggish. She gritted her teeth and marched forward, the rain washing the sweat and grime from her face but adding to the weight she already carried.

"Mary." Came a voice she was becoming all too familiar with.

Evelyn turned to see Floyd beside her, his expression earnest despite the rain pouring down his face.

"Yes?" She didn't miss the way he looked at her, a mix of concern and something else that she couldn't quite place.

"How's your neck doing?" He gestured to the bandage still wrapped around her throat. The injury had happened during the initial drop, nothing life-threatening, but painful enough to serve as a constant reminder of how close she'd come to dying that night.

"It's seen better days." Evelyn replied, a small smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. She tried to shrug off the discomfort, though the bandage felt tighter than ever with the rain soaking through it. "Doc says it'll probably leave a scar."

"That's cool." Floyd said with a soft chuckle, though his eyes remained serious.

"No, it ain't." She replied, her tone playful despite the rain and exhaustion. "It'll ruin my beauty."

Floyd let out a genuine laugh, his voice cutting through the downpour. "I don't think you've got anything to worry about there, Dimples."

Evelyn rolled her eyes at the nickname, though she didn't mind as much when he used it. Still, the mood was shifting, and a strange silence settled between them.

"Listen, Mary..." Floyd hesitated, his voice quieter now as if they weren't marching through a warzone but standing in a calm moment somewhere far away. "I want you to take this."

Evelyn looked down, startled to see him holding out the handgun he'd been gifted before they jumped, a beautiful piece of craftsmanship. She blinked, bewildered by his sudden offer.

"What? Why?" Her voice was more confused than anything else. Soldiers didn't just hand over their guns. It was more than equipment; it was survival.

"Because I want you to have it." Floyd's tone was sincere, but there was something underneath it. Something he wasn't saying outright. His eyes met hers, soft yet insistent.

"Floyd, I don't-" She began, but her words were cut off by the sound of distant explosions and the unmistakable rattle of gunfire.

Floyd's reaction was immediate, grabbing her by the arm and pulling her to the ground just as the air erupted with the roar of German machine guns. They landed with a thud, the cold mud splattering across her face and staining her already filthy uniform.

"What the fuck!" Evelyn gasped, adrenaline spiking in her veins as she scrambled to her feet, scanning for cover.

"Move!" Floyd shouted, his hand on her shoulder as he urged her toward the nearby hedgerow. They ran, bullets zipping past them like angry wasps, the ground shaking with the force of nearby mortar blasts.

Evelyn collapsed into the dirt behind the thick hedge, her heart hammering in her chest as she struggled to hold her rifle steady. Her mind raced, the chaos of the battlefield becoming a blur of noise and fear.

She aimed blindly, firing into the general direction of the German positions hidden behind the dense bushes. The exchange of gunfire dragged on for what felt like hours, though in reality, it was probably no more than twenty minutes. The sky had turned a deep shade of purple by the time the shooting finally ceased.

Evelyn leaned back against the earth, her chest rising and falling with heavy breaths. Her fingers were numb from gripping her rifle so tightly.

Anna huddled beside her, staring out at the now eerily quiet field. "What have they got to sing about?" She muttered, shaking her head as the faint sound of German soldiers singing drifted over from their lines.

Evelyn shrugged, too tired to offer much of a response. The singing was unnerving, but at least the fighting had stopped, for now. She wiped the mud from her face with the back of her hand and looked up as Bill Guarnere appeared out of the gloom, his signature smirk plastered on his face.

"You ladies alright?" Bill's voice startled both of them, but neither had the energy to jump at this point.

"We were doing just fine till you arrived." Evelyn shot back, her tone dry as she glanced at him.

Bill chuckled, undeterred. "Good thing I'm here, then."

A sudden cry for a medic echoed through the night, followed by the unmistakable sounds of groaning and gasping.

"What the hell is going on?" Anna asked, her brow furrowing as she squinted into the darkness.

"Is that Floyd?" Evelyn asked, her eyes narrowing as she tried to make out the figures moving down the line. Panic surged in her chest, and without thinking, she barked at Bill. "Hey, gonorrhea, go take a look for me."

Bill's eyes widened, but he raised an eyebrow. "Why me?"

"Is this your foxhole?" Evelyn countered, crossing her arms despite the light rain still pouring down. Her tone left no room for argument.

Bill grumbled something under his breath but complied, disappearing into the night with a muttered curse.

Evelyn sighed, turning her attention back to the field in front of them. She caught sight of a lone figure walking along the line, his silhouette barely visible in the dim light.

"Hey, Lieutenant." Evelyn whispered, urgency in her voice as she waved toward the figure. "Hey."

Anna quickly swatted her arm, her voice low and panicked. "Are you insane? That's Spiers."

Evelyn just looked at her friend in confusion before turning back to face the man that was now arriving before her.

"What's going on, Sir? What's that noise?" She asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Spiers held her gaze for a moment, his expression unreadable before he looked toward the distant cries for help. His voice was calm, eerily so. "Everything's under control... Get some sleep now, so you're ready for tomorrow."

"Yes, Sir." Evelyn replied automatically, though she remained tense as he moved on, disappe.ring into the darkness like a ghost.

She turned to Anna, who was pretending to sleep, eyes squeezed shut tight. "What you faking for?"

"I don't want to get shot." Anna whispered back, cracking one eye open once Spiers had moved on.

"What?" Evelyn asked, genuinely confused.

"You don't know?" Anna lowered her voice further, glancing around to make sure no one else was listening. "He shot his own sergeant and a bunch of POWs. Handed them smokes first, then shot 'em dead."

Evelyn blinked, her confusion deepening. "And you know this, how?"

"George told me." Anna replied, rolling over slightly to face her.

Evelyn groaned, rubbing her temples. "George tells a lot of shit," She muttered, still feeling uneasy but refusing to let it show. "I won't believe it till I see it."

"Whatever you say, Eve." Anna turned over again, trying to find a comfortable position in the cramped foxhole.

Evelyn, left alone with her thoughts, stared up at the rain-soaked sky, her mind racing with the day's events. Exhaustion clawed at her, but she knew sleep wouldn't come easily.

By dawn, both women were scurried in a large ditch, their nerves on edge as they listened to Lieutenant Welsh's orders.

"We don't know what they've got. We may be attacking a weaker force, possibly more paratroopers." Welsh said, his voice serious as he addressed the soldiers gathered around him. Evelyn sighed quietly, adjusting her gear as she prepared for the worst.

"And you know how they can be." Hoobler chimed in, earning a brief chuckle from Welsh.

"Fire and maneuver, that's the name of the game." Welsh continued. "Dog and Fox Company will be on our left flank as we move. Got any questions?"

Welsh's eyes scanned the group, but no one spoke up. They all knew what was expected of them. The game hadn't changed, it was still fire and maneuver, pushing forward until they broke the enemy or the enemy broke them. Evelyn tightened her grip on her rifle, her mind racing with memories of their last engagement.

"Let's make 'em holler." Welsh said, his voice grim but determined.

Before anyone could react, a shout came from further down the line. "Mortar!"

The cry barely had time to register before the world exploded. The ground beneath Evelyn's feet shook violently as the mortars rained down, ripping through the field and sending dirt, debris, and shrapnel flying in all directions. Instinctively, she threw herself to the ground, covering her head as the blasts grew louder, closer.

"Down! Down! Down!" A voice screamed over the cacophony.

Evelyn felt the impact of something heavy slamming into her back, knocking the wind from her lungs. Her vision blurred momentarily as a large tree branch, torn from one of the nearby trees by the blast, collapsed onto her, pinning her to the ground. She gasped for breath, trying to push the weight off her chest, but it was too heavy.

For a moment, panic gripped her. She clawed at the branch, her mind racing with fear, but before she could fully process the situation, Bill was there. His hands wrapped around the branch, his muscles straining as he lifted it off her with a grunt of effort.

"You alright?" Bill asked, his voice sharp with concern as he helped her to her feet, his grip firm on her arm.

"Yeah." Evelyn gasped, still winded but alive. She could feel the adrenaline pumping through her veins, giving her the strength to move despite the pain in her body.

Bill gave her a quick nod, his eyes scanning the battlefield. "Go give 'em hell!" He shouted before running off to the next position, already calling out orders to the others.

Evelyn didn't hesitate. She grabbed her rifle, scanning the battlefield through the thick smoke. The Germans were pushing forward, their artillery thundering in the distance as they advanced through the tree line. She sprinted down the line, throwing herself into position beside Anna, who had just reached the cover of a small ditch.

"You good?" Anna asked, her eyes wide as she looked Evelyn over.

"Yeah, I'm fine." Evelyn replied, her voice steady despite the chaos around them.

Together, they crouched low, taking aim at the advancing Germans. The roar of gunfire erupted once again as both sides opened fire. Bullets zipped through the air, the ground shaking as more mortars exploded nearby.

Through the smoke and chaos, Evelyn spotted German artillery emerging from the tree line, flanked by a line of Tigers and advancing soldiers. Her heart raced as she realized the scale of the enemy force they were facing. This wasn't just a skirmish, it was a full-scale assault.

"Take your shots!" Evelyn shouted over the noise, raising her rifle and taking aim. She squeezed the trigger, the recoil jarring her shoulder as she watched the German soldier in her sights crumple to the ground.

The count started in her head again. She had lost track during the previous days, but every shot that hit its mark brought the number higher.

35
36
37

The numbers ticked up, a mental tally she had begun keeping since the invasion. It wasn't something she liked to think about, but it kept her focused. The enemy was just that, the enemy. Not people. Just a number standing between her and survival.

Beside her, Anna was firing rapidly, her face set in grim determination. "We can hold them off, right?" Anna shouted over the gunfire, her voice strained.

"We don't have a choice!" Evelyn replied, her focus never leaving the battlefield. She pulled the trigger again, watching as another German fell to the ground.

42

The Tigers rumbled forward, their massive cannons booming as they fired at the American lines. Evelyn ducked as a shell exploded nearby, the shockwave rattling her teeth. She raised her head again, taking aim at a group of advancing German infantry.

Through the haze of smoke and the deafening roar of the tanks, Evelyn caught sight of something that sent a surge of hope through her. In the distance, American Shermans were pushing forward, their guns blazing as they engaged the German armor.

"Go! Fucking get them!" Anna's scream barely cut through the noise as the Germans began to retreat, explosions ringing behind them as they did so.

Evelyn fired rapidly, her shots finding their marks with deadly precision. German soldiers fell one after another, their retreating forms collapsing into the mud.

49
50
51

The count kept climbing as she picked off the retreating soldiers one by one. It had only been a week since Normandy, one week since she had dropped into hell, but her tally was already staggering.

Finally, the last of the Germans vanished from sight, disappearing into the woods. The sound of gunfire died down, replaced by the distant rumble of retreating tanks and the ringing in Evelyn's ears.

The air was filled with the victorious cheers of her comrades, but Evelyn couldn't bring herself to join in. Her legs gave out beneath her, and she collapsed onto the ground, the mud sprawling across her clothes once more. Her face buried in the dirt, exhaustion washing over her as her breath came in shallow gasps. The bandage around her neck seemed tighter than before, as if it were choking her.

"Haha, look at them running!" Anna yelled, slapping Evelyn on the back as she watched the remnants of the enemy disappear into the distance.

Evelyn didn't respond. She was too tired, too drained to even muster a sarcastic remark. She rolled onto her back, staring up at the gray sky as the rain continued to fall. It mixed with the blood and mud on her face, washing it away but leaving behind the weight of what they had just survived.

Chapter Text

Easy Company soon returned to Albourne, England, after nearly a month of relentless fighting. The small village, once a temporary home filled with the noise of training drills and nervous chatter, now offered a brief respite from the horrors of war. The soldiers, who had seen and done things they could never forget, found themselves in need of this break, however short it might be.

Evelyn wandered the base aimlessly, her thoughts swirling like the clouds in the overcast sky above. She knew she was supposed to head to the mess hall, but the destination felt irrelevant. Instead, she found herself revisiting the past few weeks in her mind, her footsteps heavy on the gravel paths as if the weight of her memories was slowing her down.

57

That was the number that haunted her, the tally of lives she had taken during her time in Normandy. Fifty-seven German soldiers had fallen at the end of her rifle, each shot fired with a precision drilled into her at Camp Davis. Evelyn had been trained to view the enemy as a target, an obstacle to be removed in pursuit of victory. It was a necessary mindset, one that allowed her to do what needed to be done without hesitation.

But now, back in the relative peace of England, those fifty-seven souls were no longer just faceless adversaries. They were men with families, friends, and lives that had been cut short. Every time she closed her eyes, she could almost see their faces, hear the echoes of their last breaths on the battlefield. She wondered if any of them had a sister like her, waiting anxiously for their return. How would she feel if her brother didn't come back? The thought twisted in her chest, bringing tears to her eyes.

They weren't just the enemy. They were people.

The realization hit her like a punch to the gut. Evelyn tried to shake the thought, but it clung to her like the mud that had caked her boots in France. She blinked back the tears and kept walking, her mind still lost in a whirl of conflicting emotions.

"Dimples!"

A voice broke through her reverie, and Evelyn snapped her head up, startled. She recognized the voice immediately, her heart skipping a beat as she turned around.

"Floyd!" She exclaimed, her face lighting up as she saw him standing there. Without thinking, she ran to him, her arms wide open as she pulled him into a tight hug. The warmth of his body against hers was a welcome comfort, a reminder that not everything had been lost in the chaos of war.

"Ugh!" Floyd let out a small groan of pain, causing Evelyn to pull back quickly, concern etched on her face.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry! Are you alright?" She asked, her eyes scanning him for any sign of injury.

"Amazing." He replied with a grin, his tone light despite the lingering pain. "Just didn't think I'd have someone miss me that much."

His playful response earned him a sharp slap on the shoulder from Evelyn, who shot him a pointed look.

"What the fuck were you doing prancing around in a Kraut raincoat?!" She demanded, her voice laced with a mix of anger and worry. The image of him in that raincoat had haunted her since she'd first heard the story.

Floyd rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, clearly uncomfortable under her scrutiny. "Well, I-"

"Don't ever do something stupid like that again!" She cut him off, not wanting to hear whatever excuse he was about to offer. The thought of him risking his life so recklessly made her blood boil.

"Yes, ma'am." Floyd replied with a mock salute, his eyes twinkling with mischief. Evelyn rolled her eyes at his teasing, but there was no denying the relief she felt at seeing him alive and well. She gave him another playful shove before continuing her walk toward the mess hall, feeling the comforting presence of Floyd beside her.

Suddenly his eyes flickered down to her neck, the skin now free from the shackles of a tight bandage, the large cut leaving a distinct mark.

"You got a scar." Floyd spoke, reaching his hand up slowly before his thumb traced the darker mark, his light touch and soft eyes causing her to shudder slightly.

"I told you I'd get one. Doc said." She spoke, stepping away quickly to avoid being too close to the man whilst his hand immediately returned to his side, noticing her reaction to his touch but choosing not to pry onto it. "I would ask to see if yours left a scar but I'd rather not have you lift your shirt up."

A smirk suddenly crossed his features as he wiggled his eyebrows at her. "You sure you don't want to see it, Dimples?"

"Fuck off." Evelyn's response garnered a loud laugh from the man, him quickly receiving another slap on his shoulder whilst her face turned a deep shade of red. She didn't know whether he had noticed it or not, but if he had, she was grateful he didn't bring it up or she feared her cheeks would grow even darker from embarrassment.

As they strolled together, the tension between them began to dissipate, replaced by a comfortable silence. The war seemed a little less daunting with Floyd by her side, even if only for a moment.

"Still think the scar will ruin your beauty?" He asked, prodding her shoulder lightly as she chuckled.

"I'm sure I'll manage, Floyd." Evelyn answered whilst swatting off his hand.

"You know, you're the only one who calls me Floyd." He said suddenly, breaking the silence. His voice was soft, almost as if he were sharing a secret.

Evelyn turned her head to look at him, her brow furrowed in confusion. "Is that so?"

"Mhm." Floyd murmured, glancing at her with something in his eyes she couldn't quite place. It was as if he wanted to say more but was holding back.

Evelyn chuckled, shaking her head slightly. "Maybe I'm trying to make a point that I want you to call me by my name and not that stupid nickname?" She joked, trying to lighten the mood. Her words earned a laugh from Floyd, though he quickly winced and placed a hand over his injury, the pain still fresh.

"I think it's cute, Dimples." He mumbled the last part, a strange smile tugging at his lips. Evelyn noticed the odd expression but chose to ignore it, focusing instead on his well-being.

"How's your wound actually doing now?" She asked, gesturing to the spot where his hand was resting.

"Still hurts a bit, but I'm well enough to fight." He replied, his tone casual despite the gravity of his words. Evelyn hummed in response, her mind wandering back to the battlefield. She knew the pain Floyd was feeling wasn't just physical. They all carried wounds that ran much deeper than skin.

Their conversation lulled once more into silence, but it was a silence filled with unspoken thoughts and shared understanding. The bond they had forged in the fires of war was unbreakable, even if neither of them knew how to put it into words.

Suddenly, the sound of giggling reached their ears, interrupting their quiet moment. Both Evelyn and Floyd turned their heads in unison to see where it was coming from.

"Where'd that come from?" Floyd asked, a surprised look on his face as he pointed toward the source of the laughter. Anna and George were walking together, their heads close, sharing a private joke.

"No idea. Art won't admit it either." Evelyn replied with a shrug, her gaze lingering on the pair. She sighed lightly, a small smile playing on her lips. "Don't you think they're cute?"

"Cute isn't the word I'd use." Floyd responded, pulling a disgusted face that made Evelyn burst into laughter. The sound was like music to his ears, a brief escape from the heaviness that usually surrounded them.

"Of course you'd know, Mr. 'Ladies Man.'" She teased, her voice dripping with sarcasm. She didn't notice the way Floyd's posture stiffened slightly at her words, his playful demeanor faltering for a moment.

"Yeah." He mumbled, his tone suddenly subdued. He didn't want to ruin the moment, so he let the conversation drop as they reached the makeshift mess hall. The loud chatter of soldiers filled the air as they stepped inside, the noise a stark contrast to the quiet they'd just shared.

They quickly found seats at a table beside Joe Liebgott, joining the others in their attempts to unwind. The atmosphere in the room was light-hearted, the soldiers trying to forget, if only for a short while, the darkness they'd left behind in France.

The sound of someone clearing their throat drew everyone's attention to Smokey, who stood at the head of the table, a mischievous grin on his face.

"The night of the bayonet. The night was filled with dark and cold when Sergeant Talbert, the story told." Smokey began, his voice carrying over the hum of conversation. Floyd's face turned a deep shade of red as he realized what was happening. Evelyn shot him a sympathetic smile, knowing this was just the beginning of his embarrassment. "He pulled on his poncho and headed out, to check the lines dressed as a Kraut."

Malarky suddenly appeared, sliding into the seat between Evelyn and Joe. He immediately started cracking jokes at Floyd's expense, his eyes sparkling with mischief as he added to the teasing.

"Upon a trooper, our hero came, fast asleep, he called his name. 'Smith. Oh, Smith. Get up. It's time, to take your turn out on the line.' But Smith, so very weary, cracked an eye, all red bleary. Grabbed his rifle, he did not tarry. Hearing Floyd, but seeing Jerry. 'It's me,' cried Tab. 'Don't do it.' And yet Smith charged toot de suite with the bayonet, he lunged, he thrust, high and low, and skewered the boy from Kokomo."

The room erupted into cheers and laughter, the soldiers reveling in the absurdity of the tale. Floyd looked down at the table, his face still flushed with embarrassment. Evelyn gave him a reassuring pat on the shoulder, her touch gentle but grounding.

"Since you weren't wounded by the enemy and thus didn't qualify for a Purple Heart, we've taken matters into our own hands." Smokey continued, holding up a small purple ribbon. The gesture was meant to be humorous, but there was a hint of sincerity in it as well. Floyd turned to look at Evelyn, his expression softening as he met her eyes. She offered him a small smile, one that spoke of shared understanding and support.

"Tab, this is for you!" Smokey announced, placing the Purple Heart on the table in front of Floyd. The room broke into applause, the soldiers slapping Floyd on the back in congratulations. It was a light-hearted moment, a small victory in the midst of so much loss.

"I coulda shot that kid a dozen!" Floyd exclaimed, trying to play along with the joke.

"Yeah, right." Joe scoffed from across the table, earning a chuckle from Evelyn.

"I just didn't think we could spare a man." Floyd continued, his tone teasing as he tried to downplay the incident. The room filled with laughter, the tension easing as the soldiers returned to their conversations.

"That's cool." Evelyn muttered, her eyes scanning over the purple ribbon now resting in Floyd's palm. A proud smile spread across her face as she looked at him, her heart swelling as she noticed the way he was gazing at her.

"Couple of announcements, soldiers!" Lipton's voice suddenly rang out, cutting through the chatter. The noise died down as everyone turned their attention to him, the air in the room growing tense once more. "Listen up. First, the training exercise scheduled for 2200 has been cancelled." A chorus of cheers erupted, the soldiers momentarily relieved by the news. "Secondly, all passes are hereby revoked. We're heading back to France, so pack up all your gear. We will not be returning to England. Anyone who has not made out a will, go to the supply office. Trucks depart from Membury at 0700. As you were."

The room fell into a heavy silence, Lipton's words sinking in as the soldiers realized what was coming. The brief respite they had been granted was already over, and the reality of war came crashing back down on them like a tidal wave.

Slowly, the soldiers began to disperse, the weight of Lipton's announcement hanging over them like a dark cloud. Evelyn stood up from the table, her movements slow and deliberate as she bid farewell to her friends. She could feel the pit of dread forming in her stomach, the fear of what lay ahead growing stronger with each passing moment.

"Hey! Wait up!" A voice called out, breaking through her thoughts. Evelyn turned to see Anna hurrying toward her, her expression a mix of concern and determination.

"You good?" Evelyn asked as she continued walking, not wanting to stop and dwell on the news they had just received. Anna fell into step beside her, her presence a comforting reminder that she wasn't facing this alone.

"Yeah, I guess. About as good as anyone could be right now." Anna replied, her tone tinged with uncertainty. A small pause hung between them before she continued. "Nixon spoke to me."

Evelyn sighed dramatically, rolling her eyes in exasperation. "What's he said now?"

"Said the missions we're going to be sent on will be much higher risk. There's word that they might start sending us into occupied areas as well as into Germany, where we'll have to pose as citizens." Anna explained, her voice growing quieter as she spoke. The gravity of her words settled over them like a heavy blanket.

"Jesus." Evelyn muttered, her mind racing with the implications of what Anna had just said. The idea of going behind enemy lines, of pretending to be something she wasn't, filled her with a deep sense of unease.

"He told us to pack up any fancy dresses and makeup we had so they didn't have to supply us." Anna added, her tone laced with a mix of frustration and resignation.

"I'm not lugging that around the entire time I'm in France." Evelyn countered, her annoyance bubbling to the surface. The thought of carrying unnecessary items in the middle of a war zone was almost laughable.

"Gotta follow orders." Anna reminded her with a sigh, though there was no real conviction in her words. They both knew how absurd it all seemed.

The two women continued walking back to the barracks in silence, the weight of their future pressing down on them like a physical burden. Evelyn felt the exhaustion deep in her bones, the kind of tiredness that went beyond lack of sleep. It was a weariness of the soul, a fatigue brought on by too much death, too much uncertainty, and too many unanswered questions.

As they reached the barracks, Evelyn cast one last glance at the quiet base around them. The peace of Albourne felt like a distant memory, already slipping through her fingers as the reality of war loomed ever closer. She knew that soon, they would be back in the thick of it, facing dangers that no amount of training could truly prepare them for.

But for now, she allowed herself to savor this brief moment of calm, to take comfort in the presence of her friends and the knowledge that, for better or worse, they would face whatever came next together.

And with that thought, Evelyn pushed open the door to the barracks and stepped inside, ready to face whatever the future had in store.

Chapter Text

French will be in italics

—

Evelyn Donovan, known to most as "Mary," sat in the dimly lit office, her eyes focused on the man across the desk. Captain Lewis Nixon leaned back in his chair, his expression serious as he shuffled through the classified papers spread out before him. The room was filled with the low hum of the base's activity, footsteps echoing in the corridors, muffled conversations, the distant rumble of vehicles preparing for deployment.

Evelyn had been summoned only a few minutes ago, but the tension in the air told her that this wasn't a routine mission. Nixon finally looked up, his sharp eyes meeting hers.

"The mission to France has been cancelled, the men will find out tonight." He spoke quietly, attempting to make sure no one outside heard.

"I suspected so." Evelyn answered, shaking her head.

"But, Mary, I've got something special for you." He began, sliding a thin folder across the desk. "High risk, but right up your alley."

Evelyn took the folder, flipping it open to reveal a detailed map of occupied France. Her eyes scanned the coordinates and the route marked in red, leading to a small town near the German border.

"That's a German convoy route." She noted, her voice calm despite the adrenaline already beginning to course through her veins.

Nixon nodded, leaning forward. "Intel suggests a high-ranking officer will be leading a convoy through that area in two days. He's overseeing the coordination of supply lines across the Western Front. If we take him out, we can cripple their operations and buy our boys some time."

Evelyn looked up from the map. "What's the catch?"

Nixon's lips twitched into a half-smile, though it didn't reach his eyes. "You'll be going in solo, as usual. The area is heavily patrolled, and any team we send in would attract too much attention. You'll be dropped a few miles from the convoy's route, make your way to the ambush point, and eliminate the target. After that, you'll need to get to the extraction point by the river. There's a Resistance cell that'll help you out. You'll be back here by tomorrow night."

Evelyn nodded, absorbing the information. "And how do I get in?"

"We're arranging for you to be inserted by a small reconnaissance plane." Nixon explained. "You'll be parachuting in at night, under cover of darkness. The drop zone is isolated, but you'll need to move quickly once you're on the ground. The Germans are swarming all over the area."

Evelyn closed the folder, meeting Nixon's gaze once more. "When do I leave?"

Nixon stood up, signaling the end of the briefing. "Tonight. You'll be briefed on the flight and get a final update before you jump. Make sure you're ready."

She rose from her chair, giving a curt nod. "I'll be ready."

Nixon placed a hand on her shoulder as she turned to leave. "Good luck, Mary. And remember, get in, take the shot, and get out. We can't afford to lose you."

Evelyn gave him a small, confident smile. "Don't worry, Nixon. I don't plan on being anyone's target."

With that, she left the office, her mind already focused on the mission ahead.

—

The night was moonless, the stars barely visible through the thin veil of clouds that hung over the French countryside. Evelyn stood at the open door of the small reconnaissance plane, the cold wind whipping against her face as she looked down at the dark landscape below. The roar of the engines filled her ears, but she was used to it, used to the noise, the adrenaline, the knowledge that every mission could be her last.

The pilot, a young lieutenant with a tense expression, gave her a thumbs-up. "Approaching the drop zone, Mary. You're clear to jump in thirty seconds."

Evelyn nodded, adjusting the straps on her parachute. She could feel the weight of her gear pressing against her back, her rifle, ammunition, a knife, and a few rations. Everything she needed to survive behind enemy lines.

The plane began to descend, flying low over the trees to avoid detection. Evelyn's heart pounded in her chest, but her hands were steady as she prepared for the jump. She had done this countless times before, but each mission brought its own set of dangers.

As the red light near the door flicked to green, the pilot shouted. "Go, go, go!"

Without hesitation, Evelyn stepped out of the plane, the rush of wind swallowing her as she plummeted toward the earth. The night sky blurred around her, the ground rapidly approaching as she counted the seconds in her head.

One... two... three... 

The parachute quickly deployed with a jolt that snapped her body upright, her hair billowing across her face as she'd wished she had gotten Anna to braid it. The descent slowed, the wind catching the fabric above her as she floated down, the landscape becoming clearer with each passing second.

The drop zone was a clearing in the forest, just as the briefing had indicated. Evelyn steered herself toward it, her eyes scanning the area for any signs of enemy activity. The landing was smooth, her feet touching down softly on the grass as she quickly detached the parachute and gathered it up, hiding it beneath some underbrush.

She crouched low, her senses on high alert as she listened to the sounds around her. The forest was eerily quiet, save for the rustling of leaves in the wind. No patrols, no voices, at least, not yet.

Evelyn checked her compass, orienting herself before setting off toward the convoy's route. She moved swiftly and silently through the trees, her training guiding her every step. The darkness was her ally, the shadows concealing her as she navigated the dense forest.

She had a few miles to cover before reaching the ambush point, and she knew the Germans would be on high alert. They were expecting resistance activity in the area, though they didn't know exactly when or where. That was her advantage, surprise.

As she neared the road, she slowed her pace, dropping to a crouch as she moved closer to the edge of the forest. She could see the dirt road through the gaps in the trees, a narrow stretch cutting through the wilderness. This was where the convoy would pass.

Evelyn took a deep breath, her eyes scanning the area for the best vantage point. She spotted a small rise overlooking the road, partially concealed by a fallen tree. Perfect.

She carefully made her way to the spot, her footsteps light and deliberate. Once there, she set up her rifle, positioning it on the trunk of the tree. The scope gave her a clear view of the road below, and she adjusted it slightly, making sure she had the right angle.

Now, all she had to do was wait.

The minutes ticked by slowly, the silence of the forest pressing in on Evelyn as she lay in position, her rifle trained on the road. She could hear the distant hum of the convoy long before it came into view, the low rumble of engines growing louder with each passing second.

She tightened her grip on the rifle, her breath steady and controlled. The first vehicle came into view, a staff car with the swastika flag fluttering on the hood. Behind it, a line of trucks followed, carrying both soldiers and supplies.

Evelyn focused her scope on the staff car, the face of her target coming into view. The officer, a stern-looking man with silver hair, sat in the back seat, his expression unreadable. He was surrounded by aides, but she only had eyes for him.

The convoy slowed as it neared the bend in the road, the lead car coming into the exact spot she had marked in her mind. This was it.

Evelyn exhaled slowly, her finger resting lightly on the trigger. She waited, counting the seconds, letting the tension build gradually before squeezing the trigger.

The shot rang out, sharp and clear in the still night. The officer's head snapped back, his body slumping against the seat. The car swerved violently, the driver struggling to control it before it veered off the road and crashed into a large tree. The trucks behind it came to a screeching halt, soldiers jumping out, shouting orders and pointing into the woods.

58

A sudden flash in the darkness was aimed at Evelyn's direction though she didn't stick around to work out what, nor see the aftermath of her attack. She was instantly on the move, sliding down the small hill she'd been perched on, disappearing into the dense forest. The Germans would search for her, but they wouldn't find anything, she ensured that. She had chosen her escape route carefully, planning for every contingency.

The forest seemed to close in around her as she ran, the branches whipping at her face and the leaves crunching underfoot. But Evelyn didn't slow down. She was a ghost, moving silently through the trees, her senses heightened, every sound around her magnified.

Suddenly, she heard footsteps, heavy and hurried. A patrol, no doubt sent to track her down. She dropped to the ground, pressing herself flat against the earth beneath some bushes, her breath shallow as the soldiers passed by just a few feet away. She could hear their voices, the guttural German words barking orders and curses that she translated with ease, courtesy to her German father.

Evelyn's hand tightened around her rifle, but she didn't move. She knew better than to engage unless absolutely necessary. A single shot could give away her position, and she was vastly outnumbered. Patience was her ally, and she'd learned to trust it.

After what felt like an eternity, the patrol moved on, their footsteps fading into the distance. Only then did Evelyn rise, continuing her trek through the forest, her eyes always scanning, her ears always listening.

She reached the drainage tunnel just as the first rays of dawn began to peek over the horizon. It was small, barely large enough for her to crawl through, but it would provide the cover she needed. She entered the tunnel, the damp, musty air filling her lungs as she moved quickly but carefully, avoiding any loose rocks or debris that might make noise.

Minutes later, she emerged on the other side, the sound of the river rushing in her ears. She was almost there.

Evelyn followed the riverbank, her pace quickening as the adrenaline began to wear off and the exhaustion set in. She knew she couldn't afford to slow down, not until she reached the extraction point.

Finally, she saw it, a small farmhouse nestled among the trees, smoke rising from the chimney. It looked unassuming, just another piece of the rural landscape. But Evelyn knew it was a front, a safe house used by the Resistance for their workers.

She approached cautiously, giving the prearranged signal, a low whistling sound that repeated three times. A moment later, the door opened, and a man stepped out, his face partially hidden by the shadows.

"Mary?" He whispered, his voice thick with a French accent as he eyed her being.

"Oui." She replied, her voice steady despite the fatigue.

He nodded and motioned for her to come inside. Evelyn entered the farmhouse, the warmth of the fire hitting her like a wave. She took a deep breath, finally allowing herself to relax.

"Is it done?" The man asked, handing her a cup of water.

Evelyn took a sip before answering. "Yes. The officer is dead. They won't reach their destination."

The man smiled, a glint of satisfaction in his eyes. "You've done well. They'll be in disarray now, which will give us the time we need."

She nodded, though her mind was already on the next mission, the next target. There was always another one.

"Rest now, Mary. You've earned it." He said, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder.

But Evelyn knew she wouldn't rest. Not yet. She was Mary White, after all, the ghost in the night, the shadow that brought constant death in this battle. And until this war was over, there would be no peace for her.

As she sat by the fire, her thoughts drifted to her brother fighting on another front and her sister back at home. She wondered if they would ever truly understand what she had become, the things she's had to do to ensure the Allies can become victorious. The sheer amount of death she has caused, would they understand that it was worth it for the greater good?

But those were thoughts for another time. For now, she allowed herself to close her eyes, just for a moment, before the shadows called her back as she awaited her call to head back to England.

Chapter Text

"How did it go?" Anna whispered as the two women made their way through the base, it had been the first time she had seen Evelyn since she was sent away.

"Successful. They believe it's knocked off German supplies for a few months." The girl revealed. Truly, she was grateful to have a friend by her side who was under the same operation, it meant she had a fellow companion and friend to share her successes and concerns with, even under the strict orders of complete secrecy they were given.

The mood in Albourne had shifted dramatically with the news that the jump into France had been canceled. The discovery of an unpredictable asset on the German side had led to the sudden change of plans. It was an unexpected reprieve, a rare moment of relief in the relentless grind of war. The men had seemed oblivious to Evelyn's sudden disappearance, none of them questioned her when she reappeared after a day away, for which the woman was thankful for as she did not have to come up with another lie. As the day passed and the evening rolled in, many of the soldiers of Easy Company headed to the local pub, eager to celebrate the brief respite from the looming danger. The atmosphere inside was lively, with chatter coursing through the room, and smiles plastered on the faces of men who, only hours earlier, had been preparing for another deadly mission.

Anna and Evelyn managed to secure two bar stools that had been pulled up beside the counter. They perched themselves on the seats, surveying the crowded room as they sipped on their drinks. The hum of conversation and the clinking of glasses created a comforting background noise, a stark contrast to the deafening roar of war that usually filled their days.

Evelyn noticed that Anna's gaze was immediately drawn to George, who was standing across the room. The look in Anna's eyes was unmistakable, a soft, longing expression that made Evelyn smile knowingly. George was laughing at something one of the other men had said, his face lit up with genuine happiness.

Leaning closer to Anna, Evelyn coughed lightly to get her attention. "So... you and George, huh?" She asked, her tone teasing as she glanced at her friend.

Anna's face turned a deep shade of red at the question, and she quickly waved her hand in front of Evelyn's face as if trying to dismiss the very idea. "No. No. It's nothing." She stammered, her voice a bit too high-pitched to be convincing.

Evelyn couldn't help but smirk at Anna's obvious embarrassment, the expression lingering on her face as she turned her attention back to the crowd, leaving her friend to stew in her own flustered state. Her eyes moved across the room, taking in the sight of her comrades enjoying a rare moment of levity. But her smile faltered as her gaze landed on a familiar figure.

There, on the opposite side of the room, sat Floyd. His arm was casually slung over another woman's shoulder, their faces close enough that their noses almost touched. Evelyn's stomach twisted at the sight, a tight knot forming as she watched him flirt with the brunette, his hand now entwined with hers. She had been gone for only a day and he had already found another woman to hold hands with. The feeling that surged within her was unexpected and confusing, a sharp pang that she couldn't quite understand or explain.

With a sigh, Evelyn forced herself to look away, trying to shake off the strange emotions that had taken hold of her. But the image of Floyd with that woman lingered in her mind, refusing to fade.

Returning her focus to Anna, she found her friend once again staring at George, though this time George was looking back at her with equal interest, even throwing a playful wink her way. Evelyn leaned closer to Anna, whispering into her ear with a mischievous grin. "Sure, 'it's nothing'."

Anna jolted in surprise, her face flushing even deeper as she covered it with her hands in embarrassment. The sight made Evelyn chuckle, though something still lingered heavily on her mind.

"I need some fresh air." Evelyn stated as Anna nodded in acknowledgment, watching as her friend made a quick exit.

The cool air quickly enveloped her as she stepped out the door, the sun just setting over the horizon. Her mind went haywire, a million thoughts consuming her being as she walked forward, silence slowing surrounding her as she moved away from the homely pub. Though that was short-lived as she heard a pair of footsteps echoing her own.

"If you're going to follow me, at least try to be quiet about it." She said, her voice carrying a hint of amusement despite her earlier irritation. She finally turned to face Floyd, who had stopped a few paces behind her.

"Hey, I tried. Guess I'd be a bad spy." Floyd joked, a grin spreading across his face. But his smile faltered when Evelyn didn't return it. Instead, she frowned at his remark before turning away and began walking again, her pace brisk as she tried to put some distance between them.

"Where have you been the past 24 hours?" He questioned as the woman nearly froze in place.

"Wouldn't you like to know?" She mumbled, continuing to stride forward, an attempt to ignore his presence.

Floyd hurried to catch up, concern etched on his features. "What's wrong, Dimples?" He asked, using the nickname he'd given her. It was meant to be endearing, a playful jab at the small indentations that appeared on her cheeks whenever she smiled. But tonight, it only served to irritate her further.

"Nothing's wrong." Evelyn replied curtly, not slowing her pace. She didn't want to talk to him, not now, not when her emotions were in such disarray.

Floyd wasn't convinced. He quickened his steps, finally reaching out to grab her arm and gently pull her to a stop. "Mary." He began, his tone soft but insistent. "There's obviously something wrong. Tell me."

Evelyn sighed, turning to face him with a look of exasperation. "Floyd, seriously, I'm fine. Just tired." She insisted, though even she could hear the lack of conviction in her voice. His eyes searched hers, as if trying to peer into her soul, to uncover the truth she was trying so hard to hide.

"I don't believe you." Floyd stated after a moment, his voice firm. He finally released her arm, but his eyes never left hers, the intensity of his gaze making her uncomfortable.

Evelyn bit her lip, fighting the urge to look away. "Yeah? Well, you don't have to." She muttered, her voice barely audible as she turned on her heel and resumed her walk toward the barracks. This time, Floyd didn't try to stop her. He stood there, watching her retreating figure with a frown, his mind racing as he tried to make sense of her behavior.

As she walked away, Evelyn replayed the conversation in her mind, trying to understand her own actions. She wasn't sure why she was so upset, why seeing Floyd with another woman had affected her so deeply. She told herself it was silly, that there was no way she liked Floyd Talbert. He was a 'ladies' man', a flirt, someone who never took anything seriously. Evelyn Donovan would never be into someone like that, it just didn't suit her.

But the sinking feeling in her chest said otherwise, and she couldn't shake the unease that had settled over her. As she reached the barracks, the lone sound of her footsteps echoing in the quiet night, Evelyn realized that maybe, just maybe, she wasn't as indifferent to Floyd as she wanted to believe.

—

Evelyn woke with a start, the haze of sleep clinging to her as she squinted at the soft morning light filtering through the curtains. She lay in bed for a moment, her mind still foggy from the restless night before. Her thoughts had drifted back to the mission, then to Floyd, and the inexplicable twist in her chest when she had seen him with that woman at the pub. Shaking her head, she sighed and stretched her stiff limbs. The mission was done, her secret was still safe, and whatever was happening with Floyd could be ignored, at least for now.

Just as she was about to sink back into the pillow for a few more moments of peace, a knock on her door startled her. Evelyn sat up, frowning slightly as the soft sound repeated. She wasn't expecting anyone, certainly not at this hour.

"Come in." She called out, her voice still thick from sleep.

The door creaked open, revealing a mop of messy brown hair and a pair of wide, curious eyes. It was Oliver, the seven-year-old boy from her host family, peeking around the doorframe with a shy but eager expression.

"Hi, Miss Mary," he said, stepping into the room a little awkwardly, his small hands clutching a worn-out baseball. "My mum and dad are really busy today... Can you play catch with me?"

Evelyn blinked, caught off guard by the simple request. She hadn't spent much time with Oliver since moving in; between her rigorous training schedule and covert missions, she rarely had time to bond with the family. But now, standing in her doorway with his hopeful gaze, Oliver reminded her of something she had been missing lately, something innocent and uncomplicated.

A smile tugged at her lips as she looked at him. "Sure, Oliver. I think I could use a break myself."

His face lit up, eyes brightening as if she'd just given him the greatest gift. "Really? You're not too busy?"

"Not too busy for you." Evelyn replied, swinging her legs out of bed and pulling on her boots. She felt the weight of the past few days lifting slightly as she grabbed her jacket and followed him outside.

They found a small patch of grass in the backyard where the morning sun bathed the ground in golden light. The air was cool but refreshing, and for the first time in days, Evelyn felt a sense of calm. She stood a few paces from Oliver, tossing the ball back and forth as the boy beamed with joy.

"So," Oliver began after a few minutes of quiet play, his voice filled with curiosity. "Where are you from, Miss Evelyn? Mum said you're from America. Is it really far?"

Evelyn caught the ball easily and smiled at his innocent curiosity. "Yes, Oliver. It's very far from here. I grew up in a place called Massachusetts."

"What's it like there?" He asked, his eyes wide with interest as he tossed the ball back to her.

Evelyn paused for a moment, thinking of the quiet towns, the rolling hills, and the autumn leaves that blanketed the countryside in fiery reds and oranges. She hadn't thought about home in a long time, not in a way that felt comforting. But now, in the company of a child, it felt a little easier to remember.

"It's peaceful," she said softly, her gaze drifting momentarily as she caught the ball. "We have long, cold winters, and in the fall, the trees turn all sorts of beautiful colors. It's the kind of place where you know everyone in town, and things move a little slower."

Oliver's brow furrowed as he thought about this. "Do you miss it?"

Evelyn smiled, though it didn't quite reach her eyes. "Sometimes. But I'm here now, doing something important."

The boy nodded sagely, as if he understood the weight of her words. "What do you want to do when you go back? When the war's over?"

Evelyn tossed the ball back, her heart skipping a beat at the question. It wasn't something she allowed herself to think about too often. What would life be like after all of this? Could she even imagine it?

"Well..." she began, a little uncertain. "I've always wanted to be a painter. I love colors and how they can make you feel something just by looking at them. I used to paint back home before I left for the war."

Oliver's eyes widened, his mouth dropping open in awe. "You're a painter? That's so cool! Do you paint like... boats and stuff?"

Evelyn chuckled, a genuine laugh escaping her. "Sometimes. I like painting landscapes mostly, and people too. It helps me capture moments, kind of like keeping them safe forever."

Oliver's face was full of wonder as he processed this new revelation. "Can you paint me one day? Like one of those fancy portraits?"

"Maybe I will," Evelyn said, her heart warmed by his enthusiasm. "You'd make a pretty good model, I think."

He grinned, clearly pleased with the idea as they continued their game of catch. For a few more minutes, they played in silence, the only sound the soft thud of the ball being tossed back and forth. It was a rare moment of simplicity for Evelyn, a break from the chaos that had consumed her life for so long.

But just as she was starting to feel fully relaxed, she heard someone call her name from the front of the house. She turned, squinting against the sun, and saw two familiar figures standing by the gate, waving at her with grins on their faces—Skip Muck and Don Malarkey.

Evelyn's smile faltered, but she quickly recovered, turning to Oliver. "Looks like my friends need me. Let's get you back inside."

Oliver's face fell a little, but he nodded, understanding. "Okay. Maybe we can play again later?"

"I'd like that." She replied, ruffling his hair affectionately before guiding him back toward the house.

Once Oliver was safely inside, Evelyn made her way over to Skip and Malarkey, who were waiting patiently by the fence. As she approached, she raised an eyebrow. "What brings you two here?"

Skip grinned, leaning casually against the post. "We're your personal bodyguards now, didn't they tell you?"

Malarkey chuckled, nudging Skip with his elbow. "Nah, we were just in the area and thought we'd see if you wanted to go for a walk. It's too nice of a day to waste indoors."

Evelyn hesitated for a moment, the weight of everything that had happened over the past few days still lingering in the back of her mind. But the prospect of some light-hearted company was too tempting to pass up. "A walk sounds nice. Let me grab my gloves."

The three of them set off down the narrow dirt path that wound through the countryside, the crisp air filling their lungs as they walked in companionable silence for a while. The peace of the morning surrounded them, birds chirping in the trees, and the soft rustle of leaves underfoot.

After a few minutes, Skip glanced over at her, his usual playful demeanor tempered with something more serious. "You've been quiet lately, Mary. Everything alright?"

Evelyn's heart skipped a beat, but she forced a smile. "I'm fine, Skip. Just... you know, the usual. A lot on my mind."

Malarkey chimed in, his tone light but probing. "Yeah, we noticed you've been a bit distant. Especially after that mission got scrapped. It's like you've been off in your own world."

Evelyn's stomach twisted uncomfortably. She hadn't expected them to notice her absence—let alone bring it up. She shrugged, trying to brush it off. "I've just been tired. You know how it is."

But Skip wasn't convinced. He stopped walking, turning to face her with a look of concern. "We might not know everything, but we know you. You're not just tired, Mary. Something's been up ever since you disappeared for that day."

Evelyn's heart pounded in her chest. Her mouth went dry as she searched for something to say, her mind racing. "I— I don't—"

Before she could fumble any further, Skip raised a hand to stop her, his expression softening. "Hey, it's okay. Makark and I don't need to know what you were doing or why. We just... we just want you to know that we trust you. You're like a sister to us."

Malarkey nodded in agreement, his gaze warm and reassuring. "Yeah. Whatever's going on, we've got your back."

Evelyn's breath caught in her throat. She hadn't realized how much she needed to hear those words, how much the weight of secrecy had been pressing down on her. Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes, but she blinked them away, offering a shaky smile instead.

"Thanks," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. "That means a lot."

Skip clapped her on the shoulder with a grin. "No need to get all sappy now. We're just saying you're stuck with us."

Malarkey chuckled. "Yep, you're part of the family whether you like it or not."

Evelyn laughed softly, the tension in her chest easing as they continued walking. The conversation shifted to lighter topics, stories from home, the antics of their fellow soldiers, and the hopes they held for the future. They spoke of the things they missed most, the things they dreamed of doing once the war was over.

For Skip, it was returning to his family, where the simple life of working alongside his father called to him. For Malarkey, it was the thought of finally going to college, making good on the promises he'd made to himself before the war had torn his plans apart. As they shared their dreams, Evelyn found herself opening up in a way she hadn't expected.

"I've been thinking about painting again," she confessed quietly, her voice barely audible over the crunch of their boots on the path. "I stopped for a while when the war started, but... I think when this is all over, I'd like to pick it back up."

Skip's face lit up with interest. "Painting, huh? You never told us that."

Evelyn shrugged, a little embarrassed by the admission. "It didn't seem important compared to everything else going on."

Malarkey shook his head, his expression thoughtful. "No, it's important. Having something to look forward to, something that's yours—it's important. You should definitely get back into it."

Skip nodded in agreement, his usual teasing grin replaced by a more genuine smile. "I'd love to see one of your paintings someday, Mary. Maybe you can paint something for me."

Evelyn felt a warmth spread through her chest, a sense of belonging she hadn't realized she'd been missing. These two men, who had become her closest friends in the chaos of war, were offering her something more than just friendship, they were offering her family.

"I'd like that." She said softly, her heart full as they walked together through the quiet countryside.

For a while, the three of them walked in silence, the kind of silence that was comfortable, that spoke of a deep understanding between them. They didn't need to fill every moment with words, sometimes, just being there was enough.

As they reached a clearing at the top of a hill, the view stretched out before them, rolling green fields, dotted with trees and cottages, the horizon painted in soft pastels by the rising sun. Evelyn stopped, taking it all in, the beauty of the moment hitting her with a sudden force.

It was moments like these that made her realize why they fought, why they sacrificed so much. It wasn't just for the grand ideals or the glory, it was for the simple things, the things they wanted to protect. The peace, the future, the chance to live without fear.

She turned to Skip and Malarkey, her heart swelling with gratitude for their friendship, for the way they had quietly supported her without asking for anything in return. And in that moment, she made a silent promise to herself—to fight for them, to protect this bond they had forged in the fires of war.

Because no matter what happened next, they would always be family.

Chapter Text

Evelyn wrapped her wool coat tighter around herself as she stepped out of her host family's house. The cool evening air nipped at her cheeks, making her glad for the layers she had thrown on before leaving. Autumn had arrived in full force, the trees lining the road shedding their golden and amber leaves in a soft rustling breeze. She paused at the gate, waiting for Anna, who was still fiddling with the laces on her boots. A soft smile tugged at the corners of Evelyn's lips as she watched her friend, who was humming absentmindedly under her breath, seemingly oblivious to the chill in the air.

"Art, you'll freeze before we even make it to the pub if you don't hurry up." Evelyn teased, her voice light despite the exhaustion that tugged at her bones.

Anna looked up, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "Oh, please, Mary. We both know you'd wait for me no matter how long I took. Besides, the cold's nothing to a good Irish lass like myself."

Evelyn chuckled softly. "That might be true, but I'm not sure the rest of us have your iron constitution."

Anna finally stood up, pulling her coat tighter and adjusting the scarf around her neck before linking her arm with Evelyn's. "Ready now," she said brightly. "Lead the way, my dear."

The two of them started down the narrow country lane, the crunch of leaves beneath their boots the only sound for a while as they fell into step beside each other. The walk to the pub wasn't too long, but the crisp evening air made it feel like a journey of its own. The sky above them was a deepening shade of indigo, stars just beginning to prick the horizon, and the fading daylight left an ethereal glow over the landscape.

As they walked, the quiet between them lingered for a bit, both women lost in their thoughts. Evelyn could feel the weight of the past few weeks pressing down on her shoulders—missions gone awry, the endless tension of the war, and the growing distance between her and Floyd. She glanced at Anna, who seemed uncharacteristically quiet, her face slightly more serious than usual.

"What's on your mind, Anna?" Evelyn asked gently, her voice breaking through the silence.

Anna sighed, her breath visible in the chilly air. "I've just been thinking about everything, you know? About the war, about what happens after all this." She glanced at Evelyn, her eyes soft. "Do you ever wonder what's waiting for us once this is all over? What life's going to be like when we don't have to think about surviving every day?"

Evelyn nodded slowly. "All the time. It's hard to imagine sometimes, isn't it? A life without war. A life where we can just... be."

Anna hummed in agreement. "I think about home a lot lately. I miss my mum's cooking, the way my dad used to sit by the fire with his pipe, and how the street smelled after a good rain. I miss all those little things I took for granted. But more than that, I miss the feeling of being safe. Of not constantly looking over my shoulder, waiting for the next round of bad news."

Evelyn's heart ached at Anna's words. She understood that feeling all too well. "I think we all miss that, just feeling safe. It's like we're all holding our breath, waiting for something we're not sure will ever come."

Anna was quiet for a moment, her brow furrowing as if she was trying to find the right words. "Do you ever feel like... like the war's changed you? Like you're not the same person you were when it all started?"

Evelyn considered the question carefully. She had asked herself that very thing more times than she could count. "I think it's impossible not to be changed by this," she said slowly, her voice tinged with sadness. "We've all seen things we can't unsee. We've done things we never thought we'd have to do. It's hard to come out of that the same person."

Anna nodded, her expression thoughtful. "Sometimes I wonder if I'll even recognize myself when this is over. If I'll still be the same girl who left home, or if she's gone for good. We're not even our true selves here, our entire identities are forged."

Evelyn squeezed Anna's arm gently, offering her a small, reassuring smile. "You're still you, Anna. The war might have changed us, but it hasn't taken away who we are at our core. You're still the same stubborn, caring, funny woman who keeps me sane. And I'm grateful for that every day. We not be presenting ourselves as who we truly are, but you and I both know what makes us, us, and nothing can change that."

Anna smiled softly, her eyes glistening slightly in the dim light. "Thanks, Evie. I don't know what I'd do without you. You've been my rock through all of this."

Evelyn felt a warmth spread through her chest, despite the chill in the air. "I could say the same about you. We've gotten each other through the worst of it."

They walked in comfortable silence for a while longer, the sound of their footsteps blending with the rustling leaves. The pub was still a bit of a walk away, and the sky was growing darker with each passing minute. The conversation shifted to lighter topics as they moved, the tension of their earlier thoughts easing somewhat as they joked about the other men in their company and shared stories about home.

Evelyn glanced at Anna, noting the way her face softened whenever she mentioned George. It was subtle, but it was there, a warmth that spread across her features, a brightness in her eyes that wasn't present when she spoke about anyone else.

"You've been talking about George a lot lately," Evelyn said casually, her voice teasing. "Should I be expecting a wedding invitation soon?"

Anna's cheeks flushed a deep red, and she nudged Evelyn with her elbow. "Don't be daft," she muttered, though the smile on her face gave her away. "It's not like that. We're just... friends."

"Friends, huh?" Evelyn raised an eyebrow, clearly not convinced. "I've seen the way you look at him, Art. And I'm pretty sure I've seen him looking at you the same way."

Anna opened her mouth to protest, but the words didn't come. Instead, she let out a small sigh, her shoulders slumping slightly. "Alright, fine. Maybe I do like him. A lot. But it's complicated, you know? With everything going on, the war, the uncertainty... I don't even know if there's room for something like that right now."

Evelyn smiled softly, understanding her friend's hesitation. "I get it. It's hard to think about the future when everything feels so uncertain. But if you like him, and he likes you, maybe it's worth taking a chance. Even in the middle of all this chaos, you deserve some happiness, Anna."

Anna bit her lip, her expression conflicted. "Maybe you're right. I just... I don't want to get hurt. And I don't want to hurt him either. What if we don't make it through this? What if one of us-"

"Stop," Evelyn said gently, cutting her off. "Don't think like that. We've made it this far, haven't we? We'll get through this. And when we do, you'll be glad you didn't let fear stop you from living your life."

Anna nodded slowly, her eyes thoughtful. "You're right. As usual."

"I usually am." Evelyn teased, giving her a playful nudge.

By the time they reached the pub, the sky had fully darkened, the stars twinkling brightly overhead. The warm glow from inside the building spilled out onto the street, the sounds of laughter and conversation filling the air. As they stepped through the door, the familiar scent of ale and tobacco greeted them, and the low hum of voices washed over them like a comforting blanket.

The pub was bustling, filled with soldiers and a few locals, all eager to escape the realities of war for a few hours. Anna and Evelyn made their way through the crowd, eventually finding two seats at a small table near the back. The wooden chairs creaked under their weight as they sat down, and Evelyn let out a sigh of relief, glad to be off her feet for a while.

As she looked around the room, taking in the familiar faces of the men she had come to know so well, a sense of warmth filled her chest. These moments of camaraderie, of shared laughter and lighthearted banter, were rare and precious. They were a reminder that, even in the darkest of times, there was still joy to be found.

Evelyn turned to say something to Anna, but when she glanced at her friend, she noticed that Anna wasn't paying attention. Instead, she was staring across the room, her gaze fixed on George, who was sitting at a table with a few other men from their company. There was a softness in her eyes, a look of pure adoration that Evelyn had seen before—though never quite as pronounced as it was now.

A knowing smile tugged at Evelyn's lips as she watched Anna for a moment. "You're staring," she said softly, her voice teasing.

Anna blinked, snapping out of her reverie, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment. "I am not," she protested, though the blush on her face betrayed her.

Evelyn chuckled, shaking her head. "Oh, you definitely were. But don't worry, I won't tell anyone."

Anna huffed, though there was a smile on her face. "You're impossible."

"I know." Evelyn replied with a grin.

"Come on, let's go say hi." She suggested after a moment of silence, standing up from her stool. Anna, eager to escape her own embarrassment, practically jumped to her feet, grabbing Evelyn by the arm and dragging her across the room toward George.

As they made their way through the throng of soldiers, they couldn't help but overhear a conversation happening just to their left. Johnny Martin was standing with a group of replacements, his usual grin replaced with a small scowl as he snapped at them. "What are you laughing at?" He questioned, his tone sharp enough to wipe the smiles off the young men's faces.

Evelyn noticed the sudden shift in the replacements' demeanor and decided to intervene. "Come on, Johnny. Let them have a little laugh before they're dropped into hell." She cut in, her voice light but firm. The replacements looked at her in surprise, clearly not expecting someone to come to their defense. A pause followed as Johnny turned his gaze to Evelyn, giving her a light glare that was more playful than serious.

Anna, always quick with a joke, decided to add her own touch to the moment. "'There will be no laughing in my company.'" She declared, doing her best impression of Sobel. Her voice was a near-perfect mimicry of the man's grating tone, and the Toccoa men couldn't help but burst into laughter at the memory. The replacements, on the other hand, only looked more confused, their faces a mix of curiosity and judgment.

Evelyn shook her head, laughing along with the others as she gave Anna a gentle nudge. "Sorry, she's had a bit to drink." Evelyn explained to the group, pushing Anna away slightly.

"Hey! I haven't-" Anna started to protest, but Evelyn cut her off with a quick, playful shove.

"See you guys around." Evelyn said, offering the group a quick smile before steering Anna away from them, not wanting to linger too long.

As they moved through the crowd, Bill Guarnere, who had been sitting at the table with the replacements, called out with a grin. "Take her away!" He exclaimed, clearly enjoying the banter.

"Shut it, gonorrhea!" Anna shot back, waving him off with a laugh. Evelyn shook her head at her friend's antics, but there was no denying the warmth in her chest. Moments like these, filled with laughter and friendship, were rare and precious.

Their progress across the room was suddenly halted by the sound of Smokey's voice booming over the chatter. "Hey! You all, listen up! I've got us an announcement to make!" Smokey called out, his tone commanding attention. The room quieted down as everyone turned to face him, curiosity piqued. Anna and Evelyn, who had almost reached George, paused to listen, intrigued by what Smokey had to say.

Smokey was standing with Carwood Lipton, and he gestured to the man beside him with exaggerated flair. "This here is Carwood Lipton." He announced, a teasing grin on his face.

From somewhere in the room, Malarkey's voice rang out, dripping with sarcasm. "He's already married, Smokey!" He shouted, prompting the room to erupt into laughter.

Evelyn chuckled along with the others, her eyes scanning the room as she did so. But her laughter died in her throat when she accidentally locked eyes with Floyd. He was looking directly at her, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, as if inviting her to share in the joke. But Evelyn couldn't bring herself to smile back. The sight of him that day, so close to that other woman, had left a lingering bitterness in her heart. Instead of returning his smile, she quickly turned away, focusing on the front of the room. She didn't see the frown that replaced Floyd's smile, his expression clouding with confusion at her sudden coldness.

"This here is Carwood Lipton, the new Easy Company First Sergeant!" Smokey continued, his voice cutting through the brief moment of tension. The announcement was met with a round of applause, the men showing their appreciation for Lip's new rank. Lipton, always modest, smiled shyly at the attention, clearly uncomfortable with being in the spotlight.

"As befitting his position, he says he has to make an announcement." Smokey added, stepping aside to let Lip speak.

Lip cleared his throat, his expression growing serious as he addressed the room. "Well, hate to break the mood, but, uh, we're moving out again." He said, his tone somber before making a quick exit out of the door. The words hung in the air like a dark cloud, the joy that had filled the room moments ago dissipating in an instant. The men's faces fell, the reality of their situation crashing back down on them with brutal force.

Evelyn felt her heart sink at the news, the brief reprieve they'd been granted now nothing more than a memory. She turned to Anna, who met her gaze with a resigned expression.

"Here we go again." Evelyn mumbled, her voice tinged with fatigue. Anna could only nod in response, the smile that had graced her features just minutes ago now completely gone.

As the room began to disperse, the men preparing themselves for the inevitable march ahead, Evelyn excused herself, needing some fresh air. The cool night breeze hit her as soon as she stepped outside, and she took a deep breath, trying to steady the turmoil in her chest. She walked to the edge of the courtyard, her gaze drawn to the horizon where the last traces of the sunset lingered.

She stood there for a while, lost in her thoughts, until she heard the sound of footsteps approaching behind her. She didn't need to turn around to know who it was, the situation mirroring the one she had found herself in just mere days ago.

"Dimples," Floyd's voice was soft, hesitant. "Can we talk?"

Evelyn clenched her jaw, her back still turned to him. She had been avoiding this conversation for days, unsure of how to navigate the growing distance between them. But she knew she couldn't avoid it forever.

"What is there to talk about, Floyd?" she asked, her voice tight. She finally turned to face him, her eyes meeting his. The hurt she had been trying to bury bubbled to the surface, and she couldn't stop the words from spilling out. "I saw you. That day. With her."

Floyd's brow furrowed in confusion. "What are you talking about?"

"That woman," Evelyn snapped, her voice sharper than she intended. "The one you were sitting with the other day. I saw you."

Realization dawned on Floyd's face, and he let out a sigh, running a hand through his hair. "Evelyn, it's not what you think. She's just someone I got talking to, it was nothing serious."

Evelyn crossed her arms over her chest, her eyes narrowing. "It didn't look like that."

Floyd took a step closer, his expression earnest. "I swear, Mary. There's nothing going on between us. You're the one I care about."

Evelyn wanted to believe him. She wanted to trust his words, to let go of the hurt that had been gnawing at her since she'd seen him with that woman. But the fear of getting hurt, of being vulnerable, made it hard for her to let her guard down.

"I just... I don't know, Floyd," she said quietly, her voice wavering. "It's hard to trust anything right now. Everything feels so uncertain."

Floyd reached out, gently taking her hand in his. "I get that. I really do. But I need you to know that I'm here for you. No one else. Just you."

Evelyn looked down at their joined hands, her heart aching with the weight of her emotions. She wanted to believe him. She wanted to let herself feel something other than the constant fear and uncertainty that had become her reality.

But the war had changed everything.

"I need some time," she said softly, pulling her hand away. "I need to figure things out."

Floyd nodded, though there was a hint of sadness in his eyes. "I understand."

They stood there in silence for a moment, the tension between them palpable but not entirely unresolved. There was still something there—something worth fighting for. But for now, they both needed space to navigate the storm that had become their lives.

"I'll see you tomorrow." Evelyn said quietly before turning and walking away, leaving Floyd standing alone in the cool night air.

As she made her way back toward the pub, the weight of the conversation still heavy on her shoulders, Evelyn allowed herself a small glimmer of hope. Maybe things weren't perfect right now. Maybe there was still a lot they needed to figure out.

But they weren't done with each other—not yet.

Chapter Text

The room was dim, the air thick with the weight of anticipation. Paratroopers from Easy Company sat shoulder-to-shoulder on wooden benches, their faces a mixture of resolve and anxiety. The air was filled with the smell of oil, gunpowder, and sweat, a familiar scent that clung to every soldier. These men had been through hell and back since Normandy, but today, the atmosphere was different. The briefing room was quieter, the usual banter subdued as they waited for the orders that would send them once again into the heart of enemy territory.

Captain Richard Winters stood at the front of the room, his expression serious as he surveyed the men who looked up at him. These were his brothers-in-arms, men who had fought, bled, and lost together. He knew every one of them by name, knew their strengths and their weaknesses. He had led them through the chaos of D-Day and the brutal battles that followed, and now he was about to lead them into what could be their most dangerous mission yet.

"As you can see," Winters began, his voice steady and clear, "this is called Operation Market Garden." He gestured to the large map pinned to the wall behind him, its surface crisscrossed with red and blue lines marking the key objectives. "In terms of airborne divisions involved, this one's even bigger than Normandy. We're dropping deep into occupied Holland."

The room was silent, every man's eyes fixed on the map. Winters continued, pointing to a specific line that snaked through the Dutch countryside. "The Allied objective is to take this road here between Eindhoven and Arnhem so the two British armored divisions can move up it. Our job is going to be to liberate Eindhoven, stay there, and wait for the tanks."

Winters paused, letting the significance of the mission sink in. He knew these men were tired, that the war had already taken a heavy toll on them. But he also knew that they were soldiers, and they would do what needed to be done.

"The entire European advance has been put on hold to allocate resources for this operation." He continued, his tone unwavering. "It's Montgomery's personal plan, so we'll be under British command."

At this, a low murmur rippled through the room. The mere mention of British command elicited groans and murmurs of discontent. Winters had expected this reaction. The British and American forces had fought side by side for years, but the cultural differences and occasional strategic disagreements often led to friction.

Nixon, standing next to Winters, stepped forward to address the men. His voice carried a note of irony as he added. "The good news is, if this works, the tanks will be over The Rhine and into Germany. That could end the war and get us home by Christmas. It will be a daytime jump. Intelligence doesn't expect much opposition. They think the Krauts in Holland are mostly kids and old men. And we should take them by surprise. In any case, say goodbye to England; I don't think they're gonna call this one off."

A hollow silence followed Nixon's words, the weight of the mission settling on every man in the room. The promise of a quick end to the war was tantalizing, but the reality of the situation was that nothing ever went as planned. Each soldier understood the risks, and the room seemed to collectively hold its breath, knowing what lay ahead.

—

The engines of the surrounding planes roared to life, their propellers cutting through the early morning mist that clung to the English countryside. Evelyn Donovan stood near the aircraft, her rifle slung across her back as she meticulously checked her gear. Her hands moved with practiced precision, adjusting straps, securing ammunition, and making sure everything was in its place. The cacophony of the airfield buzzed around her, orders being shouted, planes revving up, and the chatter of soldiers preparing for the drop. But Evelyn was in her own world, focusing on the task at hand.

She felt a pair of eyes on her and instinctively glanced up, her gaze locking with those of other paratroopers who stood nearby. They were watching her, their expressions a mix of respect and curiosity. She was one of the few women in combat, and she had more than proven her worth. Despite the respect she commanded, she could still feel the weight of their scrutiny, the unspoken questions they harbored about what drove her.

She pushed the thoughts aside, returning her focus to her rifle, checking the maintenance one last time. The cold metal felt familiar in her hands, a tool that had become an extension of herself over the course of the war. The reality of the impending mission loomed large, but she knew better than to dwell on it. There was no room for doubt.

A sudden honk snapped her out of her thoughts, and she turned to see a vehicle approaching the assembly area. The sight of the man behind the wheel sent a chill down her spine, causing her to freeze in place. Captain Herbert Sobel, the man who had been a constant source of torment during her training at Camp Toccoa, was here. Evelyn's eyes narrowed as she locked onto his figure, her muscles tensing involuntarily.

Next to Evelyn, Anna stood stiffly, her face a mask of disdain. The look of disgust that she directed at Sobel mirrored Evelyn's own feelings. The two women had shared a mutual loathing for their former commanding officer, whose harsh and often irrational methods had pushed them to their limits during training. Sobel had been reassigned after the Normandy invasion, and neither of them had expected to see him again.

As the vehicle rolled to a stop, Sobel scanned the faces of the paratroopers with a slight glare, his presence casting a shadow over the mood. Evelyn exchanged a brief glance with Anna, both of them silently questioning what Sobel was doing there.

"What the fuck is he doing here?" Evelyn muttered under her breath, her eyes still fixed on Sobel's figure.

"No idea." Anna replied, her voice equally low and filled with contempt. "But look over there, Pop's back."

Evelyn's gaze shifted to the back of the vehicle, where she saw Popeye, one of their comrades, being helped down by Sergeant Lipton. A smile tugged at her lips as she watched Popeye, who had been wounded in Normandy, give them a quick wave despite his obvious discomfort.

Popeye managed a brief smile in their direction before he limped away, clearly still in pain. Evelyn's attention returned to her gear, deciding to ignore Sobel's presence. There was no point in letting old grudges distract her from the mission at hand.

—

Evelyn released her hand off the door leaped into the void, the rush of air tugging at her as she plummeted towards the earth. The chaos of the moment was familiar, almost comforting, as she controlled her descent. The landscape below rushed up to meet her, and she could see the vast expanse of Holland spread out beneath her, a patchwork of fields and villages. The sun was just beginning to rise, casting a warm glow over the land.

Her parachute deployed with a jolt, slowing her descent as she drifted down towards the ground. She could see other paratroopers all around her, their chutes billowing like giant flowers in the sky. Evelyn focused on her landing, steering herself towards an open field near the edge of a small village. The drop was smooth, and she hit the ground with practiced precision, her knees bending to absorb the impact.

The moment her feet touched the muddy earth, Evelyn went to work. She quickly detached the parachute, gathering it up and stashing it out of sight. Her knife flashed as she cut the remaining cords, freeing herself from the harness. Without wasting a second, she grabbed her rifle and began moving towards the rendezvous point, her senses on high alert.

The village of Eindhoven was quiet, almost eerily so, as the paratroopers regrouped in a low ditch just outside its perimeter. Evelyn crouched next to Bull, who was busy scanning the horizon for any signs of movement. The distant sound of engines and the occasional bark of a dog were the only noises that broke the silence.

"I wonder if they hit anything." Hoobler muttered, squinting up at the sky as a formation of planes roared overhead. The sound was deafening, and Evelyn shielded her eyes from the sun's glare as she looked up, trying to catch a glimpse of the action above.

"There's some kind of hold-up." A nearby commander said, explaining to Bull the change in plans. "We're going in through this field here."

Bull gave a quick nod and signaled for the group to move. Evelyn was the first to rise, her rifle held tightly in her hands as she led the way across the open field. Her eyes scanned the terrain, every sense alert for danger.

Suddenly, a window creaked open in a distant house, drawing Evelyn's attention. She froze, her instincts kicking in as she shot forward to the fence, taking cover behind a wooden slab. Her rifle was trained on the window, her finger hovering over the trigger as she signaled for the others to halt.

She watched intently as a woman appeared in the window, tying a large orange flag onto the frame. The sight of the flag, a symbol of the Dutch resistance, caused Evelyn to pause. Slowly, she lowered her rifle, the tension in her muscles easing as she realized the woman was not a threat.

Turning back to Bull, she gave him a questioning look, to which he responded with a nod of understanding. The orange flag was a sign that the village was friendly, and the inhabitants were likely supporters of the Allied forces.

With a sense of cautious relief, Evelyn slung her rifle over her shoulder and led the way into the village. As they entered, the sight that greeted them was unexpected, a large crowd of Dutch civilians had gathered to welcome the paratroopers. The streets were lined with people waving orange banners and Dutch flags, their faces alight with joy and hope.

The soldiers were quickly engulfed by the crowd, many of them being pulled away by women eager to show their gratitude. Evelyn rolled her eyes as she watched her comrades being embraced and kissed by the locals, knowing that this moment of celebration could be short-lived.

"Where are the Germans?" Anna asked, her voice low as she stayed close to Evelyn, not wanting to be separated in the chaos.

"They could be anywhere." Evelyn replied, her eyes constantly scanning the buildings and windows for any signs of danger. "Keep your eyes on the windows."

As they pushed through the crowd, Evelyn was suddenly pulled into a tight hug by a Dutch man. She managed a sheepish smile, but the surprise of the gesture left her momentarily off-balance. She glanced at Anna, who could only shrug in response.

But then, Evelyn's gaze fell on a sight that made her freeze in her tracks. There, in the midst of the celebration, was Floyd Talbert, the man she hadn't spoke to since her strange outburst. He was sitting on a small chair, a woman perched on his lap as he kissed her passionately. They were oblivious to the world around them, caught up in their own moment of bliss.

"Looks like he's enjoying the party." Anna quipped, but her smile quickly faded as she noticed the frown on Evelyn's face.

The hurt in Evelyn's eyes was unmistakable. It wasn't just jealousy; it was a deep sense of betrayal, a realization that the man she cared for saw her as just another face in the crowd. Anna quickly grabbed her hand and pulled her away, sensing that her friend needed to distance herself from the painful scene.

"Come on, let's get out of here." Anna urged, her voice firm but gentle.

As they continued to weave their way through the village, the mood abruptly shifted. The joyful cheers of the crowd were replaced by a darker, more sinister sound, a chant that grew louder and more frenzied as they approached the source.

Evelyn and Anna rounded a corner and were met with a scene of pure horror. A group of women were being forcibly stripped of their clothing, their hair savagely cut to the scalp as they cried out in pain and humiliation. Blood dripped from their wounds, staining the cobblestone streets as the crowd jeered and taunted them.

"What the fuck." Evelyn muttered, unable to tear her eyes away from the brutal spectacle.

"What did they do?" She heard Welsh ask from somewhere beside her, though she hadn't noticed the Lieutenant's presence until now.

"They slept with the Germans." A voice replied, thick with a Dutch accent. Evelyn turned to see a local woman standing next to her, a look of grim satisfaction on her face.

Evelyn's stomach churned at the sight. It was clear that these women were being punished for fraternizing with the enemy, but she couldn't shake the thought that they may not have had a choice.

"They are lucky." Another voice added, this time from a man standing nearby. "The men who collaborated are being shot."

"Lucky?" Evelyn scoffed, her voice laced with disbelief. The idea that these women were fortunate to be alive, even as they were being publicly shamed and brutalized, was a bitter pill to swallow.

She forced herself to look away, her mind reeling from the ugliness of what she had just witnessed. The war had stripped away so much humanity, leaving only the raw, brutal instincts of survival and retribution.

Sudden cheering erupted once more, drawing Evelyn's attention back to the main street. A column of tanks had arrived, rolling through the village with Dutch women perched atop them, waving their flags triumphantly. The parade of military might contrasted sharply with the violence they had just witnessed, a stark reminder of the complex and contradictory nature of war.

As the celebration continued, the paratroopers were eventually told to find a place to rest for the night. Evelyn found herself in a quiet corner of a field, her back against a stack of hay as she tried to relax. The sounds of the village faded into the background, replaced by the gentle chirping of birds and the rustling of leaves in the breeze. It was a moment of peace, but one that she knew wouldn't last.

Evelyn closed her eyes, hoping to find some rest, but her mind refused to quiet down. The images of the day replayed in her head, the cheering crowd, the women being tortured, Floyd kissing another woman. It was all too much.

She heard footsteps approaching and knew instinctively who it was. The familiar scent of tobacco and the sound of boots on straw confirmed it.

"Dimples." A voice called softly, shaking her shoulder lightly.

She opened her eyes to find Floyd Talbert crouched next to her, his face close to hers. His expression was gentle, concerned even, as he looked into her eyes.

"Mhm?" She mumbled, shifting slightly to find a more comfortable position.

"Are you alright?" Floyd's tone was sincere, his concern evident.

"Swell." Evelyn replied, though there was no conviction in her voice. She paused, gathering her thoughts before speaking again. "What if they were forced to, Floyd? What if they didn't have a choice?"

Floyd sighed heavily, clearly affected by her words. He settled down next to her, his back against the hay as he tried to find the right response.

"I know." He mumbled, his voice low. He seemed unsure of what else to say, so he simply reached out and wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her close. Evelyn let her head rest on his shoulder, her mind still racing.

"It's not fair, Floyd." She spoke quietly as she stared forward, trying to process what she had seen.

"I know, I know." He replied, her words weighing heavy.

"I saw you kissing that woman." She whispered, her voice barely audible. She felt him tense at her words before his hand began to gently stroke her side, trying to comfort her.

"Did you?" Floyd asked, his brows furrowing as he realized how much she had seen. "It didn't mean anything."

Evelyn sighed, her eyes closing as she tried to push the hurt away. "None of the women ever mean anything to you, Floyd."

His silence was all the confirmation she needed. Floyd's reputation with women was well-known, but hearing it said so plainly, especially from Evelyn, struck him deeply. He realized in that moment how his actions, which he had always dismissed as harmless fun, had hurt someone he genuinely cared about.

As Evelyn's breathing grew heavy, a sign that she had finally drifted off to sleep, Floyd couldn't help but feel a pang of regret. He lowered his head back against the hay, closing his eyes as he let the exhaustion of the day wash over him.

For the first time in a long while, Floyd Talbert felt the weight of his choices bearing down on him. And for Evelyn, sleep was a brief escape from the harsh realities of war, if only for a few hours.

Chapter Text

The soldiers were perched atop the large tanks, which rumbled slowly down the narrow road, flanked by a vibrant field of flowers. The late afternoon sun cast long shadows across the ground, the scenery a stark contrast to the grim realities of war. The tanks' steady progress offered a brief respite from the tension that had gripped them for days.

Evelyn had woken up at Floyd's side, the night they spent next to each other playing through her mind before she had quickly left, not wanting to delve further into whatever had gone on.

"Vincent Van Gogh was born in Nuenen!" Webster's voice cut through the relative quiet, his tone almost cheerful despite the circumstances.

"Yeah. So what?" Cobb grumbled, clearly unimpressed by Webster's attempt to lighten the mood.

"Sure teach you a lot of useful stuff at Harvard." Hoobler shouted over the roar of the tanks, throwing Webster a knowing smile. Webster chuckled in return, momentarily distracted from the impending danger.

Evelyn, seated near the edge of the tank, gazed ahead with a faraway look in her eyes, but something on the side of the road caught her attention. Her focus shifted sharply to a lone woman standing there, cradling a baby in her arms. The woman's hair was unevenly cut, her feet bare and bruised from walking on the rough gravel. The sight of her standing there, so exposed and vulnerable, tugged at something deep within Evelyn.

Without thinking twice, Evelyn reached for a small box of supplies she had tucked away. "Mellet!" She called out, her voice firm yet urgent. She tossed the box toward a soldier walking alongside the tanks. He caught it with a practiced ease, then swiftly handed it to the woman. Evelyn managed a small, sympathetic smile as they drove past, though she knew in her heart that it was unlikely to be returned. The woman's hollow eyes reflected too much pain, too much loss.

The tanks eventually came to a stop as the village came into view.

"Hey, get a load of General Patton!" Hoobler's voice drew Evelyn back to the present. She looked up just in time to see a figure striding boldly into the road. "Makes quite a target, doesn't he?"

Before anyone could react, Bull's voice cut through the air. "Lieutenant!" He shouted, his voice edged with urgency. But his warning came too late. A single gunshot rang out, sharp and deafening, followed by the sickening thud of a body hitting the ground. The soldier who had been up front collapsed instantly, his body form crumpling under the weight of his gear as he gripped onto his neck.

"Sniper!" Someone yelled, and chaos erupted. Evelyn, driven by instinct honed through countless battles, leapt off the tank and dived into the nearest ditch. The earth shook with the force of explosions as the once peaceful road transformed into a battlefield.

Breathing heavily, Evelyn quickly assessed her surroundings. Gunfire crackled like a deadly firework show, and the acrid smell of smoke filled the air. She glanced over to see Bull, his face grim and set, beckoning her forward. Without hesitation, she hauled herself out of the ditch and sprinted across the open field. The ground was uneven beneath her feet, but she kept running, her senses on high alert for any sign of danger.

They reached the relative safety of a building, huddling against its rough stone walls. The soldiers moved quietly, their eyes scanning for any sign of the enemy. Evelyn's heart pounded in her chest, the adrenaline coursing through her veins, but her mind remained focused. Every decision, every movement, could mean the difference between life and death.

"Mary, go look for any movement." Bull whispered, his voice barely audible over the distant gunfire. Evelyn nodded, her expression resolute. She moved forward with calculated precision, using the large pillars of the house as cover. Her rifle was an extension of herself, her fingers steady as she brought it up to her shoulder.

She peered through the scope, her breath slowing as she concentrated. The village seemed eerily quiet, the only movement the flickering shadows cast by the setting sun. But then she saw it, a flash of metal hidden among the dense bushes. Her heart skipped a beat as she realized what it was: a Tiger tank, its formidable gun aimed straight at them.

Quickly, Evelyn turned back to Bull, her hands signaling the discovery. "Tank over there." she gestured emphatically, her expression a mixture of urgency and dread.

Bull acknowledged her with a grim nod, understanding the gravity of the situation. He turned to Johnny, instructing him to warn their own tanks about the impending threat. Evelyn's eyes flicked back to the Tiger, her muscles tensing as she watched the massive machine rumble forward, its treads crushing the earth beneath it.

Despite Johnny's warning, the Dutch tanks continued their advance, unaware of the danger that lay ahead. Evelyn gritted her teeth, bracing herself for what she knew was coming. The Tiger fired, and the explosion that followed was deafening. The force of it sent her sprawling to the left, her body slamming into the brick wall behind her. Dust and debris filled the air, stinging her eyes and coating her skin.

"Fall back!" Bull's voice cut through the haze, and Evelyn scrambled to her feet, her ears ringing from the blast. She sprinted alongside the pillars, her legs burning with exertion. The sound of bullets whizzing past spurred her on, each one a reminder of how close death was.

Bull was waiting for her at the edge of the building, his face etched with concern. "You alright?" He asked, his voice taut with worry. Evelyn nodded, though the world around her felt slightly off-kilter. Before she could respond, bullets began tearing into the ground at their feet, forcing them to run again.

Evelyn kept her head down, focusing on each step, each breath, as they made their way behind another building. She nearly collided with Guarnere, who was already in position, his rifle at the ready.

"Mary! Think you can get 'em?" Guarnere asked, nodding toward the enemy machine gunner hidden in the window. Evelyn raised her rifle, but the angle was wrong; the gunner was too well-protected.

"I can't from this angle, he's hidden behind the wall!" She shouted back, her frustration evident. She quickly scanned the area for another vantage point, but there was no time.

A decision was quickly made to launch a grenade into the window. The explosion shattered the frame, sending a shower of bricks and debris onto the street below. The temporary victory was short-lived, as Bill's voice rang out, "Fall back!" The group began retreating, but Evelyn stayed behind, her rifle trained on the street, eyes scanning for any signs of the enemy.

"We are pulling back, over! We are pulling back!" George's voice crackled through the radio as he relayed the retreat order. Bill grabbed Evelyn by the arm, dragging her backward just as another explosion rocked the building they had been hiding behind. The force of it knocked her to the ground, her breath coming in ragged gasps as she struggled to regain her footing.

"Mary! Go, go, go!" Lip's voice was in her ear, his hands steadying her as she staggered to her feet. Dust caked her skin, mingling with the blood slowly seeping from a small cut on her cheek. She barely registered the sting as she focused on putting one foot in front of the other, following Bill's lead as they navigated the rubble-strewn street.

They were both sprinting toward a large barn door where Don and Skip were struggling to pull something out into the road. "What the hell are you doing?" Bill demanded, his voice laced with confusion.

"Help us!" Don barked back, his tone leaving no room for argument. Evelyn didn't hesitate, rushing forward to assist in dragging the makeshift stretcher. Buck was quickly placed on it, his face contorted in pain as he clung to the top of it, his uniform becoming caked in blood, reminding Evelyn of her uniform on D-day.

The three men hauled him along, while Evelyn hung back, her rifle poised to cover their retreat. Every nerve in her body was on high alert, ready to react at the slightest sign of danger. They reached the truck, and she helped them lift Buck inside, his breathing labored but steady.

"One bullet, four holes, eh?" Bill quipped, trying to lighten the mood as they secured Buck in the truck.

"Yeah, it's almost a miracle." Lip added, though his voice lacked any real conviction.

"Don't think you know where Bull is, huh?" Guarnere asked, his voice tinged with concern as they looked around, the chaos of battle still ringing in their ears.

Evelyn's stomach twisted with guilt as she realized she had lost track of Bull in the heat of the moment. He was right there with her, and she questioned how she could have lost him. But there was no time to dwell on it. They needed to move, and fast.

Evelyn, Bill, and Johnny climbed into the truck with Webster, the engine roaring to life as it sped away from the battlefield. The drive was silent, the weight of what they had just endured pressing down on them like a heavy blanket. Evelyn leaned back against the rough wood, her eyes closed as exhaustion settled into her bones. She could still feel the grit of dust on her skin, the sting of the cut on her cheek a constant reminder of how close she had come to not making it out.

The truck jolted to a stop at the outpost, and the soldiers disembarked, their movements slow and weary. Evelyn practically stumbled as she hit the ground, her legs barely supporting her. She lowered herself onto the grass, her hands trembling as she held her rifle close. The events of the day replayed in her mind, the images of death and destruction seared into her memory.

"Mary!" A voice called out to her, breaking through the fog in her mind. She looked up to see Anna approaching, her face etched with concern. "Oh, Mary..."

Anna's tone was gentle, almost motherly, as she knelt beside Evelyn. The sight of her friend's dust-caked face, her body covered in grime and blood, made Anna's heart ache. Evelyn's lip quivered slightly as she clung to her rifle, her eyes wide but unfocused.

"Come on, let's get you cleaned up," Anna said softly, helping Evelyn to her feet. She led her over to a small truck where water cans were stored. Gently, she poured water over Evelyn's face, washing away the dirt and blood. The cool liquid was a relief against her skin, but Evelyn remained silent, her mind still trapped in the horrors of the day.

A sudden cough caught their attention, and they turned to see Eugene standing there, his expression one of quiet concern. "Mary, Sergeant Lipton mentioned something about your cheek. Can I take a look?" He asked, his tone kind and patient. Evelyn nodded mutely, unable to find her voice.

As Anna stepped aside, Gene knelt next to Evelyn, carefully examining the small cut on her cheek. "It's not too bad. Just keep an eye on it in case it gets infected from all the dust," he advised, placing a plaster over the wound. He noticed her distant stare, the way she seemed to be looking right through him, and he decided not to press her further. Instead, he offered her a small, understanding smile before standing up and walking away.

Evelyn stayed where she was, biting down on her nails as she tried to quell the rising nausea in her stomach. The distant sound of explosions caught her attention, and she looked up to see flashes of light and fireballs erupting in the distance, toward Eindhoven. The war never seemed to end, even in the dead of night. The constant noise, the unrelenting violence, it was enough to break anyone's spirit.

She pulled her knees to her chest, resting her forehead on them as she closed her eyes. Exhaustion washed over her in waves, and despite the chaos around her, sleep gradually claimed her.

—

Evelyn woke abruptly, the sound of chatter and movement pulling her from her restless sleep. She lifted her head slowly, wincing as her neck protested the movement. Rubbing at the sore spot, she pushed herself to her feet, blinking away the remnants of sleep.

"Bull!" She exclaimed, relief flooding her as she saw him standing a few feet away, a wide smile on his face.

"Nice to see you, Mary," He said warmly, giving her a light pat on the shoulder. She smiled back, feeling a small measure of comfort at the sight of him unharmed. Both Johnny and Bill were nearby, their expressions softening as they watched the reunion.

"Alright, mount up! Let's move out!" Lip's voice rang out from atop a small hill, and the soldiers quickly began to organize themselves, climbing into the large trucks with practiced efficiency. Evelyn moved with the others, her body operating on autopilot as she climbed into the truck.

As the engine roared to life once more, she leaned her head against the side of the truck, her eyes closing as the exhaustion from the last few days caught up with her. The truck began to move, the landscape of Eindhoven slowly fading into the background as they drove away. The battles they had fought, the lives they had lost, would stay with them forever, etched into their memories like scars.

But for now, they had to keep moving.

Chapter Text

The barn was dark and cold, a world apart from the sharp edges of the battlefield outside. Easy had travelled further into Holland, the war raging on as duty continuously called. It was quiet here, though the silence was only a thin veneer over the constant low hum of tension, the sense of a storm just on the horizon. The soldiers inside kept their voices low as they leaned over a makeshift table, muttering to one another in hushed tones. In one corner, a couple of men were tending to their weapons; in another, a small group sat together, barely illuminated by the soft, flickering glow of a lantern.

Evelyn and Anna stepped through the creaking wooden door, their senses immediately overwhelmed by the familiar scent of hay, old oil, and the faint metallic tang that seemed to cling to every part of war. Evelyn took in the scene in one long, sweeping glance, letting her eyes rest momentarily on each of the small groups scattered around the barn. There was George at a table with Winters, their faces bathed in the dim glow that made them look older than they were. Shadows clung to the contours of their cheeks and brows, highlighting the lines that the war had etched into them, lines that made them look like they'd lived lifetimes since they first took up arms.

"Over here, come on." Anna whispered, gently nudging Evelyn towards the table where George and Winters sat. Evelyn's lips quirked up slightly as she noticed Anna's delighted grin; she still hadn't quite adjusted to her friend's insistence on giving her hair a bit of a makeover. Evelyn had spent the better part of the afternoon trying to dismiss Anna's attempts to tame her wild hair, but the taller girl had insisted. And now, Evelyn's normally tangled blonde plats were swept up into a small bun, secured with the handful of bobby pins Anna had offered as a gift, rare treasures in times like these. The loose strands that had inevitably escaped framed her face, softening the angles that the stress of battle had sharpened.

Evelyn still felt self-conscious about the new style, but seeing the pride in Anna's smile softened her discomfort. There was a gentle warmth there, a reminder of a world outside of uniforms and helmets, a life she might have once known.

They approached the table, easing into the chairs, their bodies finding a momentary respite from the fatigue that gnawed at them. Winters looked up, his eyes tired yet focused, and gave them a slight nod. George raised an eyebrow, a teasing glint in his gaze as he took in Evelyn's new look.

"Well, well. Look at you, Mary." George remarked, feigning surprise as he put a hand on his heart. "Did you finally decide to embrace some wartime glamour?"

Anna chuckled softly, leaning in to stage-whisper to the group, "Trust me, it took a lot of convincing. She fought me every step of the way."

Evelyn rolled her eyes, a small smile tugging at her lips despite herself. "I didn't fight. I simply... preferred the rugged look." She cast a playful glare at Anna, who grinned back, unrepentant.

"She's hiding it, but she liked it," Anna chimed in, nudging Evelyn with her elbow. "You look beautiful, Evelyn. Not that you didn't already, of course." Anna's voice softened slightly, and Evelyn felt a rush of warmth as she recalled Anna saying those same words back in their quarters, that brief moment of shared vulnerability before they'd headed out.

A slight blush rose to Evelyn's cheeks as she cleared her throat. "Enough, or you'll embarrass me." She muttered, though her voice held more fondness than reproach.

"Embarrassment is the least of our worries tonight." Winters interjected with a wry smile, his voice low yet carrying a subtle gravity that refocused the group's attention. He glanced at the group of replacements gathered a few tables over. The new guys had that look – the one where eagerness mingled with nerves, a few laughs poorly masking the tension in their shoulders.

Floyd suddenly appeared between Evelyn and Winters, his expression one of mild amusement as he addressed the group. "New guys giving the replacements the what-for and why-is." He remarked, gesturing towards the dog that had appeared at Evelyn's side, nuzzling against her leg. "I swear one of them has never shaved."

"Yeah, kids." Winters murmured, though his tone carried the weight of unspoken thoughts. The reality of those words hung heavy in the air. They were all barely adults, but these replacements were younger still, wide-eyed boys tossed into the chaos, as green as the leaves they'd marched past on their way here.

"How old do you think?" Evelyn's voice was barely above a whisper as she looked toward the new recruits, her hand unconsciously reaching down to scratch the dog that had wandered up to her side. The animal nuzzled against her leg, a small, warm comfort amidst the coldness of war.

Floyd, sitting beside her, answered without missing a beat. "Eighteen, maybe nineteen." His tone was neutral, but there was an undercurrent of something deeper. They'd all been young once, back when the war was just a rumor and a gun was something they barely knew how to hold. Now, it was an extension of themselves.

Evelyn's gaze lingered on Floyd, then shifted back to the new recruits. She took a breath, her voice softer as she finally spoke, "I'm nineteen."

A brief silence fell over the group, the weight of her words settling in as her admission hung in the air. Floyd's eyes widened slightly, the flicker of surprise clear. He shared a glance with Winters, who raised his brows in a silent question.

"You're nineteen?" Winters asked, a faint trace of disbelief in his tone as he looked at Evelyn. She'd always carried herself with such a calm, composed demeanor that her youth had been easy to overlook. "I figured you were... well, older."

She gave a small shrug, a self-deprecating smile crossing her face. "December '25. Got a brother born in '23 who's fighting, too."

"A family of soldiers, then?" George asked, his tone light though his gaze held a quiet understanding.

"Yeah. My dad fought in the Great War. Guess it just..." She trailed off, searching for the words. "Runs in the blood."

The mention of her brother brought a flicker of pride and sorrow to her face, a mix that was all too familiar to the others at the table. Everyone here had family – or had had family – people they thought of as they lay awake at night, or in the quiet moments between orders, wondering if they were safe, hoping they'd see them again.

"So, never had a drink?" George's voice cut through the silence, a sly grin breaking the somber mood. He dangled a small flask in front of her, winking. "I mean, if you're nineteen and all."

Evelyn laughed, the sound more genuine than she'd expected. "Nope, never." She admitted, raising an eyebrow at him. "Guess if I get shot, I'll die sober."

The dry humor in her voice drew a round of laughter from the group, a brief moment of levity in an otherwise bleak night. George laughed loudest, leaning back in his chair, shaking his head.

"Well, that's just a waste of good youth," he teased. "No point fighting if you can't enjoy a little taste now and then."

Floyd smirked, nodding toward her, "Let me know if you ever change your mind. Maybe we'll get you to try a sip before this mess is over."

Evelyn rolled her eyes, though a smile tugged at her lips. "Thanks, but I think I'll pass. Don't want to risk waking up with a headache worse than anything the battlefield's got in store."

The group chuckled again, and for a moment, the tension seemed to lift, the barn filled with laughter and warm camaraderie.

"This is a hell of a dog, Tab." George remarked, his hand now joining Evelyn's in stroking the dog's fur, the animal's presence a comforting distraction in an otherwise somber environment.

"Thank you." Floyd responded, a touch of pride in his voice as he picked up a large stick and tossed it across the barn. The dog bounded after it, its tail wagging furiously as it retrieved the stick, bringing it back to Tab. "There you go."

"What did you call it?" Evelyn asked, her eyes following the dog's joyful movements.

"Trigger." Tab announced with a grin, watching as the dog pranced around the room, clearly enjoying the attention it was getting.

"That's good. I like that. Trigger." George echoed, nodding in approval as he munched on a small cracker, his eyes still following the dog.

"You like German Shepherds, then?" Evelyn inquired, her gaze shifting to Tab, who was still focused on the dog.

"Mhm." Tab nodded, his eyes briefly meeting hers before darting back to the dog. There was something calming about watching the animal, its innocent joy a stark contrast to the harshness of their surroundings.

"My neighbors back in Boston had one when I was growing up." Evelyn began, her voice taking on a nostalgic tone. "Called it Lucky. Said it brought them all the luck in the world." The memory was a bittersweet one, a fragment of a life that now seemed impossibly distant.

"Now that's just tacky." George joked, his voice light as he tried to bring a bit of humor to the conversation. Evelyn let out a small chuckle, the sound surprising her. It felt good to laugh, even if it was just for a moment.

The table fell into a comfortable silence, as they had run out of conversation. They didn't need to fill the quiet with words; the unspoken bond between them was enough.

"Got anything on this?" Floyd asked, breaking the quiet as he gestured towards the large radio sitting on the table, its static-filled crackle the only sound in the room.

"No, it's all quiet." George responded, his voice tinged with frustration. The lack of information was almost as maddening as the constant noise of battle.

As they all sat there, the silence between them shifted from an oppressive weight to something more comfortable, a shared understanding passing between them. They didn't need to fill the quiet with words; they'd all seen too much, felt too much, and in the end, the bond between them spoke louder than any conversation could.

Just then, the door slammed open, the sudden noise jolting everyone to attention. A soldier burst into the room, his face pale with fear and urgency. "We got penetration! Alley's hurt!" He shouted, his voice trembling as he struggled to catch his breath.

Evelyn's heart skipped a beat as she rose from her seat, her body moving on instinct as she followed the others towards the injured man being carried in. Blood soaked his uniform, his face contorted in pain as they laid him down on the makeshift table.

"Alright, get him on the table!" Tab ordered, his voice authoritative as he took charge of the situation. The barn, which had been a place of relative calm just moments before, was now filled with the frantic energy of a battlefield.

"Alley, you're gonna be okay." Another soldier tried to reassure the wounded man, his voice wavering with uncertainty.

"Get Doc Roe." Winters commanded, his voice steady despite the chaos unfolding around him. A soldier quickly ran out the door, his footsteps echoing through the barn as he went to fetch the medic.

Evelyn moved to the side of the table, her eyes scanning the man's body as she assessed the extent of his injuries. The blood was seeping out of his wound at an alarming rate, and she knew they didn't have much time.

"Is the shrapnel in there?" She asked, her voice calm and controlled despite the adrenaline pumping through her veins.

"Yeah." Liebgott replied, his voice tight with anxiety as he watched the blood pooling on the table. Evelyn sighed, her mind racing as she tried to come up with a plan. She glanced up at Anna, who was standing on the other side of the table, her eyes wide with fear. Evelyn gave her a small, reassuring nod, silently communicating that they could handle this.

"Anybody got any tweezers?" Evelyn asked, her voice carrying across the room. The question was met with silence, the soldiers around her exchanging helpless looks. She shook her head, a wry smile tugging at her lips. "I'll take that as a no."

In a flash of inspiration, Evelyn reached up to her hair and pulled out one of the bobby pins holding her bun in place. It wasn't much, but it would have to do. The pin felt small and fragile in her hand, a stark contrast to the gravity of the situation.

"You're not going to-" One of the soldiers began, but his words trailed off as he watched in stunned silence. The other men gathered around her were taken aback, their eyes wide as they watched Evelyn lean over the wounded man, the makeshift tool in her hand.

She focused intently on the wound, using the dim light to guide her as she carefully inserted the pin into the gaping hole.

The task required every ounce of her concentration. Her hands were steady, but her mind raced with thoughts of the man's life hanging in the balance. She had been through so much already, seen so much bloodshed and pain, but every time it was a fresh wound to her soul. This war demanded more from her than she ever thought she could give, yet here she was, doing whatever she could to save a life.

She heard the orders being barked around her, soldiers grabbing their gear and heading out, but she remained focused on the task at hand. Her world had narrowed to the man on the table and the tiny piece of shrapnel lodged in his flesh.

"Get the boots off and elevate the leg!" Eugene's voice cut through the haze, and Evelyn looked up to see him standing beside her, his eyes full of concern. He handed her a small piece of metal, actual tweezers, much more suitable for the job.

"Thanks." She murmured, dropping the, now, bloody pin and grabbing the tweezers. With renewed determination, she turned back to the man on the table. The shrapnel was deep, but she could see it now, just beneath the surface. She worked quickly, carefully, every movement precise as she extracted the metal fragment.

The man winced in pain, his body tensing as he tried to hold still. Two soldiers held him down, their faces grim as they watched Evelyn work. She could feel the pressure of their eyes on her, the weight of their hopes and fears resting on her shoulders.

Finally, she pulled the shrapnel free, dropping it onto the table with a metallic clink. She looked up, her eyes meeting Doc Roe's. There was a mixture of admiration and concern in his gaze, a silent acknowledgment of what she had just done.

"Head out with the squad, I'm alright here." Doc Roe's voice was firm, his tone leaving no room for argument. Evelyn nodded, quickly wiping her hands on a rag before grabbing her gun and helmet. Her body was running on pure adrenaline now, her exhaustion forgotten in the face of the fight ahead.

As she sprinted after the small group of soldiers, her heart pounded in her chest, a fierce determination burning in her eyes. The war had taken so much from her, her youth, her innocence, her peace of mind. But it hadn't taken her will to fight, her drive to protect those around her.

Gene watched her go, a silent prayer on his lips for whoever would find themselves at the end of her rifle. This war had created monsters and heroes alike, and in that moment, he knew she was both. She was a force to be reckoned with, a warrior forged in the fires of battle, and God help anyone who stood in her way.

Chapter Text

The evening sun had dipped low, casting long shadows across the undulating terrain of Belgium as Easy Company moved cautiously through the tall, golden grass. The weight of war hung heavily over the soldiers, a constant, oppressive force that had become as familiar as the helmets on their heads. Evelyn, her heart pounding in her chest, was crouched low, trying to keep pace with Floyd, who moved like a shadow just ahead of her. The grass, tall and dry, brushed against her cheeks, a scratchy reminder of the unforgiving land they traversed. The air was thick with the scent of earth and fear, the latter an invisible cloud that clung to them all.

Suddenly, the eerie stillness was shattered by the rapid, staccato burst of machine gunfire. The sound was deafening, tearing through the air with a ferocity that made Evelyn's blood run cold. Instinctively, every man and woman dropped into the grass, seeking what little cover it offered. Evelyn's body hit the ground hard, her chest heaving as she tried to catch her breath. She felt herself fall against Floyd's back, the solidity of his body grounding her in the chaos.

"What are they shooting at? What's down that way?" The voice belonged to Tab, and it was laced with the sharp edge of tension. He had dropped to the ground just ahead of her and was now peering through the grass toward their commanding officer.

"Headquarters." Came the whispered reply from Captain Dick Winters, his voice steady but low, a calming presence amid the storm of uncertainty. He was positioned directly in front of Tab, his eyes scanning the horizon. "But that's three miles away. Why would they give away their position?"

Floyd, ever quick with a quip even in the direst of situations, muttered, "Not as smart as me and you?" There was a hint of forced levity in his tone, a feeble attempt to keep the fear at bay. Under different circumstances, Evelyn might have laughed at his remark, but now, all she could manage was a tight, grim smile.

Winters, ever the leader, weighed their options quickly, his mind already working out the next move. "I'll check it out anyway. Hold here, wait for my signal." He ordered, his voice carrying the authority of command, tempered by the understanding that these were his men, and woman, and their lives depended on his decisions.

He turned slightly, his gaze locking onto Evelyn, who was lying beside him, her breath quick and shallow. "White." He called out, his voice drawing her attention immediately.

"Yes, Sir." Evelyn's response was immediate, the words leaving her mouth before she had time to consider them. She pushed herself up just enough to meet Winters' gaze, her eyes wide and alert.

"Follow me. I'll need you to use your scope." Winters' tone left no room for doubt or hesitation. He needed her skills, and she nodded in acknowledgment, her resolve hardening as she prepared to move.

The two moved with practiced efficiency, sliding up the hill in a low crawl, their bodies pressed close to the earth. The grass provided some cover, but not enough to make her feel entirely safe. Each movement was calculated, measured, and the adrenaline coursing through her veins sharpened her focus. When they reached the top of the hill, they slung themselves over the crest, their feet finding purchase on the gravel road that cut through the landscape like a scar.

Winters motioned for her to move forward, his hand a quick, silent signal. They darted across the road, their boots crunching against the gravel in a sound that seemed too loud in the oppressive silence that had fallen over the area. Once across, they threw themselves back into the lower part of the hill, taking a moment to steady their breathing and assess the situation.

"Look, now." Winters instructed, his voice barely above a whisper, but carrying the weight of an order.

Evelyn nodded again, pulling out her rifle and settling into a prone position. She pressed her cheek against the stock, the cool metal familiar against her skin as she aligned her eye with the scope. The world narrowed to a small, circular view, the clarity of the scope bringing distant shapes into sharp focus. Her breath slowed, and her heartbeat seemed to echo in her ears as she scanned the area Winters had indicated.

Through the scope, she could see them, a large group of German soldiers clustered around an MG42, the barrel spitting out death at regular intervals. The men were focused on their task, their faces set in grim determination as they continued to fire in the direction of the Allied lines. The gun's rhythmic roar sent a shiver down Evelyn's spine, but she kept her aim steady.

"Group of them there, maybe twenty?" She whispered, her voice barely audible as she relayed the information to Winters. She turned slightly, her gaze meeting his. His face remained impassive, but she could see the wheels turning in his mind, assessing the situation, calculating their next move.

"Wait here, keep watch." Winters instructed, his tone still calm, though there was an urgency in his eyes. He didn't wait for a response, trusting that she would do as he said. Evelyn watched as he quickly crawled back up the hill, his movements fluid and purposeful. He signaled to the men below, his hand gestures precise, relaying the situation to them without uttering a word.

Evelyn's eyes returned to the scope, her focus intense as she watched the Germans. In the corner of her eye, she could see her comrades sliding down the hill on her side, their movements careful and deliberate. She felt the tension in her muscles as she watched one of the German soldiers glance in their direction, his gaze sweeping over the landscape. Her heart skipped a beat, and she quickly motioned for her men to freeze, holding her breath as she waited.

The German's eyes lingered for what felt like an eternity, scanning the area where they lay hidden. Evelyn's fingers tightened on her rifle, ready to act if necessary, but after a moment, the soldier turned away, his attention returning to the task at hand. She exhaled slowly, the tension easing slightly from her body, and signaled for her comrades to continue crossing.

They moved quickly, their bodies low to the ground as they followed her silent commands. One by one, they fell in beside her, their presence a reassuring weight as they slid down into the field at the bottom of the hill. Evelyn followed, her heart still racing, but her mind clear and focused. Her comrades positioned their MG at the spot she had just vacated, ready to provide cover if necessary.

"This is our fallback position." Winters announced as he rejoined them, his voice calm and authoritative. "Mortars, deploy here. First squad, on me. Go!"

The command was clear, and without hesitation, the soldiers sprang into action. Winters moved first, his body bent low as he sprinted forward, the rest of the company following closely behind, their movements synchronized like a well-rehearsed drill. The grass swayed around them, the tall stalks brushing against their uniforms as they advanced.

The sudden, harsh sound of German voices shouting orders caused them to freeze in place. The language was harsh, guttural, and Evelyn understood every word. They were joking around, completely oblivious to the danger that lied behind them. Winters held up a hand, signaling them to halt, his eyes scanning the area for the source of the noise. He climbed back up the hill, moving with a stealthy grace that belied his size, and peered over at the enemy position.

A moment later, he turned back, signaling for them to follow. His movements were swift and sure as he led them onto the gravel road, positioning himself in a small dip that offered some cover. The rest of the soldiers mirrored his movements, each one sliding into a position that provided the best possible vantage point.

Winters moved down the line, his voice low but clear as he gave orders to each man. "You, take the one on the left. You, the one in the middle. White, get the leftovers." His words were precise, leaving no room for doubt. Evelyn shifted slightly, finding a more comfortable position as she adjusted her aim. The cold metal of the rifle felt steady in her hands, a familiar tool that had saved her life more times than she cared to count.

"Wait for my signal!" Winters whisper-yelled, his voice carrying just enough to be heard by the men around him.

Time seemed to stretch into infinity as they waited, each soldier holding their breath, their fingers poised on the triggers. Evelyn's eyes were locked onto the Germans through her scope, her body tense and ready. The world around her faded into the background, leaving only the enemy in her sights.

And then, the signal came. Winters fired the first shot, the crack of the rifle splitting the air like a thunderclap. The sound was immediately followed by a hail of gunfire, the rest of the company unleashing a coordinated volley that tore through the German ranks. The air was filled with the deafening roar of gunfire, the sharp, metallic scent of gunpowder mingling with the earthy smell of the field.

Evelyn's rifle kicked against her shoulder with each shot, the recoil a familiar jolt that she barely registered. Her focus was absolute, her aim deadly as she picked off the soldiers left standing. Each shot was precise, the sound of the enemy hitting the ground a distant thud that barely registered in her consciousness. She moved with practiced efficiency, reloading her rifle in smooth, swift motions before taking aim once more.

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"Fall back!" Winters' voice cut through the chaos, the order carrying the urgency of the situation.

Without hesitation, the company rose from their positions and threw themselves back down the hill, their bodies moving with the instinct of survival. The world around them exploded into chaos as the Germans returned fire, bullets whizzing past them, dangerously close. Evelyn felt a bullet breeze past her, the sharp hiss of it tearing through the air a stark reminder of how close death was.

They reached the fallback position in record time, their movements synchronized despite the chaos. Winters was already shouting orders, his voice a beacon of calm in the storm. Evelyn didn't need to be told twice, she quickly reloaded her rifle, the motion automatic, and took her aim once more. Her eyes locked onto the German soldiers, her mind going into a state of detached focus.

She pulled the trigger, watching as one of the Germans fell, the satisfaction of a clean shot briefly crossing her features. But there was no time to dwell on it, she continued firing, her aim precise, her focus unbreakable.

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The gunfire eventually slowed as the night grew on, but the tension remained thick in the air. The Germans were still out there, and every soldier in Easy Company knew it.

Morning came with a chill that seeped into their bones, the light of dawn casting long shadows across the battlefield. Evelyn watched as Floyd crawled over to Winters, the two men exchanging quiet words before returning to the ditch where the rest of the company waited.

"Talbert, you'll take ten men along the dyke. Peacock, you'll take ten men along the left flank. I'll take ten up the middle, so follow me." Winters ordered, his voice steady as he divided the company into three groups. His gaze then shifted to Evelyn, who was positioned next to Floyd. "Mary, I'll need you right behind me to take out any MGs."

Evelyn nodded, her expression serious as she absorbed the order. She had earned Winters' trust with her sharpshooting skills, and she wasn't about to let him down. The soldiers quickly moved into position, grabbing the men they needed and preparing for the next phase of the attack.

"Fix bayonets." Winters ordered, the sharp clicking sound of metal on metal following his command. Evelyn had already decided against attaching a bayonet to her rifle, knowing it would only hinder her precision shooting. She needed to remain nimble, her focus undistracted.

"Mary, stay close. The rest of you, go on the red smoke." Winters continued, his voice firm as he gave the final instructions.

The captain didn't waste any more time, he pulled the pin on a smoke grenade and tossed it into the field ahead. Without hesitation, Winters surged forward, bent low as he sprinted through the field. Evelyn was right behind him, her feet pounding against the earth as she kept pace with the captain.

The sound of rapid footsteps behind her informed the two that their platoon was in quick pursuit to assist them. The small hill came into view, and as they crested it, a group of German soldiers came into sight. Winters hesitated for a moment before he took the first shot, the sound of it echoing through the still morning air.

Evelyn dropped to the ground, using the tall grass for cover as she lined up her first shot. The Germans were caught off guard, their surprise evident in their frantic movements as they tried to regroup. Shot after shot rang out as she fired, the familiar rhythm of her rifle a steady beat in the chaos.

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The rest of the company joined the fray, the air filled with the sound of gunfire as they engaged the enemy. Evelyn's world narrowed to the scope of her rifle, each shot precise, each movement calculated. She reloaded quickly, her hands moving with practiced efficiency.

Suddenly a group of Krauts climbed over the distant hill, charging right for them

"It's a whole other company!" A soldier shouted, his voice filled with disbelief as the reality of their situation became clear. There were more Germans than they had anticipated, and they were better organized.

Explosions suddenly erupted in the field, the ground shaking violently as artillery rained down around them. The air was filled with the acrid smell of smoke and the sharp tang of burning grass. Evelyn's aim faltered as the ground trembled beneath her, but she quickly adjusted, her focus unbreakable.

"It's German artillery! Take cover!" A voice yelled, panic evident in the tone.

Evelyn pushed herself up, her body moving on instinct as she sprinted forward, her heart pounding in her chest. She slid down into the field, pressing her back against the earth in a desperate attempt to avoid the deadly barrage. The explosions were deafening, the ground shaking with each impact.

When the artillery finally ceased, the silence that followed was almost as jarring as the noise that had preceded it. Evelyn let out a shaky breath, her body still tense as she slowly sat up, her eyes scanning the battlefield. The Germans were motionless, many of them lying dead or dying in the field.

As she stared at the carnage, someone moved to her side. Evelyn looked up, squinting against the light as she met Floyd's gaze. His face was dirty, streaked with sweat and grime, but there was a familiar, teasing smile on his lips.

"So, no MGs, huh?" He joked, his tone light despite the horrors they had just witnessed. He knelt beside her, brushing a loose strand of hair out of her face. Her hair had fallen from its messy bun during the chaos, and now it hung limply around her face. Floyd noticed the sunken look in her eyes, the way they refused to meet his.

Evelyn didn't respond to his joke, her gaze still locked on the bodies strewn across the field. The sight was haunting, the reality of war staring back at her in the lifeless eyes of the enemy. She felt detached, numb, as if the horrors of the battlefield were happening in a distant dream.

Floyd's expression softened, his teasing tone replaced with concern. "You've got blood on your hands." He said gently, taking her hands in his. The blood was dry, caked onto her skin, and he held them up in front of her face to bring her back to the present.

"Must be Alley's." She mumbled, her voice quiet and distant. She remembered tending to Alley's wounds earlier, pulling shrapnel from his deep wound. The memory was fuzzy, blurred by the adrenaline that had fueled her actions.

Floyd's brows furrowed as he looked at her, concern etched into his features. He could see the exhaustion in her eyes, the way she was struggling to stay connected to the world around her. "Where did you learn to remove shrapnel?" He asked, trying to keep her talking, to pull her back from the edge.

"Camp Davis." She replied, her voice still distant. "They taught us everything as if we were going into the war alone." The training had been intense, grueling even, but it had prepared her for moments like this, moments when she had to act, to save a life, despite the chaos around her.

Floyd nodded, still holding her hands as he tried to scrub off the blood. "Sounds like you were put through hell there." He said, his voice soft, understanding.

Evelyn didn't respond, her attention focused on the blood that still clung to her skin. She tried to scratch it off, her fingers trembling with frustration as it refused to come away. Floyd watched her for a moment before gently taking her hands again, his touch warm and grounding.

"Come on, let's get you cleaned up." He said, his tone gentle but firm.

He helped her to her feet, her legs unsteady beneath her as the adrenaline began to wear off. She watched as Floyd slung her rifle over his shoulder alongside his own before guiding her toward a small depression in the road where other soldiers were resting. The slump in the road provided some cover, a small reprieve from the horrors that surrounded them.

Floyd lowered her down onto the makeshift seat, pulling out his canteen as he knelt beside her. He unscrewed the cap, tipping the canteen over her hands and letting the cool water run over her skin. His fingers moved gently over hers, scrubbing away the dried blood with a care that was almost tender.

Evelyn sat silently, her mind slowly beginning to clear as the blood was washed away. The water ran red for a moment before it soaked into the dirt beneath them. She watched the water disappear into the earth, her thoughts drifting as she tried to process everything that had happened.

Floyd didn't say anything more, sensing that she needed the silence to collect herself. He continued to clean her hands, his presence a steadying force as she began to reclaim her sense of self. The battle was over for now, but the war was far from finished, and Evelyn knew she would need every bit of strength she had to face what was still to come.

As Floyd finished, he handed her the canteen, a silent offer of comfort. She took it gratefully, drinking deeply from the cool water before passing it back to him. She glanced at him, offering a small, tired smile, a gesture of thanks that spoke volumes in the quiet moment they shared.

Floyd smiled back, a warm, reassuring expression that told her she wasn't alone. They were all in this together, facing the horrors of war side by side. And in that shared struggle, there was a bond that no battle could break.

Chapter Text

German will be in italics.

—

Evelyn and Anna had quickly been ordered to head to the headquarters after the fight at the dyke against the Germans. As they walked through the door, they were immediately met with the sight of Captain Lewis Nixon stood behind his desk, his sharp eyes fixed on the two women before him. Both Evelyn and Anna had proven themselves time and again on the battlefield, but this mission was unlike anything they had been tasked with before. It required a different set of skills, ones that would test their resolve, their cunning, and their ability to become someone else entirely.

"Ladies." Nixon began, his voice steady but with an undercurrent of seriousness that immediately commanded attention. "I won't sugarcoat this. What I'm about to ask you to do is dangerous, even by the standards of this war. But it's also necessary. You'll be sent deep into enemy territory, to a party near the German border just off of the edge of Holland. The mission: eliminate two high-ranking German generals."

Anna shifted in her seat, her usually calm demeanor betraying a flicker of apprehension. Evelyn, who sat beside her, wore her usual stoic expression, but Nixon could see the questions in her eyes.

"The generals in question," Nixon continued, "are key players in the Nazi bombing program. They're responsible for the death and suffering of thousands, and if they're allowed to continue, they could derail our efforts on the front lines. Your mission is to ensure that they don't leave that party alive."

Nixon slid two photographs across the desk, black-and-white images of the generals, their faces etched with the kind of cruelty that only comes from wielding unchecked power. He gave them a moment to study the faces they would soon see up close.

"There will be no extraction team." He warned. "You'll be on your own once you enter Germany. Your only way out is to blend in with the civilians and make your way back across the border."

Evelyn and Anna exchanged a look. This mission was more dangerous than any they'd faced before, but the stakes were clear. The generals had to be stopped, and if they were the ones to do it, so be it.

On the night of their departure, just a day after their massacre of Kraut soldiers, the men of Easy Company were sent on a gruelling overnight mission, to rescue British soldiers hidden amongst German territory. The tension was palpable as the women watched them gear up and leave, their silhouettes disappearing into the misty night. Evelyn and Anna stayed behind, their minds already turning to the mission ahead. They knew that what awaited them in Germany required a different kind of strength, a cold, calculated resolve.

As soon as the men were gone, Nixon summoned the women to a secure briefing room. A map of the German border was spread out on the table, various points marked in red. The party was to take place in a small village just inside Germany, a location still under tight Nazi control.

"You'll be given false identities." Nixon said, handing them their cover documents. "Mary, you'll be 'Marie Schmidt,' a young widow from Berlin. Artemis, you'll be 'Greta Müller,' a displaced schoolteacher. You'll have to blend in flawlessly, so study these well."

Evelyn stared at the name on the paper: 'Marie Schmidt'. It felt foreign on her tongue, yet she knew she'd have to become this woman entirely if she wanted to survive. She'd be no longer Evelyn from Boston, mor Mary White, but Maria, a woman who had to charm and kill in the same breath.

The next few hours were a blur of preparation. The women memorized their new identities, practiced their German until it flowed as naturally as English, and learned everything they could about the generals they were to eliminate. There was no room for error; one slip, one misplaced word, and the mission would fail, costing them their lives and potentially many more.

The hour before their departure, Evelyn sat alone in front of a small mirror, the tin of makeup open before her. With careful, deliberate movements, she applied the powder to her face, watching as it faded any imperfection into her complexion, though she left her scar as it was, open and free. It had become part of who she was, a symbol of her willingness to survive, even if it meant killing relentlessly. When she was done, the face staring back at her was both familiar and foreign, her blonde hair brushed and smooth, unlike what it had been in the weeks leading up to this moment. She was Evelyn, but she was also Marie. The transformation was complete.

—

The journey into Germany was nerve-wracking. Disguised as German refugees who had been misplaced into Holland, the two women traveled with forged papers that identified them as citizens of the Third Reich. They crossed the border in the back of a truck, surrounded by civilians who had no idea of their true mission. Every checkpoint was a test, every glance from a German soldier a potential threat.

But their training held. The women maintained their cover, speaking only when necessary, their eyes lowered in feigned subservience. By the time they reached the village, they had become Marie and Greta completely, slipping into their roles with the ease of seasoned spies.

The party was held in a grand manor on the outskirts of the village, the kind of opulent estate that stood in stark contrast to the war-ravaged land around it. The manor was filled with Nazi officers, their uniforms crisp and immaculate, their laughter loud and coarse as they drank and celebrated far from the front lines.

Evelyn and Anna entered the manor as guests, their presence explained by their fabricated backstories. The room was a sea of military regalia and fine dresses, the air thick with the smell of cigars and perfume, warped together by the occasional flash of a camera to capture the moment. The generals they sought were easy to spot, their faces matching the photographs burned into their memories.

Evelyn zeroed in on her target: General Franz Dietrich, a tall man with a severe expression and a reputation for cruelty that had reached even the Allies. He was engaged in conversation with another officer, but Evelyn knew she'd have to bide her time. She waited, mingling with the guests, keeping one eye on the general as she sipped the glass of champagne handed to her by a passing waiter.

Anna, meanwhile, had her sights on General Otto Reinhardt, a stout man with a ruddy complexion and a boisterous laugh that grated on her nerves. She moved closer, listening in on his conversation, picking up on his flirtatious tone as he spoke to a group of women. Anna knew she could use this to her advantage.

The music in the room changed, the band striking up a waltz that sent couples to the dance floor. It was the perfect opportunity.

Evelyn approached General Dietrich with a demure smile, curtsying slightly as she introduced herself in flawless German. "General, may I have the honour of this dance?"

Dietrich, clearly pleased by the attention, offered her his hand. "Of course, Fräulein. It would be my pleasure."

As they moved across the dance floor, Evelyn kept her expression soft and inviting, her movements graceful as she allowed the general to lead. But her mind was racing, calculating the steps she'd need to take to get him alone. He had his hand holding onto her own whilst his free arm was slung around her waist, pulling the woman practically onto him as she was unable to refuse his touch, the mission being more important than her comfort. She laughed at his jokes, nodded at his observations about the war, introduced herself as 'Marie Schmidt' to anyone he introduced her to, all the while feeling the cold metal of the knife hidden beneath her dress pressing against her skin as it was strapped to her thigh. The occasional flash of a camera in their direction caused Evelyn to grow nervous, though she didn't let on. Her face was covered in makeup, so much that she thought herself to be practically unrecognisable, but she knew they wouldn't know who she was anyway because Marie Schmidt did not truly exist.

Their interaction reminded her of the dance she had shared with Floyd when she had first arrived to Easy, only in this dance Evelyn had no emotional connection attached to the man in front of her. Even his smile made her blood run cold as she questioned how he could be so carefree whilst being the cause of thousands of deaths, though she remained smiling right back at him, an almost seductive look casting across her features in attempt to allow him feel closer to her.

Their conversations, or more so his bragging, continued throughout their dance, his occasional comments of his killings bringing a massive amount of concern to the girl in his arms.

"Across my time in this war I have killed many." He spoke, his voice full of pride as Evelyn could have killed him right on the spot. "Running an extermination camp has meant I have such a privilege."

"Extermination?" She questioned, batting her eyelashes at him as she knew this information could become useful.

"Of the unwanted." He revealed, a smirk etching his features. "They do not deserve to be a part of this nation. Don't you agree, Marie?" 

"Of course, Herr General. People like you and I are what this nation needs." Evelyn answered, though she didn't believe in any word she said. Her comment made her feel sick, the thought of killing people because they were 'unwanted' tugged on her heart entirely, yet she had to keep her facade up to complete the mission successfully.

Across the room, Anna had successfully caught General Reinhardt's eye. He was charmed by her appearance, taking her hand with a wide smile as they joined the other dancers. Anna played the part of the shy schoolteacher perfectly, blushing at his compliments, leaning in just enough to keep him intrigued.

As the dance progressed, Evelyn subtly guided General Dietrich toward a side door, one that led to a secluded garden at the back of the manor. "It's quite warm in here." She said with a coy smile. "Would you accompany me outside for some fresh air, Herr General?"

Dietrich, clearly eager for some private time with the beautiful woman on his arm, agreed without hesitation. They slipped through the door, leaving the noise and light of the party behind.

In the garden, the air was cool and still, the only sounds the distant hum of the party and the rustle of leaves in the night breeze. Evelyn walked with Dietrich along a stone path, her heart pounding in her chest as they moved further from the manor.

When they reached a secluded spot near a fountain, Evelyn turned to the general, her expression softening as she stepped closer to him. "You've been so kind to me tonight, Herr General." She murmured, her voice low and sultry. "I'd like to show you my gratitude."

Dietrich's eyes gleamed with anticipation as he leaned in, but before he could react, Evelyn's hand shot up, gripping his throat in a vice-like hold. Her other hand swiftly drew the knife from its sheath under her dress, the blade glinting in the moonlight.

"This is for the lives you've taken." She hissed in English, her voice cold and deadly.

With one quick motion, she drove the blade into his chest, twisting it to ensure it pierced his heart. Dietrich's eyes widened in shock, a gurgling sound escaping his lips as he tried to speak. But it was too late. The life drained from his eyes, and his body went limp in her grasp.

79

Evelyn quickly pulled the knife free, wiping the blood on his uniform before letting his body slump to the ground, hiding just at the side of a bush. She stood there for a moment, her breath coming in short, sharp bursts as the reality of what she'd done settled over her.

There was no time to dwell on it. She had to get back inside, blend in with the party, and find Anna.

Meanwhile, inside the manor, Anna had led General Reinhardt to a private room on the upper floor, away from the prying eyes of the other guests. The general, emboldened by the alcohol and the flirtation, followed her eagerly, oblivious to the danger he was in.

Once they were inside the room, Anna closed the door behind them, her back to the general as she pretended to fumble with the buttons on her dress whilst secretly pulling her gun that was hidden in her bra. She could hear his heavy breathing behind her, could feel his gaze on her, but she remained calm, her mind focused on the task at hand.

When she turned to face him, she had a small pistol in her hand, its barrel pointed directly at his chest. Reinhardt barely had time to register what was happening before she pulled the trigger, the shot muffled by the thick walls of the room.

The general stumbled back, clutching his chest as he collapsed onto the floor beside the large bef. Anna quickly moved to his side, checking to ensure he was dead before slipping the pistol back into her dress. She glanced around the room, making sure there was no evidence left behind that could link her to the murder.

With both generals eliminated, the two women had to make their escape. Evelyn had returned to the party, blending in with the crowd as she searched for Anna. When their eyes met across the room, they exchanged a subtle nod, signaling that the mission was complete.

They couldn't leave together, it would draw too much attention, so they agreed to rendezvous at a safe house outside the village. Evelyn left first, slipping out through the garden while Anna waited a few more minutes before making her exit.

The next morning, the bodies of the two generals were discovered, sending shockwaves through the Nazi ranks. The party, which had been intended as a celebration, was now a scene of chaos as officers scrambled to figure out how their security had been breached.

By the time the news reached Allied command, Evelyn and Anna were already on their way back across the border, their mission a success. They traveled separately, each taking a different route to avoid suspicion. It took them half a day to reach the designated safe house, where they reunited and debriefed with Captain Nixon.

"You did well." Nixon said, his tone carrying a note of relief. "The information we've received indicates that the deaths of those generals have thrown a wrench into the Nazi's plans. It's exactly what we needed."

But as the debriefing continued, Evelyn couldn't shake the memory of her brief conversation with General Dietrich in the garden. He had mentioned the extermination program, almost casually, as if it were just another part of the war machine. It was something that had haunted her since, a reminder of the true horrors they were fighting against.

After the debriefing, when Nixon was alone with Evelyn, she finally asked the question that had been gnawing at her since the mission began. "Sir. The General had mentioned something about and 'extermination' program, do you know about that?"

Nixon's expression darkened, his eyes hardening as he leaned back in his chair. "We believe the extermination program is the Nazi regime's plan to remove those they deem undesirable, though we are unsure what people are named that. Regiment have stated that it is likely only on a small scale so we have been unable to track down what they are actually doing."

Evelyn nodded at his answer as she too pondered what the Nazi's were doing, why they were acting on such horrible ideologies.

Nixon saw the look on her face and softened his tone. "Thank you, ladies, really. Those generals were key players in the bombing program occurring across Europe. By taking them out, you didn't just disrupt their war effort, you potentially saved countless lives."

Evelyn nodded slowly, the full weight of what she had done settling over her. The mission had been a success, but the cost, the knowledge of what humanity was capable of, was something she would carry with her for the rest of her life.

As she left Nixon's office and stepped outside into the cool evening air, she felt a sense of resolve harden within her. The war wasn't just about defeating an enemy, but protecting what she loved, to not allow them to destroy everything she held dear.

And she would do whatever it took to see it through to the end.

Chapter Text

Upon Evelyn and Anna's quiet return, slipping into the dimly lit barn just fourteen hours after their mysterious disappearance, the men's eyes spoke louder than words. A few shared curious glances as Evelyn and Anna brushed the mud from their coats, their clothes still damp from the night's chill. Though they sensed the silent questions hovering around them, none of the men dared to voice them outright. It was as if they'd silently agreed to let the mystery remain, understanding well enough that everyone had their own battles to fight and secrets to keep.

Inside the barn, the atmosphere buzzed with familiar voices and laughter. George, Bill, Floyd, Liebgott, Joe, Skip, Malarkey, Penkala, and the others sat scattered, some resting, some sharing a tin of coffee as they tried to shake off the tension from their own harrowing mission. The night before, the men had risked everything in a daring rescue of British soldiers trapped behind enemy lines. They, too, had barely escaped with their lives, and though they were grateful to be back, exhaustion was etched deeply into their faces.

"Didn't think you two'd sneak back in like ghosts." Bill's teasing voice broke through the low murmur. His eyes narrowed, a smirk playing at the corner of his mouth as he tossed a chunk of bread from his rations toward the girls.

Anna, her face flushed from their journey, caught it midair and grinned, sliding onto the bench next to Floyd, who shifted over to make space for her. Evelyn dropped onto a makeshift seat between Malarkey and Skip, her tired smile barely masking the adrenaline that still tingled through her veins.

"Maybe we're just better at slipping in unnoticed." Anna replied lightly, casting a playful glance around the room.

George chuckled, shaking his head with an amused grin. "Yeah, yeah, 'sneaky.'" He balanced his helmet on his knee and leaned forward, eyes glinting with the curiosity he barely managed to keep in check. "So, any exciting news from wherever you two vanished off to?"

Evelyn shrugged, her voice light, almost nonchalant. "Oh, you know... nothing you boys haven't already seen yourselves." She could see the curiosity flicker in their eyes but kept her own face steady, offering nothing.

Floyd, sitting near her with his sleeves rolled up, glanced at her, his gaze softer than the others'. He didn't need words to express what was in his eyes, a subtle, relieved warmth as he looked at her. Evelyn felt her pulse quicken under his gaze, though she didn't dare let on.

"Well," Floyd finally said, his voice gentle, "whatever you were up to, glad you're both back. Wouldn't be the same without you."

Caught off guard, Evelyn blinked before giving him a small, grateful smile. She didn't notice how Floyd's words had caught the attention of the others, but Anna did, raising a sly brow as she bit into her bread to hide her grin.

"So..." Malarkey's voice interrupted, his eyes sparkling with mischief as he tried to keep a straight face. "Are we finally getting some new blood to teach you two the ropes of a real poker game, or are you still hopelessly outmatched?"

"Oh, believe me, you don't want me playing poker," Evelyn said, laughing as she rolled her eyes. "I'd be a mess. You'd all read me like an open book."

Skip snorted, nudging her with a friendly elbow. "Oh, I dunno about that, Mary. You've got that poker face down."

Evelyn smirked. "Maybe not all the surprises are good."

George, who couldn't resist a little teasing, leaned forward with a grin. "C'mon now, ladies. Are you gonna leave us guessing all night? Just a hint. What'd you get up to while we were out there?"

Anna and Evelyn exchanged a glance, as if weighing whether to indulge the men's curiosity. After a brief pause, Anna just shrugged, letting a hint of mystery linger.

Floyd cleared his throat, giving George a little nudge. "Maybe they'll tell us if you give them some peace, George."

"Alright, alright." George laughed, leaning back and raising his hands in mock surrender. "Can't blame a guy for being curious."

The tension eased, and soon Malarkey pulled out a deck of cards, starting to shuffle with practiced ease. The sight of the cards brought fresh energy to the room, and the men began to gather around, eager to play. Skip and Penkala fell into a spirited debate about the rules, while Bill chimed in with his own two cents, tossing in some lighthearted insults that had everyone chuckling.

As Floyd dealt out hands, he gave Evelyn a sidelong look. "Sure you don't want to join in?" he asked, holding the cards out to her.

She hesitated, biting her lip. "You'll have to go easy on me," she warned. "I'm not much of a card shark."

"Oh, don't worry," Floyd said, flashing her a playful grin. "I'll make sure you keep up."

"Yeah, yeah, go on, Mary," Malarkey chimed in, leaning over with a smirk. "Besides, you don't have to win to enjoy yourself, right?"

Evelyn exchanged a quick look with Anna, who gave her an encouraging nod. Sighing, she relented, reaching out to accept the cards Floyd dealt her.

The first few rounds passed, with Evelyn fumbling to keep up, much to the others' amusement. She held her cards awkwardly, trying to read the faces of the men around her while also masking her own uncertainty. Floyd, catching on quickly, leaned closer to her, explaining the rules in a low voice, his tone half-teasing, half-reassuring.

"Just don't let 'em see your hand." He whispered, nudging her playfully as she stared down at her cards.

"I know that much!" She whispered back, laughing softly, though the look of confusion on her face gave her away.

"Right, right," Floyd chuckled, glancing at her cards and hiding his amusement behind a cough. "Well, if I were you, I'd play that one next." He pointed subtly to one of her cards.

Evelyn gave him a sidelong glance. "You sure? Or are you just trying to sabotage me?"

Floyd feigned innocence, holding up his hands. "Why would I do a thing like that?"

She rolled her eyes, finally putting down a card, only to hear Malarkey snicker beside her.

"Oh, Mary, you just fell right into his trap," Malarkey said, his voice filled with mock pity. "You gotta be careful with Floyd. He's a card shark through and through."

Evelyn laughed, trying to act unimpressed. "I think I'll manage."

Floyd chuckled softly, leaning in a bit closer than necessary as he gathered up the cards. "We'll see. You might just surprise yourself."

Anna watched the exchange with an amused look, elbowing George, who smirked knowingly. "About time someone turned on the charm," George whispered, just loud enough for Anna to hear.

The next few hands brought more laughter as Evelyn struggled to keep up with the game. She tried her best to mask her confusion, but her expressions betrayed her. Every time she made a hesitant move, Floyd would offer a small smile, pretending to study his own cards, though his focus was clearly on her.

"Alright, now this one's easy," he said at one point, glancing at her cards. "Just play it cool."

"Playing it cool is not exactly my strong suit," Evelyn murmured back, though her smile widened as she tried to follow his advice.

As they played, the conversation drifted into shared memories, some lighthearted, others tinged with nostalgia. Malarkey recounted the time he'd slipped in the mud right before a big drill, earning a ribbing from the entire company. Skip laughed as he shared a story about a prank war he'd once started with Joe, both of them nearly getting caught by an officer after things spiraled out of control.

"So, Anna," Skip said with a grin, turning his attention to her, "who do you think's the biggest troublemaker out of all of us?"

Anna glanced around, pretending to size them all up before finally smirking. "Oh, that's easy. George, hands down."

The men erupted into laughter, George holding his hand to his chest in mock offense. "Me? Trouble? Never!"

Anna laughed, shaking her head. "Right. But you're definitely the loudest, so everyone else gets away with it."

"Oh, sure, pick on the loud one," George grinned, reclining back with a mock pout. "We'll see who gets a share of my rations next time."

As the laughter settled, Floyd moved to sit closer to Evelyn, his tone dropping to a softer note. Though the others continued to joke, the quiet space between him and Evelyn felt intimate, as though they shared a world apart from the rest.

"Y'know," he murmured, glancing at her sideways, "you don't have to worry about keeping up. It's all in good fun."

Evelyn smiled, a touch of gratitude in her eyes. "I know. Just... don't want to slow anyone down."

Floyd shook his head, his voice gentle. "Wouldn't be the same without you, Dimples. Really."

Her heart skipped a beat at the sincerity in his voice, and she ducked her head, feeling a faint warmth creep up her cheeks. "Thanks, Floyd."

The others, pretending not to notice, exchanged amused looks, quietly betting on how long it'd take one of them to finally make a move. Bill, unable to resist, leaned over and whispered to Floyd, "You better make a move, buddy. You're about as obvious as a flare in the night sky."

Floyd shot him a quick glare, though a faint smile played at his lips. "Just enjoying the company," he muttered, though his gaze lingered on Evelyn as she laughed at one of Skip's jokes.

Bill chuckled, clapping him on the shoulder. "Yeah, sure. Just don't wait too long. The war doesn't pause, you know?"

Ignoring Bill's comment, Floyd leaned back, letting the warmth of the moment sink in. The barn was alive with laughter and stories, a rare escape from the brutality that waited outside its walls. As the night wore on, the laughter gave way to softer voices, and the energy in the room softened, a shared sense of peace settling over them.

Eventually, Floyd found himself beside Evelyn again, the two of them quiet as the others drifted off to sleep or settled into soft conversation. After a comfortable silence, Floyd leaned close, his voice barely a whisper.

"Glad you're here, Dimples. Really."

She looked up at him, her smile soft, her eyes reflecting the gratitude she felt but couldn't find words for. "Same to you, Floyd."

The words hung between them, a quiet understanding unspoken. And as they sat together in the dim light, Evelyn felt a deep, unshakable sense of belonging. For now, it was enough. Tomorrow, the war would rage on, but tonight, in this small corner of the world, they were home.

Chapter Text

Winter had begun to tighten its grip as Easy Company found itself bundled up and preparing to move out to France, now under the command of their newly appointed CO, Lieutenant Dike. The promise they'd been given of returning home by Christmas had long since evaporated into the cold night air, leaving a sense of bitter resignation among the men. They were far from home, and as the days dragged on, they realized that the holiday season would come and go without any of the comforts they had been led to believe might be within their reach.

Evelyn sat between Lipton and Toye, the muted hum of the movie projector offering a slight reprieve from the biting cold outside. George Luz's loud voice, however, shattered the brief peace as he began one of his many monologues, commenting loudly on the movie playing in front of them.

"Luz, shut up." Joe Toye deadpanned, his irritation seeping through his voice as both Evelyn and Lip turned to give George a matching look of annoyance.

"I'm trynna watch this." Lipton added, his gaze hardening on Luz as Evelyn simply shook her head, a small smile playing on her lips despite herself.

"I've seen this movie thirteen times, okay?" George defended himself, waving his hand dismissively. Both Lipton and Evelyn turned back to the screen, determined to ignore him.

"Well, I haven't, so shut up." Joe retorted, his eyes narrowed as he tried to focus on the screen once again. The tension in the room spiked as yet another bout of chatter erupted from the back, drawing a chorus of "shut up!" from the annoyed soldiers scattered around the room.

Evelyn felt George nudge her lightly from behind, whispering, "Mary, favorite part." She hissed at him to be quiet again, but George just grinned, unaffected. "Got a penny? Got a penny? Got a penny?" he mimicked the movie character's line with a chuckle, earning him another glare from both Lipton and Evelyn. She reached out and gave him a light whack on the shoulder in a half-hearted attempt to keep him quiet.

Suddenly, the room was plunged into blinding brightness as the door was thrown open with a loud bang. The lights overhead flickered on, cutting through the darkness as shouts of protest echoed throughout the room. The protests quickly died down, however, as a grim-looking officer stood at the front of the room.

"Elements of the 1st and 6th Panzer Divisions have broken through in the Ardennes forest." The officer announced, his voice sharp and filled with urgency. "Now, they've overrun the 28th infantry and elements of the 4th. All officers report to respective HQs, all passes are canceled."

Groans of frustration rippled through the room as the gravity of the situation settled over them like a heavy fog. The soldiers begrudgingly began to rise from their seats, their movements sluggish and resentful as they prepared to follow orders.

"Here we go again." Evelyn muttered to herself, a frown etching itself onto her features as she joined the others heading out. The air outside bit at her exposed skin as she wrapped her arms around herself, trying to preserve whatever warmth she had left.

The paratroopers were quickly loaded into the back of trucks, the only illumination coming from the truck's headlights as they cut through the oppressive darkness of the night. It felt as though the world had narrowed down to just this small, shivering group, huddled together in the back of the trucks, sharing what little warmth they could gather.

"Guess the blackout's not in effect. Luftwaffe must be asleep." Buck Compton observed whilst looking out, shivering as he rubbed his hands together in a futile attempt to generate some heat.

"What a difference a day makes, huh, Lieutenant?" Someone commented. Evelyn pulled her coat tighter around her, leaning into Floyd who sat beside her, seeking whatever comfort she could find in the closeness.

She caught Anna's eye from across the truck. Anna offered her a small, sympathetic smile, which Evelyn returned with a tired one of her own. They both knew what lay ahead wasn't going to be easy.

"Christ, I miss those C-47s." Bill Guarnere lamented, rubbing his hands together as if trying to convince himself that the warmth would come eventually.

"Got a tailgate jump here." Floyd added with a small shake of his head.

"Just wanna know why they're sending us." Babe Heffron spoke up, his voice carrying a note of frustration and concern. "What the hell are we supposed to do with no ammo?"

A small lighter flickered to life beside Evelyn, its brief warmth doing little to chase away the pervasive cold.

"Hey, kid, what's your name again?" Bill asked, eyeing the boy holding the lighter.

"Suerth. Suerth Jr." The young man answered, his voice barely audible over the grumbling of the others.

"You got any ammo, Junior?" Babe pressed, still fixated on the issue of their dwindling supplies.

"Uh, just what I'm carrying." Suerth replied, looking somewhat bewildered by the sudden attention.

"What about socks, Junior? Got any extra socks?" Another voice asked from somewhere in the truck.

"Just a pair." Suerth answered, clearly uncomfortable with the rapid-fire questioning.

"You need four minimum." Skip Muck pointed out, wagging his finger at the young soldier animatedly. "Feet, hands, neck, balls."

"Extra socks warm them all!" The men chimed in, their voices a mixture of jest and grim reality. Both Evelyn and Anna exchanged a look of disgust, their noses wrinkling at the crudeness of the conversation.

"Eww." Evelyn mumbled under her breath, causing Floyd to chuckle lightly. She leaned her head against his chest, closing her eyes for a brief moment, trying to find a semblance of peace amidst the freezing air.

"Yay! We all remember that one, but we didn't remember the socks." Skip remarked with a grin, the brief moment of humor cutting through the tension in the truck as everyone shivered under the cold conditions.

"I'd give my goddamn boots for a cigarette." Guarnere grumbled loudly, his breath visible in the cold air.

"I want ammo and socks." Babe repeated, his voice echoing the sentiments of the entire group.

"I bet Junior's got plenty of both!" Bill exclaimed, and once again, all eyes turned to Suerth.

"No, I don't." Suerth stammered, his discomfort evident as he tried to deflect their questioning.

"Got any smokes?" Penkala asked, his voice laced with anticipation whilst the men all quickly directed their attention to the boy.

"Yeah, I got some smokes." Suerth answered, his voice barely above a whisper as he was immediately swarmed by the other soldiers, all of them clamoring for a cigarette. Evelyn could only shake her head in dismay at their childish behavior, though she understood the desperation that lay beneath it.

"Want one?" Floyd offered, holding out a cigarette in front of her, his eyes searching hers.

"No thanks, I don't smoke." Evelyn replied with a slight smile. Floyd shrugged and placed the cigarette back in his mouth, the acrid smell of tobacco soon filling the confined space as the men sighed in a small moment of relief.

The trucks eventually came to a halt on the side of the road, the soldiers quickly clambering out as they were met with the biting wind. Evelyn felt the cold seep into her bones, her joints stiff and aching from the relentless chill.

"Where the hell are we?" Skip questioned, squinting into the darkness that surrounded them.

"Sure ain't hell, it's too damn cold." Penkala answered, his breath fogging up the air as sudden fires were lit along the roadside. The soldiers, desperate for warmth, immediately flocked to the fires, their faces illuminated by the flickering flames.

Evelyn's body shook violently from the cold, her teeth chattering uncontrollably as she held her hands out to the fire. She sighed in relief as the warmth began to seep into her skin, though it did little to ease the deep-rooted chill that had settled into her core.

Suddenly, a group of soldiers appeared, trudging down the road in the opposite direction. They looked utterly defeated, their faces hollow and devoid of life. The men of Easy Company quickly surrounded them, peeling off their stashes of ammo in a desperate bid to arm themselves. Evelyn hurried to join them, managing to secure four half-filled bags of ammunition.

As she worked, she noticed the vacant stares of the retreating soldiers. Their expressions were blank, as if they had been drained of all emotion. A cold dread began to creep over Evelyn as she realized that whatever they were walking into was likely far worse than anything they had faced so far.

She had managed to scrounge a white cloth off of one of the soldiers helmets, him not even sparing her a glance whilst she practically teared it off. Sighing, Evelyn quickly tied it onto her own helmet, using the straps to help hold it down. It would be a useful camouflage for any potential mission she could be sent on, a small attempt to blend into the bland surroundings to carry out her work in full secrecy.

The soldiers of Easy Company began to move forward, their footsteps crunching through the snow as they trudged onward into the unknown. Evelyn wrapped her arms tightly around herself, trying to fend off the cold that seemed to bite at her from all angles. She had no coat, no scarf, and her gloves had already begun to tear apart at the seams. She could only hope that whoever she ended up bunking with would be kind enough to share their warmth.

The night stretched on, an endless expanse of cold and darkness, as the soldiers continued their march. The trees around them loomed like shadowy giants, their branches clawing at the sky as if in silent protest of the war that had ravaged the land. Evelyn's breath came out in short, visible puffs, her heart pounding in her chest as she struggled to keep up with the others. Every step felt like a monumental effort, the cold sapping her strength with every passing moment.

Floyd walked beside her, his presence a small comfort in the oppressive night. He glanced down at her, noticing the way she shivered uncontrollably, and without a word, he draped his arm over her shoulders, pulling her closer to him. Evelyn leaned into him, grateful for the shared warmth, however small it might be.

As they continued on, the group fell into a somber silence, the only sounds being the crunch of snow beneath their boots and the occasional sniffle or cough. The reality of what lay ahead weighed heavily on them all, but there was no turning back now. They had a job to do, and they would see it through, no matter the cost.

Evelyn's mind drifted back to the faces of the soldiers they had passed earlier. She couldn't shake the image of their hollow eyes, the way they seemed to move mechanically, as if their spirits had been left behind on the battlefield. The thought sent a shiver down her spine, a cold fear settling in her stomach.

What awaited them in the Ardennes? The thought gnawed at her, refusing to be silenced. She knew that whatever they were about to face, it would test them in ways they had never been tested before. But despite the fear, despite the cold and the uncertainty, Evelyn knew one thing for certain: she would not back down. She would stand with her comrades, face whatever horrors lay ahead, and fight until the very end.

The road stretched out before them, an unending path into the unknown. The night was dark, the air cold, and the weight of the war pressed down on them all. But as they marched forward, together, they knew they would face whatever came their way. And no matter how dark the night became, they would continue to march, one foot in front of the other, until the dawn finally broke.

Chapter Text

Evelyn huddled in the large, snow-packed foxhole, her entire body quaking uncontrollably. The shivering had begun the moment they arrived in Bastogne, and it hadn't stopped since. Even with Anna by her side in their shared foxhole, neither woman could seem to find any relief from the relentless cold that gnawed at their bones. The freezing conditions seemed to hit the women harder than the men, and Evelyn could feel the toll it was taking on her.

Anna had left a little while ago, off to help the men dig their own foxholes, while Evelyn stayed behind, too drained to lend a hand. The ceaseless trembling had already begun to wear her down, sapping her strength until it was all she could do just to stay awake.

"White." The voice startled Evelyn out of her daze. She looked up to see Doc Roe crouching beside the foxhole, his expression serious as always. "Got any scissors? Extra syrettes?"

Evelyn blinked at him, her mind sluggish from the cold. "I've got some morphine." She muttered, her voice barely above a whisper. Her hands fumbled in her pocket before finally pulling out the small package. She handed it over to the medic, her fingers numb and uncooperative.

Doc Roe accepted the morphine with a quick nod of thanks and then moved forward to Smokey's foxhole, exchanging a few words before the man shouted. "Hey, guys! Hide your morphine-"

Before he could finish the sentence, an explosion erupted dangerously close to them, the deafening roar shattering the fragile quiet. Evelyn didn't think; she just reacted, dropping instantly to the bottom of her foxhole, her hands clamped over her helmet as if she could somehow shield herself from the chaos erupting all around her. The ground trembled with each subsequent blast, the sound of mortar fire ringing in her ears as she squeezed her eyes shut, praying desperately for it to stop.

The bombardment continued, each explosion feeling like it was right on top of her, until finally, mercifully, the night grew still once more. The sudden silence was almost as jarring as the noise had been, and for a long moment, Evelyn remained crouched in her hole, too afraid to move. Her ears were still ringing, her pulse racing, but slowly, she forced herself to raise her head and peek over the edge of the foxhole.

The air was thick with smoke, the acrid scent of gunpowder mingling with the biting cold. As she scanned the area, Evelyn's heart lurched with fear for her comrades. But there was no time to dwell on it; she had to find Anna. Scrambling out of the foxhole, she immediately began squat-walking toward the nearest hole.

"You seen Art?" She asked as she passed his foxhole, her breath visible in the frigid air. Don shook his head, his face tense with worry as Skip beside him mirrored his expression.

"No, sorry, Mary." He answered. Evelyn barely paused before moving on, her eyes scanning the area frantically.

Finally, she spotted a familiar helmet poking out of George Luz's foxhole and let out a breath of relief. Jogging over, she crouched beside the hole and peered inside.

"Art! I've been looking everywhere for you." Evelyn said, her voice a mix of relief and irritation.

Anna looked up, startled. "Sorry, Mary. The blast went off, and I just jumped into the first hole I could find." Ehe explained, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment.

Evelyn raised an eyebrow, her lips curling into a skeptical smile. "First hole, yeah." She remarked sarcastically, her eyes flicking to George, who was sitting beside Anna with a grin on his face.

Anna's blush deepened, and she quickly scrambled out of the hole, waving Evelyn away as if she could brush off her embarrassment. "Come on, let's go back." She said hurriedly, grabbing Evelyn's arm and pulling her away from the foxhole. As they walked off, Anna glanced over her shoulder with a small smile. "Bye, George."

"Bye." George called after them, his voice fading as the two women disappeared into the swirling fog, their footsteps crunching softly in the snow.

They walked in silence for a moment, the cold seeping into their bones despite their proximity. The snow continued to fall in a slow, relentless drizzle, blanketing the world in a cold, muffling silence. When they finally reached their foxhole, the two women wasted no time in dropping down into it, immediately huddling together for warmth. The sky above was growing darker, the onset of night casting long shadows over the snowy landscape.

Somewhere in the distance, Evelyn could hear Liebgott and Alley singing, their voices faint but clear in the otherwise still night. She couldn't help but chuckle softly, the sound a brief but welcome reprieve from the tension that had settled over them all like a thick fog.

"What did you want to be before the war, Eve?" Anna asked suddenly, breaking the silence.

"I wanted to become a painter." Evelyn replied after a long sigh, reminiscing of simpler days before she had been dragged into hell. "What about you?"

"I dreamed of fighting for women's rights, for our rights." She revealed, a glint in her eyes as she spoke.

"That's amazing Anna." Evelyn spoke, her voice heavy as she realised how much the two of them had lost from joining the war. The silence returned as they thought over memories of their past, a much warmer and kinder time to now.

"I miss home." Anna cut through, Her voice was soft, tinged with a sadness that made Evelyn turn to look at her.

"I do too." Evelyn admitted, her own voice laced with the same melancholy. She reached into her pocket, her fingers brushing against the familiar, worn edges of a small photograph. Pulling it out, she gazed at the faces of her family, their smiles frozen in time, offering a distant comfort. "I miss my family."

Anna leaned closer, peering at the photograph in Evelyn's hand. "Is that your family?" She asked, her voice soft with curiosity.

"Mhm." Evelyn nodded, her eyes tracing over the familiar faces. "These are my parents, Thomas and Margaret. And that's my brother, James, he's fighting too, somewhere out there. And this here," she pointed to the youngest figure in the photo, "is little Maggie, just thirteen years old."

A warm smile spread across Anna's face as she looked at the picture. "You've got a beautiful family, Eve." She said, reaching into her own pocket and pulling out a small, well-worn photo. "This is mine."

Evelyn took the offered photograph, her eyes scanning the faces of the smiling family. "You look just like your mother." She remarked, noting the resemblance between Anna and the older woman in the picture.

Anna smiled, a touch of pride in her expression. "Yeah, that's my ma, Elizabeth. She was born in England but moved to New York when she was nine. My Pa, Arthur, is a proper New Yorker, he's always made sure to keep that tradition running strong in the family," she added with a chuckle, her voice tinged with affection.

Evelyn couldn't help but laugh softly. "Seems like it worked." she teased gently.

Anna grinned, taking the photo back. "This is Eddie, my oldest brother, he's in the Air Force. He's always sending me letters, can't seem to leave me alone." She said with a playful roll of her eyes. "And these two here," she pointed to two boys in the photo, "are Tommy and Billy. They're inseparable, like two peas in a pod. And finally this little one with the beautiful smile," Anna's voice softened, "that's Lily, my baby sister. She's my favorite, but don't tell the others that." She added with a conspiratorial wink.

"You've got such a big family." Evelyn said, her voice tinged with admiration. "Never a dull day in the Blake household, I bet."

Anna laughed, nodding in agreement. "You got that right. It's always loud, always busy, never a moment of peace. But I wouldn't trade it for anything."

Evelyn smiled, her heart aching with a sudden, overwhelming longing for home. "I miss my mom's apple pie." she admitted, her voice wistful. "She makes the best in the country, hands down."

Anna gasped dramatically, her eyes wide with mock outrage. "Not if my mom's in the running! Her apple pie is by far the best, I'd put money on it."

Evelyn shook her head, grinning. "No way. My mom's pie would win any day."

The two women continued to bicker playfully, their voices light and filled with warmth as they debated the merits of their mothers' baking. For a moment, it felt like they were back home, sitting around a kitchen table, arguing over something trivial and comforting.

"We'll have to settle this when we get back home." Anna said finally, her tone decisive. "I'll come over, and we'll have a pie showdown. I'll be the judge, of course."

"Who says you get to be the judge?" Evelyn protested, laughing. "I get equal dibs on judging. We'll both have to try each one to really see who's the winner."

"Fine." Anna conceded with a grin. "But I'm telling you now, my mom's going to win."

Evelyn just shook her head, the smile on her face refusing to fade. "We'll see about that."

Their laughter eventually died down, replaced by a companionable silence as they both stared up at the darkening sky. The cold was still biting, but the warmth of their conversation lingered, offering a small measure of comfort against the harsh conditions.

"Didn't you mention your birthday is in December?" Anna spoke up, looking at the girl lightly.

"Yeah, 23rd, right before Christmas." She answered whilst sighing.

"In a few days? Happy Birthday in advance Eve." Anna replied with a smile, nudging the blonde gently as Evelyn offered back a smile, her dimples showing through slightly.

"Thank you." She breathed out. "Don't tell any of the guys, they don't need to know."

"Whatever you want. Take it as your birthday present." The woman joked as the two let out dry laughs, their minds wondering off as the cold continued to consume them.

After a while, Evelyn's thoughts began to drift back to her brother, James. The worry that she had been trying to keep at bay slowly crept back in, tightening its grip on her heart. She bit her lip, hesitating before finally speaking up.

"I'm worried about my brother." She admitted quietly, her voice barely audible above the wind.

Anna turned to look at her, concern etched into her features. "I worry about mine too." She said softly. "But look at how far we've come already. We're still here, still fighting. Don't you think if we can make it, they can too?"

Evelyn wanted to believe that, wanted to hold on to the hope that James was out there, fighting just as hard as she was. But the fear was always there, gnawing at the edges of her thoughts. "I guess." She murmured, her voice tinged with doubt. "I just hope this is the worst of it. At least then I'd know he's not suffering too much."

Anna reached over, placing a reassuring hand on Evelyn's arm. "If it gets worse than this, I might just shoot myself." She joked, her voice light despite the weight of the situation.

Evelyn couldn't help but laugh, the sound turning into a cough as the cold air caught in her throat. Anna looked at her in concern, her brow furrowing.

"Come on, Eve." She said gently. "Let's try to get some sleep. We'll need our strength."

Evelyn nodded, grateful for the suggestion. The exhaustion had settled deep into her bones, and now that the adrenaline from the shelling had worn off, she felt the weight of it pulling her down. The two women huddled closer together, their bodies pressed tightly against one another as they tried to conserve what little warmth they could.

The night settled in around them, cold and unyielding, but for the first time in what felt like days, Evelyn felt a small measure of peace. The sound of Anna's steady breathing beside her was a comfort, a reminder that she wasn't alone in this frozen hell.

As she closed her eyes, Evelyn's thoughts drifted once more to her family, to the warmth of their kitchen, the sound of their laughter. She pictured James, his face clear in her mind, and she sent up a silent prayer that he was safe, wherever he was.

Sleep eventually claimed her, pulling her down into a world where the cold and the fear couldn't reach her. And as she slept, Evelyn dreamed of home, of apple pies and warm kitchens, of a world far removed from the horrors of war. It was a dream she knew she would cling to, a small beacon of hope to guide her through the long, dark nights ahead.

The foxhole was still and quiet, the two women wrapped in their shared warmth, their breaths mingling in the cold air. Outside, the war raged on, but for a little while, they had found a small measure of peace in each other's company, a small haven against the relentless cold.

And though the night was long and the road ahead uncertain, Evelyn knew that as long as she had Anna by her side, she could keep going, one day at a time, until finally, they made it home.

Chapter Text

The two women were jolted awake by a cacophony of explosions that rocked the ground around them. The earth shook violently beneath them, each blast more deafening than the last, sending a tremor of fear coursing through their bodies.

"Shit!" Anna shouted, instinctively leaning over Evelyn, her body acting as a shield against any shrapnel that might fly their way. The instinct to protect had overridden everything else, and Evelyn could only brace herself, feeling Anna's breath on her cheek as the world seemed to crumble around them.

The relentless barrage of noise and fury eventually subsided, leaving a ringing in their ears and a disorienting silence in its wake. The two women slowly untangled themselves, their bodies stiff from the tension. Clambering out of their foxhole, they were met by Nixon, his face a mix of exhaustion and grim determination.

"Good morning," he began, though there was no warmth in his voice, only the cold efficiency of command. "Mary, we'll need you out on the OP. Artemis, you're going out on our combat patrol."

Anna and Evelyn exchanged a look, their eyes reflecting the shared burden of their orders. There was no need for words; they both understood the gravity of what was being asked of them. With a resigned nod, they accepted their assignments and began making their way through the fog, their boots crunching softly on the frozen ground.

As they moved, they could hear the distant rumble of artillery in the background, a constant reminder of the danger that surrounded them. The oppressive fog hung in the air, dampening sound and adding to the surreal quality of the morning.

They were quickly pulled into a gathering of the men, huddled together as one of the medics recited verses from the Bible. His voice was steady, but the weight of his words hung heavily in the air, as if each syllable was being etched into their souls.

"Amen." They all concluded in unison, the single word carrying with it a sense of finality, of acceptance.

"Fight well for God and your country. God bless you all. Stay safe," the speaker added, his voice tinged with a quiet desperation. They rose to their feet, exchanging solemn nods before heading back to the edge of the line.

"That's it now," Skip muttered, his breath visible in the cold air. "We haven't got nothing more to worry about, guys. If we're gonna die now, we're gonna die in a state of grace."

Evelyn forced a smile at his words, more out of habit than genuine amusement. She patted Anna on the shoulder, her touch lingering for a moment longer than necessary. "I'm headed to the OP. Stay safe." She said softly, her voice laced with the unspoken fear that gnawed at her insides.

"You too." Anna replied, her eyes filled with concern as she watched Evelyn walk away. The fog swallowed her friend almost instantly, and Anna felt a pang of loneliness in her chest.

Evelyn trudged toward the edge of the forest, her mind already shifting into the focused state required for the task ahead. As she approached, she spotted Bill waiting near the tree line, his silhouette barely visible through the mist.

"Mary, glad you decided to show up." He murmured, his voice low and rough from lack of sleep.

"Well, I couldn't leave you to do all the dirty work, could I?" Evelyn replied, attempting to inject a note of levity into the grim situation. She slid into the designated foxhole beside him, taking her position behind the MG as they swapped out with the previous lookouts. The two men who had been there before quickly scurried away, eager to find some rest.

A heavy silence settled over them as they stared out into the horizon, their eyes straining to pierce through the fog. The world seemed frozen in time, the only movement the occasional shift of shadows that played tricks on their minds.

"Not much to see today." Bill said, breaking the silence. He turned his head slightly to glance at Evelyn, his expression one of quiet concern. "You holding up okay?"

"I'm fine," she replied, perhaps too quickly. "Just trying to keep my head in the game. How about you?"

"Same," he admitted, his eyes returning to the distant treeline. "Just thinking about what's next. This fog is making it hard to see anything, which isn't exactly comforting."

Evelyn nodded, her gaze also drifting into the murky distance. "It feels like we're in limbo, waiting for something to happen," she said. "I don't like it."

"Yeah," Bill agreed, a hint of tension creeping into his voice. "It's like the calm before the storm. But we've trained for this, right? We know what we're doing."

"Right." She said, attempting to sound more confident than she felt. "I just wish I could shake this feeling."

"I know what you mean," Bill replied, turning to face her fully. "But remember, we're all here together. You're not alone out here."

Evelyn felt a warmth spread through her at his words. "Thanks, Gonorrhoea. It helps to hear that. Sometimes it's easy to feel isolated out here."

"Believe me, I get it," he said, his tone softening. "We're all dealing with our own demons. Just know you can talk to me if you need to."

She met his gaze, surprised by the sincerity in his eyes. "I appreciate that," she said, feeling a connection begin to form. "It's nice to know we have each other's backs."

A distant rumble of gunfire erupted behind them, but Evelyn paid it no mind. Her focus remained on Bill, her senses hyper-alert to the tension in the air. They had a bond forged through their training, a shared understanding of the risks they faced.

As nightfall finally descended, Alley and Anna appeared behind them, both looking utterly exhausted. Their faces were pale, their eyes hollow from the day's events. The two women slid into the foxhole, their bodies sagging with fatigue.

"We lost Julian." Anna whispered, her voice barely audible above the wind that had begun to howl through the trees. She looked at Evelyn with a mixture of sorrow and guilt, as if the loss was somehow her fault.

Evelyn reached out, placing a hand on Anna's arm in a silent gesture of comfort. "I'm sorry." She said softly, though she knew the words would do little to ease the pain.

"I'll be here the whole night, so go sleep in a foxhole with someone else. You need to rest." Anna nodded at her friend, her gratitude evident in the way she squeezed Evelyn's hand before she watched her stumble away in search of a place to sleep. Anna watched her go, her heart heavy with the weight of another lost comrade. She stayed behind, her thoughts a chaotic mess of grief and duty.

Evelyn wandered through the maze of foxholes, her feet carrying her almost automatically until she found herself standing beside one of the deeper holes.

"Floyd?" She whispered into the darkness, crouching down to tap lightly on the helmet of the man inside. Both he and Chuck looked up, their faces weary but alert.

"Yeah?" Floyd replied, his voice tinged with surprise.

"Can I, uh... Can I sleep here tonight? Art's gonna be at the OP, and I get too cold to sleep when I'm alone." Evelyn admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. She hated asking for help, but the truth was, she needed the warmth, both physical and emotional, that came from being close to others in this hellish place.

Floyd and Chuck exchanged a glance, a silent conversation passing between them before Floyd nodded. "Come on in." He offered, scooting over to make room.

Evelyn slid into the space between them, immediately feeling the warmth of their bodies seeping into her own. They pulled a blanket over the three of them, cocooning themselves against the biting cold. She sighed in relief as she felt Floyd's arm slide around her waist, his touch grounding her in a way that nothing else could.

"Thank you." She murmured, her breath warm against his neck as she nuzzled closer, light snores almost immediately leaving the man that rested on her opposing side, surprising the girl that lay at his side. The tension in her body began to ease as she allowed herself to relax for the first time in what felt like days.

"You're always welcome." Floyd replied, his voice soft in her ear. He turned his head slightly, feeling her hair brush against his cheek. The familiar scent of her brought a comfort that he hadn't known he needed. "You know, it's funny," he began, his tone light, "I never thought I'd be sharing a foxhole with someone like you."

"Someone like me?" Evelyn echoed, a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips.

"Yeah," Floyd continued, a hint of a smile in his voice. "A tough, stubborn, smart woman who somehow still manages to look good even when we're all covered in dirt and haven't had a proper shower in weeks."

Evelyn chuckled softly, the sound a rare but welcome break in the grim atmosphere. "You really think I look good covered in dirt?"

"I think you look good no matter what." Floyd admitted, his voice taking on a more serious tone. "But it's not just about how you look, Evelyn. It's about who you are. The way you handle yourself out here, the way you care about the people around you... It's something special."

She felt a warmth rise in her cheeks, not from the proximity of their bodies but from his words. It was rare for anyone to see her beyond the surface, especially out here in the midst of war.

"You're still trying to flirt even when we're stuck in a hole in the middle of nowehere." Her remark caused him to let out a light laugh. "Thank you Floyd." She whispered, unsure of what else to say. Compliments like this, especially coming from Tab, always left her a little flustered.

They lapsed into a comfortable silence, their bodies pressed together in the small space. Evelyn's eyes began to droop as the warmth and the soft rhythm of Floyd's breathing lulled her toward sleep. Just as she was on the edge of drifting off, she felt something rough brush against her forehead.

Looking up, she noticed the faint outline of stubble on Floyd's chin. Her fingers instinctively reached up to trace it, her touch light and curious. "You growing a beard?" she asked, her voice a little drowsy but tinged with amusement.

"Can't shave it," Floyd replied, his tone resigned but with a hint of playfulness. "It's the war look, I guess."

Evelyn giggled quietly, the sound muffled against his neck. "The war look, huh? I think it suits you."

"Yeah? You like the scruffy look?" Floyd teased, though he felt a rush of warmth at her words.

"Maybe a little," she admitted, her fingers still tracing the line of his jaw. She looked into his eyes, the darkness of the night doing nothing to hide the way he gazed back at her. It was rare for her to allow anyone to see her like this, vulnerable, stripped of the usual defenses she wore so tightly around her heart. But with Floyd, in this moment, she felt safe enough to let down her guard, if only for a little while. "I like you any way, Floyd."

"See, now you're flirting." He said, amusement dancing in his tone.

"Am I?" She replied, her heart fluttering as she continued to trace the line of his jaw. The gentle pressure of her fingers felt electric, igniting something within her that she hadn't allowed herself to acknowledge before.

"Definitely," he said, a playful challenge in his voice. "I mean, who knew you were such a charmer?"

"Only when the situation calls for it." She quipped back, unable to suppress a grin. "But I'll admit, it's nice to take a break from all the darkness out here, even if just for a moment."

Floyd nodded, his expression growing serious. "I get that. It's easy to get lost in all of this, to forget there are still good things in the world. But moments like this, they remind me we're still human, you know? We still have each other."

Evelyn felt her heart swell at his words. "You're right. It's hard to keep that perspective when everything feels so heavy."

"Yeah." Floyd replied, his voice softening as he looked down at her. "But we have to try. We owe it to ourselves, and to everyone we've lost."

She nodded, the weight of his words settling around them like a blanket. "You're right. We can't forget them. They fought for us, and we have to keep going for them."

A comfortable silence fell over them once more, the bond between them growing deeper with each shared breath.

"Dimples," Floyd said quietly, breaking the silence, "can I ask you something?"

"Sure." She replied, tilting her head to look at him fully.

"What do you want to do when this is all over?" He asked, genuine curiosity shining in his eyes.

She hesitated, considering his question. "Honestly? I just want to feel normal again. To wake up without the fear of gunfire and explosions. Maybe find a little house somewhere, plant a garden, have a cat. Something simple."

"I can see you as a cat person," Floyd teased, a grin breaking through the somber atmosphere. "What would you name it?"

"Probably something silly, like Captain Whiskers," she said, laughing softly. "I've always liked that name."

"Captain Whiskers it is, then," he chuckled, enjoying the lightness that momentarily lifted the weight of their surroundings. "I can see it now: you and Captain Whiskers, taking on the world."

"I'd have to get a matching beret for him, of course." Evelyn added, a mischievous glint in her eyes.

"Of course. No cat should be without a proper beret." Floyd said, his laughter infectious. "You know, I could see us doing that. You with your garden and me... well, I'll just hang around with the cat. Not much of a gardener myself."

"I'll teach you." She promised, her heart fluttering at the thought of a future that felt increasingly possible. "It's not hard. We'll make it a team effort."

"I'd like that." Floyd said, his voice softening as he leaned closer. "It sounds nice. And we could have those moments where we laugh about the ridiculous names we come up with for our plants."

Evelyn felt her cheeks warm at his words, the intimacy of their conversation wrapping around them like a soft blanket. "You know, I think I'd like to see you with a plant, too. Maybe you'd actually care for it."

"Maybe." He teased, a twinkle in his eye. "But only if you're there to guide me. I need a good instructor."

"Deal." She said, smiling brightly. "I promise I won't let you kill anything on my watch."

A small pause for thought briefly occurred between the two before Floyd spoke up once more. "Can I get a dog too?"

"Only if you promise to train it." Evelyn smiled at the thought of witnessing that image before continuing. "What breed?"

"Not a small one, I'll need something big and strong." He answered, his grip slight tightening around her as he wished for more warmth.

"Maybe something like a Labrador? Or a German Shepard?" She suggested, looking up into his eyes with a gentle smile resting on her face.

"We'll have to see." Floyd concluded, patting the girls head aggressively as she squirmed whilst trying to get him to stop.

As they bantered, the night continued to settle around them, but the tension that had filled the air slowly dissipated. With Floyd beside her, she felt lighter, the burden of the war momentarily forgotten.

"Hey, Dimples?" Floyd said softly, the playfulness in his voice replaced by sincerity.

"Yeah?" She asked, turning her attention back to him, her heart racing at the intensity in his gaze.

"I just want you to know, I'm really glad you're here. It makes this whole nightmare a little easier to bear." He said, his expression earnest.

She could feel the weight of his words, the sincerity behind them making her heart swell. "I feel the same way, Floyd. I don't think I'd be able to get through this without you."

His arm tightened around her waist, drawing her closer. "We're in this together, okay? No matter what happens, I've got your back."

"Thanks." She whispered, her voice thick with emotion. "That means more than you know."

They fell into a comfortable silence again, the warmth of their connection growing stronger with each passing moment. Evelyn nestled closer against him, her head resting on his shoulder as the world around them faded into the background.

The cold night air wrapped around them, but within their little cocoon, they felt a warmth that transcended the horrors of war. In this moment, they were simply two people trying to survive, finding solace in each other's presence.

Just as she was beginning to drift off, she felt Floyd's fingers gently stroking her hair, sending shivers down her spine. It was a tender gesture, one that made her heart flutter.

"Mary," he murmured, his voice low, "I've been meaning to ask you something."

"Hmm?" She replied sleepily, her eyes fluttering open to meet his gaze.

"If... if we make it through this, would you want to go out with me? Like, on a real date?" His question hung in the air, filled with a mixture of hope and uncertainty.

Evelyn felt her heart race at his words. It was an unexpected question, one that sent a thrill of excitement coursing through her veins. "You mean, like after all this? When we're back to normal?"

"Yeah," he replied, a hint of vulnerability creeping into his voice. "I know it's a strange time to ask, but I can't help but think about what we could have, you know? If we make it out of here."

She searched his eyes, feeling a connection that transcended the chaos surrounding them. "I'd like that," she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper. "I'd really like that."

Floyd's face broke into a smile that made her heart soar. "Yeah?"

"Definitely." She replied, her own smile mirroring his. "We'll make it happen. I promise."

"Good," he said, relief flooding his features. "It's a date then. Captain Whiskers can come along, too."

They both laughed softly, the sound mingling with the sounds of distant gunfire, creating a moment of lightness amidst the darkness.

With that promise hanging between them, Evelyn finally felt the weight of exhaustion settle over her. She snuggled closer to Floyd, letting the warmth of his body wrap around her like a protective shield.

As sleep began to pull her under, her last thought was of hope, a flicker of light in the darkest of times. Together, they would face whatever came next, and perhaps, just perhaps, they would find a way back to the life they both longed for.

Chapter Text

Evelyn was jolted awake as the thunderous roar of planes tore through the cold night sky, the sound jarring her from sleep. Her heart raced as she scrambled to climb out of the foxhole, her movements quick and frantic. In the process, she inadvertently woke Floyd, who stirred and turned to look at her, his eyes heavy with the remnants of sleep.

"What? What?" He grumbled, his voice thick with confusion.

"Planes." Evelyn replied tersely, her tone laced with urgency as she finally hauled herself over the edge of the foxhole. The bitter cold hit her like a slap, but she barely noticed as she focused on the scene unfolding above. Behind her, Floyd scrambled to follow, his boots crunching through the snow as he hurried after her.

As Evelyn reached the top, she saw dozens of her comrades already surging forward, their faces illuminated by the flickering light of flares arcing through the sky. The flares bathed the snow-covered ground in an eerie, shifting light, casting long shadows that danced between the trees.

Around her, the men began to cheer, their voices rising in a chorus of relief and excitement. Evelyn looked up just in time to see two fighter planes streaking across the sky, their engines roaring as they soared overhead. A small smile tugged at her lips, a brief flicker of hope in the midst of the chaos. But the moment was fleeting.

Without warning, one of the planes veered sharply and began to descend, its guns blazing as it targeted the crowd below. The cheers turned into screams of panic as the men scattered, diving for cover. Evelyn stood frozen for a split second, her mind struggling to process the sudden shift from safety to danger.

"Get back!" Someone shouted, their voice barely cutting through the cacophony. Before she could react, Evelyn felt a strong hand grip her arm, yanking her backward with such force that she nearly lost her balance.

She turned, her heart racing, to see Liebgott staring back at her, his expression a mix of fear and urgency. "Come on!" He barked, his eyes wide with adrenaline. Evelyn nodded, sending him a quick, grateful smile as they both scrambled for cover. The sound of the plane's guns echoed in her ears, drowning out everything else.

Their attention was abruptly drawn skyward once more as a massive formation of planes appeared, dark shapes against the starlit sky. The rumble of their engines was deafening, reverberating through the trees and sending a shiver down Evelyn's spine.

"It's a drop!" Lipton's voice cut through the noise, filled with both relief and urgency. He quickly began barking orders, directing several men to follow him back into Bastogne to retrieve the supplies that had been dropped.

Evelyn remained where she was, her eyes locked on the planes as they passed overhead, their shadows flitting across the snowy ground like fleeting ghosts. Slowly, the adrenaline began to drain from her system, leaving her feeling hollow and numb. She glanced at Liebgott, who was still by her side, his chest heaving with the effort of running.

"You alright?" He asked, his voice softer now, more concerned than commanding.

"Yeah." Evelyn replied, though the word felt empty as it left her lips. She forced a nod, trying to convince herself as much as him. "I'm fine. Just... need to catch my breath."

Liebgott hesitated, his gaze searching hers for any sign of weakness, but eventually, he nodded. "Take care, Mary." With that, he turned and jogged off to join the others, leaving her alone in the forest.

Evelyn remained rooted to the spot for a few moments, her breaths coming in short, shaky bursts as she tried to steady herself. The forest around her was eerily quiet now, the only sounds the distant murmur of voices and the occasional crackle of gunfire from afar.

As the minutes ticked by, Evelyn decided she couldn't stay there, not with the weight of everything pressing down on her. She needed to move, to clear her head. She found herself wandering through the trees, her boots crunching softly in the snow as she let the cold air bite at her cheeks. Eventually, she made her way back to the makeshift camp where Anna was waiting.

"Hey, Anna." Evelyn called out as she approached. Her voice was steadier now, though the undercurrent of tension still lingered. "I'm gonna head out. I've got some... business to attend to."

Anna nodded, immediately understanding what Evelyn was implying. "Take care, Mary." She said simply, her eyes holding a depth of concern that Evelyn chose to ignore. There was no room for that right now.

Evelyn turned and walked away, the snow crunching under her feet with each step. She moved with purpose, her destination clear in her mind. She reached the edge of their line and, with a sigh of relief, lowered herself into a squat, allowing herself a moment of respite.

The relief was short-lived.

Just as she began to stand, a sudden crunch beside her caused her to freeze in place. Her breath caught in her throat as she felt the unmistakable cold barrel of a gun press against the back of her head.

"Come. Now." A voice snarled behind her, thick with a German accent that sent a chill down her spine. Slowly, Evelyn shifted to face the man, her hands instinctively rising in surrender. She looked into his eyes, eyes that mirrored her own exhaustion, her own desperation.

For a fleeting moment, she saw hesitation flicker across his features. His grip on the pistol loosened slightly, and Evelyn seized the opportunity. In one swift motion, she knocked the gun out of his hand, catching it just before it hit the ground. She quickly raised it, her hand trembling as she aimed at his face.

But before she could pull the trigger, another arm snaked around her neck, yanking her backward with brutal force as her grip released the gun in her hold. The man behind her tightened his grip, cutting off her air supply as she struggled to free herself. Panic surged through her as she clawed at his arm, her vision beginning to blur around the edges.

In a desperate attempt to draw attention, Evelyn managed to let out a shriek, a sound that echoed through the forest, startling the soldiers stationed in their foxholes.

"What the hell was that?" Don's voice rang out in the distance, filled with confusion and concern as he scanned the treeline.

"Was that... Mary?" Skip asked, his tone skeptical but laced with worry. He exchanged a glance with the others as Anna quickly rose to her feet, her grip tightening on her gun.

"I'll go look." Anna said firmly, already moving toward the sound of the scream.

Almost as one, the small group of men rose to their feet, their faces set with determination as they began to move through the forest, their steps cautious and silent.

Meanwhile, Evelyn's vision was darkening as the soldier's grip tightened around her neck. She could feel her throat closing up, each breath becoming more and more difficult. She flailed her arms in a desperate attempt to break free, but her strength was rapidly waning.

The other soldier had retrieved his gun and now stood before her, the barrel pointed directly at her face. Evelyn's wide eyes locked onto the cold metal, her mind racing as she tried to think of a way out of this.

In a last-ditch effort, she kicked the man's arm upward just as he fired. The shot rang out, the bullet embedding itself in the tree just behind her with a splintering crack. The force of the kick threw the soldier off balance, giving Evelyn just enough of an opening. Summoning every ounce of strength she had left, she threw her head back hard, feeling it connect with the face of the man choking her.

His grip slackened for a brief moment, just long enough for Evelyn to twist free and drop to the ground. Without hesitation, she grabbed her own pistol from where it had fallen, and in one fluid motion, she fired two shots. The first soldier crumpled to the ground, his eyes wide in shock as blood blossomed on his chest. The second man staggered back, clutching his gut where the bullet had torn through him, before collapsing with a dull thud.

80
81

For a moment, all was silent. Evelyn lay on the cold ground, gasping for air, her lungs burning as she struggled to breathe. The world around her seemed to spin, the adrenaline from the fight making her head swim. She barely registered the sound of footsteps approaching, the snow crunching softly beneath hurried boots.

"Eve- Mary!" Anna's voice cut through the haze, filled with a mix of fear and relief. Evelyn felt a hand on her back, gentle and reassuring, as Anna knelt beside her. "It's okay. You're safe now." She murmured, her voice soft as she tried to soothe her.

Evelyn looked up at Anna, her vision still a bit blurry. She could see the concern etched deeply on her friend's face, the tension in her jaw as she struggled to remain calm. Beyond Anna, a group of men stood, their faces pale in the dim light as they took in the scene.

She turned her head slightly to see the bullet lodged in the tree behind her, realizing just how close she had come to dying. A shiver ran through her body, and she let out a shaky breath, feeling exhaustion settle into her bones.

"On your birthday..." Evelyn managed to catch onto Anna's quiet comment, its weight hanging in the air between them. What a great birthday present.

Anna gently helped her to her feet, guiding her back toward the foxholes. Evelyn's legs felt like lead, every step a struggle as the reality of what had just happened began to sink in. She could feel herself trembling uncontrollably, her arms wrapped tightly around her body as if she could hold herself together through sheer will.

When they reached their foxhole, Anna carefully lowered her down, the small space offering a semblance of safety and comfort. "Stay here," Anna said softly, brushing a stray lock of hair from Evelyn's face. "I'm going to find someone. Just... stay here, okay?"

Evelyn nodded weakly, her eyes hollow as she stared ahead, still shaking violently despite the blanket Anna had draped over her. The shock of the encounter clung to her, an invisible weight pressing down on her chest.

She barely registered the sound of someone else sliding into the foxhole beside her until she felt a warm arm wrap around her shoulders, pulling her into a tight embrace. "Dimples?" Floyd's familiar voice broke through the fog of her thoughts, filled with concern. "Art told me what happened."

Evelyn let out a small sniffle, her body finally beginning to relax as she collapsed into his chest, her trembling slowly subsiding as she felt his arms tighten around her, offering a sense of security she so desperately needed.

"I thought I was going to die, Floyd." She whispered, her voice hoarse from the earlier struggle and the coughing fit that had wracked her body. Tears threatened to spill over, but she held them back, not wanting to show just how terrified she had been.

"I know." Floyd replied quietly, his voice thick with emotion. He rested his chin atop her head, his own heart still racing as he tried to process just how close he had come to losing her. "But you're safe now. You're with me."

Evelyn nodded against his chest, her breath still shaky as she tried to calm herself. For a while, they just sat there in silence, holding onto each other as if letting go would cause the world to collapse around them.

After a while, Floyd spoke again, his voice low and soothing. "You know." he began, his fingers gently stroking her hair. "When I heard that scream, I knew it was you and I thought the worst. I thought I'd lost you."

Evelyn tightened her grip on his jacket, the fabric rough against her fingers. "I was so scared, Floyd." She admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. "I didn't want to die out there, not like that. Not when... not when I finally had something to live for."

Floyd's breath hitched slightly, and he pulled back just enough to look her in the eyes, his expression serious. "You do have something to live for." He said firmly, his voice filled with quiet determination. "And as long as I'm here, I'm going to make damn sure you get through this, Dimples. We're going to make it out of this hell together, alright?"

Evelyn looked up at him, her eyes searching his face for any hint of doubt, but all she found was unwavering resolve. She nodded, feeling a small flicker of hope reignite in her chest. "Together." She repeated, the word a promise that she clung to with everything she had.

Floyd smiled softly, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead. "Together." He echoed, holding her close once more as the night settled in around them.

They stayed there in the darkness, the only sound the quiet hum of the forest around them, their breaths gradually syncing as they found comfort in each other's presence. Evelyn could feel the fear and tension slowly dissipating, replaced by a fragile sense of peace.

After a long moment, Floyd broke the silence, his voice a soft murmur in the night. "You know, back in Kokomo, I used to think I was invincible. That nothing could ever bring me down. But out here... I realize how wrong I was. How fragile life is."

Evelyn nodded, understanding exactly what he meant. "War changes everything." She said quietly, her gaze distant as she reflected on the harsh reality they were living. "Out here, we're all just trying to survive."

Floyd tightened his hold on her, his voice filled with a quiet intensity. "But we're surviving together. That's what matters."

Evelyn allowed herself a small smile, leaning into his warmth. "Yeah, together." She echoed, the word a lifeline in the midst of the chaos. "We'll get through this, Floyd. We have to."

Floyd nodded, his expression softening as he looked down at her. "We will, Dimples. We will."

And for the first time in what felt like an eternity, Evelyn allowed herself to believe it. The darkness might still be pressing in around them, but as long as they had each other, there was still a glimmer of light to hold on to.

Chapter Text

Evelyn was jolted awake by her own coughing fit, her body trembling as she heaved once more. The cold air stung her lungs, each breath ragged and painful. She barely registered the arm that had been draped around her waist, now slipping down to her side as she struggled to catch her breath.

"Mary. You okay?" Floyd's voice was thick with sleep, but his concern was palpable as he gently patted her back. His eyes, barely visible in the dim light, were wide with worry.

"Mhm." She managed to mumble, forcing herself to breathe slower, deeper. The final cough wracked her body before she finally settled back down, her head resting against his chest. The steady thump of his heartbeat was a strange comfort, grounding her in the moment.

Before either of them could fully relax, Don appeared at the edge of the foxhole, his silhouette a dark shadow against the snow-covered ground. "Mary? Tab? We gotta get up on the line." He announced, his voice quiet but firm. There was an urgency in his tone that pulled them both from the remnants of sleep.

Floyd nodded in acknowledgment, his hand slipping from Evelyn's back as he sat up. "Come on, Dimples." He murmured, his voice gentle but insistent. He offered her his hand, and she took it, allowing him to help her climb out of the foxhole. The cold air bit at her skin, but she forced herself to focus on the task at hand.

They made their way to the line, the quiet feelings between them unspoken but understood. As they neared the front, they quickly separated, Evelyn dropping into a free foxhole. The earth was cold beneath her as she settled in, placing her rifle up, the barrel just peeking over the edge of the dirt.

She watched the treeline with a steely focus, her breath coming in slow, measured intervals. The stillness of the night was almost suffocating, each minute stretching into an eternity. Then, as if emerging from the darkness itself, the Germans began to appear, their forms barely visible as they advanced through the trees. The rumble of tanks accompanied them, the ground trembling with each turn of their treads.

Evelyn let out a slow breath as she positioned herself to take the first shot. Her finger hovered over the trigger, waiting for the perfect moment. She could feel her pulse quicken, each beat echoing in her ears. The silence was shattered by the crack of her rifle, the sound ringing out into the night. The recoil sent a jolt through her body, but she didn't waver. She reloaded and fired again, her shots deliberate, each one finding its mark.

Around her, gunfire erupted, filling the air with a cacophony of noise. Bullets whizzed past, the sharp cracks of rifles mingling with the deeper booms of tanks and artillery. The chaos behind her was a constant presence, but she forced herself to remain focused, her mind singularly attuned to the task before her.

"Smokey's hit!" A voice screeched through the tree line, followed by a barrage of calls for a medic yet Evelyn remained solely focused on the task at hand, she couldn't afford to lose focus.

The Germans eventually faltered under the relentless barrage, their advance slowing as they began to retreat. Evelyn's breath was ragged, her heart pounding in her chest, but she didn't stop. Not until the last of them had disappeared back into the trees.

As the gunfire died down, Evelyn finally allowed herself to relax, her body slumping against the edge of the foxhole. The silence that followed was almost deafening, the absence of sound a stark contrast to the battle that had just taken place.

The men around her began to pull back, the adrenaline fading as they were called to eat. Evelyn joined the line, her movements slow and deliberate as she cradled her small cup in her hands. The line moved steadily, the men around her subdued, their faces pale and drawn.

As they waited, a jeep drove up, the sound of its engine cutting through the quiet. Colonel Sink stood at the wheel, his presence a commanding one despite the exhaustion evident on his face. "They're sitting down to a Christmas Eve dinner of turkey and hooch back at Battalion CP," he announced, his voice carrying over the gathered soldiers. "I'll be damned if I don't like Joe Dominguez's rancid old beans better. Hello, Easy Company."

"Hello, Sir." They all responded in unison, their voices weary but respectful.

"General McAuliffe wishes us all a very Merry Christmas," Sink continued, his tone more somber now. "What's merry about all this, you ask? Just this. We've stopped cold everything that's been thrown at us from the North, East, South, and West. Now, two days ago, the German commander demanded our honorable surrender to save the USA encircled troops from total annihilation. The German commander received the following reply: 'To the German commander. Nuts!'"

A ripple of laughter passed through the group, the absurdity of the situation providing a brief, much-needed moment of levity.

"We're giving our country and our loved ones at home a worthy Christmas present," Sink continued, his voice rising with pride. "We are privileged to take part in this gallant feat of arms. We are truly making for ourselves a Merry Christmas. God bless you all and Merry Christmas."

"Nuts!" The men echoed, laughter filling the air whilst Evelyn remained stood in position, her arms wrapped around herself in an attempt for warmth.

With that, he drove away, the cheers of the men fading into the night as the jeep disappeared into the darkness. Evelyn watched him leave, her heart heavy. The words were meant to inspire, to uplift, but the reality of their situation weighed heavily on her. The promise of a Merry Christmas felt hollow, a cruel irony in the face of the horrors they were enduring.

The day slipped into night once more, the hours blurring together in a haze of cold and exhaustion. Evelyn found herself back in the foxhole with Anna, the two women huddled close for warmth. The sound of the Germans singing Christmas carols drifted through the air, a haunting melody that carried over the snow-covered ground.

"Merry Christmas, Anna." Evelyn whispered, glancing down at her watch. The hands pointed to midnight, marking the official start of Christmas Day. The words felt strange on her tongue, their usual joy lost in the cold, desolate landscape that surrounded them.

"Merry Christmas." Anna replied, her voice hushed and distant. She was staring off into the darkness, her expression unreadable. After a moment, she turned to Evelyn, her gaze softening. "What do you think's going on at home?"

Evelyn thought for a moment, her mind drifting to her family. "It's still Christmas Eve there," she said slowly, the image of her sister, Maggie, filling her mind. "She's probably bouncing off the walls with excitement. She always gets so worked up over Christmas. I can see her now, trying to stay awake to catch a glimpse of Santa."

Anna smiled faintly, her own thoughts drifting to home. "Same with Lily. She's probably sitting by the window, waiting for the first snowflake to fall. She always loved the snow."

Evelyn nodded, her heart aching with the longing for home. The distance between them and their loved ones felt insurmountable, a chasm that only seemed to grow wider with each passing day. "Do you think they miss us?" She asked quietly, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Every day." Anna replied, her voice laced with certainty. "But they're proud of us too. They know we're doing something important, something that matters."

Evelyn let out a small sigh, her breath fogging in the cold air. "Sometimes I wonder if it's worth it. If what we're doing here really matters."

"It does." Anna said firmly, her tone leaving no room for doubt. "We're fighting for them, for everyone back home. If we don't stop the Germans here, what happens to them? To our families? That's what keeps me going. Knowing that every day we hold this line, we're keeping them safe."

Evelyn nodded, the words sinking in. She knew Anna was right, but it didn't make the weight on her shoulders any lighter. The war had taken so much from them already: friends, peace of mind, the simple joys of life. But they couldn't afford to stop now, not when so much was at stake.

"Do you ever think about what you'll do when this is all over?" Anna asked, shifting slightly to get comfortable in the cramped space of the foxhole.

"All the time." Evelyn replied, a small smile creeping onto her lips despite the circumstances. "I dream about it, actually. I want to go home, sit on the porch with my family, and just breathe in the fresh air. I miss the little things, you know? The smell of Mom's cooking, the sound of Maggie's laughter."

"That's exactly it," Anna agreed, her eyes sparkling with unspoken memories. "I think about the summer days spent at the lake with my family, the way the water sparkled in the sun. I can almost hear Lily's giggles as we splashed each other."

Evelyn could picture it vividly, the sunlight dancing on the lake, the joyful sounds of family together, free from the burden of war. "I can see it too. It seems so far away now, but I cling to those memories. It keeps me grounded."

"Do you have a favorite memory?" Anna asked, her tone curious.

Evelyn paused, contemplating. "I think my favorite memory is from last Christmas. We had a big family gathering at our house, everyone was there, grandparents, aunts, uncles. We played games, ate until we couldn't move, and then sat around the fireplace singing carols. Maggie was trying to sing 'Silent Night' but kept getting the words wrong. We laughed so hard, I thought I'd cry."

Anna chuckled softly, the sound a balm against the cold. "That sounds perfect. My family has a similar tradition. We all gather at my parents' house, and my dad reads the Christmas story from the Bible. Then we sing carols, but my brother always insists on adding silly verses. He turned 'Jingle Bells' into a song about our dog getting stuck in the snow once."

Evelyn laughed at the image. "I can just imagine how that went! What kind of dog do you have?"

"A Beagle named Max. He's a troublemaker but such a sweetheart. Always getting into the trash and barking at squirrels. My mom says he has a personality big enough for the whole family." Anna replied, her smile brightening her face.

"That sounds wonderful," Evelyn said, feeling warmth spreading through her despite the cold. "I've always wanted a dog, but my dad said we were too busy with the farm. He thought I'd neglect it."

"Maybe once this is over, you can get one," Anna suggested. "You could name it after someone special. Or after a favorite memory."

Evelyn's mind raced with the possibilities. "That's a great idea! I could name it 'Maggie' after my sister or 'Joy' after those family gatherings. It would be nice to have a little piece of home with me."

Anna nodded enthusiastically. "Absolutely. Plus, dogs are great companions. They can help you heal after everything we've been through."

A comfortable silence fell between them for a moment, filled only by the distant sounds of the forest coming to life. The dawn was slowly breaking, casting pale light over the snow-covered ground.

"What's your sister like?" Evelyn asked, wanting to shift the focus back to Anna.

Anna's face brightened at the mention of her family. "The sunshine of our family. She's always creating art and running around the yard pretending to be a princess or an explorer."

"That sounds lovely," Evelyn said, picturing the girl with paint-stained hands and an imagination as vivid as her own sister's. "What's her favorite thing to draw?"

"Animals, mostly. She has a real knack for it," Anna replied, her voice warm with pride. "She's drawn portraits of our cat, Whiskers, and our dog, Max. Sometimes, she'll even make up creatures from her imagination and draw them too. I wish I could see her art."

"You will. Once we're back home, you can help her with her drawing," Evelyn said, her tone hopeful. "Maybe you can take her to an art class or something."

Anna's expression softened. "I'd love that. I want to encourage her creativity, especially after everything that's happened. I want her to have a happy childhood, not one shadowed by this war."

"She deserves it, just like all of our families do," Evelyn said quietly. "They've been through so much waiting for us."

"I hope they understand why we're here. Why we had to leave." Anna said, a hint of sadness in her voice.

"They will. They're strong, just like us. They know we're fighting for something greater," Evelyn replied, her determination palpable. "We have to believe that we'll make it home to them."

As if on cue, the distant rumble of artillery fire echoed in the background, a stark reminder of the reality surrounding them. Both women fell silent, the moment of warmth dissipating in the cold air.

Suddenly, the ground beneath them shook violently, the sudden explosions tearing through the night. The noise was deafening, the shockwaves reverberating through the earth. Evelyn and Anna shrank back together, their bodies instinctively curling up as they tried to make themselves as small a target as possible.

Around them, cries of panic and pain rang out, the sounds of men scrambling for cover mingling with the relentless barrage of artillery fire. Evelyn's heart pounded in her chest, her breath coming in short, shallow gasps as she pressed herself closer to Anna, the only anchor she had in the chaos.

The blasts eventually subsided, leaving a heavy silence in their wake. The only sound was Evelyn's labored breathing, punctuated by the occasional cough that tore through her chest. Her body was shaking uncontrollably, a mixture of fear and cold that she couldn't seem to stop.

Anna was still pressed against her, her own breath coming in quick, shallow bursts. She was holding onto Evelyn tightly, as if letting go would mean being lost in the darkness.

As the moments dragged on, Evelyn forced herself to move, to check if they were both still in one piece. "Anna," she whispered, her voice hoarse. "Are you okay?"

Anna nodded, her face pale and drawn in the dim light. "Yeah." She croaked out, her voice trembling. "You?"

"I think so." Evelyn replied, her body slowly beginning to relax as the immediate danger passed. She pulled away slightly, just enough to get a better look at Anna. "That was close."

"Too close." Anna agreed, her voice barely audible. She swallowed hard, her hands still trembling as she wiped at her eyes. "I hate this, Evelyn. I hate feeling so... helpless."

Evelyn nodded, understanding all too well. "Me too." She admitted, her voice thick with emotion. "But we made it through another night. We're still here."

"For now," Anna muttered, her eyes dark and distant. She shook her head, as if trying to shake off the despair that clung to her. "Sorry. I don't mean to sound so negative."

"It's okay." Evelyn assured her, offering a small, reassuring smile. "We're all feeling it. But we have to keep going. For each other, for the people back home."

Anna looked at her, a flicker of gratitude in her eyes. "Thanks, Evelyn. I don't know what I'd do without you."

"We will get through this, Anna." Evelyn replied, squeezing her hand.

The two women sat in silence for a while longer, the weight of the night pressing down on them. The cold was relentless, seeping into their bones and making every breath a struggle. But despite the discomfort, they found a strange comfort in each other's presence, a reminder that they weren't alone in this hellish landscape.

Eventually, as the first light of dawn began to creep over the horizon, the sounds of the forest around them slowly came back to life. The birds began to sing, their voices a stark contrast to the violence of the night before. It was a small reminder that, despite everything, life went on.

Evelyn looked out at the trees, the sky slowly turning from black to a deep, bruised purple. It was Christmas morning, a day that should have been filled with joy and celebration. Instead, they were here, on the front lines of a brutal war, fighting for their lives.

But as she glanced at Anna, still huddled beside her, Evelyn felt a small spark of hope. They had made it through another night. They were still alive. And as long as they had each other, they had a reason to keep fighting.

"Merry Christmas," Evelyn whispered again, more to herself this time, her breath fogging in the cold morning air. It wasn't the Christmas she had imagined, not by a long shot. But it was a Christmas she would never forget.

"Can you believe it's Christmas?" Anna said, breaking the heavy silence that had settled between them. Her voice held a mixture of disbelief and longing, a reflection of the surreal situation they found themselves in.

"No, I can't." Evelyn shook her head, still staring at the horizon. "It feels like just another day here, doesn't it?"

"Yeah, it does," Anna replied softly. "But we can make it special, somehow. Even in this mess."

"How?" Evelyn asked, her brow furrowing. "What could possibly make this feel like Christmas?"

Anna considered this for a moment. "We could share stories. About our families, our traditions, anything that makes us feel connected to home."

Evelyn smiled at the idea, feeling a warmth bloom in her chest. "I'd like that. I want to hear more about Lily."

"Okay! Let's see... I remember last year, we decorated the tree together," Anna began, her eyes lighting up with nostalgia. "Lily insisted on putting the star on top, even though she had to climb on my shoulders to reach it. She was so proud of herself when she did."

Evelyn chuckled softly, picturing the scene. "That sounds adorable. Did she make a big fuss about it afterward?"

"Of course! She danced around the living room, singing Christmas carols at the top of her lungs. I swear, she's going to be a diva one day," Anna said, laughing at the memory. "We ended up with glitter everywhere. My mom still finds it in the oddest places."

"Sounds like you had a lot of fun," Evelyn remarked, her heart aching for the simple joys they had once taken for granted. "I miss those little things. The sound of laughter filling the house, the smell of cookies baking..."

"Me too," Anna agreed, her expression softening. "But we have to hold on to those memories, right? They remind us why we're fighting. To keep those moments alive."

Evelyn nodded, feeling the weight of their mission settle in her chest. "You're right. And someday, we'll be able to create more of those memories. We'll go back home and have a Christmas without this... without the war."

"That's the dream," Anna said, her tone contemplative. "But it's a dream we need to keep close to our hearts. It gives us strength."

"Strength... yes," Evelyn echoed, drawing a deep breath. "What about your parents? What do you think they're doing right now?"

Anna's face grew serious, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. "Probably worrying about me, just like your family is about you. I know they're proud, but I can't help but wish I was there with them, eating my mom's famous honey-baked ham."

Evelyn nodded, feeling the weight of Anna's words. "My mom makes the best roast beef. It's our family's favorite. I can almost taste it now."

"Yum! I can smell it too," Anna said, closing her eyes for a brief moment as if she could transport herself back home. "Do you think they're all together right now?"

"I hope so," Evelyn replied, her voice soft. "I hope they're sitting around the table, laughing, sharing stories about us, and maybe even making fun of our terrible cooking skills."

Anna laughed lightly, the sound a welcome distraction. "That would be the best gift. Just to know they're safe and together."

"Yeah," Evelyn said, her voice barely above a whisper. "Sometimes, that's all I want. Just to feel safe again."

Anna reached out and squeezed Evelyn's hand tightly. "We'll get there. We will. This is just a moment in time, and it will pass."

"I wish I had your optimism," Evelyn confessed, her heart heavy. "It's hard to see beyond the next battle sometimes."

"I know," Anna said, her eyes earnest. "But we have to remember who we're doing this for. Our families, our friends... they're counting on us."

Evelyn nodded, taking a deep breath. "You're right. I need to focus on the bigger picture."

The sky above them was lightening, and Evelyn could see the trees around the foxhole beginning to shimmer with frost in the early light. She could almost imagine it being Christmas morning back home, her family gathered around the tree, exchanging gifts and laughter.

"What was your favorite Christmas gift?" Anna asked, her tone shifting to a lighter note.

Evelyn thought for a moment, her mind drifting back through the years. "I remember when I was nine, my dad got me a set of paints. I had always wanted to paint, but he never thought I had the talent. But that year, he surprised me."

Anna grinned. "That's so sweet! Did you paint anything special?"

"I tried," Evelyn said with a chuckle. "Most of it was just random splashes of color. But it made me feel free, like I could express myself. I still have those paintings. They're terrible, but they mean everything to me."

"Those are the best kinds of gifts, the ones that come from the heart," Anna said softly.

"What about you? What's your favorite gift?"

Anna smiled, a warmth spreading across her face. "When I was little, my grandma gave me a beautiful little music box. It had a tiny ballerina that danced when the music played. I would wind it up every night before bed and let it play until I fell asleep."

"Sounds enchanting," Evelyn said, her eyes lighting up at the thought. "Does it still work?"

Anna shook her head, a hint of sadness crossing her features. "Not anymore. I think it broke during one of our moves. But I still have it, tucked away in a box. It reminds me of her."

"Do you think about her often?" Evelyn asked gently.

"Every day," Anna admitted, her voice thick with emotion. "She was my rock. Always knew how to make me laugh, even when things got tough. I miss her a lot, especially now."

"I can only imagine," Evelyn said softly. "But I'm sure she would be proud of you. You're brave, Anna. More than I ever could be."

Anna shook her head, a slight blush creeping onto her cheeks. "I don't feel brave. I just... I want to protect what we have, what we're fighting for."

Evelyn could see the passion in Anna's eyes, the determination that fueled her. "You're doing just that. Every day you hold that line, you're protecting our families."

Anna smiled, gratitude shining in her eyes. "Thanks, Evelyn. I don't think I could have gotten this far without you. You keep me grounded."

Evelyn felt her heart swell with warmth, a sense of camaraderie blossoming between them. "We're in this together. We'll always be."

The sun began to rise, casting a soft glow over the snow-covered landscape. It was a sight that would have taken Evelyn's breath away, had it not been for the heaviness of their circumstances.

"Do you think we'll ever have a normal Christmas again?" Anna asked quietly, her gaze fixed on the horizon.

Evelyn pondered this question, her heart aching at the thought. "I want to believe we will. It may take time, but we'll find our way back to it. We'll make new memories and carry the old ones with us."

"Together?" Anna asked, her eyes hopeful.

"Always together," Evelyn promised, squeezing Anna's hand. "No matter where this war takes us, we'll always find our way back to each other."

Anna smiled, her spirit momentarily lifted. "I like the sound of that. A future filled with laughter and love, where we can celebrate Christmas without fear."

"Yes," Evelyn said, a sense of hope igniting within her. "And we'll tell our families all about our adventures here. They'll be amazed at how brave we were."

"Especially if we exaggerate a little," Anna said with a playful glint in her eye.

Evelyn laughed, feeling lighter than she had in days. "Oh, definitely! We'll be heroes in their eyes."

As the sun continued to rise, painting the sky in hues of orange and pink, the reality of their situation slowly faded into the background. They shared stories, laughter, and even a few tears, weaving a tapestry of memories that would sustain them through the darkness.

The war still raged around them, but for this moment, they found solace in each other's presence, a reminder of what they were fighting for. And as the echoes of their laughter mingled with the crisp winter air, they clung to the hope that one day, they would return home, and the world would be whole again.

"Merry Christmas, Anna." Evelyn whispered again, feeling the weight of the words behind them.

"Merry Christmas, Evelyn. Here's to new beginnings and brighter days ahead." Anna replied, her eyes shining with determination.

As they sat together, the cold biting at their skin, they made a silent promise to one another. They would hold on to this moment, to the love and hope that had blossomed between them in the midst of chaos. And they would carry it with them, a beacon guiding them home.

Chapter Text

"Easy Company, let's go!" Guarnere shouted as Evelyn quickly rose from her position in the snow, swiftly marching alongside her comrades as they made their way through the forest. They were being moved to help assist in pushing the Germans back into the Bulge, in preparation for what they all knew would be the eventual assault on the town of Foy. Easy had taken some losses over the days following Christmas, Joe Toye had been hit in the arm on New Year's Eve, said to be a present from the Luftwaffe. Despite these hits, the men and women had to keep going, they had to continue fighting back against the Germans.

The Company quickly began digging their foxholes upon arrival to their position, both Evelyn and Anna breathing heavily with each strike into the frozen ground. The frost seemed to fight back against their shovels, a cruel reminder of the unforgiving conditions they faced.

Suddenly, a sharp gunshot rang out, causing them to immediately drop to the earth, rifles in hand, eyes scanning the horizon for any sign of movement as they squatted down into the half dug foxhole.

Shouts echoed through the trees as a few soldiers ran past. Anna quickly turned to Evelyn, concern flashing in her eyes. "I'll go check it out."

Evelyn nodded, watching as her friend darted forward. She chose to stay behind, continuing to dig. The rhythm of her shovel became a harsh reminder of the relentless nature of war, the biting cold seeping into her bones with each thrust into the earth.

Suddenly, a bout of coughing garnered her attention.

"What do you want now?" She sighed, annoyance evident as she looked up at the man standing beside her.

"Is that how you talk to a man higher in command?" Nixon asked with a grin as he bent down, his breath visible in the icy air.

Evelyn rolled her eyes, but she couldn't help the small smile that tugged at her lips. Nixon had a way of lightening the mood, even when everything around them seemed unbearably heavy.

"I've got a mission for you." She mimicked, pulling a face as the man before her scoffed at her terrible impersonation.

Nixon's features quickly shifted, however, becoming more serious as he handed her a small folded piece of paper. "Just outside of this forest, on the trail the German command travels across, you'll be sent to take out a commander. Tomorrow morning, at first light, you need to be there and ready."

She nodded in acknowledgment, her heart sinking at the thought of yet another mission. Nixon quickly left, his footsteps crunching through the snow as Anna suddenly reappeared at her side.

"Another mission?" Anna asked, sliding back into the hole beside her, grabbing her shovel. Her face was pale, and her expression was tight.

"Yeah, another." Evelyn muttered, digging deeper into the frozen dirt.

"We lost Hoobler." Anna's voice was quiet, almost too quiet.

Evelyn froze, the weight of the words sinking into her chest. "How?"

"Had a loaded gun in his pocket. It went off."

Evelyn closed her eyes, swallowing hard against the wave of sorrow that threatened to choke her. She didn't know what to say, didn't know how to respond to yet another senseless loss. They fell into a heavy silence, both women grappling with the ever-present shadow of death that hung over them like a dark cloud.

Night quickly descended, the frigid air becoming even more unforgiving. The hole still wasn't entirely dug, and both women, exhausted and chilled to the bone, decided to find other means of sleep. Evelyn now found herself squatting beside a familiar man's foxhole, the faint glow of the moon casting long shadows over the snow.

"Shove it, Floyd. I'm sleeping here tonight." She grumbled, sliding in beside him, noticing that Chuck was nowhere to be found.

"No 'please'?" Floyd asked, pretending to be annoyed, though the corners of his mouth twitched with amusement.

Evelyn sighed dramatically. "What's the point when you'll say yes anyway?"

"Who says I'll say yes?" Floyd shot back, his eyes twinkling in the dim light.

"You haven't said no yet."

"Maybe tonight's the night I change my mind." He teased, though his actions contradicted his words as he slung his arm over her shoulder, pulling her close.

Evelyn let out a huff of mock exasperation but couldn't help the small smile that crept onto her lips as she wriggled herself further into his hold, seeking warmth. The biting cold of the night had long since seeped into her bones, and Floyd's body heat was a welcome relief.

"How can I say no to you?" Floyd whispered softly, his voice carrying a hint of tenderness that caught Evelyn off guard.

She barely had time to react before he spoke again, a teasing lilt returning to his tone. "Where's Art?"

"Probably with George." She answered, grateful for the shift in conversation, though she couldn't shake the way her heart had fluttered at his earlier words.

"Those two are always together," Floyd mused, his breath warm against her cheek as he turned toward her, placing his free arm over her stomach, holding her even closer.

"I know," Evelyn said, her tone light, "he's stealing my girl."

Floyd chuckled softly, his chest vibrating against her as he tightened his hold. "Well, you've got me now."

Evelyn rolled her eyes, though there was a hint of fondness in her voice. "Hold your horses, pretty boy. Who says you're on par with Art?"

"Am I not?" Floyd gasped dramatically, his voice laced with mock hurt. "You wound me, White."

Evelyn chuckled, shaking her head. "We'll have to see if you've earned it."

"Does me not offering you my warmth earn it?"

"Course not," she scoffed, her breath visible in the cold night air. "It's expected of all the men to help us ladies out."

"Is that why you always seem to end up in my foxhole?" Floyd asked, his tone teasing, though there was something beneath it, something deeper that made Evelyn's heart skip a beat.

She froze for a moment, her mind racing for a response. She couldn't tell if he was joking or if there was something more behind his words. "I like you more when you keep your mouth shut." She finally grumbled, burying her face into his chest, hoping he wouldn't notice the way her cheeks had flushed.

Floyd chuckled softly, his arms tightening around her once more. "You say that, but I know you'd miss me if I didn't talk."

"Don't flatter yourself." Evelyn mumbled, though the small smile on her lips betrayed her true feelings.

For a few moments, the war seemed to disappear. The cold was still there, the ever-present threat of death looming in the background, but in Floyd's arms, Evelyn found a small sliver of peace. It was a fleeting comfort, but in a world filled with chaos, she would take whatever she could get.

They soon drifted into a restless sleep, their heartbeats syncing in the cold silence of the battlefield.

—

The biting wind whipped through the trees as Evelyn crept along the edge of the treeline, the shadows of Foy looming in the distance. The air was thick with the sounds of war, distant gunfire, the rumble of tanks, the shouts of soldiers. But she had long since learned to tune them out. Her breath came in shallow puffs, the cold air stinging her lungs as she moved with calculated precision, each step carefully placed to avoid detection.

She had slipped away from the foxhole in the early hours of the morning. Floyd had been beside her, his face relaxed in slumber, and she had hesitated for only a moment before making her decision. The mission couldn't wait. It was time to act.

Evelyn knew the risks. Sneaking away from the line in the middle of a battle was tantamount to desertion in the eyes of her comrades, but she wasn't just another soldier. Her true role in this war was far more complex, far more dangerous than they could ever imagine. She had always kept that part of herself hidden, blending into the ranks as just another face in the crowd, another name on the roster. But now, that life was catching up to her.

Moving silently through the snow, Evelyn reached the rendezvous point, a small, secluded barn on the outskirts of the town, half-buried in snow. It looked abandoned, but she knew better. The weathered wood creaked as she pushed open the door, slipping inside and letting the darkness envelop her.

Inside, a man sat waiting at a makeshift table, his face obscured by the dim light filtering through the cracks in the walls. He looked up as she entered, a flicker of recognition in his eyes.

"You're late, Mary." He said, his voice low and clipped.

"Had to make sure I wasn't followed." Evelyn replied, pulling her hood back and shaking off the snow that clung to her hair. "What's the situation?"

The man slid a map across the table toward her, the paper worn and creased from repeated use. "Intel suggests a high-ranking German officer will be passing through here today, en route to a command post just outside Foy. Your job is to intercept and eliminate."

Evelyn studied the map, her mind already working through the details. The route was well-guarded, but there were gaps, moments of vulnerability that she could exploit. "When?"

"Within the hour. You'll have one shot at this, and you'll need to be quick. If you fail-"

"I won't fail." Evelyn cut him off, her voice firm. She had been trained for this, every skill honed to perfection over years of clandestine operations. Failure was not an option.

The man nodded, his expression unreadable. "Good. You know what to do."

Evelyn tucked the map into her coat and turned to leave, but the man's voice stopped her. "And, Mary... no witnesses."

She paused for a moment, the weight of his words settling over her. Then she nodded and slipped back into the cold, the barn door creaking shut behind her.

—

The mission was over in a matter of hours. She had waited in the snow, lying still as death until the convoy appeared, the officer's car conspicuous among the armored vehicles. It had been a clean shot, a single bullet through the windshield that found its mark with lethal precision. The chaos that followed was brief, Evelyn had made sure of that, eliminating the remaining soldiers with ruthless efficiency before disappearing into the woods. Though she had noticed the flash of what seemed to be a camera in her direction, she was unable to find it amongst the bodies, deciding to head back instead of risking being captured at the scene. The worry of what that flash may have been still haunted her thoughts momentarily, but if she was unable to find a camera, it was likely there was never actually one.

96.

96 men whose souls hung over her, yet she continued to push them away, not wanting to fall down that road.

As she returned to the outskirts of Foy, the sun was just reaching it's peak in the sky, though it could barely be seen through the thick fog. The mission had gone as planned, but she couldn't shake the unease that clung to her as she approached the foxhole.

The moment she stepped into the clearing, she knew she had been caught.

Floyd stood there, his arms crossed, his expression a mixture of anger and hurt.

"Where the hell have you been?" Floyd demanded, his voice low, dangerous.

Evelyn hesitated, her mind racing for an excuse, but she knew there was no way to explain her absence that would make sense. Not this time. "I had something I needed to take care of." She said carefully, her tone neutral.

"That's not good enough," Floyd snapped, his frustration boiling over. "You disappeared in the middle of a battle, Mary! Do you even understand how that looks?"

"I know how it looks." She shot back, her own frustration rising. "But I handled it. The mission was successful, and that's what matters."

"Mission?" Floyd's eyes narrowed, his voice rising. "What mission? We're in the middle of a damn war, and you just vanish without a word!"

Evelyn clenched her fists, struggling to keep her composure. She couldn't tell him the truth, not without compromising everything she had worked for. But the weight of his accusations, the mistrust in his eyes, cut deeper than any bullet ever could. "I'm not at liberty to discuss it." She said finally, her voice cold, distant.

Floyd stared at her in disbelief, his anger morphing into something far more dangerous: hurt. "Not at liberty?" He echoed, his voice barely above a whisper. "What the hell does that mean, Mary?"

"It means there are things you don't know, things I can't tell you." She replied, her heart aching with the knowledge that this might be the end of their friendship, their closeness.

Floyd's jaw clenched, his fists tightening at his sides. "You think that's good enough? You think you can just walk away like that and leave us all wondering if you're dead or alive? You think you can keep secrets from me, from everyone, and it won't matter?"

Evelyn looked away, unable to meet his gaze. She couldn't let her emotions cloud her judgment, not now.

"I trusted you," Floyd continued, his voice raw with emotion. "I thought... I thought we were closer than that."

"Floyd-" She started, but he cut her off.

"No! Don't 'Floyd' me. Don't stand there and act like this is nothing. You've been hiding something from us, from me, and I want to know what the hell is going on." His voice cracked, betraying the depth of his hurt.

Evelyn swallowed hard, her chest tight with guilt. She had always known this moment would come, but that didn't make it any easier. "I'm sorry." She whispered, her voice barely audible.

"Sorry?" Floyd repeated, his voice filled with disbelief. "That's all you've got to say?"

"I can't..." Evelyn's voice broke, her emotions finally spilling over. "I can't explain everything right now. I wish I could, but I can't."

Floyd's expression softened for a brief moment, a flicker of understanding in his eyes. But it was gone just as quickly, replaced by the wall he was building between them. "You know, I thought I knew you," he said, his voice quiet but filled with pain. "I thought you trusted me. But now... now I don't know what to believe."

Before Evelyn could respond, Captain Winters appeared, his presence instantly commanding attention.

"White," Winters said, his voice calm but firm. "Where have you been?"

"I can't discuss this now, sir," Evelyn answered, her eyes flicking to Floyd.

Winters paused for a moment, his gaze shifting between them. He seemed to understand the tension in the air, but he didn't push. "We'll discuss this later," he said, his tone making it clear that he understood the need for discretion. "For now, just get back to your post."

Evelyn nodded, her face a mask of stoic determination. As she turned to leave, Floyd grabbed her arm, his touch both gentle and desperate.

"Mary," he whispered, his voice pleading. "Please, just tell me something. Anything."

Evelyn met his gaze, her heart aching with the weight of everything she couldn't say. "I'm sorry." She repeated, pulling free from his grasp and walking away.

That night, as she lay alone in her foxhole, Evelyn stared up at the starless sky, the cold seeping into her bones. She knew her secrets were catching up to her, that the life she had built in Easy Company was unraveling. And as much as she tried to push the thought away, she couldn't shake the fear that this mission, this war, would be the end of everything she had ever cared about.

But there was no turning back now. She was in too deep, and the only way out was through.

The war was far from over, and Evelyn would have to make sure that when it ended, there was still something left of her to salvage. Something worth saving.

Chapter Text

The days passed slowly after the news came of Lieutenant Peacock being sent back to the States for a month. It was a rare glimmer of light amidst the constant darkness of war.

"Congratulations, Lieutenant Peacock, I couldn't think of anyone who deserves it more." Bull said, shaking Peacock's hand, their smiles standing in contrast to the cold, gray surroundings.

Peacock grinned, his usually composed demeanor breaking into genuine joy. "Thanks, Bull. I didn't think this would happen anytime soon."

"I'm really glad you're going home." George added as he patted Peacock's shoulder, his voice gentle, carrying both envy and relief. Everyone had longed for the opportunity to return to something resembling normality.

"Best news I've heard in weeks." Christenson chimed in with a laugh that felt almost foreign in the war-torn woods.

Peacock glanced at the men surrounding him, his gratitude evident. "Thanks, guys. I mean it... it means a lot." His voice wavered slightly, overwhelmed by the warmth of their support. The group enveloped him in a tight hug, the camaraderie palpable as their laughter rose in the frigid air.

Anna and Evelyn stood to the side, watching the scene unfold. Anna took a slow drag from her cigarette, the tip glowing softly in the dimming light of the afternoon.

"Lucky bastard." Anna muttered, her voice low, smoke curling from her lips.

Evelyn turned to her, raising an eyebrow. "I didn't take you for a smoker."

Anna smirked, flicking the ash from the end of the cigarette that rested between her fingers. "Wasn't one till I landed in this forest."

Evelyn nodded, understanding. War had a way of pushing people into habits they never thought they'd adopt. Without another word, the two women turned and began walking away, their steps in sync as they moved silently through the thick, oppressive fog of the Ardennes.

—

By the afternoon of January 3rd, most of Easy Company had moved back to their old positions overlooking Foy, while a few remained attached to D Company, holding the main line of resistance. The forest felt like a tomb, the stripped trees standing like skeletal sentinels amidst the snow.

"Good luck, ladies." Bill called from up ahead, directing his words to those hunkered down in their foxholes. Evelyn chuckled under her breath at his remark, the tension of the moment easing for just a second.

"Be careful if he offers you a cigarette." Don added, stopping in front of one of the foxholes with a mischievous grin before Evelyn grabbed his arm, pulling him along with an exasperated sigh.

"Don't scare them." She scolded, pushing him back into line. His teasing nature was a welcome distraction, but now wasn't the time.

They eventually returned to their old foxholes, some of which had been battered by artillery fire. Evelyn scanned the area, her eyes locking onto the tattered trees. They stood like memories of the destruction that had ravaged this place, their bark torn away, branches splintered from explosions.

Suddenly, Joe Toye's voice rang out across the snowy field. "Argh! You gotta be fuckin' kidding me! Someone's gonna die, someone's gonna fucking die! Mary, Guarnere, look at this shit! One of those first battalion fucks took a dump in my foxhole!"

Evelyn grimaced, her gaze flickering between the shredded trees and Joe's enraged outburst. Bill Guarnere, unfazed, just shrugged and gestured to the forest around them. "Think they shitted in everyone's foxhole, Joe. Don't think they wanted to spend much time above ground."

Evelyn shook her head, focusing on repairing what remained of her foxhole. The others did the same, gathering what branches they could to reinforce their positions, hoping to stay sheltered when the inevitable shelling came.

Just as she and Anna were working, a distant explosion rocked the air from the direction of the village. Instinctively, their heads shot up.

"Incoming!" A voice screamed, echoing through the trees.

Fear surged between the two women as they shared a look, immediately scrambling to dive into their foxhole. They landed hard, curling up into each other as blasts shook the ground around them, sending tremors through the earth.

The barrage seemed to last forever, but when it stopped, a brief silence followed, broken only by the ringing in their ears. Slowly, they raised their heads, peering over the edge of the foxhole at the devastation surrounding them.

"Stay in your foxholes!" Lip's voice barked as he sprinted past, his command cutting through the chaos. "They're trying to draw you out!"

The brief reprieve allowed Evelyn to release a shaky breath, her hands trembling slightly. "Where do you think Dike is-" She hadn't finished the thought when a second round of explosions tore through the forest. Both women dropped back into their curled-up positions, the blasts louder and closer than before, the ground beneath them vibrating violently.

As the shelling ceased, a new sound pierced the air.

"Medic!" The cry of anguish was unmistakable, it was Buck Compton's voice. The tension in the foxhole escalated as Evelyn and Anna exchanged another fearful glance. They remained in place, waiting until it seemed safe to emerge.

Evelyn's heart raced as she cautiously climbed out, moving in the direction of the desperate call. As she approached, Evelyn's blood ran cold at the sight before her. Bill Guarnere and Joe Toye lay on the ground, blood pooling beneath them, their bodies broken and torn. Eugene Roe was kneeling beside them, his hands working frantically to stem the bleeding.

"Oh my God." Evelyn whispered, her voice barely audible as she froze, her eyes fixated on the horrifying scene. Her legs felt like lead, rooting her to the spot as the realization of what had happened washed over her.

"They got old gonorrhea this time, Mary." Bill remarked weakly as he looked up to her, his voice strained but laced with the dark humor that had become a survival mechanism for all of them.

Despite the chaos, Evelyn felt time slow, her mind struggling to process the blood, the destruction, the sight of her friends lying so helpless. She had seen death before, too many times to count, but seeing Bill and Joe, men she had fought beside for so long, in this state was something she couldn't push aside.

"Mary. Mary!" A hand on her shoulder snapped her back to the present. She turned to see Lip, his expression filled with concern. "Head back to your foxhole, okay?"

Numbly, Evelyn nodded, her body moving on autopilot as she turned away. Her mind remained locked on the scene she had just witnessed, the blood still vivid in her mind. As she reached the foxhole, she realized that Anna was already there, sitting in stunned silence.

"You okay, Mary?" Anna asked softly, her voice fragile as Evelyn slid into the hole beside her. She only received a silent nod in response, her mind too clouded to form words.

Finally, Evelyn spoke, her voice trembling. "I want to go home."

Anna's expression softened, and she nodded in understanding. "I know. Me too." She paused, her eyes lingering on Evelyn. "But we'll make it through this."

Evelyn nodded weakly, though she wasn't entirely sure she believed it. The two women sat in silence as the cold night began to fall, the weight of the war pressing down on them, making the air feel heavier with every passing minute.

—

The days slowly passed as Bill and Joe remained a forefront on Evelyn's mind. She felt bad, she hadn't even been able to bring herself to write to her family she was so focused on surviving, but she knew she had to, she couldn't leave them in the dark. So as she grabbed onto a small piece of paper and her pen, she began writing.

Dear Mom, Dad, and Maggie,

I'm writing this letter from somewhere deep in a forest in Belgium. It feels strange putting pen to paper after all this time. Maybe because it feels more real when I write it down, or maybe because I need to feel closer to you right now. Either way, here I am, writing to you from this cold, bleak place where time has lost all meaning.

You've probably heard about the fighting out here, what they're calling the Battle of the Bulge. We're right in the thick of it. The enemy is relentless, and the cold, it's like nothing I've ever felt before. The frost creeps into everything, right down to your bones. I didn't know cold could feel this heavy, like a weight pressing down on you constantly. The snow is everywhere, and it's hard to tell where the earth ends and the sky begins.

I don't want you to worry too much. I'm safe, for now, at least. I've made it this far, haven't I? But every day is a fight, not just against the enemy, but against the fear, the exhaustion, and the cold. Sometimes I wonder how I'm still going, but then I think about you all. I think about home.

Mom, I picture you in the garden, even in winter, your hands working the soil like it's spring already. I miss the smell of fresh bread from the kitchen, and Dad, I miss hearing you laugh from your favorite chair by the fire. Maggie, I miss you most of all. I wonder what you're up to, probably reading some book that's bigger than your head. I hope you haven't changed too much since I left.

There are moments, though, where things get so quiet it's almost peaceful. We sit in our foxholes, waiting for what comes next. Waiting is the worst part, it gives your mind too much time to wander, to think about things you'd rather not. I wonder if you've had the same news on your side of the world that we have here. Friends don't come and go here, they just go. Every time I lose someone, I feel like a part of me goes with them. But that's just how it is. We push on. We have to.

The woman I told you about before, she's still by my side, hasn't left it. You'd like her, I think. She's strong, tougher than she looks, but with a kindness that's rare in a place like this. She keeps me sane, makes me laugh when the world feels like it's falling apart around us. You need people like that out here. She reminds me of Maggie in some ways, always cracking jokes even when things are at their worst.

I don't want to dwell on the hard parts too much. I'll tell you the good stuff, too. We're surviving out here. The men we're with, they're brave, and we've become like family in a strange way. There's George, who can make you laugh no matter what's going on, and Bull, who's probably the strongest person I've ever met, in more ways than one. These people make it bearable. Sometimes we sit around, telling stories about home, about what we're going to do when all this is over. I try not to think too much about the end of the war, though. It feels so far away that sometimes I wonder if I'll ever see it.

But if something happens, if I don't make it back, I need you to know that I've done my best. I'm proud to be out here fighting, even when it scares me, even when I wonder if it's all worth it. I do this for you, for James, for everyone back home who deserves a world without this kind of darkness. If I've learned anything out here, it's that life is fragile, and we can't take anything for granted. So I want you to know that I love you. More than I can put into words.

I don't want you to worry about me. I'm doing what I believe is right, and no matter what happens, I'll carry you with me, just like you carry me. Maggie to keep being brave, and tell Dad that I'll try to laugh like him when I'm home again. And Mom, thank you for everything you've done for me. Your strength is what keeps me going.

I keep James in my prayers every night. I haven't heard from him in a while but that must mean he is putting all his energy into fighting.

I'll write again when I can. Until then, just know that I'm thinking of you all, every single day.

With all my love,

E.

As Evelyn finished, she turned to see Anna staring up at the sky, not a word being shared between the two women as they needed a moment of peace.

The quiet was broken by a figure appearing beside their foxhole, followed by three others. It was George Luz who spoke first, his tone light as he tried to lift their spirits. "Would you ladies care to join us?"

Anna smiled faintly. "'Course." She climbed out and offered a hand to Evelyn. "You wanna come, Mary?"

Evelyn hesitated for a moment before taking her hand. "Sure." She pulled herself up, the cold air biting at her cheeks as they followed the men over to Skip and Penkala's foxhole. The atmosphere, while still tense, was tinged with an undercurrent of nervous laughter.

George cleared his throat, gathering the small group's attention. "You know I got no reason to bullshit you, right? Look, I'm not going to bullshit you, this is what I saw. It was so unbelievable, you might not believe me." His dramatic pause drew smiles from the men around him. "So, you-know-who comes running up to Lipton. He's got no helmet, no gear, no nothing. 'Uh, First Sergeant Lipton, you organize things here, and I'm going to go for help.'"

George's impression of Lieutenant Dike was spot-on, causing a round of laughter to break through the cold night air. It was a much-needed moment of levity, but like all things in war, it was fleeting.

"Luz!" Lipton's voice interrupted from the darkness, calling the soldier away.

"Fellas. Ladies." George said, bidding them a farewell before jogging off toward Lip.

"Goodnight, all." Don added with a wave as he turned to leave.

"Goodnight, boys." Evelyn echoed, her voice soft. She and Anna exchanged glances, both knowing the brief laughter had been a welcome escape from the grim reality surrounding them.

Suddenly, the ground beneath them shook with a violent explosion. The night was lit up by a fireball not far behind them. Panic surged as the two women whipped around to face the blast.

"Shit! Eve, we gotta go!" Anna screamed, shoving Evelyn forward as they sprinted away from the rising flames. Their foxhole seemed too far away to reach in time.

"Mary! Get over here!" Bull's voice rang out, filled with urgency. Evelyn turned to see him waving her over to his position. She darted toward him, sliding into the safety of the hole just as the sound of more explosions filled the air. She turned back, expecting to see Anna right behind her.

But Anna was farther away than she should have been, still running towards them.

"Come on!" Evelyn shouted, her heart pounding as she watched her friend close the distance.

Just then, the ground erupted with another round of blasts. Evelyn's breath caught in her throat as she saw Anna consumed by one of them. A second explosion followed, blocking her view entirely.

"Anna! No!" Evelyn's scream tore through the air as she scrambled to climb out of the foxhole, but Bull's arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her back.

"Mary, you can't go out! Not now!" Bull's voice was firm, but there was a desperation in it as he held her back, his grip tight.

As the explosions ceased, his grip loosened. Without hesitation, Evelyn broke free, charging forward toward the last place she had seen Anna.

When she reached her, Evelyn's worst fears were confirmed.

Anna lay still, her body broken, surrounded by a pool of blood as her pained groans filled the air. Her torso was torn apart, her uniform stained deep red. The snow around her was dark with death.

Evelyn fell to her knees, her hands trembling as they hovered over her friend's body. Her breath hitched, her mind refusing to accept what her eyes were seeing.

"Anna..." she whispered, her voice cracking as she finally touched her friend's shoulder, shaking her gently as tears began to blur her vision. "Hey, Anna, it's okay. It's okay. Medic!"

"Eve?" Anna's voice strained as she looked up to the girl, her feature twisted in pain.

"It'll be alright, okay? Just hang on." Evelyn managed to choke up as tears began to stream down her face. "Medic!"

Rapid footsteps suddenly grew louder until Evelyn felt a presence drop down beside her. Looking up, she immediately saw Doc Roe pulling out his aid kit rapidly, not sparing the girl a glance before immediately getting to work.

Evelyn released her grip on her friend, her bloodied hands moving to cover her mouth in an attempt to muffle her cries and she watched her friend be tended to. Mere minutes later a large jeep pulled up, two men quickly jumping up and helping Eugene on lifting Anna onto the vehicle.

Evelyn remained frozen on the floor, watching as the jeep quickly made its exit whilst her sobs continued to flow, the injured woman barely hanging onto the threads of life was her only lifeline in the war, and she didn't know how she herself would survive without her. Unbeknownst to Evelyn, some of the Company had gathered nearby, watching in silent horror as Evelyn's cries filled the empty forest. Bull stood off to the side, his face etched with guilt and sorrow. He hadn't wanted to stop her, but he also hadn't wanted her to witness this, or worse, become a victim to the horror.

A hand gently touched her shoulder, but she didn't look up. She couldn't. She didn't have the energy to move.

"Mary..." Lipton's voice was soft, filled with understanding as he knelt beside her. He pulled her into his arms, her face pressed against his chest as her sobs continued, muffled but still heart-wrenching. He stroked her back, trying to provide some comfort, though he knew there was nothing that could truly ease her pain.

The next hours passed in a haze. At some point, she ended up in Lipton's foxhole, her grip on his uniform never faltering. She couldn't bear to let go, afraid that if she did, she might lose him too.

She stared forward, unblinking, into the dirt at the bottom of the foxhole, Anna's injured body burned into her mind, her heart aching with a grief she couldn't express. Even as the night deepened, she remained awake, eyes closing only when exhaustion finally forced her into a fitful, dreamless sleep.

Chapter Text

Evelyn sat in the foxhole she now shared with Lipton, her hands tucked inside her jacket to ward off the biting cold. The wind rustled through the trees overhead, a constant, eerie reminder of where they were, still pinned down in the woods outside Foy, barely holding on. Every day felt like a year, time stretching and collapsing in strange, disorienting ways. It had been a couple of days since Anna had been taken off the line, and Evelyn couldn't shake the sense that something was terribly wrong. She hadn't had any news, only the memory of Anna being dragged away by the medics, her body limp and bloody.

She kept replaying the moment over and over in her head. What had she missed? Should she have seen it coming? She wondered how Anna was now, whether she was even conscious, or if she'd made it through the journey to the aid station, if she was still alive. She tried not to think of that possibility, but the thought crept in, silent and persistent, refusing to leave her alone.

At night, the loneliness was the worst. Without Anna beside her, the darkness felt deeper, the cold more cutting. She couldn't bear to stay in their old foxhole anymore; it felt like a tomb. Lipton, ever the leader, had quietly offered her a space in his, and though she appreciated it, it wasn't the same. He was kind, steady, exactly what she needed, but there was no replacing Anna. Not in the middle of a war, not anywhere.

Evelyn shifted, trying to get comfortable on the frozen ground, her mind flitting between memories of Anna and the gnawing uncertainty about the days ahead. Lipton sat nearby, rifle across his lap, his breath coming out in soft puffs of condensation. He'd barely spoken, which she appreciated. There was nothing to say that would make any of this better.

"Mary," Lipton said quietly, not looking at her, his voice hesitant in the cold air. "You holding up okay?"

The question was simple, but it weighed heavily on her. She could hear the concern in his voice, and she knew he wasn't asking out of obligation. Lipton cared. He always had.

"I don't know," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. She hugged her knees closer to her chest, as if trying to fold in on herself. "Everything just... feels wrong."

Lipton nodded slowly, the understanding in his expression deepening. He didn't push her for more, didn't offer empty reassurances. It was one of the reasons Evelyn trusted him. He didn't pretend to have answers when there weren't any.

They sat in silence again for a while, the sounds of war far off but ever present, like a low hum in the background of everything.

"There's something else," Lipton finally said, his voice quieter, softer. Evelyn turned to look at him, sensing the weight behind his words. His brow furrowed, as if he were trying to find the right way to say what he needed to. "Skip and Penkala..."

Her heart sank instantly at the mention of their names, a sudden dread pooling in her stomach. She hadn't seen them in a while, but she hadn't thought much of it. The front line was chaotic; people were constantly moving, getting reassigned, and sometimes disappearing for days at a time.

"What about them?" she asked, though a part of her didn't want to hear the answer.

Lipton's eyes met hers, the sorrow in them clear before he even spoke. "They were killed in the barrage that hit Art. An artillery shell hit their foxhole."

Evelyn felt like the air had been sucked out of her lungs. The news hit her like a physical blow, and for a moment, she couldn't breathe. Skip and Penkala... gone. Just like that. Two faces she'd come to know so well, two voices she'd grown used to hearing in the background, suddenly snuffed out.

"No..." she whispered, shaking her head as if that could somehow change the reality. "Not them..."

"I'm sorry," Lipton said, his voice strained, as if he too was carrying the weight of every loss. "I wish I had better news."

Evelyn didn't respond. She couldn't. Her chest ached, her throat tight with unshed tears. It felt like everything was slipping away from her, one piece at a time. First Anna, now Skip and Penkala. What would be left of Easy Company by the time this war was over?

If they ever made it out at all.

Over the next few hours, Evelyn found herself gravitating toward George Luz. She hadn't planned it, hadn't even realized it at first, but there was something about him that offered a kind of escape. He didn't try to fix things, but he managed to make the unbearable feel a little less suffocating, at least for a few moments. He had that way about him, turning the darkest situation into something almost manageable with just a few words or a well-timed joke.

But even Luz wasn't his usual self. The jokes came less often now, and when they did, there was a tiredness in his eyes that hadn't been there before. War had a way of wearing people down, no matter how resilient they seemed on the outside.

One evening, after a long day of doing whatever they could to survive, Evelyn found herself sitting next to Luz by the edge of the tree line. He was fiddling with something, a broken piece of equipment, maybe, but his focus was half-hearted. She sat down next to him, hugging her knees to her chest.

Luz glanced over at her and gave her a small, tired smile.

"You okay, Mary?" He asked, his tone casual, but there was concern underneath.

She shrugged. "As okay as anyone can be, I guess."

He chuckled softly, a sound that held no real amusement. "Yeah. I hear that."

They sat in companionable silence for a few moments, the cold air pressing in around them. Evelyn found it oddly comforting, just being near someone who didn't expect anything from her. Luz wasn't trying to make her feel better or push her to talk. He was just there, and that was enough.

"How are you holding up?" She asked after a while, glancing at him.

Luz shrugged, still fidgeting with the broken equipment in his hands. "You know me. I just keep moving. Don't think too much, don't let it get to you. That's my motto."

Evelyn smiled faintly. "Does that actually work?"

He raised an eyebrow, giving her a lopsided grin. "You tell me. I've survived this long."

She couldn't help but laugh, though it was a hollow sound. There was no denying that Luz had a way of making things seem less terrible, even when they were at their worst. But she knew, deep down, that it was an act. They were all just doing what they could to get by, trying to hold themselves together in a world that was falling apart.

"Do you ever think about... what happens after?" Evelyn asked softly, her voice barely carrying over the wind.

Luz paused for a moment, his hands stilling as he considered her question. He let out a long breath before answering. "Yeah, sometimes. I mean, it's hard not to, right? Wondering if there's even gonna be an 'after.'"

Evelyn nodded, biting her lip. She had been thinking about it constantly, what her life would look like if she ever made it back home. She wasn't even sure who she'd be anymore.

"Do you think it'll ever be normal again?" She asked, her voice tinged with uncertainty.

Luz glanced at her, his expression more serious than she was used to seeing. "I don't know," he admitted. "But whatever happens, it won't be the same. Not for any of us."

She swallowed hard, knowing he was right. They had all changed, and there was no going back to the way things were before the war. But at least she wasn't alone in that realization.

Luz tossed the broken equipment aside with a sigh, running a hand through his hair. "You know, Art talked about you a lot."

Evelyn blinked, surprised by the sudden shift in conversation. "She did?"

He nodded, leaning back against a tree. "Yeah. She cared about you. A lot."

Evelyn felt a lump forming in her throat at the mention of Anna. She hadn't heard any news about her friend since she'd been taken off the line, and the uncertainty was eating away at her.

"She's a good friend," Evelyn said quietly. "I just... I wish I knew if she was okay."

Luz was quiet for a moment, watching her carefully. His expression shifted, and there was something in his eyes, something that made Evelyn's stomach tighten.

"Anna told me, you know," Luz said after a pause, his voice soft but pointed.

Evelyn's heart skipped a beat, her mind racing, though him using her real name already gave away the answer to her question. "Told you what?"

Luz's gaze didn't waver. "About you and her. About why you're really here."

The world seemed to tilt for a moment, and Evelyn froze. Anna had told him? The secret she'd been carrying, the one only Anna had known, now hung between them, exposed.

"She told you?" Evelyn whispered, her voice barely audible.

Luz nodded, his expression softening. "Yeah. Don't worry, she wasn't trying to betray you or anything. I think she just needed someone to talk to."

Evelyn's heart was pounding in her chest, but she couldn't bring herself to feel angry. If Anna had confided in Luz, it meant she had trusted him. That thought warmed her, even as a part of her felt exposed.

"She cared about you, Mary," Luz continued, his tone gentle. "A lot. She always spoke highly of you."

"Did she tell you my name?" Evelyn asked.

"No, no. She told me that was up to you to tell us. She told me hers, though. Anna Blake, definitely suits her more than Artemis." He chuckled gently before quickly coughing, the cold air filling his lungs. Evelyn smiled briefly, looking down to collect her thoughts briefly.

"Is it only you that knows?"

"That I know of, unless you've gone round telling others?" His question caused her to sigh.

"Winters and Nixon know." Evelyn revealed, earning a surprised look from the man beside her.

"Nixon?"

"He's an intelligence officer, he worked it out rather quickly." She chuckled to herself, replaying his 'confrontation' in her mind. "Had to tell Winters when he saw us snooping in some German posts."

"You haven't told Floyd?" She froze, replaying the brief arguement they exchanged when he caught her sneaking back in.

Sighing lightly, she spoke. "He caught me sneaking back in after a mission but I just couldn't tell him, for my safety and his own. We haven't spoken since." George sighed at her revelation, seeing from her face how much it pained her.

"Do you love him?" Evelyn looked at him in shock before quickly swatting him away.

"No, I would never."

"That's not what Anna thinks." George smirked at the sight of her blushing cheeks.

"Anna thinks a lot of things." She grumbled to herself, earning a laugh from the man beside her before it quickly grew silent between them.

Evelyn swallowed, her friend's face playing in her mind. "I wish I could see her again," she said, her voice trembling. "I miss her."

Luz reached out, giving her a reassuring pat on the shoulder. "We all do. But she wouldn't want us to sit here moping, you know? She'd want us to keep fighting, keep moving forward."

The idea was comforting, even if it felt impossible. "Yeah, I guess you're right."

For a moment, they sat together in silence, the weight of everything hanging heavily in the air. But there was also a sense of camaraderie, a shared understanding of their circumstances.

"Thank you, George," she finally said, her voice thick with gratitude. "For being here. For listening."

"Anytime, Mary. We're in this together, right?" He shrugged, giving her a small smile before it quickly turned into a teasing smirk. "Don't shy away from Floyd as well, I'm sure he'd want to talk as well."

"Stop it, George!" She slapped his shoulder before quickly walking away, his laughs filling the background as she trodded off.

Despite Luz's words, the awkwardness with Floyd remained a constant reminder of the tensions that still lay unresolved. Evelyn felt a strange mix of emotions whenever she passed him. It had been days since their last confrontation, but the memory of it still lingered, heavy and unresolved.

The first time she walked past him since that day, her heart raced, and she avoided his gaze, her stomach twisting in knots. He was leaning against a tree, talking with some of the other men, but as she approached, the conversation faded, and he fell silent, his expression hardening as she neared.

Evelyn tried to keep her eyes straight ahead, willing herself to walk past without incident, but she felt the weight of his stare on her back as she passed. The silence hung between them like a thick fog, suffocating and tense. It was a reminder of their last argument, of the accusations thrown back and forth, and the truth that lingered unspoken.

In the days that followed, it became a ritual, a painful one. Every time she walked past him, the tension would rise, and she would feel that same twist in her stomach. Sometimes she could see him clench his jaw, the tension in his body unmistakable. Other times, he would look away entirely, as if pretending she didn't exist.

One evening, as she moved through the camp, trying to avoid the shadows that threatened to swallow her whole, she found herself walking directly toward Floyd. This time, there was no escaping him. He was standing with a group of men, their laughter and chatter fading as she approached.

Evelyn's heart raced, her palms sweating. She could feel their eyes on her, but it was Floyd's gaze that pinned her in place. It felt like a spotlight, illuminating all the unspoken words between them.

"Mary," Floyd said, his voice cool but tense. It wasn't a greeting, more of an acknowledgment. His lack of her nickname only paining her heart more.

"Floyd," she managed to reply, her voice barely above a whisper. She wanted to say more, to bridge the gap that had formed, but the words felt stuck in her throat.

The moment hung in the air, charged with unspoken tension. She felt the weight of their last argument pressing down on her, the hurt and anger still fresh. But now, with everything that had happened, the losses, the uncertainty, her heart ached with the need for connection. She wanted to apologize, to explain herself, but she didn't know how.

He was watching her, the lines of his face tight with something she couldn't quite read. "You look like you could use some rest," he said finally, his tone clipped, but there was a softness there, buried deep beneath the surface, even if he wouldn't admit it.

Evelyn nodded, unsure of how to respond. "Yeah, it's been..." She paused, searching for the right words. "It's been hard."

"Hard for all of us," he replied, his eyes narrowing slightly. "But you know that."

Her breath caught in her throat. She felt like he was holding a mirror up to her, forcing her to confront the truth she'd been avoiding. "I'm sorry," she said, the words tumbling out before she could stop them. "About what I said. I was wrong to—"

He held up a hand, cutting her off. "No, Mary. We don't need to go there again."

The rejection stung, sharper than she expected. "But it matters," she insisted, feeling the heat rising in her cheeks. "I don't want things to be like this between us. Not now, not with everything that's happening."

Floyd's expression softened for just a moment, and she saw a flicker of something—pain, perhaps, before it vanished behind a wall of indifference. "You don't get to decide that for me," he said, his tone even but laced with emotion.

She felt her heart sink. "I'm just trying to understand. I didn't mean to hurt you, Floyd. I was scared. Scared for you, for all of us. And I took it out on you. I shouldn't have."

The silence stretched between them, thick and heavy. For a moment, she thought he might say something, but then he turned away, rejoining his friends.

"Whatever, Mary," he said over his shoulder, his voice dismissive. "Just... stay out of my way for a while."

The words struck her like a physical blow, and she felt a rush of humiliation flood her cheeks. The pain of their unspoken history clawed at her insides, leaving her feeling raw and exposed. As she walked away, her heart heavy, she realized how much she longed for resolution, for understanding, but the war didn't care about feelings or friendships. It just kept pushing them all forward, deeper into the darkness.

The hours blurred into a haze of grief and uncertainty, each moment dragging on longer than the last. Evelyn continued to visit George Luz, seeking solace in his presence, but even he couldn't entirely lift the weight from her shoulders.

One evening, as they sat together near a small fire, Luz shared another story, trying to pull her away from her thoughts.

"Did I ever tell you about the time I tried to order pizza from a German?" He asked, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

Evelyn chuckled softly, though the sound was still tinged with sadness. "No, but I'm guessing it didn't go well?"

He grinned, leaning closer to the fire. "Well, let's just say it was the worst delivery service ever. I mean, how hard is it to find a few slices in the middle of a war?"

She laughed genuinely for the first time in days, the weight of her worries lifting, if only for a moment.

"See?" Luz said, his expression brightening. "Laughter is the best medicine, Mary."

Evelyn looked at him, her heart full of gratitude. "You really know how to lighten the mood."

"Just doing my part," he said, his smile fading slightly as he looked into the fire. "We all need something to hold on to, especially now."

The weight of his words hung in the air, and Evelyn felt a pang of realization. They were all just trying to survive, trying to find reasons to keep going in a world that seemed determined to tear them apart.

"Anna would have loved that story," she said quietly, her heart aching at the thought of her friend.

Luz nodded solemnly. "Yeah, she would have. She had a way of finding the light in all this darkness, you know? I think that's what made her special."

Evelyn couldn't help but smile at the memory of Anna's laughter, the way it echoed through their small group like music, lifting spirits even in the darkest times.

"I miss her," Evelyn admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

Luz glanced at her, his eyes filled with understanding. "We all do, Mary. But she wouldn't want us to stop living just because she's not here. She'd want us to fight for her, to carry on."

As the fire crackled between them, Evelyn felt a sense of determination wash over her. She couldn't let grief consume her; she needed to find a way to honor Anna, to keep her memory alive.

"Thanks, George," she said softly, a small smile breaking through the heaviness in her heart. "For reminding me."

"Anytime," he replied, his smile warm and genuine. "We've got each other, right? That's what matters."

Evelyn nodded, feeling the weight of their shared struggles. Even in the darkest moments, there was still a flicker of hope, a glimmer of light that refused to be extinguished.

And as the night deepened, Evelyn held onto that light, determined to carry it forward, for Anna and for herself.

She would keep fighting, keep moving, because that's what they all had to do. And even though the war raged on, she knew she wouldn't have to face it alone.

Chapter Text

The freezing air seemed to hold its breath as Evelyn sat alone, surrounded by the men of Easy Company, each lost in their own thoughts, their faces etched with the strain of war. Snow crunched beneath her as she adjusted her rifle, hands trembling slightly, but not from the cold. She fiddled with the parts of her weapon, ensuring everything was in order. The rhythmic click of metal against metal offered her a strange sense of control, something solid amid the chaos that threatened to unravel her.

Her eyes drifted to the men on either side of her. They were like ghosts of themselves, faces pale and hollowed out by fatigue, eyes dull with the weight of things seen and done. But it wasn't their hollow stares that made her chest tighten. It was the absence of Anna beside her. The hole her best friend left in her world was gaping, and the quiet magnified it.

No one approached her. They didn't have to. The anger rippling through her was palpable, and the way she aggressively handled her gun was enough to warn them off. They weren't stupid; they could see she wasn't in the mood to talk.

She sighed, the icy air burning her lungs as she did. Loss had carved itself into her like a sharp blade, slicing through every defense she had. First Hoobler, then nearly losing Anna, and now she was standing at the edge of something darker than grief: rage. Anger at the Germans for taking away people she cared about, at Easy Company's missteps under incompetent command, but more than anything, at herself. For not being there to protect Anna, for the web of lies and secrets she had woven to survive this war, and now, for watching it all begin to unravel.

And yet, the tears that had once come so easily had dried up. She felt numb to the grief. There was no room left for sorrow. It had all turned into something else, something hotter—rage simmering beneath her skin.

Easy Company lined up at the edge of the trees, preparing for their assault on Foy. Under Lieutenant Dike's command, they charged forward into the open field. The air was filled with shouts, explosions, and the deafening crack of gunfire. Evelyn sprinted with the others, her heart racing as men dropped all around her, but she forced herself to stay focused.

She found cover behind a large hay building, her breath coming in short bursts from the exertion. Dike and George were right behind her. Dike was frantically shouting orders into the radio, but his voice wavered, and there was an edge of panic to his tone.

Evelyn pressed her back against the building's wall, leaning out just enough to line up a shot. She fired, the German soldier in her sights dropping instantly. Her hands were steady, her aim true, but her mind was racing.

97

"Fall back!" Dike shouted suddenly, his voice high-pitched with fear.

Evelyn snapped her head toward him, her eyes wide with disbelief. "What?!" she yelled, incredulous. They had only just started moving forward, and now he was calling for a retreat?

"Fall back!" Dike repeated, his eyes wild. Lipton appeared beside them, the rest of the men crowding in behind the shelter, the small space growing cramped with bodies.

"Lieutenant, what's the plan?" Foley asked, his voice tense.

"I don't know. I don't know!" Dike stammered, his hands trembling as he gripped the radio.

Evelyn felt her frustration spike. "We can't stay here!" She shouted, just as a nearby explosion rocked the ground, sending a spray of snow and debris into the air. They were sitting ducks, and every second they spent in this position meant more men were going to die.

Dike stammered through more orders, barely coherent, as Foley led his platoon on a flanking mission. Evelyn turned back to her scope, her sharp eyes scanning the area. "Lip! Sniper in the building with the caved-in roof!" She exclaimed.

Lip relayed the information over the radio as Evelyn swung her body back around, positioning herself to take another shot. The chaos around her was deafening, but her mind zeroed in on her task—eliminate the enemy, protect her comrades.

"Sir, we have to keep moving!" Lipton shouted at Dike, trying to snap him out of his paralysis.

Evelyn could barely contain her frustration. "What are we doing?!" She demanded, glaring at Dike. But he was frozen, fear gripping him like a vice.

And then, like a bolt of lightning, Speirs appeared. He dropped to his knees beside Dike, grabbing him by the shoulders. "I'm taking over," Speirs said firmly. His voice was calm, but there was an unmistakable authority in it. "First Sergeant Lipton, what have we got?"

Lip quickly relayed the situation to Speirs, and Evelyn felt a weight lift from her chest. Speirs was competent, fearless. Finally, someone was in charge who could lead them out of this nightmare.

Speirs barked orders, rallying the men, and then sprinted into the chaos, charging through enemy lines as if he were invincible. Evelyn watched, her heart in her throat, as Speirs ran through the Germans and disappeared behind a wall. She held her breath, waiting for what felt like minutes when he suddenly reappeared, running back toward them, unscathed.

The town of Foy was soon theirs. Over a hundred German soldiers surrendered, and the men of Easy Company erupted into songs of celebration, their voices ringing out across the snowy streets.

But the celebration was short-lived. A sudden gunshot pierced the air, followed by screams. Evelyn's heart lurched as she darted for cover, nearly colliding with Shifty and Lip as she pressed herself against a building.

"This one's yours, Shifty!" She called, nodding toward the sniper's position.

Shifty nodded, steady as always, and took his shot. Silence fell over the town, and Evelyn let out a breath she didn't realize she had been holding. Shifty's bullet had found its mark, and the sniper was no longer a threat.

Evelyn clapped him on the shoulder as they stepped out from their cover. "Nice shot," she said with a small smile.

Shifty returned her smile, though it was tired and strained. "Thanks, Mary."

As they made their way back through the town, Perconte's voice rang out. "They shot me in my ass, Mary!"

Evelyn turned, her eyes landing on Perconte being carried by Bull. Despite the situation, she managed a small laugh. "Get better, Perc," she said, her eyes flicking to the bloodstain on the back of his uniform.

In the following days, Easy Company captured a few more towns, though their numbers dwindled with each victory. By the time they reached Rachamps, only 64 of them remained. Evelyn felt the weight of their losses like a stone in her chest. The faces of the men who were no longer with them haunted her, and the absence of Anna gnawed at her relentlessly.

They were allowed to rest in a cathedral, and Evelyn found herself sitting alone on one of the small wooden benches. The choir's soft melodies echoed through the stone walls, offering a brief respite from the horrors outside. But Evelyn couldn't shake the darkness that had settled over her heart.

She reached into her breast pocket and pulled out a worn photograph. Her family. Her eyes immediately fell on her own smiling face—so bright, so full of life. She ran a finger over the image, tracing the outline of her brother's arm slung over her shoulder. James had always known how to make her laugh, even when she didn't want to. His smile in the photo was as wide and carefree as hers.

Evelyn's chest tightened as she thought of home. She longed for the warmth of her parents' embrace, for the sound of her younger sister Maggie playing her latest song on the piano. She missed the evenings spent playing baseball with her brother and father, despite her mother's protests about them ruining the lawn. But more than anything, she missed the feeling of safety, of knowing that no matter what happened, her family would always be there to catch her.

She tucked the photo back into her pocket, not wanting to dwell on it any longer. Thinking of home made her feel weak, and weakness had no place here.

Her eyes scanned the room, taking in the faces of the men who were left. They were weary, their eyes hollowed by the things they had seen and done. Among them, her gaze locked with Floyd's.

Floyd... She hadn't spoken to him properly in weeks, not since everything had changed between them. She couldn't decipher the look in his eyes now—was it anger? Hurt? Something else entirely? They had grown so distant, and in that distance, Evelyn felt like a stranger to him.

For a long moment, neither of them moved. They just stared at each other, as if trying to bridge the gap that had formed between them with nothing more than a look. But the silence stretched on, heavy and unresolved.

Finally, it became too much. Evelyn broke the eye contact, standing abruptly and walking down the long aisle, her footsteps echoing in the quiet space. She pushed open the heavy doors of the cathedral and stepped out into the cold night air.

Evelyn stood outside the cathedral, arms wrapped tightly around herself against the biting wind, trying to steady her breath. The cold gnawed at her, but she welcomed it. It was sharp and real, unlike the numbness she felt inside. She had needed air, needed space, needed... something. Anything but the crushing weight of everything that had happened. The war, the loss, the distance she felt growing between her and the men of Easy Company, and more acutely, the growing distance between her and Floyd.

She had barely noticed Floyd step out from the cathedral until she heard his footsteps in the snow. His voice broke the quiet, but it wasn't gentle. There was tension there, a hardness that matched the chill in the air.

"You always do this, Mary." Floyd said, his tone clipped, his eyes burning as he looked at her. "You always run away when things get tough."

Evelyn stiffened at his words, her back still to him. She didn't want to turn and face him, didn't want to acknowledge the truth in what he was saying. Instead, she clenched her jaw, trying to suppress the rising tide of anger that surged within her.

"I'm not running," she said quietly, though the edge in her voice betrayed her. "I just needed air."

Floyd scoffed, stepping closer, his breath forming clouds in the cold air. "Right. Air. That's your excuse? That's all you ever do—distance yourself when things get hard."

Evelyn felt her pulse quicken, the weight of his words settling heavily on her chest. She turned sharply to face him, her eyes flashing. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?" She snapped. "You think I'm running away from you?"

Floyd's jaw tightened, his frustration evident in the way his hands balled into fists at his sides. "I don't know what to think anymore, Mary. One minute, you're right there with me, and the next, you're pulling away. And I'm tired of it. I'm tired of feeling like I don't know where we stand."

Evelyn's anger flared. She took a step forward, her voice rising. "You think this is easy for me? You think I don't have enough to deal with already? With everything—everything—I've seen, everything we've lost, and now you want to throw this on top of it?"

Floyd's eyes darkened, his frustration bubbling over. "I'm not throwing anything on you. I'm trying to be there for you, but you won't let me! You shut me out, and then you act like I'm the one who's pulling away!"

"Maybe you should!" Evelyn shot back, her voice sharp. "Maybe it would be easier for both of us if you did!"

Floyd blinked, taken aback by her words. The hurt flashed across his face, and for a moment, he was silent. When he spoke again, his voice was lower, but there was an unmistakable intensity behind it. "Is that what you want? For me to walk away? To leave you alone?"

Evelyn looked away, her anger fading for just a moment as the weight of his question hung in the air. She didn't know what she wanted anymore. Everything felt so tangled—her grief, her fear, her guilt. And now Floyd, the one person she thought she could count on, was adding to the confusion.

"I don't know," she muttered, her voice quieter now, though no less tense. "I don't know anything anymore."

Floyd shook his head, his frustration building again. "That's bullshit, Mary. You know exactly what you're doing. You're pushing me away because it's easier than dealing with whatever it is you're feeling."

Evelyn turned sharply to face him, her eyes narrowing. "Don't tell me how I feel."

"Someone has to!" Floyd snapped, stepping closer, his voice rising. "You sure as hell aren't telling me! You think I don't see it? You're angry—angry at everything. But you won't talk to me about it. You won't let me in. You think I haven't been through the same shit? We're all going through this together, but you-" He stopped, biting off his words as if realizing he was saying too much.

"But what?" Evelyn demanded, stepping toward him, her heart pounding. "Say it, Floyd. You think you've had it worse than me?"

"That's not what I'm saying!" Floyd shot back, his voice cracking with exasperation. "I'm saying you're not alone in this, but you act like you are! You act like you're the only one carrying the weight of this war, and then you shut everyone out! You shut me out!"

Evelyn clenched her fists, her whole body trembling with the force of her emotions. "Do you think I want to be like this? Do you think I want to carry this alone?" Her voice cracked, and she hated how vulnerable she sounded, hated that Floyd was the one to see her like this. "I don't know how to talk about it, Floyd. I don't know how to explain what's going on inside me because I don't even understand it myself."

Floyd's face softened for just a moment, but the tension remained. "Then why won't you let me help you? Why do you push me away every time I try?"

"Because I don't know how!" Evelyn shouted, her voice echoing in the cold night air. "I don't know how to let you in! I don't know how to talk about everything I've seen, everything I've lost—Art, Skip, the others—" Her voice faltered, and she looked away, blinking back the tears that threatened to spill over. "I don't know how to do this." She said, her voice quieter now, almost broken.

For a moment, there was silence between them, the weight of everything they hadn't said hanging in the air.

Floyd exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair as he tried to keep his own emotions in check. "You're not the only one who's lost people, Mary," he said, his voice quieter now, though still tinged with frustration. "We've all lost something in this war. But that's why we need each other. That's why I need you. I can't-" He stopped, his voice catching in his throat. "I can't do this without you. But I don't know how to help you if you won't let me."

Evelyn looked at him then, really looked at him. She saw the hurt in his eyes, the exhaustion, the same fear and anger she felt mirrored in his face. For a moment, her anger ebbed, replaced by something softer, something that made her want to reach out and take his hand, to tell him she was sorry.

But the walls she had built around herself were too strong. She didn't know how to tear them down.

"You can't help me, Floyd." She said quietly, the bitterness returning to her voice, though it was laced with regret. "No one can."

Floyd shook his head, stepping back as if her words had physically pushed him away. "That's not true." He said, his voice thick with frustration. "You just don't want anyone to help you. You'd rather wallow in your own misery than let someone in."

Evelyn's eyes flashed with anger again. "You don't know what you're talking about."

"Don't I?" Floyd challenged, his voice rising again. "I've been right here, Mary. Right beside you, every step of the way. But you've been pushing me away from the start. You think this is all on me? Fine. But I'm not going to keep standing here while you push me out."

"Then don't!" Evelyn snapped. "Maybe I don't need you, Floyd! Maybe it would be easier for both of us if you just walked away!"

Floyd's eyes flared with hurt and anger, his hands shaking at his sides. "Is that what you really want?"

Evelyn hesitated, her heart pounding in her chest. The words had come out sharper than she'd intended, but now they hung in the air between them, impossible to take back. She opened her mouth to say something, anything to soften the blow, but no words came.

Floyd's expression hardened, and he nodded slowly, his voice tight. "Fine," he said, stepping back. "If that's what you want, then I'll leave you alone. I won't bother trying to help you anymore."

Evelyn's breath caught in her throat, the weight of his words settling heavily in her chest. This wasn't what she wanted, was it? She had been angry, frustrated, scared. But now, faced with the possibility of losing him for good, she felt something inside her break.

"Floyd, wait-" She started, her voice barely above a whisper.

But Floyd shook his head, his eyes filled with a mix of hurt and frustration. "No, Mary. You've made it pretty clear. You don't want me around. So I won't be." He turned and began to walk away, his shoulders hunched against the cold.

Evelyn watched him go, her heart pounding in her chest, her stomach churning with regret. She wanted to call out to him, to tell him she hadn't meant it, to ask him to stay. But the words caught in her throat, and she remained silent as he disappeared into the night.

The cold bit at her skin, but she barely felt it. All she could feel was the hollow ache in her chest, the weight of everything left unsaid.

She had wanted to push him away, so why did it feel like she was the one left standing in the cold?

Chapter Text

The world around Anna seemed to pulse with the constant, unrelenting rhythm of pain. It was a dull throb, a persistent reminder of the bullet that had lodged itself in her side just days before. She lay on the cot, the canvas above her rippling gently in the wind, the dim, yellow light filtering through giving the tent an otherworldly glow. Every breath she took sent a sharp, stabbing sensation through her ribs, but she forced herself to keep breathing, even when it hurt so much that she wanted to scream.

The aid station was a cacophony of sound. Men groaned in agony, their voices raw from screaming. The high-pitched whimpers of soldiers in pain mixed with the constant murmuring of nurses and doctors, their hands moving deftly from one wounded soldier to another. Anna could hear the distant rumble of artillery, each explosion sending a ripple of anxiety through her chest, wondering how close the front lines had become.

As the days wore on, Anna had come to expect the sounds—the groans, the cries, the shuffling footsteps of overworked medics moving from bed to bed. But no matter how accustomed she became, the sound of someone screaming, begging for the pain to stop, always hit her like a punch to the gut.

It was night when the screams started again, jolting her awake from a restless sleep. She turned her head slowly, her neck stiff, her muscles protesting with every movement. The tent was dim, the only light coming from a single oil lamp near the entrance. But she could make out the silhouette of a soldier, his body thrashing on a nearby cot, as two nurses tried to hold him down. His leg had been blown apart by shrapnel, and now they were trying to amputate what was left to save him.

"Please! Stop!" the man screamed, his voice cracking with desperation. "God, please, no more!"

Anna squeezed her eyes shut, trying to block it out. She wanted to cover her ears, to escape the sounds of the suffering around her, but there was nowhere to go. Nowhere but her memories—and even they weren't always safe. They were filled with the faces of the dead, the men of Easy Company who had fallen, and the constant, gnawing fear that Evelyn would be next.

Evelyn.

Evelyn's face haunted her thoughts more than anything else. That last look they shared before Anna had been dragged off the field, bleeding and unconscious, played over and over in her mind. The shock, the fear, and the weight of everything they had endured was written in Evelyn's eyes. She had seen too much. They both had.

Anna had never meant for Evelyn to see her like that—so broken, so vulnerable. They had always been each other's strength, two women in a world dominated by men, fighting side by side. Now, Anna was left with the sickening worry of how Evelyn was coping alone, the only woman left in Easy Company.

The thought brought a fresh wave of guilt. She knew Evelyn would try to be strong, to carry on as if nothing had changed. But Anna also knew how much the war had already chipped away at her. The long nights filled with the cries of the wounded, the endless marches, the firefights, Evelyn had always faced it with a quiet resilience, but Anna had seen the toll it took on her friend. And now, Anna wasn't there to watch her back, to ease that burden, and it killed her inside.

She reached for the small, worn photograph she kept tucked under her pillow. It was of her family, her mother, her father, and her younger brother. Their smiles were frozen in time, untouched by the horrors of war. Anna's thumb traced the outline of her brother's face. He had been so excited when she had enlisted, bragging to all his friends that his sister was going to fight in the war. She wondered what he'd think now if he saw her lying here, broken and weak.

The flap of the tent rustled, and Anna turned her head just in time to see a nurse walk in. It wasn't just any nurse, though. Anna had come to recognize this one, Clara. Her sharp blue eyes were always alert, and her no-nonsense attitude had made her stand out among the other nurses. Clara had been tending to Anna since her arrival, and over the days, they had started to exchange more than just the usual small talk.

"Morning, soldier," Clara greeted her, walking over with a fresh set of bandages in hand. "How's the pain today?"

Anna grimaced, pushing herself up slightly to allow Clara to get to her wound. "Manageable," she said, though it wasn't entirely true. The pain still gnawed at her with every movement, but she refused to show weakness. She had enough of that already.

Clara raised an eyebrow, clearly not convinced. "I'll take that with a grain of salt." She moved with practiced efficiency, unwrapping the old bandages and checking the wound. "Looks like you're healing well, though. No signs of infection. That's good news."

Anna nodded, though the words felt hollow. Healing physically was one thing, but mentally, she wasn't sure she'd ever recover from what she had seen and what she had been through. The war changed everyone, she knew that. But it felt different now. It felt personal.

Clara worked in silence for a moment, her hands deftly replacing the bandages. Then, without looking up, she said, "You've been here a week now. And I don't think I've seen you smile once."

Anna blinked, surprised by the comment. She hadn't realized how much she had been holding in, how much she had distanced herself from everything around her. "Not much to smile about these days," she replied, her voice rough.

Clara sat back, inspecting her work. "That may be true. But it helps to talk about it. Believe me, I've seen enough soldiers in this tent who think keeping it all bottled up is the way to go. It's not."

Anna sighed, her gaze drifting toward the ceiling. She didn't want to talk about it, not yet. The wound was still too fresh, both physically and emotionally. "What's there to talk about?" she said after a moment, her voice barely above a whisper. "I got hit. I ended up here. And now I'm just... waiting."

"Waiting for what?"

Anna turned her head to look at Clara. There was a kindness in her eyes that she hadn't noticed before, a depth of understanding that made her feel like Clara had seen more than her share of war as well. Maybe that's why Anna found herself saying more than she intended.

"Waiting to see if I still have a place with my unit," she admitted. "If they're even still alive."

Clara nodded, as if she had heard this kind of thing many times before. "What's your unit? Which company?"

"Easy Company," Anna said quietly. The words felt heavy on her tongue. "101st Airborne."

Clara's eyes widened slightly at the mention of the company. "I've heard about them. Tough group. You're in good company."

"I was," Anna said, her voice cracking slightly. "But now... I don't know."

Clara was silent for a moment, her gaze steady on Anna's face. "You'll find your way back to them. It takes time to heal, but you'll get there."

Anna didn't respond. She wasn't sure if she believed Clara or if she was just saying what she thought Anna needed to hear. Either way, the words felt like a small comfort, even if they didn't entirely erase the fear gnawing at her insides.

As the days passed, Clara became a constant presence in Anna's recovery. She would stop by every morning to check on her wound, but their conversations had started to go beyond the surface. They began to talk about their lives before the war—small glimpses of the people they used to be.

One afternoon, as Clara helped Anna sit up, they found themselves talking about their families.

"I miss them," Anna admitted, her fingers absently tracing the edges of the photo she kept close to her chest. "My family, I mean. My brothers... they're still so young. I don't think they understands what's really happening out here."

Clara nodded, her expression softening. "My sister's the same way. She writes me letters, full of stories about her school friends and the dances she goes to. She's living in a world so different from this one, and sometimes I think it's better that way."

Anna looked at her, surprised. "You have a sister?"

Clara smiled faintly. "Yeah. She's seventeen. Thinks the world is still full of hope and romance." She paused, her expression growing wistful. "I used to think that too."

Anna could see the weight behind Clara's words, the sadness that came from having to leave behind the innocence of youth. She understood that all too well.

"It's funny," Clara continued. "Before the war, all I could think about was getting out, doing something bigger, making a difference. But now... sometimes I wish I could just go back to those simpler times, when the biggest worry I had was whether or not I'd get invited to a dance."

Anna chuckled softly, though it quickly turned into a wince as the movement tugged at her side. "I know what you mean. I never thought I'd miss the boring days of doing nothing at home, but now... I'd give anything for one of those days."

Clara's smile faded as she studied Anna's face. "You'll get back there. You'll make it through this."

Anna wanted to believe her, but the doubt lingered. She hadn't seen Evelyn in days, hadn't heard any news about Easy Company since she'd been brought to the aid station. Every day that passed felt like she was drifting further away from the only people who understood what she was going through. The thought of Evelyn being out there alone, the only woman left in the company, gnawed at her constantly.

"She's out there, you know." Anna said one evening, her voice quiet as she stared at the canvas ceiling above her. "Mary."

Clara paused in her work, glancing over at Anna. "Who's Mary?"

Anna sighed, turning her head to look at the nurse. "She's... my best friend. We joined Easy together. Fought together. She's still out there, and I'm stuck here."

Clara didn't say anything right away, giving Anna the space to speak. It was something Anna appreciated about her, Clara never pushed, never pried. She just listened.

"I keep thinking about how she's handling it." Anna continued, her voice growing more strained. "We were the only two women in the company. Now she's alone, and I... I don't know if I'll ever be able to get back to her."

Clara came closer, sitting on the edge of Anna's cot. "She's strong, right? She'll manage. And you will get back to her, Art. It's just going to take time."

Anna clenched her fists in frustration, the pain in her side a dull throb now compared to the ache in her heart. "I hate that she had to see me like that," she whispered. "When I got hit... I saw the look in her eyes. She's seen so much already, but that moment, it was like I could see all the pain and suffering we've been through, reflected back at me."

Clara was silent for a long time, her hand resting gently on Anna's arm. "War changes people," she said softly. "It hardens us. But it also shows us who we are, who we care about. You'll get through this, Art. And when you do, you'll be stronger than you ever thought possible."

The first time the nurses helped Anna to her feet, her legs buckled almost immediately. The pain was sharp, and her muscles felt weak from disuse. She gritted her teeth as Clara and another nurse, Sarah, supported her weight, holding her up as she tried to take a step.

"Easy now," Clara murmured, her voice calm and encouraging. "Just one step at a time."

Anna's breath came in ragged gasps as she willed her legs to move. It felt like her body had forgotten how to walk, how to function normally. The wound in her side protested with every shift of her weight, sending sharp pangs through her torso.

"Come on, Art," Clara urged gently. "You can do this."

With a deep breath, Anna lifted her foot and placed it shakily on the ground. The motion was small, but it felt monumental. She could feel the sweat beading on her forehead, her hands trembling as she gripped the nurses' arms for support.

Another step. Then another.

Her progress was slow, each movement a battle against her own body. She could feel the eyes of other soldiers in the tent on her, their silent encouragement and sympathy hanging in the air. The screams of pain from the other wounded men around her served as a grim reminder of just how fragile life was here.

"Good, Art. You're doing great," Clara said, her voice filled with quiet pride.

But to Anna, it didn't feel great. It felt like she was fighting a losing battle. Every step was agony, every movement a reminder of how far she still had to go. She couldn't help but wonder how long it would be before she could walk without assistance, before she could hold a rifle again, before she could rejoin Easy Company.

Before she could see Evelyn again.

The days blurred together in a haze of pain and exhaustion. The nurses continued to help her walk, encouraging her with each small victory, but Anna's thoughts were never far from the battlefield, from the people she had left behind.

One evening, after a particularly difficult day of walking, Anna lay on her cot, staring at the photograph of her family. The edges were worn from handling, the image faded slightly from the time it had spent in her pocket during the war. But it was still her anchor, the thing that reminded her of who she was before all of this.

Her mother's gentle smile. Her father's stern but loving gaze. Her brother's wide-eyed excitement. They were the reason she had enlisted, the reason she had fought so hard to survive.

But now, her thoughts drifted more toward Evelyn than her family. She missed her more than she ever thought possible. Evelyn had become more than just a comrade; she had become her rock, her constant in the chaos of war. And now, separated by distance and injury, Anna couldn't shake the feeling that she was letting her down.

She closed her eyes, clutching the photograph to her chest as she gradually allowed peace to consume her.

Chapter Text

Anna sat on the edge of her makeshift bed in the dimly lit aid station, the weight of her injuries pressing heavily on her thoughts. The cries of pain from the soldiers around her echoed off the canvas walls, mingling with the antiseptic smell that lingered in the air, creating an atmosphere thick with despair. She tried to focus on the hum of conversation and the shuffle of footsteps, but it was hard to drown out the persistent throb in her legs.

Days had blurred into a monotonous haze since she was brought here, and the ache of her injuries had transformed into a familiar companion. Yet, through the fog of pain, a glimmer of determination flickered. She would walk again.

Suddenly, a familiar voice broke through the haze of her thoughts, pulling her back to the present. "Hey, Art. I heard you're taking up a new sport. Is it called 'laying around in bed all day'?"

Anna looked up, her heart racing with unexpected joy. Standing in the doorway, leaning against the frame, was Frank Perconte. He wore a crooked grin, but the pain in his eyes hinted at the toll of recent events.

"Perconte!" she exclaimed, trying to muster the strength to rise. "What happened to you?"

"Oh, just a little welcoming committee from a bullet," he said, waving a hand dismissively as he eased himself onto the edge of her bed. He grimaced slightly, the movement clearly painful. "Shot in the ass. The guys are gonna have a field day with that one."

Anna chuckled, a rush of relief coursing through her veins. "Only you would find a way to get shot in the least heroic place possible. You know they'll never let you live that down."

He smirked back at her, though it didn't quite reach his eyes. "Yeah, I'm looking forward to that. But enough about me. How are you holding up?"

"Getting there," Anna replied, her voice steadier than she felt. "I'm learning to walk again, slowly. The nurses say I'm making progress, but it's frustrating." She glanced down at her legs, still unsure of how they would support her when the time came.

"Don't rush it. You'll be back on your feet before you know it," Perconte reassured her. "Besides, the guys need you back. We've lost too many already."

The mention of loss hit Anna hard. "How is everyone? How's Easy?"

Perconte's expression darkened, and he sighed, the weight of grief pressing down on him. "It's been rough. We lost Skip and Penkala. Shell hit their foxhole. No chance to even take cover."

Anna's heart sank, the reality of their situation crashing over her like a wave. "Not Skip. He was... he was always so full of life." The memory of him laughing around the campfire, his stories lighting up the faces of those around him, played in her mind, and she felt the loss acutely.

"And it's not just that. Mary's been... well, she's not herself," Perconte continued, his voice dropping to a whisper. "She's been quiet, barely talking to anyone. It's like she's shut down since you got hurt."

A pang of guilt shot through Anna. "I should be there for her. She must be feeling so alone. Seeing me like that-"

"Don't do that," Perconte interrupted, his tone gentle but firm. "You've been through enough. You getting hurt hit us all hard, but Mary... she was really close to you. You know that."

"Yeah, but I feel like I've let her down. She needs me now more than ever." Anna's voice wavered, and she looked away, fighting back tears that threatened to spill over.

"Hey," Perconte said, placing a hand on her shoulder. "You're going to be back with us. I know it. And when you are, we'll make sure Mary gets the support she needs. She's not the only one hurting. We all are."

Anna nodded, but the weight of worry pressed down on her chest. "I just can't shake the feeling that she's hurting more than we realize. I mean, she must miss me like crazy. I can only imagine how scared she is."

"You know she thinks you're the strongest out of all of us, right?" Perconte teased lightly, but his eyes were serious. "She's been holding onto that. It's why she's been so quiet. I think she's scared of losing you for good."

"Maybe I should've stayed quiet about my feelings," Anna murmured, her heart heavy. "And then I wouldn't have had to worry about how she's dealing with this."

"Trust me," Perconte said, leaning back and crossing his arms. "You're not the only one who's noticed that spark between them."

Anna raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

"C'mon, Art. It's obvious. Mary is in love with Floyd. She just won't admit it," he said, a grin creeping back onto his face.

"Mary? In love with Floyd?" Anna exclaimed, her surprise evident. "She'd never say that out loud. That girl is as stubborn as they come."

"And Floyd is just as bad. He's been acting like a damn statue. Ever since we landed in the forest, those two haven't even spoken to each other," Perconte said, shaking his head. "I swear, if you could read Floyd's mind, you'd see he's as smitten as a kid with his first crush."

Anna shook her head, a small smile breaking through her worries. "Yeah, he has that brooding thing down. The poor guy probably thinks being stoic is some kind of secret to getting her attention."

"Exactly," Perconte said, his laughter echoing softly through the room. "But you know what? I think he might finally realize how much he needs to step up. And if you get back to her, maybe you can nudge him a little."

"Me? Nudge Floyd?" Anna laughed. "Good luck with that. I can't even nudge myself back to walking."

"But you will, Art. You just wait. We need you back in the mix with Easy Company." Perconte leaned in, his expression turning serious. "And Evelyn needs you. If we don't get back to her, she's going to stay in that shell she's put herself in."

Anna nodded, determination rising within her. "You're right. I can't let that happen. I won't let that happen."

"And here's the thing," Perconte continued, his voice steady. "I think we need to get out of this aid station and make our way back to Easy."

"Are you serious? Just walk out of here?" Anna blinked, caught off guard.

"Hell, yeah. We're not doing anyone any good sitting around here," he replied, a fire igniting in his eyes. "Plus, I don't plan on being stuck here with nurses and doctors poking and prodding me. If they think I'm going to be a good patient, they're dead wrong."

Anna chuckled. "Okay, but you just got here. Isn't it a little soon to be breaking out?"

"Look, I've seen enough. The sounds of screaming and pain are constant, and I'd rather deal with the bullets of the enemy than the sound of those moans," Perconte said, his voice low. "Besides, I'd rather be out there than let myself rot away here."

"And you think we can actually do it?" Anna asked, uncertainty creeping back in.

"I know we can," he said confidently. "I'll help you walk again. And we'll get back to the guys. We'll find Mary. We'll find everyone. Together."

As the days wore on, Anna and Perconte began plotting their escape. They spent hours discussing the best routes to take, mapping out the aid station and the area surrounding it, all while sharing stories about Easy Company, about their brothers in arms. The more they talked, the more Anna felt her resolve solidify.

On the night of their escape, the air was cool and crisp, a stark contrast to the chaotic warmth of the aid station. As the moon cast its silvery light over the landscape, Anna's heart raced with excitement and fear. She was finally going to leave this place behind.

Perconte guided her quietly through the shadows, his limp less pronounced now as adrenaline surged through him. The low hum of night sounds surrounded them, an eerie contrast to the chaos they were leaving behind.

"Just stick close to me, and we'll make it out of here," he whispered, glancing back at her with a reassuring smile.

Anna nodded, her throat dry with anticipation. "I can't believe we're actually doing this. It feels like a dream."

"We're not just doing this for ourselves. We're doing this for everyone." Perconte reminded her. "We're getting back to her, Art."

They moved cautiously, staying low and using the cover of darkness to conceal their escape. Anna focused on her legs, willing them to cooperate, reminding herself that each step brought her closer to the warmth of Easy Company and to Evelyn.

As they approached the edge of the aid station, Anna felt a surge of determination. "You know, if we get caught, I'm going to blame you," she joked, trying to lighten the mood.

"Sure, blame the guy with a bullet in his ass. That's real fair," Perconte quipped back, his voice tinged with humor.

"Hey, it was your idea," she shot back playfully, her heart lifting at the banter. "But you're right—I'd never really blame you. You're the best kind of trouble."

"Best kind of trouble? I'll take that as a compliment." He grinned, pushing the door open just a crack to peek outside.

The night was quiet, and the coast seemed clear. "Alright, let's make a break for it," he urged, stepping through the door with her close behind.

Anna's heart raced as they slipped out into the night, the cool breeze wrapping around them like a comforting embrace. They moved through the shadows, guided only by the moonlight and their resolve.

"Stick to the tree line," Perconte instructed, his voice low but firm. "We don't want to draw any attention."

Anna nodded, her gaze fixed ahead. As they navigated through the darkness, she felt the adrenaline pulsing through her veins, propelling her forward.

"I can't wait to see them again," she whispered, almost to herself.

"Me too," Perconte replied, glancing over his shoulder at her. "We'll get there. I promise."

With every step, Anna felt the pain of her injuries fading, replaced by a sense of purpose that had been missing for far too long. She was no longer just a soldier recovering in an aid station; she was a part of something greater—she was a sister of Easy Company, and she was going home.

As they pressed on, Anna's heart soared with the thought of Evelyn waiting for them, the bond they had formed stronger than any wound. She could almost picture Evelyn's face lighting up when she saw them, the worry melting away in the warmth of their reunion.

Together, Anna and Perconte moved through the night, bound by shared memories and an unbreakable resolve. They were heading back to where they belonged, and Anna knew that no matter what lay ahead, they would face it together.

With each step, she felt the weight of her worries lift, replaced by the certainty that she would do everything in her power to bring Evelyn back into the light. The road ahead would be challenging, but for the first time in a long while, Anna felt hopeful. They would reunite with their family, and together, they would find their way home.

Chapter Text

The trucks carrying Easy Company rumbled over uneven roads as they made their way toward Haguenau. Inside, the atmosphere was heavy, not with fear, but with a fatigue that pressed down on each of them, making conversation sparse. Still, George Luz, never one to let silence hang for too long, piped up.

"Hey, look. It's First Battalion," he announced as he leaned out the side of the truck. Evelyn turned to look where George was pointing. Sure enough, a long line of soldiers was trudging through the mud in the same direction as the convoy.

"Hey! Hey! Thanks for crapping in our foxholes, you shitheads!" George yelled over to them, a grin spreading across his face.

One of the First Battalion soldiers looked up, barely breaking his pace as he shot back with a grin of his own. "Hey! It's our pleasure!"

"Enjoy the walk, boys!" Bull Randleman bellowed, his voice booming across the fields, and a few of the men in the truck chuckled.

The ride continued, the landscape passing in a blur. The fields of snow and mud gave way to the outskirts of the village, and soon enough, the trucks began to slow as the buildings of Haguenau came into view. As the convoy pulled into the square, the trucks screeched to a halt, and the soldiers, stiff from the ride, clambered out.

Evelyn's feet hit the cobblestones with a dull thud. She landed lightly, her body tired but sharp. She straightened up and took a moment to survey the village. It was eerily quiet, the kind of silence that made the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. She adjusted the strap of her rifle on her shoulder and brushed some dirt off her jacket. Despite her attempt to look composed, she couldn't shake the weariness that clung to her, much like the mud and grime that had accumulated during their last operation.

The square buzzed with activity as Easy Company disembarked, soldiers milling about, exchanging quiet conversations, their voices echoing off the cold stone walls. Yet, amidst the bustle, Evelyn felt strangely detached, her mind wandering to the weight of what lay ahead.

"White!" A familiar voice called out, breaking her reverie. Evelyn looked up to see Nixon standing near the edge of the square, his hand raised in a small wave, motioning for her to come over.

Evelyn weaved her way through the crowd, her heartbeat quickening. There was something in Nixon's demeanor that made her feel like this wasn't going to be just a casual briefing. His face, typically lined with a sardonic smile, was serious.

"What's up, Nix?" she asked as she reached him, attempting to keep her tone light, though the tension in the air weighed heavy on her chest. Nixon had always been one of the cooler heads in Easy Company, a man who knew how to deal with the darkest of situations with a dry joke and a shrug. Seeing him look so somber set off alarm bells in her mind.

"We need to talk," Nixon said quietly, glancing around the square. Even though soldiers were busy with their own tasks, he clearly didn't want this conversation overheard.

Evelyn frowned slightly. "What do you mean, 'we need to talk'? What kind of mission are we looking at?"

Nixon shifted his weight and glanced over his shoulder, making sure no one was close enough to listen. He stepped a little closer to her, his voice lowering. "There's a mission tonight. A tough one. We've got intel about a German outpost across the river. It's housing enemy supplies—ammo, possibly documents. It's crucial that we take it, but here's where it gets tricky."

Evelyn raised an eyebrow, already sensing the gravity in his words. "Tricky how?"

Nixon sighed. "You'll be part of the group heading over to the river. The guys with you will be capturing prisoners, but your mission's a bit more delicate. Once you get across, you'll have to disarm the building next to the main one, where they're likely housing enemy defenses. You'll also be tasked with securing anything that looks valuable—documents, maps, intel. The problem is, we don't know how many Krauts are there or what kind of defenses they've got in place. It could be empty, or it could be crawling with them."

Evelyn's stomach tightened. The mission was dangerous enough without adding the uncertainty of enemy numbers. "And how are we supposed to get across the river? Are we expecting enemy patrols?"

"That's where Winters comes in. He'll brief you all before the op," Nixon said, his eyes flicking to where Winters stood at the edge of the square, deep in conversation with Sergeant Martin. "But Evelyn, you need to stay sharp. This isn't just any mission. We need it to go off without a hitch."

She nodded, processing everything Nixon had just laid out. Crossing a river at night, disarming defenses, and potentially going toe-to-toe with unseen enemies—it was a lot to take in. She tried to steady her breath, but the weight of responsibility settled heavily on her shoulders.

Before she could say anything else, the sharp whistling sound of an incoming mortar filled the air. Evelyn's instincts kicked in, and she threw herself to the ground just as the mortar hit a building to her left. The blast was deafening, sending a shockwave through her body and knocking the wind out of her lungs. Debris rained down around her as she scrambled to get her bearings.

The world seemed to slow down as Evelyn rose to her feet, her ears ringing from the explosion. Her hands tightened around her rifle as she charged forward, moving toward the cover of a nearby building. Another mortar hit, this time farther away, the explosions rolling through the village like thunder.

She pressed her back against the rough stone wall of the building, panting as she caught her breath. The ground trembled beneath her boots as more artillery rounds crashed into the village. The explosions eventually died down, leaving only the muffled groans and shouts of soldiers scrambling for cover.

"Somebody's been hit!" a voice rang out, cutting through the chaos. Evelyn immediately darted toward the source of the commotion, her heart pounding in her chest. She skidded to a halt as she saw Doc Roe crouching beside a fallen soldier, his hands already pulling the man's dog tags from around his neck.

The soldier lay still, lifeless, and Evelyn's breath caught in her throat as she watched the grim efficiency with which Doc worked. She had seen death before, but it never got easier.

Turning away from the scene, she was met with a familiar pair of eyes—Joe Liebgott. He stood a few feet away, his helmet slightly askew, his face smudged with dirt and exhaustion.

"Looking swell, Mary." He remarked with a faint grin, his voice cutting through the heavy atmosphere. His gaze dropped to the dark circles under her eyes and the grime caked into her hair. Her blonde braids, once neat, were now tangled with dirt and grease, and her face was streaked with mud and dried blood.

Evelyn snorted, shaking her head at the nickname that had stuck with her since training. "Thanks, Joe. Real confidence booster."

Lieb's grin widened, and Malarkey, standing nearby, chimed in with a sympathetic pat on her shoulder. "There's showers in the back, Mary. You might want to clean up before you scare the Krauts off."

Evelyn shot him a wry look, but the idea of a shower—anything to wash off the layers of filth—was appealing. Her body ached from days of relentless marching and fighting, and her mind was frayed at the edges.

"I can't go in there with the men." She muttered, gesturing toward the large tent where some of the soldiers were already stripping down, steam rising from the water that cascaded over their bare skin.

Malarkey chuckled and gave her a reassuring nudge. "Don't worry, Mary. I'll get you some time alone in there later. Just hold out a bit longer."

She sighed, nodding her thanks as they continued walking. After a few moments, she found a small pile of snow near the edge of the village. The cold, biting wind didn't bother her as much as the thought of going another night without washing the dirt out of her hair. She sank down into the snow, pulling off her helmet and gloves, and began the tedious process of undoing her braids. She watched as the men from Easy Company filed into the shower tent, their relief palpable as they finally washed off the grime of battle.

She waited for about an hour, watching as the queue of men filtered into the showers. Eventually, it emptied out as Malarky approached her, a small smile on his face. "Your turn."

"You better watch that door like a hawk." Evelyn muttered before stepping in. She stripped herself of her clothes before immediately stepping into the water, the thin tent door having been sealed closed behind her. She breathed a sigh of relief, the feeling of dirt and grime washing away.

Slowly she reached up, attempting to brush through her hair to smoothen it out. Her fingers worked through the knotted strands, wincing each time she encountered a particularly stubborn clump of mud. It was slow, frustrating work, and her arms grew tired as she tried to make her hair somewhat manageable.

After what felt like an eternity, her hair was finally de-knotted before she stepped out of the water, throwing her clothes over her after waiting a few moments to dry. She squeezed her hair of loose water before sifting the strands between each other. Evelyn finally managed to twist her hair into a single braid, though it was still soaking wet with water. She grimaced at the feel of it, but she wouldn't take it for granted, at least she was finally clean. Her arms ached from holding her hair up for so long, and she flexed her fingers as she walked out of the tent, thanking Malarky greatly for watching the door.

As she headed back toward the main building, she heard a familiar voice echoing through the door.

"Goddammit, Jonny, you're breaking my heart, I'm telling ya!" George Luz's unmistakable tone filled the room as Evelyn stepped inside. He was standing at a makeshift counter, organizing supplies with a mix of irritation and amusement.

"Come on, George, just give me 10, maybe 15 bars," Johnny Martin bargained, leaning against the table with an exaggerated look of pleading in his eyes.

George slammed a stack of Juicy Fruit gum down in front of Johnny. "Juicy Fruit. Happy?"

Before Johnny could respond, a small group of soldiers trailed in behind Evelyn, their eyes lighting up at the sight of the chocolate bars resting near George.

"Come on, George, one Hershey bar!" Cobb begged, his voice whining as if he were a kid pleading for candy.

"No. There's not enough to go around," George replied exasperatedly, crossing his arms over his chest as if bracing himself for the inevitable onslaught of complaints.

"Hey, big mouth! Give the kid a Hershey bar, huh?" Perconte called out from the back of the room, earning a round of chuckles from the men.

"You gotta be shitting me!" George exclaimed, but his mock outrage was drowned out by the laughter of his comrades.

Evelyn leaned against the wall, watching the scene with a faint smile. The banter between the men was a small reprieve from the constant tension of the battlefield, a brief moment of normalcy in a world turned upside down. But even as she smiled, her mind drifted back to Nixon's words—back to the mission.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a familiar voice behind her.

"Mary!" the voice rang out, filled with warmth and familiarity.

Evelyn turned sharply, her eyes widening as she spotted Anna limping toward her. Without a second thought, Evelyn ran forward, closing the distance between them and wrapping her friend in a tight hug.

"Ow! Watch the wound!" Anna yelped, laughing despite the pain as she returned the hug, pulling Evelyn close. "God, it's good to see you."

"What the hell are you doing here?" Evelyn asked, pulling back slightly to examine her friend, her eyes flicking over the bandaged wound on Anna's side. "You should be at the aid station!"

Anna rolled her eyes playfully. "Escaped with Perco," she said with a grin, gesturing to Perconte, who was standing nearby, watching the exchange with a smirk. "Don't give me that look, Evelyn. I wanted to be here with you guys."

Evelyn frowned, crossing her arms over her chest. "You're injured, Anna. You should be resting, not gallivanting around the front lines."

Anna sighed, waving her hand dismissively. "I'm fine. It's just a scratch. Besides, I couldn't stand being stuck at the aid station while you guys are out here. I'm not missing out on everything."

"Whatever you say," Evelyn muttered, though her concern was evident. "Just... don't get yourself hurt again, okay?"

Anna gave her a reassuring smile before pulling her into another hug, this one longer and more comforting. They stayed like that for a moment, the weight of the war lifting, if only for a second.

"So, what's going on now?" Anna asked as they finally pulled apart.

Evelyn sighed, gesturing toward the river in the distance. "Another mission tonight. Easy's heading over to capture some prisoners. I've got my own task, destroying a post, gathering intel. The usual."

Anna raised an eyebrow. "And when is this supposed to go down?"

"Tonight." Evelyn shifted uncomfortably. "And before you even think about volunteering, Art, you're not coming. Not this time."

Anna held up her hands in mock surrender. "Fine. I won't. But be careful, okay?"

Evelyn nodded, and the two women began walking together toward the Company CP, Anna slinging an arm over Evelyn's shoulder in a gesture of comfort and camaraderie. The afternoon passed in a blur of preparations, the two women catching up on everything they had missed in each other's lives.

By the afternoon, Evelyn found herself sitting beside Liebgott at a long table with the rest of the men, their faces drawn and tense as they waited for the briefing to begin. Lieutenant Jones, a fresh-faced soldier from West Point, stood at attention near the front of the room, his voice commanding as he called for their attention.

"Ah-ten-hut!"

The men rose from their seats, grumbling under their breath as they stood at attention. Winters, standing beside Jones, raised his hand in a gesture of dismissal.

"At ease," Winters said, his calm voice cutting through the tension in the room. Evelyn slid back into her seat, her eyes trained on Winters as he began to speak. "As you can see, we've assembled sixteen soldiers here for a prisoner snatch tonight at 0100 hours. A couple of points to go over. We've secured four rubber boats to cross the river. Lieutenant Jones will be along as an observer. Sergeant Martin will lead the patrol in Sergeant Malarkey's place. The battalion will cover your withdrawal. We've identified targets and planned fire for them."

Winters held up two small metal whistles, the cold light glinting off them. "We hear these whistles, we open up. So don't blow them until you're back in your boats with your prisoners."

Johnny Martin, standing at attention near the front, raised his hand. "And if the house turns out to be empty, sir?"

"It won't," Winters replied without missing a beat. "But in any case, we know it's an outpost, and we want it destroyed. You'll need to lay some demo on a time delay. Move fast, but carefully. Put a perimeter around the house. Once that's in place, get your rifle grenades in through the first-floor windows. Get your assault team in quick. Understood?"

The men nodded in unison, their voices echoing through the room. "Yes, sir."

Evelyn shifted slightly in her seat as Winters turned his attention toward her. The men's eyes followed his gaze, curiosity flickering in their expressions.

"White here," Winters said, his tone grave, "will be carrying out a separate mission. The building next to the one you're targeting is housing enemy defences positions—possibly an ammunition depot or command post. Her task is to disarm whatever's inside and retrieve any critical intel. She's going in with backup, but once inside, she'll be working alone."

The gravity of the situation settled over the men. Evelyn could feel the weight of their eyes on her, but she kept her gaze steady, her jaw set. This wasn't her first solo mission, but it was clear that the stakes were high.

Johnny Martin glanced at Evelyn with a raised eyebrow, his expression somewhere between admiration and concern. "Alone, huh?" he muttered under his breath, just loud enough for her to hear. She shot him a sharp look, but he only shrugged. "You always did like the hard jobs."

Evelyn ignored the jab, her focus locked on Winters as he continued the briefing. "Timing is critical," he said. "The demo needs to be placed and ready to blow before the enemy has a chance to retaliate. No mistakes."

The room was silent, each soldier understanding the importance of what was to come. The air felt thick with tension, and Evelyn could feel her pulse quickening despite her calm exterior.

Winters cleared his throat and stepped forward, signaling the end of the briefing. "Make sure your equipment is squared away," he said. "Good luck."

With that, the men stood and began to file out of the room, their boots clomping heavily against the wooden floor. Evelyn rose as well, her mind already turning over the details of the mission. She had faced danger before, but the unpredictability of this operation gnawed at her nerves. Still, she kept her expression neutral, not wanting to show any sign of doubt.

Stepping outside, Evelyn took a deep breath, letting the cold wind whip across her face. The village around her was quiet, save for the distant murmur of soldiers preparing for the mission. The stars above twinkled in the clear night sky, a stark contrast to the looming danger that awaited them on the other side of the river.

Chapter Text

The night was still and cold as Evelyn crouched in the first of the four boats, her heart pounding in rhythm with the gentle lapping of the water against the sides. The moon hung high in the sky, casting a silver glow over the village across the river, making the shadows dance eerily over the snow-covered ground. She was acutely aware of the weight of her rifle in her hands, the cold seeping through her gloves and into her bones. Her mind was focused, the mission playing over and over again in her head: cross the river, infiltrate the target building, eliminate any threats, and disarm any defenses inside.

As the boat rocked gently beneath her, she glanced at the three men who had followed her in—quiet, resolute faces set with determination. The faint sound of oars dipping into the water from the other boats echoed softly, barely audible over the sounds of her own breath. They pulled themselves along the rope stretched across the river, the bitter chill biting at any exposed skin.

Suddenly, a loud splash erupted from behind them. Evelyn turned her head sharply, her pulse spiking.

"Shit." She whispered under her breath as she saw one of the other boats had toppled over, its occupants thrashing in the freezing water.

"Keep going!" Johnny's voice was firm from up ahead, a command that cut through the tension.

Evelyn's grip tightened on the rope, her muscles straining as she hauled the boat the rest of the way across. The cold numbed her fingers, but she kept pulling, her breath coming out in visible clouds in the frigid air. Time seemed to stretch as they moved through the river, every splash of water amplifying in her ears.

Finally, they reached the far bank. Evelyn clambered out of the boat and onto the ground, her body low and pressed to the snow-covered earth. Her hands trembled slightly as she reached for the barbed wire that separated them from the village, slipping through a small gap in the wire. Snow clung to her uniform as she belly-crawled through, the cold biting into her skin, but she pushed it aside, focusing solely on the mission.

Once she was through, Evelyn sprinted forward, taking cover behind a large stone wall. The sound of boots crunching in the snow echoed around her as the others fell in beside her, breathing heavily but ready. She peeked around the edge of the wall, scanning the village beyond. The buildings were dark and foreboding, silent except for the occasional gust of wind. She pulled her rifle to her shoulder and used the scope to get a better look, sweeping the area for any sign of movement. Nothing.

"In twos. Up." Johnny's whisper came from ahead, sharp and urgent.

Evelyn nodded silently and rose from her crouched position alongside Shifty. Together, they moved swiftly and quietly past the pile of debris in front of them, collapsing against it for cover. The snow crunched softly beneath their boots, but other than that, the night remained still. The rest of the men followed close behind, moving like shadows through the moonlit night.

Her heart pounded in her chest as she peered around the side of the debris again, her scope sweeping across the target building. Still no movement. The windows were dark, the doors closed, but something about it felt off—too quiet, too still.

Turning back to Johnny, who was crouched a few feet away, Evelyn whispered, "I'm going in."

Johnny nodded grimly. "Powers, Wynn, cover her."

At his command, Evelyn moved, slipping from the debris and making her way toward the building. She kept low, her steps deliberate and measured, her senses on high alert. Every crunch of snow beneath her feet seemed magnified in the stillness, but she pressed on. The building loomed in front of her, a dark, silent shape against the night. Her breath fogged in the air as she reached the door, flattening herself against the wall beside it.

She signaled back to Johnny and the others, her hand a blur in the moonlight, letting them know she was fine and they could proceed with their own mission. Then, taking a deep breath, she turned her attention to the door.

The night pressed in around Evelyn as she slipped through the door, the bitter cold outside replaced by the oppressive, musty air of the old building. Her breath came in steady puffs, her mind sharp and focused. This mission was hers alone. She had no one to rely on—no backup, no team, just her wits and training. The objective was clear: eliminate all the German soldiers stationed here. Winters had warned her there could be as many as forty, a number that would send most soldiers reeling. But Evelyn wasn't most soldiers.

She crouched in the shadows of the entryway, her rifle clutched tightly in her gloved hands. The wooden floorboards creaked faintly under her boots as she made her way further into the building, every sense on high alert. The darkness cloaked her, but she knew that it was just as much a disadvantage—she couldn't see them, but they couldn't see her either.

As she crept toward the stairs leading to the second floor, where the bulk of the enemy was likely holed up, she heard muffled voices filtering down from above. German. A low murmur of conversation, punctuated by the clinking of glass and the sound of boots shuffling on wood. They didn't know she was here. Yet.

The first floor was eerily silent, a few wooden crates scattered about, but no signs of life. The voices from upstairs were growing louder now, more distinct. She took a deep breath, steeling herself for what was to come. She wasn't here to scare them off, she was here to end them. Quietly, efficiently.

Her hand hovered over the staircase railing as she moved upward, the sound of her own breathing the only thing she could hear apart from the Germans' indistinct chatter. The closer she got to the top, the clearer the voices became, and her heart began to pound faster.

She reached the top of the stairs and crouched low, taking cover behind the edge of the wall. From her vantage point, she could see into the main room. It was dimly lit, but enough light streamed in from the moon outside that she could make out the forms of at least a dozen German soldiers. Some sat around a table, smoking and drinking, while others leaned against the walls, talking in low voices. None of them were alert. None of them expected her.

This was her moment.

Slowly, deliberately, she raised her rifle and lined up the shot. The closest German soldier, seated at the table with his back turned to her, was her first target. Her breath stilled, her finger gently squeezing the trigger. The silenced shot cracked through the air, and the soldier slumped forward, his body limp, face first into the table.

98

The others didn't notice immediately. They were too engrossed in their conversations, oblivious to the danger lurking just feet away. Evelyn shifted, moving with the grace of a predator. She fired again, another clean shot, another body hitting the floor before anyone could react.

Then chaos erupted.

The Germans shouted in alarm, scrambling for their weapons, but Evelyn was already on the move. She ducked behind a crate as bullets ricocheted off the walls, their aim wild and panicked. They didn't know where she was yet. She had the advantage of surprise.

Breathing calmly, she peeked around the crate, spotted a soldier frantically trying to load his rifle, and took the shot. He crumpled to the ground, his weapon clattering uselessly beside him.

The room was a cacophony of shouted orders and gunfire now. The Germans were trying to organize, to figure out where the shots were coming from, but in the confusion, they were firing blindly. Evelyn kept moving, never staying in one spot for too long. She darted from cover to cover, her movements swift and fluid, each shot carefully aimed, each one finding its mark.

Three more Germans fell before they even realized what was happening. One of them tried to return fire, but his shot went wide, slamming into a wooden beam across the room. Evelyn dropped him with a single round to the chest.

As she moved closer to the center of the room, her path was momentarily blocked by a tall, muscular soldier who had managed to get his rifle aimed directly at her. Evelyn barely had time to react. She lunged to the side as he pulled the trigger, the bullet whizzing past her ear, close enough to feel the heat of it.

"Bloody Marie?" The name caused her to freeze for a moment before continuing her movements, choosing to ignore his comment.

Rolling to the ground, she came up in a crouch and fired, her round catching the German in the throat. He staggered, choking on his own blood, before collapsing with a heavy thud.

104

There was no time to rest. More Germans were pouring into the room from adjacent hallways, alerted by the gunfire. Evelyn backed up, pressing herself against the wall, her eyes scanning the room as she quickly reloaded. The tang of gunpowder filled the air, mixing with the metallic scent of blood. Her hands were steady despite the chaos, her pulse a constant rhythm in her ears.

More shouts came from across the room as a squad of six Germans charged toward her, rifles raised. They had finally spotted her position. Evelyn ducked and fired, her bullet catching the lead soldier in the chest, sending him sprawling backward. The others returned fire, bullets whizzing past her, hitting the walls and floor around her in a furious storm of lead.

She rolled behind a large crate, using it as cover, her breath steadying as she mentally mapped out her next move. There was no way to take all six head-on—she needed to divide and conquer. As she peered around the crate, she saw one of the soldiers advancing toward her, his rifle at the ready. He was getting too close.

Without hesitating, Evelyn grabbed her knife from her belt and sprang from cover. The soldier's eyes widened in surprise, but he was too slow to react. She drove the knife into his throat, the blade slicing through flesh with a sickening wet sound. He gurgled, blood spilling down his chest as he collapsed at her feet.

The remaining soldiers opened fire, but Evelyn was already moving, using the dead man's body as temporary cover before darting to the side. She squeezed off two quick shots, both finding their marks in the chest of the nearest enemies. Two down, four to go.

The remaining Germans fanned out, trying to pin her down, but they were disorganized, their movements frantic. Evelyn moved with precision, always one step ahead. She dropped another soldier with a clean shot to the head before ducking behind a table as the others tried to flank her.

One of the Germans, bolder than the others, rushed toward her position, shouting orders in German. He was met with a bullet to the leg, sending him crashing to the ground, clutching his thigh in agony. Evelyn finished him off with a shot to the chest.

The last two soldiers, realizing they were outmatched, made a desperate attempt to retreat, backing toward the far door. But Evelyn was faster. She fired twice in quick succession, and both men fell before they could escape.

The room was silent again, save for the soft crackle of settling wood and the distant sound of wind howling outside. Evelyn stood in the middle of the room, her chest heaving, the air thick with the stench of death. Twenty-five men. She had taken them all down, one by one.

122

Her legs felt heavy as she moved toward the center of the room, her rifle still raised, sweeping for any remaining threats. But there were none. The mission was complete. The Germans were dead, and the building was secure.

Evelyn took a moment to catch her breath, leaning against the nearest wall, her heart still racing from the adrenaline. She had done it. Alone.

But there was no time for rest. The mission wasn't over.

She began walking around the building, still gripping onto her gun tightly incase there was anyone lurking in the shadows. She soon discovered a small room, its walls covered in maps and letters that she quickly translated.

'We are losing too many men.'

One of the letters read as she smirked at it. Good. It was good they were losing, it meant that they were getting closer and closer to victory.

Suddenly her eyes darted to small section of an article, the title sending her reeling.

'Bloody Marie'

There, it had a collage of photos of her from her missions, each presenting the large scar she had on her neck as she quickly realised that was why the German had called her that. Grabbing onto it paper, she shoved it into her pocket, already planning on presenting it to Nixon as it's revelation could destroy the secrecy that Operation Athena held.

Evelyn grabbed onto as many as she could, folding them up and stuffing it into her pockets. Soon realised that they were all full, she grabbed onto one last map that rested central on the table. Folding it up, she bit down onto it, holding it in her mouth before she began making her way out.

An explosion suddenly rang out as Evelyn ran to the window. Looking out, she saw the windows of the house beside her blown out as the men began charging in through the door.

Shouts could be heard as Evelyn sighed before running out of the room. Her footsteps were heavy on the stairs before she sprinted down the hallway, shoving the door open.

"White, Come! We're moving out! Let's go!" She heard Johnny shout as she quickly ran after the group, gunshots ringing out behind her. She noticed one of the men being carried, obviously heavily wounded as she let out a sigh.

As the group moved explosions rang out around them, causing Evelyn to shriek as one nearly hit her. The sudden sound of a whistle blowing through the night caused the gunfire to stop when suddenly the two sides of the river began shooting directly at each other, the group nearly being caught in the crossfire.

"Get in the boats! Now!" A voice commanded as Evelyn quickly climbed in after the rest of the men, her breathing heavy as she still held onto the map. They quickly began pulling away as the gunfire and explosions continued.

They soon arrived on the other side of the river, the boat lurching as it hit the muddy bank. The men quickly disembarked, their boots squelching in the thick mud. Evelyn felt herself get pulled off the boat as she stumbled, regaining her balance with a quick step forward. The air was heavy with the scent of damp earth and gunpowder as the urgency of their situation settled over her like a shroud. She sprinted after the rest of the men, her heart racing as they rushed toward the bunker.

Inside, the atmosphere was frenetic, filled with shouts and the clatter of equipment. Jackson, the injured man she'd only just realized was in their midst, was being carried by two of the men. They laid him on the rough wooden table, and Evelyn's heart sank at the sight of him, his face pale and contorted with pain.

"I'm going to get a medic!" Johnny shouted, urgency dripping from his voice as he darted back outside. The chaos seemed to swirl around her, drowning out everything else as Evelyn rushed to Jackson's side. She felt her heart tear as he thrashed about, struggling against the pain that consumed him. She grabbed onto his hand tightly, a lifeline in a storm of uncertainty.

"Jackson. It's going to be okay. You're going to be okay," she said, forcing the words out through the tightness in her throat. She knew the words felt hollow even to her, but she had to try. The cries of the men around them only seemed to amplify the desperation in the room as they struggled to restrain him.

"Everything's fine. Everything's fine," Garcia tried to soothe, his voice shaking as he held Jackson's face firmly, his eyes darting around the room as if he could will the chaos away. But Jackson's gasps grew louder, more frantic.

"Jackson, stay calm. The medic is coming." Webster chimed in, trying to instill some sense of peace into the situation. Evelyn squeezed Jackson's hand tighter, rubbing it gently, wishing her warmth could somehow seep into him and dull his pain.

The bunker door swung open, and Doc Roe burst in, his medical bag in hand. He pushed past the men, his focus laser-sharp as he knelt by Jackson. "Okay, okay. Jackson, take it easy. Light. I need some light." His voice was firm, a steady anchor amidst the turmoil.

In an instant, someone produced a lighter, holding it close, illuminating the grim reality of the situation as Jackson struggled to breathe, his face glistening with sweat. "All right. Let's get him out of here." Doc announced, urgency coloring his tone. But as they prepared to lift him onto a stretcher, Jackson's cries echoed in the bunker, raw and terrified.

"I don't want to die. I don't want to die!" Jackson screamed, his voice rising in pitch, cracking under the weight of his fear. Evelyn's throat tightened as she felt the tears start to gather in her eyes, the painful knot in her chest growing heavier.

"Jackson!" Eugene shouted, desperation coating his words as he leaned closer. "You're not gonna die, Jackson. I need you to hold on!" The words felt like a lifeline, but Jackson's body convulsed, his breath coming in ragged gasps.

The men quickly lifted him onto the stretcher, but the moment was interrupted by a sudden explosion outside that rattled the bunker. They instinctively lowered him back down, panic flooding the room as they waited for the blast to settle.

"Jackson!" Eugene's voice was frantic, filled with a blend of fear and determination. "You're not going to die, I swear to God! You're going to get through this!" But Jackson continued to thrash, his eyes wide and filled with terror, struggling to draw breath.

Evelyn felt a tear slide down her cheek as she watched helplessly, the weight of the moment crashing down on her. Then, without warning, Jackson went limp, his body falling silent. The bunker grew still, the air thick with the realization of what had just happened.

Johnny walked past her, a large blanket in his hands. He gently lowered it onto Jackson's still form, the finality of it crushing. Evelyn turned away, unable to look any longer. Her heart felt heavy, a leaden weight pulling her down into an abyss of grief.

Slowly, she bent down, picking up the map she had dropped earlier. As she stood back up, she forced herself to walk, breezing past the men, who were still grappling with the reality of Jackson's loss. She exited the bunker, the din of explosions ringing out around the village, but her ears were filled with the silence of what had just transpired.

Crossing the road, she made her way to the Company CP, her mind racing as she pushed through the door.

"Mary?" Nixon remarked, but she barely registered him. She pulled out all the intel she had stolen, slamming it onto the table with a force that surprised even her. Her hurt and frustration boiled over, bubbling to the surface as she shot a brief glance at Nixon before storming back out, desperate to escape the suffocating atmosphere of the room.

As she trudged down the road, the explosions continued to echo, the world outside in stark contrast to the chaos within her. She found a small alleyway and slipped into it, the walls closing in around her like a vice. The moment she was alone, the tears that she had been holding back finally broke free, cascading down her cheeks in an uncontrollable wave of grief.

As she sank to the ground, her sobs echoed in the confined space, each cry a testament to the pain she felt from losing yet another friend. It was as if this war was systematically stripping her of the people she cared about, piece by piece, leaving her feeling hollow and lost.

In the midst of her despair, she didn't notice the footsteps that grew louder until they abruptly stopped in front of her.

"Mary?" The voice was familiar, pulling her from the depths of her sorrow. Evelyn looked up through her tears to see Floyd standing there, concern etched across his face. Her heart twisted, a mixture of relief and anger flooding her veins.

"Go away, Floyd." She sniffed, turning her face away from him, not wanting to see the pity in his eyes.

"Mary, please. Just talk to me." He urged, taking a cautious step closer. "What happened in there?"

"Nothing that concerns you." She snapped, her voice sharper than she intended. The tension between them crackled in the air, a charged silence hanging in the alley.

"Don't shut me out, Mary. I know something's wrong." He pressed, frustration creeping into his tone. "You can't just walk away like this."

"Why do you care?" She turned to face him, anger boiling over. "You think I'm just some girl who's here to play soldier? I'm not. I'm not like you, Floyd. I'm just trying to survive, and it feels like I'm losing everyone!"

Floyd's expression softened, hurt flickering in his eyes. "That's not true. You're not just trying to survive; you're fighting for something. You're brave, Mary. I've seen it."

"Brave?" She laughed bitterly, wiping her eyes. "What do you know about bravery? You don't know what it's like to watch people die, to feel that helplessness. You don't know what I've lost."

"Then tell me!" he exclaimed, stepping closer, his voice urgent. "Tell me what's going on. I want to understand."

Evelyn hesitated, feeling the weight of his gaze upon her, the vulnerability in his plea. "I can't," she whispered, her voice trembling. "I can't talk about it. It's too much."

"Too much? You think I haven't been through hell?" Floyd shot back, his frustration bubbling over. "I've seen things too! I've lost people too! But you're not the only one hurting here. We're all fighting our own battles, and I can't help you if you won't let me in!"

His words struck her like a slap, and she recoiled slightly, her breath catching. "You don't get it, Floyd! I can't just open up like that. I can't risk it!"

"Why? Because you're afraid I'll judge you? That I'll think less of you?" Floyd's voice softened, but the intensity remained. "I promise you, I won't. I just want to be there for you. Just give me a chance."

"I don't want you to be there for me! You don't know what you're asking," she shot back, her heart racing. "You think it's easy for me to share this? To admit that everything about my life here is a lie?"

"What do you mean?" Floyd frowned, confusion creasing his brow. "What are you talking about?"

Evelyn's heart raced as she fought against the urge to back down, but his determination began to chip away at her walls. "It's not just that I'm scared. It's that I'm ashamed!" she burst out, her voice shaking. "I'm not who you think I am. I'm not Mary. My entire identity is a lie! I'm not just some random woman fighting alongside you. I'm here as part of a plan. All the women—every one of us—were planted here to act as spies as well as soldiers. We were all given new identities and trained for this, and it was never about serving out of a sense of duty. Our entire lives here are lies!"

The confession hung heavy in the air between them, the weight of her revelation pressing down on her. She met Floyd's eyes, searching for understanding but fearing judgment instead.

"Spies? Lies?" He repeated, shock evident on his face. "Why? What was the point of this?"

"Because the higher-ups thought it would be easier to gather intelligence if they embedded women into the ranks, and if we were caught we could still pose as normal soldiers, it was our excuse to be placed on the lines. They figured we could blend in and gather information without raising suspicion," she explained, her voice shaking as she continued. "But I thought I could make a difference. I thought by being here, I could be more than just a pawn in someone else's game. But now..." Her voice trailed off, tears threatening to spill again.

Floyd stared at her, processing the information. "And you thought you could just keep that from me?" He asked, his tone wavering between disbelief and concern. "Mar- Dimp- I don't know, this is huge! Why didn't you tell me sooner?" He stuttered, her name almost foreign on his tongue.

"Because I was scared! Scared of what you would think, scared of how you'd react! I didn't want to be seen as a traitor or a liar. And now...now it feels like I'm trapped in a life that isn't even mine." She admitted, her voice breaking as she felt the weight of the world bearing down on her.

"I'm sorry." He murmured, stepping closer, reaching out to gently grasp her shoulders. "I had no idea. But you need to understand, I don't care how you got here or what name you go by. You're still you to me. I care about you, not your backstory."

"But this is my life, Floyd! It's not just some passing detail. Every time I lose someone, it just reinforces how fragile this all is, how quickly everything can be taken from us!" She felt herself breaking, the floodgates opening wide as the tears streamed down her face.

Floyd pulled her closer, enveloping her in his arms. "You're not alone, Mary. I promise. I'm here for you. We'll figure this out together."

As she pressed her face into his chest, the warmth of his embrace brought her a sense of comfort that she desperately needed. "I don't want to drag you into this." She whispered, her voice muffled against him.

"You're not dragging me into anything. I want to be here. Just... don't push me away anymore, okay? We can face whatever comes together." He murmured softly, rubbing her back as she cried.

Evelyn took a shaky breath, feeling the storm inside her start to calm just a little. "I'm sorry for shutting you out," she said, pulling back slightly to look up at him, her eyes red and puffy. "I didn't want to put this burden on you."

"Don't apologize," he replied, his voice gentle. "I just want you to know you can trust me. I care about you, and I want to help however I can." He paused for a moment, gauging her reaction. "So what do we do now?"

Evelyn took a deep breath, the weight of her truth finally feeling a bit lighter with him by her side. "I don't know," she admitted, "but I think I need to find a way to make things right. I want to fight for something real, not just play a role."

Floyd nodded, determination flickering in his eyes. "Then we'll do it together. No more hiding. We'll figure out a way to use the intel you've gathered, turn this into something that matters."

With a small, tentative smile breaking through her tears, she took a step back, feeling the warmth of their connection as she looked into his eyes. In that alleyway, surrounded by the echoes of battle, she began to feel like she could finally breathe again.

"Can you call me Dimples now?" Evelyn asked quietly, the man chuckling at her request.

"I thought you hated it?" He questioned, stroking a losing strand behind her ear.

"I've grown accustomed to it from you. You know my names not Mary now as well." She smiled slightly before mumbling. "I like it anyway."

Floyd chose not to pry on her last comment, pretending not to hear her whisper.

"Now come on," Floyd said, his voice lightening as he wiped her tears with his thumb. "Let's get back to the others. They're probably worried sick."

Evelyn nodded, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand, feeling a little lighter than before. Together, they stepped back into the tumult of the world outside, side by side, ready to face whatever lay ahead. The road was still fraught with danger, but she felt a sense of strength and support beside her. The war was far from over, but she knew she wouldn't have to face it alone anymore.

Chapter Text

Evelyn pushed open the large wooden door with a heavy sigh, the warmth from inside immediately wrapping around her as she stepped into the room. The contrast between the cold air outside and the faint heat emanating from the small fireplace was welcome, though she felt a sense of unease settle in her stomach. Her eyes quickly scanned the room until they landed on Lip, who lay propped up in bed, his face pale and gaunt from days of fighting off pneumonia.

"Is Nixon here?" Evelyn asked, her voice low but steady as she approached Lip's bed.

Lip turned his head toward her, his normally sharp eyes dulled from illness. "Through that door," he muttered, pointing weakly to the far side of the room.

Evelyn nodded, offering him a small smile in thanks, though the expression didn't quite reach her eyes. She could feel the weight of the envelope tucked in her coat pocket, a reminder of why she had come to see Nixon in the first place. Without another word, she crossed the room, her footsteps echoing faintly on the wooden floorboards.

As she opened the door to Nixon's office, her heart sank at the sight in front of her. Papers were scattered everywhere, piled haphazardly on the large desk that dominated the small space. Nixon stood behind the desk, a familiar smirk on his face, though there was an edge to his expression that told her he hadn't slept much in days.

"Mary! Glad you finally showed up." Nixon's smile widened as he saw her, though the exhaustion in his eyes was unmistakable. He gestured toward the piles of papers. "I haven't looked through these yet. Probably something important buried in there."

Evelyn gave a small, strained laugh as she approached the desk. "I, uh, found something..." Her fingers trembled slightly as she began rifling through the papers, searching for the article she had brought with her.

Nixon's expression shifted as he watched her, a hint of curiosity in his eyes. "What is it?"

Evelyn didn't answer right away, her hands shaking as she finally pulled the article from beneath the stack of papers. She held it out to him, her face tense with concern. Nixon's smile faltered as he took the folded article from her, his brow furrowing as he opened it.

"What the hell...?" Nixon muttered under his breath as his eyes scanned the article. His expression darkened as he took in the photos printed across the page. Evelyn could see the anger building in him as he reached the end of the article, his grip on the paper tightening.

"How did they get these photos?" He demanded, his voice low but simmering with barely restrained fury.

"I have no idea," Evelyn replied, her voice quiet but firm. She couldn't tear her eyes away from the images—grainy black-and-white photographs of her during various missions. But it wasn't just the photos that concerned her; it was what the article implied. Her scar, the one that ran across the front of her neck, was clearly visible in each image, an identifying mark that could lead anyone with enough resources straight to her. She had worked so hard to stay hidden, to keep her true identity a secret, and now it felt like all of that was unraveling.

Nixon slammed the paper down on the desk, his jaw clenched in frustration. "I'll have this sorted." He said, his tone brooking no argument. He was already moving toward the door, the article still clutched in his hand.

Evelyn stared after him, her mind racing. "How are you going to sort it?" She asked, her voice wavering slightly. She trusted Nixon, but she couldn't help but feel a pang of doubt. This wasn't something that could be easily fixed, not when it was already out in the open.

Nixon paused at the door, glancing back at her with a look of determination. "I don't know yet," he admitted, his voice softening for a moment. "But I'll figure it out. I promise."

Evelyn nodded, swallowing hard as she watched him leave. She didn't know how Nixon was going to handle this, but she had no choice but to trust him. For now, all she could do was wait.

—

The cold air of the bunker seemed to seep into Evelyn's very bones as she sat against the stone wall, her back pressed uncomfortably against its rough surface. She could feel the jagged edges digging into her skin through her uniform, but the discomfort barely registered. Around her, the men she had fought alongside for weeks sat in silence, their faces haggard and pale from exhaustion. They had barely slept, barely eaten, and the weight of what they had been through hung heavily in the air.

Evelyn's gaze drifted to the empty space on the bench beside her, where one of their comrades should have been sitting. The loss was still fresh, still raw, and it left a hollow feeling in her chest. She pulled her knees up to her chest, wrapping her arms around them in a vain attempt to ward off the cold. But the chill wasn't just from the air—it was from the reality of what they had all been through, and the knowledge that they were far from done.

"Ten-hut!" Johnny's sharp voice cut through the oppressive silence, snapping everyone to attention. Even in their fatigue, the soldiers moved as one, the clatter of boots on the stone floor echoing through the bunker. Evelyn stood with them, her body moving on instinct even as her mind felt distant, detached. She stared straight ahead, her heart hammering in her chest, but her gaze flickered toward the door as Winters entered, flanked by Captain Speirs and Lieutenant Nixon.

The three men moved with a quiet authority, their faces hard but not unkind. Winters' expression was calm, steady, though Evelyn could see the toll the war had taken on him in the lines etched deep into his face. Speirs, as always, was an enigma—cold and calculating, his sharp eyes scanning the room as if assessing each soldier for any sign of weakness. And Nixon... Nixon was quiet, his earlier anger replaced by a focused intensity. He caught Evelyn's eye for a brief moment, giving her a small nod of reassurance.

"At ease," Winters commanded, his voice steady but gentle. The soldiers relaxed slightly, though the tension in the room remained palpable. Evelyn let herself sink back onto the bench, her muscles aching from the constant strain of the past few days. She glanced at Popeye, who sat beside her, his hand wrapped in fresh bandages from the previous night's mission. He offered her a small, weary smile, though she could see the pain in his eyes.

"You men—and woman—did an excellent job last night," Winters began, pacing slowly in front of the group. "I'm proud. I just saw Colonel Sink, and he's proud too. In fact, he's so proud he wants you to do another patrol tonight."

The words hit like a punch to the gut. Evelyn felt the breath leave her lungs as she stared at Winters, disbelief washing over her. Another patrol? She barely had the strength to stand, let alone go on another mission. She glanced around at the men beside her, their faces mirroring her own exhaustion and shock. Popeye shifted beside her, his bandaged hand twitching slightly, a grimace crossing his face.

Winters continued, his voice even. "Any moment now, the outpost we hit last night will go up in flames."

"Yes, sir," Johnny replied, his voice strained but resolute. The rest of the room remained silent, the weight of their fatigue pressing down on them. They had done their duty, gone above and beyond, but the war didn't care. The war kept asking for more.

Evelyn's mind was racing, her heart pounding in her chest. She had survived the first patrol by sheer force of will, pushing herself past the limits of what she thought she was capable of. But now... she wasn't sure she had anything left. Her fingers fidgeted with the hem of her sleeve, a nervous habit she had developed over the course of the war.

Winters continued to speak, outlining the plan for the next patrol. "It means we'll have to venture farther into town this time. Captain Speirs, you have the map?"

Speirs stepped forward, unfurling the map and spreading it across the table in the center of the room. The soldiers gathered around, their eyes following Winters' finger as he pointed to various locations on the map. Evelyn stayed where she was, her legs too heavy to move. She listened intently, trying to focus on the details, but all she could think about was how little time they had to rest.

"We have enemy movement here and here," Winters said, pointing to two spots on the map. "Which means this is our new house target here. We recovered all the boats, so we'll be setting off at the same place we did last night."

Johnny raised his head, his brow furrowed. "We're not changing the plan any, sir?"

"No," Winters replied firmly. "The plan is the same. It will be 0200 hours instead of 0100. Is that clear?"

"Yes, sir," came the tired but unified reply. The room was thick with exhaustion, the air heavy with the unspoken question on everyone's mind—how much longer could they keep this up?

Winters must have sensed it because his tone softened ever so slightly. "Okay, good. Because, uh... I want you all to get a full night's sleep tonight. Which means, in the morning, you will report to me that you made it across the river, into German lines, but were unable to secure any live prisoners. Understand?"

For a moment, the room was silent as the words sank in. Evelyn's mind struggled to process what Winters was saying, the exhaustion clouding her thoughts. And then, slowly, it dawned on her.

And then, slowly, it dawned on her.

Winters wasn't sending them on another patrol. He was giving them an out. They were too exhausted, too worn down, and he knew it. By telling them to report back without any prisoners, he was sparing them the danger of another mission without openly disobeying orders. It was a small act of mercy, a way to give his soldiers the rest they so desperately needed.

A wave of relief washed over the room. The men exchanged glances, their faces softening with the realization that, for once, they weren't being asked to risk their lives. Evelyn could feel the tension in her body slowly ease, the weight of the past few days lifting just slightly. She glanced at Johnny, who gave her a tired smile, a silent acknowledgment of the reprieve they had been given.

"Thank you, sir," Johnny said quietly, his voice thick with gratitude.

Winters gave a small nod, his expression as steady as ever. "Get some rest," he said simply before turning and walking toward the door, Speirs and Nixon following close behind.

As the door closed behind them, the room erupted in a quiet murmur of conversation, the tension finally breaking. Evelyn let out a long, slow breath, her body sagging with exhaustion. She leaned her head back against the stone wall, closing her eyes for a moment as the relief coursed through her.

"Looks like we get to live another day," Popeye muttered beside her, his voice laced with dry humor. Evelyn chuckled softly, though the sound was more of a sigh.

"For now," she replied, her voice barely above a whisper. She knew this war was far from over, but for tonight, they had been granted a moment of peace. And in a world where peace was fleeting, that was more than enough.

—

Later that afternoon, the sun hung low in the sky, casting long shadows across the makeshift camp. Evelyn stood off to the side with Anna and George, watching as First Sergeant Lipton was called forward by Winters. The small group gathered to witness the moment, their tired faces brightened by the rare occasion of good news.

"First Sergeant Lipton," Winters began, his voice carrying easily across the quiet camp as he reached into his pocket, pulling out a folded piece of paper. "Your honorable discharge as an enlisted man and your battlefield commission as a Second Lieutenant. Congratulations, Carwood."

A wave of smiles and light applause rippled through the crowd as Winters handed Lipton the paper. Lipton accepted it with quiet grace, his face showing a mixture of pride and humility. Evelyn's smile grew as she watched the scene unfold, her heart swelling with a rare sense of happiness amidst the chaos of war.

As the men congratulated Lipton, Evelyn found herself absently tracing her fingers along the scar on her neck, a permanent reminder of the moments she had come so close to death. The cool, raised skin was a symbol of her survival, a testament to her determination to see this war through to the end, no matter the cost. But the emotional scars, the ones that couldn't be seen, those were harder to reckon with.

Before long, the men began to pile into the trucks that would take them to their next destination. The day's mission was done, but the war continued, and there was no telling what awaited them next. Evelyn stood at the side of the truck, staring at the worn wheels caked in mud, her mind racing as she tried to find some semblance of peace amidst the chaos.

"Need a hand?" A voice called out, breaking through her thoughts. Evelyn looked up to see Anna standing there, her hand extended with a warm smile on her face.

Evelyn returned the smile and took Anna's hand, pulling herself up into the truck and settling onto the wooden seat beside her. "Thanks," she murmured, brushing the dust off her pants as she looked around at the faces of her fellow soldiers. They were all tired, but for the moment, they were together. That had to count for something.

As the truck rumbled to life and began its slow, bumpy journey down the road, Evelyn felt a presence beside her. She looked to her left and saw Floyd settling in next to her, his expression softer than usual, his eyes filled with concern. He didn't say anything at first, just sat there, his shoulder brushing against hers in a silent gesture of support.

After a few minutes of quiet, he finally spoke, his voice low and quiet so as not to disturb the others. "How are you holding up?"

Evelyn let out a small, shaky breath and leaned her head back against the side of the truck. "I don't know," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. "I thought I could handle all of this, but... sometimes it feels like too much."

Floyd turned slightly to face her, his brow furrowing with concern. "It's not just you, you know," he said softly. "We're all feeling it. This war... it's breaking all of us in one way or another."

She nodded, swallowing hard as she tried to push down the emotions threatening to spill over. "I just keep thinking about everything we've seen. Everything we've been through. And it doesn't make sense. None of it makes sense."

Floyd's eyes softened as he listened to her. "I don't think it ever will," he admitted. "But that doesn't mean we stop trying to make sense of it. You can't let it eat you up inside, Dimples. You've been through hell, but you're still here. That counts for something."

She looked down at her hands, her fingers tracing the outline of the scar on her neck once more. "I'm scared," she whispered, the words slipping out before she could stop them. "I'm scared of what comes next. I'm scared of what I'll become after all of this."

Floyd reached over and gently took her hand, his touch warm and reassuring. "You don't have to be scared alone," he said quietly. "I'm here. We're all here. We're going to get through this, Dimples. One way or another, we're going to make it."

His words were simple, but they carried a weight that settled over her like a blanket, comforting and steady. For the first time in a long time, Evelyn felt like she didn't have to carry the burden of her fear alone. Floyd's hand in hers, the warmth of his touch, was enough to keep her grounded, if only for a moment.

The truck hit a bump in the road, jolting them slightly, but Floyd's grip on her hand didn't waver. He was her anchor, holding her steady in the storm that raged inside her. And for that, she was grateful.

As the truck continued its journey, the conversation between them flowed more freely, the tension easing as they shared stories of home, of life before the war. Floyd talked about his family, about the small town he grew up in, the way the trees turned bright orange in the fall. Evelyn found herself smiling as he spoke, his words painting a picture of a world far removed from the one they were in now.

"You know," Floyd said after a while, his voice softer now, "when this is all over, I'm gonna find a place like that again. Somewhere quiet, peaceful. Maybe we could all find a place like that."

Evelyn's heart ached at the thought. The idea of peace, of a life beyond the war, felt like a distant dream, something she wasn't sure she could reach. But hearing Floyd talk about it, seeing the hope in his eyes, made her want to believe in it, too.

"Yeah," she said quietly, her voice barely audible over the rumble of the truck. "Maybe we could."

They sat in silence for a while after that, the sound of the road and the gentle rocking of the truck lulling them into a state of quiet reflection. But even in the silence, Floyd's hand remained in hers, a steady reminder that she wasn't alone. And for now, that was enough.

As the truck rolled on, taking them to their next destination, Evelyn allowed herself to lean into the small moments of comfort, the fleeting glimpses of hope. She didn't know what the future held, but she knew that as long as Floyd was beside her, she could face whatever came next.

And that, for now, was all she needed.

Chapter Text

The men of Easy Company sat huddled together on small chairs resting in the middle of the road, a temporary respite from the long stretches of patrol and uncertainty. The grey sky overhead mirrored the mood of exhaustion and wary anticipation that hung in the air. Evelyn and Anna sat side by side, nestled amongst the rest of the soldiers, all listening to Nixon drone on about the latest news from back home.

"The Co-operative American Remittance to Europe, or CARE, has begun assembling food packages stateside to assist those European families in dire need. Which is presumably all of them. So don't forget to tell your family to donate as much as possible, it will be very much appreciated," Nixon began, his voice detached as he read off the clipboard, the words hardly rising above the crackle of static from the nearby radios.

Evelyn glanced around at the men, who were only half paying attention. She could sense the weariness in their eyes, the fatigue from months of combat that lingered like a shadow on each of them.

"I'm sure that you'll all be happy to know that 'Oklahoma' is still playing on Broadway," Nixon continued, barely masking his boredom. He paused to take a breath.

That was when the men instantly broke out into the song, being led heavily by George:

"Oklahoma where the wind comes sweepin' down the plain and the wavin' wheat can sure smell sweet when the wind comes—"

"Right behind the rain!" O'Keef, a replacement, chimed in, completing the lyric. Laughter erupted from the group, the sound unexpected and almost jarring amidst the bleak setting. Evelyn couldn't help but smile at the absurdity of it all, shaking her head as she exchanged an amused glance with Anna.

"O'Keefe, you sittin' on your bayonet there?" Christenson quipped, his voice carrying over the laughter.

Laughter rolled through the company again, this time louder, fuller, as if they were briefly allowed to forget the weight of war that hung over them. Even Evelyn joined in, chuckling at the harmless ribbing, her earlier melancholy momentarily lifting. Anna, sitting next to her, gently elbowed Evelyn, and they shared a small grin.

Nixon continued, unbothered by the interruption. "Rita Hayworth's getting married."

"Oh, Rita, say it ain't true!" George Luz groaned dramatically, placing a hand over his heart. Anna playfully swatted his arm, and Evelyn couldn't help but laugh, watching as George feigned hurt. These moments, brief as they were, felt like islands of normalcy amidst the chaos.

"Wartime news," Nixon went on, his voice growing more serious. "Resistance in the Ruhr pocket's crumbling. It looks like there might be a breakout in Remagen. Apparently, the Krauts forgot to blow up one of their bridges when they headed back over the Rhine." He flipped the page of his clipboard. "I guess the boys in the 17th Airborne did all right after all."

Luz, never missing a beat, called out, "Forget it. We'd be in Berlin by now, Sir, if it was us instead of them, huh?"

The men let out a chorus of cheers, their pride for Easy Company evident in their voices. Evelyn smiled at the sound, feeling a flicker of pride stir within her chest. But as Nixon's lecture came to a close and the men began to disperse, the lightness that had momentarily lifted her spirits faded once again, replaced by the ever-present weight of the war.

The news that 300,000 German soldiers had surrendered quickly spread through the ranks, but it did little to lift their morale. It was just another step closer to the inevitable end, one that felt both hopeful and uncertain.

As the men climbed back into their trucks to move out, Evelyn found herself wedged between Floyd and Anna. She offered Floyd a small smile, and he returned it with one of his own, his face lighting up in a way that made her heart skip just a little.

The men around them began to sing, their voices rising in unison, the words a darkly humorous ode to the grim reality of their lives as soldiers:

"Gory, gory, what a hell of a way to die!
Gory, gory, what a hell of a way to die!
Gory, gory, what a hell of a way to die!
He ain't gonna jump no more!"

The truck rattled along the road, the men's voices carrying over the hum of the engine. Evelyn's smile brightened, caught up in the infectious energy of the moment. Despite everything—the exhaustion, the fear, the death that loomed constantly over their heads—there was something about these moments that made it all feel almost bearable. Almost.

"The risers swung around his neck, connectors cracked his dome,
Suspension lines were tied in knots around his skinny bones,
The canopy became his shroud, he hurtled to the ground,
And he ain't gonna jump no more."

As they continued down the road, the countryside opened up before them, a landscape marked by the scars of war. Evelyn gazed out at the fields, momentarily lost in the beauty of the open sky and the endless stretch of green that lay ahead.

Beside her, Floyd leaned closer, shouting over the singing, "You still up for that date?"

Evelyn blinked, not quite hearing him. "What?"

"I said," Floyd repeated, raising his voice, "you still up for that date?"

The question caught her off guard, but a smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. Her cheeks flushed slightly as she looked up at him. "Only if you are."

Floyd grinned, clearly pleased by her response. "If we do it here, though, you might need me to help translate!"

Floyd raised an eyebrow, confused. "What?"

"Oh, you weren't thinking of a dinner date?" She asked, tilting her head playfully.

"No! What? Translate?" Floyd furrowed his brow. "You speak German?"

"And French." She shrugged casually, as if it were nothing. "All thanks to my parents."

Floyd looked at her, eyes wide with surprise. "You didn't tell me that before!"

Evelyn shot him a mischievous grin. "Come on, I can't reveal all my secrets at once."

Floyd laughed, his voice warm. "Whatever you say, Dimples."

As they continued their journey, Evelyn's gaze shifted out the back of the truck, catching sight of the endless line of German prisoners marching in the opposite direction. Their faces were downcast, their uniforms ragged, and the sight stirred something deep and angry within her.

"Fucking bastards." She muttered under her breath, her grip tightening on her rifle.

Floyd glanced at her, his expression softening. Without a word, he slid his arm around her shoulders, pulling her closer in an attempt to soothe the frustration that simmered within her. She didn't pull away. Instead, she leaned into the warmth of his touch, feeling a sense of comfort she hadn't realized she needed.

When they finally arrived at the outskirts of a small town, the trucks slowed, and the men climbed off. The streets were lined with civilians, their faces a mixture of wariness and curiosity as they watched the Americans march into their town. Orders were barked for Easy to head out on patrol, and Evelyn found herself once again at the front of the group, rifle in hand.

She glanced over her shoulder at the men trailing behind her. "Why am I up front, again?" She called out, half-joking.

"Because you're a sniper, Mary." George Luz replied from a few steps back.

"Surely that means I should be sticking to the back, right?" She tried to reason.

"Keep marching, Mary," Bull Randleman cut in, his tone teasing but firm.

Evelyn let out an overdramatic sigh, earning a few chuckles from the men around her. The banter, light as it was, helped to ease the tension as they continued forward, the weight of the unknown pressing down on them all.

But the silence that followed was unnerving. The only sound was the crunch of their boots on the gravel road, and even that seemed too loud in the stillness.

"It sure is quiet." One of the replacements commented, his voice low.

Suddenly, Christenson raised his hand, signaling for the group to stop. Evelyn froze in place, her body tensing as her eyes darted across the landscape, searching for any sign of movement. The men quickly cocked their guns, the metallic clicks of the safety latches echoing in the silence.

For a moment, there was nothing, just the stillness of the trees and the oppressive weight of anticipation.

Then, with a nod from Christenson, they were gestured to move again, slowly, cautiously. Evelyn kept her rifle raised, her senses on high alert.

When they finally broke through the tree line, they came upon an open area. And what they saw stopped them all in their tracks.

It was a camp, barbed wire fencing off a large compound. Inside, emaciated figures moved slowly, their skeletal frames barely able to support their own weight. Their heads were shaved, and their faces were gaunt, dark circles hollowing out their eyes. The sight was unlike anything Evelyn had ever seen.

"What the fuck?" She whispered, her voice barely audible as the shock washed over her.

Perconte was quickly sent to find an officer, but the rest of them stood there, frozen in place, unable to tear their eyes away from the scene before them.

The gate was soon opened as the officers arrived, the soldiers beginning to walk through, the air heavy with the smell of decay and death. Coughing was the only sound that broke the silence, the harsh, rasping breaths of the prisoners echoing around them.

Evelyn walked cautiously forward, her eyes scanning the broken figures around her. She couldn't comprehend what she was seeing. This wasn't war, this was something else entirely. Something worse.

As she moved deeper into the camp, one of the prisoners reached out, grabbing her arm with a trembling hand. She turned to face them, her breath catching in her throat as she looked into their hollow eyes.

Slowly, Evelyn removed her helmet, the weight of the moment pressing down on her as she tried to breathe through the suffocating stench that surrounded her.

"What..." Her voice cracked, the words catching in her throat. "What is this?"

The prisoner looked up at her, their gaze empty, their soul seemingly broken. They opened their mouth to speak, but the words came out as a whisper, barely audible.

"Extermination."

Evelyn's heart skipped a beat. That word—extermination—it echoed in her mind, a dark reminder of the rumors she'd heard, the things she'd dismissed as too horrible to be true. She thought back to the German general she had killed, to the way Nixon had waved off her concerns when she had first mentioned the word. Now, standing here, in the midst of this horror, she realized the full weight of what had been happening.

"Extermination for what?" She asked, her voice trembling as she tried to hold herself together, to make sense of the senselessness around her.

The man looked at her, his voice trembling as he uttered one word: "Juden."

Jews.

Evelyn's eyes widened, her heart pounding in her chest as the enormity of it all hit her. This was what the war had become. This was what they were fighting against, this unimaginable cruelty, this calculated horror.

The prisoner crumbled before her, his frail body giving way as he began to collapse to the ground. Evelyn quickly knelt beside him, trying to hold him up, but he was too weak. His bones felt like they might break under her touch.

A medic appeared beside her, offering her a nod of reassurance. "I've got him," he said softly, taking over as he gently helped the man to the ground, checking his vitals.

Evelyn stood slowly, her mind reeling. She couldn't tear her eyes away from the devastation before her, the broken bodies, the hollow faces, the weight of what they had endured.

As she turned, she caught sight of Nixon standing nearby, his face somber as he took in the scene. Anger surged within her, and before she could stop herself, she marched toward him, her heart pounding in her chest.

"You said it wouldn't be that bad." She said, her voice cracking as the emotions overwhelmed her.

Nixon didn't respond at first, just looked at her with that same unreadable expression, his jaw tight.

"You lied." Her voice broke, tears welling up in her eyes as the weight of everything, the war, the death, the suffering, came crashing down on her.

"I didn't know." Nixon finally said, his voice quiet, almost apologetic. But it wasn't enough. It wasn't nearly enough.

Evelyn shook her head, the tears spilling over as she turned away from him, unable to stand the sight of his empty excuses. She walked back into the camp, her heart heavy, and began to help wherever she could, distributing food to the prisoners, her hands shaking as they reached out, desperate for sustenance.

The hours passed in a blur, the weight of the horror pressing down on all of them. When the work was done, and the prisoners were locked back up for the night to be monitored by the medics, Easy Company made their way back to the town. They walked in silence, their hearts heavy with the sights they had seen, the knowledge of what had been done.

That night, Evelyn sat alone on the edge of the narrow bed in the small, dimly lit room she had been assigned for the night. The bombed-out building that Easy Company had taken over was eerily quiet, but her mind was anything but. The images from the camp haunted her, replaying over and over—the gaunt faces, the hollow eyes, the overwhelming smell of death that seemed to cling to her skin.

Her knees were pulled to her chest as she sat there, trying to keep the sobs at bay, but her breath came in shaky bursts. It was all too much. The war, the endless brutality, and now the horrors of what they had uncovered—it was as though her mind was drowning, unable to make sense of it all.

She had been strong for so long, fighting through every battle, every wound, every loss. But this... what she had seen today... it was different. This time, she couldn't shake it.

Her chest tightened, and her heart pounded painfully in her ribcage. She pressed her hands against her face, trying to muffle the quiet sobs that threatened to break free, but she couldn't hold it back. The walls she had built around herself, the armor she had worn for so long, were crumbling, and she didn't know how to stop it.

The bed creaked beneath her as her body trembled with silent sobs. Tears streamed down her cheeks, and the weight of everything—the loss, the fear, the inhuman cruelty she had witnessed—poured out of her all at once. She gasped for breath between the sobs, her hands clutching the bedcovers, knuckles white with the effort of holding herself together.

Suddenly, she felt a gentle hand rest on her shoulder. Evelyn tensed, startled, and quickly wiped at her face. When she looked up, she saw Floyd standing there, his expression soft with concern.

"Hey," he murmured, his voice gentle, careful not to startle her further. "It's okay. I'm here."

At the sound of his voice, Evelyn's eyes filled with fresh tears. She hadn't realized how much she needed to hear that—how much she needed someone to be there. Without a second thought, she leaned into him, her body shaking as she let herself break. Her sobs grew louder as she buried her face in his chest, clinging to him as though he were the only thing keeping her from falling apart completely.

Floyd wrapped his arms around her without hesitation, pulling her closer. His embrace was warm, strong, and steady, grounding her as her emotions spilled out.

"I... I can't take it anymore," she whispered between gasping breaths. "I can't... It's just too much."

Floyd's hand began to gently stroke her back in slow, comforting circles. "I know," he whispered softly, his voice steady, reassuring. "I know it's hard. But you don't have to do this alone, Dimples. You don't have to carry it all by yourself."

Evelyn pressed her face deeper into his chest, his words slicing through the fog of grief that had settled over her. She had been carrying so much for so long, she had almost forgotten what it felt like to let someone else in, to let someone else share the burden.

Floyd held her a little tighter, his presence a steadying force. "You've been so strong for so long," he said quietly, his hand still moving in slow, soothing strokes. "But it's okay to not be okay. You don't have to keep it all inside."

Her sobs began to quiet, the storm of emotions gradually easing as she took comfort in the warmth of his arms. She hadn't realized how desperately she needed this, to just let it all out, to let someone be there for her. The pain, the anger, the fear... it all felt a little lighter with Floyd holding her.

When the tears finally slowed and the silence between them grew more comfortable, Floyd gently pulled back just enough to look at her. His eyes were filled with concern, but there was something else there too, something softer, something that made her feel seen in a way she hadn't in a long time.

"You wanna talk about it?" He asked gently, his voice calm and soothing. "Or we can just sit here. Whatever you need, Dimples."

The use of his nickname for her tugged a soft, broken laugh from her lips, despite everything. Floyd always had a way of making her smile, even in the darkest moments. She sniffed, wiping at her tear-streaked face as she tried to gather her thoughts.

"I don't even know where to start," she admitted, her voice still shaky. "It's just... everything. The war, the killing, and then... that camp." She shuddered at the memory, the horror of it still so fresh in her mind. "I've seen death before, Floyd, but not like that. Never like that."

Floyd's face softened, and he reached up to gently brush a tear-streaked strand of hair away from her face. "No one should have to see what we saw today," he said quietly. "No one should ever have to go through that."

Evelyn nodded, her throat tightening as she looked down at her hands. She wanted to steady herself, but the weight of it all was still there, pressing heavily on her chest.

"I feel so... helpless," she whispered, barely able to get the words out. "We've been fighting this whole time, but it feels like it didn't even matter. How could we have let that happen? How could we not have known?"

Floyd's grip on her tightened, his voice steady as he spoke. "You're not helpless, Dimples. None of us are. What we saw today... it's why we keep fighting. So that no one ever has to suffer like that again."

She looked up at him, her eyes searching his face. He was right, she knew that. But it didn't make the weight of it any easier to bear.

"I just don't know how to keep going," she admitted, her voice small. "It feels like everything's falling apart."

Floyd cupped her cheek gently with his hand, his thumb brushing away the last of her tears. "You keep going because you're strong," he said quietly. "And because you don't have to do it alone."

The way he looked at her, the sincerity in his voice, made Evelyn's heart ache in a way she hadn't expected. She leaned into his touch, taking comfort in the warmth and strength of his presence.

"You're stronger than you think, Dimples," Floyd continued, his voice soft but sure. "You've made it this far. That says a lot."

A small smile tugged at the corners of her lips, even with the lingering sadness in her chest. "I guess I am," she whispered.

Floyd smiled back, his thumb still gently caressing her cheek. "And you've got me now," he said softly. "I'm not going anywhere. Whatever happens, I'm with you."

The tenderness in his voice, the way he held her, made Evelyn feel something she hadn't felt in a long time, like maybe, just maybe, things could be okay again.

Without thinking, she reached up and rested her hand on top of his. "Thank you," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion.

Floyd's smile softened, and he leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead. "Anytime, Dimples," he murmured, his voice full of warmth.

They sat there in the quiet of the small room, Floyd's arm still wrapped around her, offering her a steady presence she hadn't realized she needed. The world outside was still full of chaos, but here, in this moment, it felt distant.

As the minutes passed, Evelyn felt her eyelids grow heavier, the exhaustion of the day finally catching up with her. She leaned her head against Floyd's shoulder, her body relaxing as sleep began to take over.

Floyd shifted slightly, adjusting to make her more comfortable, but he didn't let go. His hand stayed resting on her back, his steady breaths lulling her closer to sleep.

Before she drifted off completely, she whispered one last thing, her voice barely audible.

"Stay with me?"

Floyd smiled softly, his grip around her tightening just a little. "I'm not going anywhere," he promised, his voice low and full of warmth. "I'll be right here."

And with that, Evelyn allowed herself to finally let go, to surrender to the comfort of Floyd's presence. For the first time in a long time, she fell asleep feeling safe, knowing she wasn't alone anymore.

Chapter Text

Evelyn sat atop the truck, legs dangling off the side as the cool breeze brushed past her. Floyd sat beside her, his presence a quiet comfort as they watched the men below attempt to clear the roadblock. Several of them were gathered around, laughing and shouting orders as a couple of grenades were prepared to be launched at the large pile of rocks blocking the road. It was the kind of makeshift solution typical of Easy Company, and while it was effective, it was taking far longer than anyone had hoped.

"This is going to take forever." Evelyn groaned, letting herself fall back against the truck's frame, her arms crossing lazily over her chest. The sun beat down on them, and despite the crisp mountain air, the heat was making the situation even more unbearable. She closed her eyes, surrendering to the boredom that had already seeped into her bones.

Floyd glanced at her, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. She had no idea, but watching her relax, seeing her let her guard down even just a little, made his heart race. Her hair, tousled from the day's exertions, framed her face perfectly, and her expression, though weary, was peaceful in a way he rarely saw. It was moments like these, when she wasn't the hardened soldier, when she was just Dimples, that he cherished the most.

Gently, he reached out and patted her head, his fingers brushing through her hair as if it were the most natural thing in the world. To his surprise, she leaned into his touch ever so slightly, the gesture so subtle it could've been missed. But Floyd noticed. He always noticed.

Another explosion rang out from below, the sound jarring against the peaceful mountain backdrop. The roadblock finally began to crumble under the force of the grenades, and soon, the men were ordered to begin moving again. The trucks roared to life, the rumble of engines filling the air as Easy Company slowly pressed forward.

"Hi-yo Silver!" One of the soldiers shouted from across the mountain, his voice echoing as he and a small group sprinted up towards the Eagles' Nest. The trucks were on the move once again, winding their way through the narrow paths carved into the mountainside. Evelyn opened her eyes and sat up, her attention drawn to the stunning landscape unfolding before them. The trucks soon pulled to a stop, and the soldiers, restless from the slow crawl, began piling out, eager to stretch their legs.

Evelyn jumped down from the truck with ease, her boots hitting the dirt with a soft thud. As she straightened up, her eyes scanned the horizon, and for the first time in what felt like weeks, she found herself captivated by the view. The mountains stretched out as far as the eye could see, their peaks dusted with snow, and the valleys below were lush with greenery. The sight was breathtaking, a stark contrast to the destruction and bloodshed they had been surrounded by for so long.

"What do you think?" Floyd asked, coming to stand beside her. His eyes followed hers as they both took in the scenery, the peacefulness of the moment hanging between them.

"It's... beautiful," Evelyn breathed, her voice barely more than a whisper. She couldn't remember the last time she had seen something so serene, so untouched by the horrors of war.

Floyd nodded, though his gaze had shifted from the mountains to her. "Yeah," he said softly, his tone filled with a warmth that made her heart skip a beat. "Yeah, it is."

There was a softness in his voice that Evelyn didn't often hear, and when she turned to look at him, she found his eyes already on her, a glint of something she couldn't quite place reflected in them. Her cheeks flushed, and she quickly looked away, focusing once more on the mountains. But the moment lingered, unspoken between them.

As Easy Company prepared to move again, Evelyn remained lost in thought, her mind torn between the beauty of the world around her and the undeniable tension that had been growing between her and Floyd. She didn't know how to navigate it. Hell, she didn't even know if she wanted to navigate it. But the way he looked at her, the way he made her feel like something more than just a soldier, it was becoming harder to ignore.

The trucks pressed on, and as they continued their journey towards Austria, the scenery grew even more spectacular. Snow-capped mountains loomed in the distance, their peaks disappearing into the clouds, and the winding rivers below sparkled in the late afternoon sun. It was a sight unlike anything Evelyn had ever seen before, and for a moment, it almost made her forget the war. Almost.

"So, you reckon they'll make us run up those or ski down them?" Floyd asked, gesturing to the towering mountains ahead. His tone was light, teasing, though there was an edge of awe in his voice as well.

No one answered his question. The men in the truck were just as mesmerized by the landscape as he was. After so long on the battlefield, surrounded by destruction and death, it was strange, wonderful, to see the world in color again. The deep blues of the rivers, the vibrant greens of the trees, the soft whites of the snow. It was a reminder that there was still beauty in the world, even after everything they had been through.

As the trucks passed a small group of women walking along the side of the road, the men in the truck immediately shifted, crowding to one side to shout greetings and wave. Evelyn rolled her eyes, leaning back in her seat with a groan as she watched them, her expression one of mild disdain.

"What a bunch of idiots." She muttered under her breath, her tone dripping with sarcasm.

Anna, who sat beside her, burst out laughing, the sound bright and full of mirth. "You said the exact same thing when we were on the boat heading over here." She reminded her, knocking her shoulder against Evelyn's in a playful gesture. The shared memory brought a sense of nostalgia with it, a reminder of simpler times, before everything had gotten so complicated.

"Damn right." Evelyn replied, a small smile tugging at her lips. It was a rare thing, these moments of lightness, but they held onto them whenever they could.

The trucks soon pulled up to the entrance of a small village nestled in the mountains, and as they rolled to a stop, the men eagerly jumped out, their restless energy palpable. Evelyn and Anna, in no hurry to get caught in the chaos, waited for the initial rush to clear before climbing down themselves.

As Evelyn prepared to jump down from the truck, a hand was suddenly placed before her. "M'lady." Floyd said with a wink, his tone teasing but his gesture sincere. There was something about the way he looked at her, something that made her heart flutter despite herself.

Butterflies stirred in her stomach, but she quickly pushed the feeling aside. She couldn't afford to get caught up in whatever this was. Not now. Placing her hand in his, she slowly lowered herself down from the truck, the landing far softer than it would've been had she jumped on her own.

From across the clearing, Anna's voice rang out. "Hey, George! Why can't you help me?" She called, her tone playful as she watched the interaction between Evelyn and Floyd with a knowing smile.

George, caught off guard, scurried over sheepishly to help her down, much to the amusement of everyone around them. Evelyn couldn't help but laugh, her smile growing as she watched their antics. But what she didn't realize was that Floyd's smile wasn't just for the joke. It was for her. It was always for her.

Once on the ground, Easy Company began to make their way into one of the larger buildings in the village, quickly establishing it as their temporary quarters. The men scattered in all directions, eager to claim rooms and settle in. Evelyn and Anna, never ones to be left behind, quickly darted through the building, pushing past anyone in their way.

"Move!" Evelyn shouted, her laughter ringing out as she barreled through the narrow hallways. Anna was hot on her heels, both of them ignoring the indignant complaints of the men they passed. Their footsteps echoed through the building, the sound of their shared joy a brief respite from the tension that always lingered just below the surface.

Evelyn pushed open the first door she came to, letting out a triumphant cry as she found two small beds at opposite ends of the room. "Well, that wasn't so hard." Anna remarked, patting her on the shoulder as she stepped into the room, her smile wide and satisfied.

The two women quickly set about settling in, tossing their belongings onto the beds before heading back downstairs. The building was large, with plenty of space for the men to spread out, but it was the large room with the television that drew their attention. A group had already gathered, their eyes glued to the screen as newsreels played in black and white.

"Heroic dead — a combined Army and Marine force marks the grim battlefield of Okinawa, where one of the bloodiest engagements of the war is being fought." The announcer's voice droned, the words heavy with the weight of the ongoing conflict. Clips of the battle played in the background, scenes of destruction and chaos filling the screen.

Evelyn and Anna exchanged a glance as a familiar face flashed across the screen. It was a woman they had trained alongside during Operation Athena, and there she was, fighting for her life amidst the carnage. Her face was battered and bruised, but her resolve was unbroken. The sight of her, standing tall in the face of such overwhelming odds, sent a chill down Evelyn's spine.

The announcer continued, "Along the Japs' southern defense line, the Yanks progress slowly, facing one of the fiercest artillery barrages of the war. Each small advance is gained by sheer grit in the face of withering fire from a suicidal enemy being slowly hammered back into the hills. The going is brutal, and our casualties are high, but Okinawa is the next big step toward victory over Japan. A victory that can only be won by work, war bonds, and heroic sacrifice."

As the broadcast concluded, the room fell silent. The soldiers who had gathered to watch slowly rose from their seats, many of them making their way to the door with grim expressions. The weight of the war, of the battles still to come, pressed heavily on them all.

Anna and Evelyn were about to follow when they heard their names called. "White. Wilson."

They turned to find Winters and Nixon standing near the doorway, their faces somber. The atmosphere shifted immediately, a heaviness settling over the group as the two men approached.

"Yes?" Anna asked, her tone cautious.

Winters cleared his throat, clearly uncomfortable with the news he had to deliver. "There's... talk," he began, struggling to find the right words. "Talk about sending all remaining women from your operation straight into the Pacific to aid the fight."

The silence that followed was deafening. Evelyn stood frozen, her mind struggling to process what he was saying. After everything they had been through, after the victory they had just achieved, they were already planning to send them back into battle. It felt like a cruel joke, like they would never get the chance to rest, to heal.

"Is this confirmed?" Anna's voice was sharp, cutting through the thick tension.

"Just talks for now," Nixon interjected, his tone softer, as if he could sense how devastating the news was to them. "But they're saying it's likely."

Anna let out a deep sigh, her shoulders slumping under the weight of it all. She turned to Evelyn, who remained silent, her face expressionless but her eyes betraying the storm of emotions swirling inside her.

"Thanks for letting us know." Anna said quietly, her voice filled with exhaustion. She gently took Evelyn's arm, pulling her away from the conversation and out of the building.

Outside, the cool evening air did little to soothe the unease that had settled over them. Evelyn walked in silence, her mind racing as she tried to make sense of it all. She felt like she was on the edge of a precipice, like the ground beneath her feet was crumbling away, and there was nothing she could do to stop it.

Anna glanced over at her friend, concern etched into her features. "Eve, are you okay?"

"I'm fine." Evelyn replied, though her voice was hollow. "I just... I need some time alone."

Without waiting for a response, Evelyn turned and walked away, her steps heavy as she made her way down the path leading out of the village. Anna watched her go, worry gnawing at her as she disappeared into the distance, but she knew better than to follow. Evelyn needed space, and Anna respected that.

Evelyn didn't know how long she walked for, her feet carrying her without thought or direction. Eventually, she found herself standing by a small lake, the water calm and still beneath the fading light of the day. It was peaceful here, far removed from the chaos of war, and for a brief moment, she allowed herself to breathe.

Slowly, she lowered herself to the ground, her back resting against a tree as she stared out at the water. The reflection of the mountains and sky shimmered on the surface, and for a moment, it felt like she was the only person in the world. Alone. But not lonely. Not yet.

She sat there for what felt like hours, her thoughts a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. The war had taken so much from her, her peace, her innocence, her sense of self. She had lived under a false identity for so long that she wasn't sure she even knew who she was anymore. She had become so accustomed to hiding parts of herself that it felt like second nature now, and the idea of letting anyone in, of letting someone truly see her, terrified her.

But Floyd...

Floyd had been different from the start. He had a way of making her feel like she didn't have to hide, like she could just be Evelyn and that would be enough. He didn't ask questions she wasn't ready to answer, didn't push her for more than she was willing to give. He was just... there. And that meant more to her than she could ever put into words.

The sound of footsteps behind her broke the silence, and for a brief moment, Evelyn tensed, her hand instinctively moving toward her weapon. But then she heard his voice.

"Dimples?"

Floyd's voice was soft, careful, as if he didn't want to startle her. Evelyn didn't turn to look at him, her eyes still fixed on the lake, but she felt his presence beside her as he slowly lowered himself to sit on the ground next to her.

"Art told me you'd gone for a walk," he said quietly, his tone gentle. "I figured you might want some company."

Evelyn didn't respond right away. She wasn't sure what to say, wasn't sure if she even wanted to talk. But Floyd didn't push. He simply sat beside her in silence, waiting, letting her set the pace.

After a long moment, Evelyn let out a deep sigh, her shoulders sagging as the weight of everything threatened to crush her. "I don't know if I can do this anymore." She admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

Floyd turned to look at her, his expression soft but serious. "What do you mean?"

"This," she gestured vaguely, her hand sweeping over the lake and the mountains and the world beyond. "The war. The fighting. All of it. I thought... I thought maybe we were done, you know? That maybe, after everything, we'd finally get a chance to rest. But now..." She trailed off, her words hanging in the air between them.

Floyd nodded slowly, his gaze thoughtful. "I get it," he said after a while. "We've all been hoping for an end to this. But it's like every time we get close, there's another fight waiting for us around the corner."

Evelyn closed her eyes, trying to steady her breathing, trying to keep the emotions that were clawing at her chest from spilling over. "They want to send us to Japan as early as possible, us women, I mean." She said quietly, her voice shaking. "After everything we've been through, they want to send us back into the fire."

Floyd didn't say anything at first, didn't try to offer empty reassurances or meaningless platitudes. Instead, he reached out and took her hand, his grip warm and steady. It was a simple gesture, but it was enough to ground her, to remind her that she wasn't alone in this.

"I don't want to go back." Evelyn admitted, her voice trembling. "I'm so tired, Floyd. I don't think I have anything left to give."

Floyd squeezed her hand gently, his thumb brushing over her knuckles in a soothing rhythm. "You've already given more than anyone should ever have to," he said softly. "But you're stronger than you think, Dimples. You always have been."

Evelyn shook her head, her eyes filling with tears that she refused to let fall. "You don't know me, Floyd. Not really. You don't know what I've done, who I've had to become. You only know the version of me that I let you see."

Floyd frowned, his grip on her hand tightening slightly. "That's not true," he said firmly. "I know you. I've seen you fight, I've seen you lead, I've seen you laugh, and cry, and everything in between. You don't have to hide from me, Dimples."

She turned to look at him then, her eyes searching his face for any sign of doubt, but all she saw was sincerity. It scared her, how much she wanted to believe him.

"You say that now," she whispered, "but you don't know the whole truth. You don't know who I really am."

"Then tell me." Floyd said, his voice gentle but insistent. "Tell me everything."

Evelyn hesitated, her mind racing as she weighed her options. She had spent so long keeping her secrets locked away, afraid that if anyone knew the truth, they would turn away from her. But there was something about Floyd, something that made her want to trust him, to let him in.

Taking a deep breath, she began to speak. "I wasn't always Mary White," she said quietly. "Before the war, I had a different name, a different life, Evelyn Donovan is my name. When I was recruited for Operation Athena, they gave me a new identity, a new purpose. You want to know why they chose Mary? Because they saw me as a violent killing machine, looking for the next life I could take. They deemed me the deadliest of all the women and so they chose Mary, named after Bloody Mary of England. I became someone else, someone who could be whatever the mission required. Beautiful, intelligent, brave, strong. Those were the qualities they said we had to possess if we wanted to survive."

Floyd listened intently, his eyes never leaving hers as she spoke. He didn't interrupt, didn't push for more than she was willing to give. He just... listened.

"I've done things, Floyd." She continued, her voice barely above a whisper. "Things I'm not proud of. I've lied, I've manipulated, I've... killed. All in the name of the mission. And now, I don't even know who I am anymore. I don't know if I'm the person I used to be, or if that person ever really existed."

Floyd was silent for a long moment, his expression thoughtful. Then, slowly, he reached out and gently cupped her face in his hands, his touch soft and reassuring. "I don't care who you were," he said quietly. "I care about who you are now. And the person you are now is someone worth fighting for, someone worth loving."

Evelyn's breath caught in her throat at his words, her heart pounding in her chest as she stared at him in disbelief. "Floyd, you don't-"

"I do." He interrupted, his voice firm but gentle. "I care about you, Mar- Evelyn. I've cared about you since the moment we met. And it doesn't matter to me who you used to be, or what you've done. I'll love every part of you, your past, your present, your flaws, your strengths, and your secrets. All of it. I'll love each and every one."

Tears welled up in Evelyn's eyes, her resolve crumbling as the weight of his words washed over her. He had called her by her real name, one that hadn't held such strength to her being till now. No one had ever said something so meaningful to her, had ever made her feel so seen, so accepted. She had spent so long believing that she was unlovable, that the person she had become was too broken, too damaged, to deserve love. But here Floyd was, offering her everything she had been too afraid to even hope for, accepting each and every one of her flaws.

Without thinking, she leaned into him, her head resting against his chest as the tears she had been holding back finally spilled over. Floyd wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close as he pressed a gentle kiss to the top of her head.

They sat there like that for a long time, the silence between them filled with unspoken understanding. Floyd didn't try to rush her, didn't try to force her to speak. He simply held her, his presence a steady anchor in the storm of emotions swirling inside her.

After a while, Evelyn pulled back slightly, her eyes red and puffy from crying but her heart feeling a little lighter. "I don't know what I did to deserve you." She said softly, her voice thick with emotion.

Floyd smiled, his thumb gently brushing away a tear that had lingered on her cheek. "You don't have to do anything to deserve love, Dimples." He said quietly. "You just have to let yourself be loved."

Evelyn's heart swelled at his words, a warmth spreading through her chest as she looked up at him. For the first time in a long time, she felt like maybe, just maybe, she wasn't as alone as she had always believed.

"I'm scared," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. "I'm scared of what the others will think when they find out the truth. I'm scared they'll hate me."

Floyd shook his head, his gaze steady and unwavering. "They won't hate you," he said firmly. "They've fought alongside you, they've seen your strength, your courage. They know who you are, just like I do. And when the time comes, I'll stand by your side, no matter what."

Evelyn's eyes filled with tears once more, but this time they were tears of gratitude, of relief. She had spent so long carrying the weight of her secrets, of her fears, but now, with Floyd by her side, she felt like maybe she didn't have to carry it all alone anymore.

"Thank you." She whispered, her voice trembling with emotion.

Floyd smiled softly, his hand gently cupping her cheek as he leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to her forehead. "You don't have to thank me," he said quietly. "I'm just glad you let me in."

They stayed like that for a while longer, the sun slowly sinking below the horizon as the stars began to appear in the sky above. The world around them was quiet, peaceful, and for the first time in what felt like forever, Evelyn allowed herself to believe that maybe, just maybe, everything would be okay.

Chapter Text

The sun cast a golden glow over the surface of the lake, making the water shimmer as it caught the light, and in the midst of the serene scene, laughter rang out, free and unburdened. It was a rare moment of peace for the soldiers, a brief respite from the war that constantly loomed in the back of their minds, a weight they all carried but never spoke about here, not now.

Evelyn stood on the wooden pier, her arms crossed in a casual posture as she watched the scene unfold. The men splashed around in the water, their laughter echoing across the calm surface of the lake, their usual hardened expressions softened by the rare occasion to simply be themselves. This was a slice of normalcy, a brief, fleeting moment where they could forget the war, the bloodshed, and the uncertainty of tomorrow.

"You're not coming in, Mary?" George's voice called out, playful and teasing. He floated near the edge of the water, one arm draped around Anna's shoulder as they bobbed together. Their wet hair was slicked back, their faces bright with a happiness that had been in short supply these days.

Evelyn grinned at the sight but shook her head, leaning back against the weathered wooden railing of the pier. "I'm fine up here," she replied, waving them off with a nonchalant flick of her hand. She wasn't one to easily be coaxed into these playful games, preferring to observe rather than join in.

Anna's eyes sparkled with mischief as she splashed in Evelyn's direction, sending droplets of cold water her way. "Come on, Mary! The water's perfect. Stop being such a stick in the mud!"

Evelyn rolled her eyes, though the gesture was all in good humor. A cool breeze swept over the lake, making her shiver slightly as it lifted the loose fabric of her worn t-shirt and shorts. "I'm not being a stick in the mud," she countered, "I'm just... observing."

"Observing, my foot!" Don, who was floating nearby, called out with a broad grin. "We've been cooped up in those trucks for days. This is probably the best bath we're gonna get for at least a week."

Evelyn laughed, a soft sound that was almost lost in the wind. But before she could respond, more heads turned toward her from the water, all wearing expressions of playful challenge. She suddenly found herself the focus of their attention, and though the teasing was good-natured, there was a growing pressure for her to join in.

"Someone's got to keep an eye on the clothes," she said, gesturing to the piles of discarded uniforms and boots scattered along the shore. It was a weak argument, and she knew it.

"Clothes can dry," Anna persisted, paddling closer to the pier and making a show of splashing again, the water droplets landing near Evelyn's feet. "This might be the last time we get a chance like this. It's practically an order."

Despite the playful coaxing, Evelyn stood firm. "You all look like drowned rats," she quipped, crossing her arms more tightly as another gust of wind billowed past. "Why would I want to join in that?"

Just as the banter seemed to reach a standstill, Evelyn suddenly felt something cold and damp press against her back. She had only a split second to register the sensation before a pair of strong, soaking-wet arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her into an unyielding embrace.

She let out a startled yelp, whipping her head around just in time to see Floyd's mischievous grin, his dark hair dripping wet and sticking to his forehead. "Floyd!" she exclaimed, squirming in his arms as his grip only tightened.

"Come on, Dimples," Floyd teased, his voice low and playful, filled with that familiar charm. "You can't stay dry forever."

"Get off me! You're soaking!" Evelyn tried to push him away, her hands pressed firmly against his chest, but he didn't budge. His grin widened, the mischief in his eyes growing.

"Well," Floyd said, his voice dropping to a mock-serious tone, "if you're so worried about getting wet..." His sentence trailed off suggestively, and Evelyn's eyes widened in realization just a second too late.

Before she could protest, Floyd hoisted her up in one swift motion and, with a triumphant laugh, launched them both off the pier. Evelyn screamed in surprise as they plummeted into the lake, the icy water swallowing them whole. The cold shock hit her like a wave, stealing her breath and sending a jolt through her entire body.

When she resurfaced, gasping for air, her blond hair plastered to her face, she sputtered, "Floyd!" She wiped the water from her eyes, her tone a mix of exasperation and barely contained laughter.

Floyd emerged beside her, laughing heartily, his hair slicked back from the water as he shook his head like a wet dog, sending droplets flying in all directions. "Told you it was nice," he said, his voice rich with amusement.

Evelyn glared at him, but the grin pulling at her lips betrayed her true feelings. Before she even realized it, she had wrapped her arms around his neck for support. The water was deeper than she had expected, and with her clothes now soaked and heavy, Floyd's presence was the only thing keeping her from having to tread water.

Floyd's arms instinctively encircled her waist, pulling her close as he steadied her in the water. There was something natural about the way they fit together, as if the moments they had shared for months was just the surface of something deeper, something neither of them had been brave enough to acknowledge until now.

The rest of the soldiers splashing around in the water exchanged knowing glances, smirking at the sight of the two of them, but no one said a word. It was as if everyone had been waiting for this moment, for the unspoken connection between Evelyn and Floyd to finally come to the surface, much like they had after being submerged in the cold water.

"All right, all right," Evelyn muttered, her cheeks flushing as she realized just how close they were. She could feel the warmth of his body even through the chill of the lake. "I'm in now, happy?"

Floyd chuckled softly, his arms still firmly around her waist as he leaned in slightly. "More than happy." He replied, his tone teasing but laced with something deeper.

The atmosphere between them shifted, the playful banter giving way to a quieter, more intimate tension. They floated down the lake together, the rest of the group's laughter fading into the background, leaving just the two of them, alone in their own little bubble.

Evelyn felt her heart race in her chest, the water swirling lazily around them as they drifted further from the group. The shallower waters at the edge of the lake provided a quiet refuge, far enough that they were no longer part of the chaotic splashing and dunking.

Floyd's gaze softened as he looked down at her, his arms still loosely around her waist. "So..." Evelyn began, her voice hesitant, unsure of how to navigate the emotions that were swirling inside her. "What are we, Floyd?"

His eyebrows raised slightly at her question, though a small, amused smile tugged at the corners of his lips. "What do you mean?"

Evelyn felt a flush rise to her cheeks as she glanced down at the water, avoiding his gaze. "I mean... you and me," she said quietly. "What is this? Are we just... friends?"

The question hung in the air between them, heavier than the water around them, and for a moment, Evelyn wondered if she had said too much. But then Floyd's smile softened, the teasing fading from his expression as he looked at her with a tenderness that made her heart ache.

"We can be anything you want us to be, Dimples." He said softly.

Evelyn's breath caught in her throat at his words, the sincerity in his voice disarming her completely. He wasn't just flirting or teasing her like he usually did, he was serious.

Her heart pounded in her chest, and she wasn't sure what to say, wasn't sure how to respond to the intensity of the moment. She had always been the practical one, the one who kept her emotions in check, who didn't let herself get swept up in things she couldn't control. But with Floyd, all of that seemed to fall away.

Floyd's voice interrupted her thoughts, his tone lighter now, though still warm. "I'm just saying... if we're just friends, I'll have to take you on the world's worst date to prove a point." He gave her a teasing grin. "I was thinking dinner in a muddy foxhole somewhere, followed by a nice walk through enemy territory. Really set the mood."

Evelyn laughed, unable to help the blush that crept up her cheeks. "You're impossible," she muttered, shaking her head at him, but the smile on her face was bright, and her heart felt lighter than it had in days.

Floyd's grin grew wider, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "You say that now, but wait until you see my foxhole-dining skills. They're legendary."

"Legendary, huh?" Evelyn quipped, raising an eyebrow. "I'm sure I'd be thoroughly impressed."

"Oh, you would be." Floyd said with mock seriousness, his grip on her waist tightening slightly as he leaned in a little closer. "No one can cook a can of beans over an open fire like I can. It's an art form."

Evelyn laughed again, the sound bright and genuine. She hadn't felt this light, this carefree, in what felt like forever. For a moment, it was as if the war didn't exist, as if they were just two people, floating in a lake, caught up in something neither of them had fully acknowledged until now.

But as the laughter faded, the quiet between them returned, and Evelyn found herself looking up at Floyd, her heart pounding in her chest. "Floyd..." She began softly, unsure of what she was even going to say, unsure if she should say anything at all.

But Floyd's eyes were on her, his expression open and sincere, and in that moment, she knew that whatever she said, he would listen. He would understand.

"I don't want to just be friends." She whispered, her voice barely audible above the gentle lapping of the water.

The words hung in the air, a secret finally spoken, and for a moment, Evelyn felt exposed, vulnerable in a way she wasn't used to. But the way Floyd looked at her, tender, almost reverent, made the vulnerability worth it.

Floyd's hand came up to gently brush a strand of wet hair away from her face, his thumb grazing her cheek as he did. His touch was soft, careful, and it made her heart race even faster.

"Well, in that case," he said quietly, his voice just as soft, "I'd still like to take you on a proper date. Not in a foxhole. Somewhere nice. When all of this is over."

The lump in Evelyn's throat returned, and she had to look away for a moment, overwhelmed by how much those simple words meant to her. She had never imagined that someone like Floyd, someone so kind, so warm, would see her as something more than just a soldier, more than just another member of the unit.

Floyd's hand remained on her cheek, his thumb gently stroking the skin there, and when Evelyn looked back up at him, the look in his eyes was so full of affection, so full of something she hadn't realized she had been craving for so long.

"You deserve that, you know." He said softly, his voice barely more than a whisper. "Something more."

Evelyn's breath hitched, and before she could respond, Floyd grinned and grabbed a towel someone had left on the shore. With a mischievous glint in his eye, he began rubbing her hair with it, chuckling as she swatted at him in protest.

"Ow! You're rubbing too hard!" Evelyn complained, though the laughter in her voice betrayed her annoyance.

"Sorry, sorry." Floyd said, though he didn't sound all that sorry as he continued to towel her off with far more enthusiasm than care.

By the time they had finished drying off and made their way back to the shore, the sun had dipped lower in the sky, casting the lake and the surrounding forest in a warm, golden light. The rest of the soldiers had retreated to the nearby clearing, some lounging in the grass, others chatting quietly as they enjoyed the rare calm of the evening.

Evelyn and Floyd wandered away from the group, finding themselves in a secluded part of the field near the edge of the woods. The grass was tall and soft, and as they lay down side by side, staring up at the sky, the first stars began to twinkle into view, dotting the dusky canvas above them.

Floyd, ever the romantic, leaned over and plucked a few small daisies from the grass, holding them out to her with a grin. "For you, my lady." He said in a mock-posh voice, bowing his head as if he were presenting her with a grand bouquet.

Evelyn rolled her eyes, but the smile on her face was genuine. "Thank you, kind sir." She replied, her voice light and playful as she accepted the daisies.

Floyd's grin widened, and he reached over to gently tuck one of the flowers behind her ear, his fingers lingering a little longer than necessary as they brushed against her skin. The simple gesture made Evelyn's heart flutter in a way she hadn't expected, and she quickly turned her head away, trying to hide the blush that crept up her cheeks.

They lay there in comfortable silence for a while, the sounds of the forest and the faint murmurs of their comrades in the distance filling the air. Floyd's arm draped lazily over Evelyn's waist, pulling her close as she rested her head on his chest, listening to the steady rise and fall of his breath.

For a long time, neither of them spoke. It was as if words weren't needed, as if the quiet between them said more than any conversation could. Evelyn felt a sense of peace settle over her, a rare feeling in the midst of the chaos of war. Being with Floyd like this, just the two of them, lying together under the stars, it felt right. It felt like home.

After a while, Evelyn shifted, turning her head slightly to look up at him. Their faces were so close now, so close that she could feel the warmth of his breath against her skin. Her heart raced in her chest, and the butterflies in her stomach swirled uncontrollably.

She sat up quickly, overwhelmed by the intensity of the moment, unable to trust herself to stay so close to him without doing something impulsive. She needed space, needed time to think.

Floyd sat up too, concern flickering in his eyes as he watched her. "You okay?" He asked softly, his voice gentle, as if he could sense her inner turmoil.

Evelyn nodded, though her heart was still pounding in her chest. She took a deep breath, trying to collect herself before turning to face him again. She didn't say anything, didn't know what to say, but the look in her eyes must have been enough.

Floyd's gaze flickered down to her lips for just a split second before returning to her eyes, and in that moment, something inside Evelyn snapped. She couldn't hold back any longer.

Without thinking, she reached up and grabbed the front of his shirt, pulling him toward her in a sudden, impulsive movement. Their lips crashed together, a spark igniting between them that sent a jolt of electricity through her entire body.

Floyd froze for a moment, seemingly too stunned by the sudden kiss to respond, and for a brief, terrifying second, Evelyn thought she had made a mistake. She started to pull away, her cheeks burning with embarrassment, but before she could retreat, Floyd's hand shot up to the back of her head, tangling in her hair as he pulled her in for another kiss, this one even more intense than the first.

Their lips met with a force that took Evelyn's breath away, and she melted into him, her hands gripping the front of his shirt as if it were the only thing keeping her grounded. Floyd kissed her like he had been waiting forever for this moment, like he had been holding back for months and was finally letting go.

When they finally pulled apart, both of them breathless and grinning like idiots, Evelyn let out a soft giggle that quickly turned into full-blown laughter. The sound was bright and carefree, filling the air around them, and Floyd couldn't help but join in, his deep, warm laugh mixing with hers as he pulled her into a tight embrace.

"Evelyn. You don't know how long I've been waiting to do that." Floyd said, his voice low and filled with emotion as he looked down at her, his hand still gently holding the back of her head.

Evelyn giggled softly, her heart soaring as she met his gaze. "Well, I guess I didn't know either." She admitted, her cheeks flushed from both the kiss and the realization of what had just happened.

Floyd's eyes twinkled with amusement and affection as he looked at her, his fingers gently brushing through her hair. "You think this means we're more than just friends now?" he teased, though his voice was warm and filled with genuine affection.

Evelyn laughed, her nose brushing against his as she smiled up at him. "I think that's a safe assumption." She replied, her voice soft but certain.

They stayed like that for a long moment, their bodies tangled together as they lay back on the grass, staring up at the stars. Floyd's arm wrapped around her stomach, pulling her close, and Evelyn rested her head on his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.

It was a sound she never wanted to forget.

The stars above them twinkled in the night sky, silent witnesses to the moment they had both been waiting for, a moment that, for a brief time, made the world feel right. As they lay there, wrapped up in each other, the war, the uncertainty, and the fear of tomorrow melted away, leaving only the quiet comfort of the present, the steady beating of Floyd's heart, and the warmth of his arms around her.

And for that moment, Evelyn was content.

Chapter Text

The night after the lake, when Evelyn and Floyd shared their first kiss, something shifted between them. It was as though all the tension, the glances, and the unspoken words over the past months finally found their resolution in that brief but electric moment. The kiss had left Evelyn's heart racing long after they had parted ways, both slipping away into their respective rooms. But even as she lay in the quiet darkness of the small inn, with the faint sounds of the Austrian village outside, she couldn't calm the rush of emotions surging through her.

It wasn't just the kiss itself, it was everything it represented. All the fear, uncertainty, and loneliness that had weighed her down for so long seemed to lift in that one moment. She could still feel the warmth of Floyd's lips, the gentle pressure of his hand on her head, and the soft way he had whispered her name afterward, as if he were savoring the sound of it for the first time.

The next morning, the village nestled in the foothills of the Alps felt different—warmer, brighter, and filled with the kind of peace Evelyn hadn't felt in years. Though the war still lingered in the distance, like a shadow just beyond the horizon, here in this quiet pocket of the world, it seemed so far away. For the first time in a long while, Evelyn felt a sense of freedom, as if she had found a part of herself that had been lost somewhere in the years of battle and hardship.

As she stirred in bed, the thin linen sheets cool against her skin, she stretched lazily, a soft smile already playing on her lips. The window was cracked open just slightly, letting in the fresh scent of pine and mountain air, mixed with the faint sounds of life beginning to stir outside. Villagers were already going about their morning chores, and she could hear the distant clink of horse hooves on cobblestone streets, the occasional laugh of children playing somewhere nearby.

She turned over, letting her thoughts drift back to Floyd. A warmth spread through her as she recalled the way he had looked at her last night, surprised, maybe a little uncertain, but with a kind of deep, unspoken certainty that mirrored her own feelings. Her heart fluttered as she wondered what the day would bring, how things would be now that the barrier between them had finally broken. Would it be awkward? Or would that sense of ease they'd shared last night carry over into the morning?

She was still thinking about it as she pulled herself out of bed, feeling lighter than she had in years. The sunlight spilling into the room seemed golden, almost magical, casting soft streaks across the worn wooden floorboards. She quickly dressed and brushed her hair, eager to see him again, but as she descended the creaky staircase of the small inn, it wasn't Floyd she heard first.

"There she is!" Anna's bright voice rang out from the dining area before Evelyn had even reached the bottom step. "We were wondering if you'd sleep through the whole day!"

Evelyn felt a small laugh escape her as she stepped into the room, and sure enough, there was Anna, sitting at the long wooden table with the rest of the group. She was beaming at Evelyn, her eyes sparkling with the kind of knowing mischief that only close friends shared.

Anna stood up from her seat to grab an extra plate, motioning for Evelyn to sit down. "Come on, we're all starving, but I saved you the last of the bread before Lieb could get to it."

Evelyn smiled and sat down, though her gaze immediately darted to the other end of the table, where Floyd was sitting, his chair tipped back slightly. He was grinning to himself, eyes focused on the floor, but when he heard Anna's teasing, he glanced up. His gaze locked with Evelyn's, and for a brief moment, everything else faded away. His smile softened, and something passed between them, an acknowledgment of the unspoken connection they now shared.

"Oh, come on, Anna," Floyd said, his voice warm and teasing, though he didn't take his eyes off Evelyn. "Let her sleep. She's earned it."

Anna shot him a pointed look, her smirk widening. "Maybe," she said, drawing out the word in that playful, knowing tone. "But I'm starting to think she didn't sleep much after all."

Evelyn felt her cheeks flush, and she quickly busied herself by tearing off a piece of bread, refusing to meet anyone's eyes. She could feel their glances, though, especially Anna's. She knew her friend too well—there was no hiding anything from Anna, least of all the budding romance between her and Floyd.

Anna sat back down next to Evelyn, leaning in close as if to offer a private comment. "You know, if you're going to sneak off for romantic lakeside kisses, the least you could do is let a girl know so she can stop worrying about you."

Evelyn's heart leaped at the word "romantic," but she managed a laugh, nudging Anna playfully. "We were not sneaking off," she said, her voice low but filled with mock indignation. "It just happened."

Anna raised an eyebrow, her expression all too amused. "Uh-huh, sure. That's exactly what I'll say when someone asks where you were." She winked, giving Evelyn's hand a reassuring squeeze before turning back to her coffee.

Evelyn sighed, her thoughts still racing. As she settled in, she barely had time to take a sip of her coffee when one of the men, Liebgott, leaned over from across the table with a wide, conspiratorial grin.

"So... you and Floyd, huh?" He said, his voice low, though the grin made it clear he had no intention of keeping the comment subtle.

Evelyn shot him a sharp look, trying to mask her embarrassment with mock irritation. "What are you talking about, Joe?"

"Oh, come on," Lieb said, his grin widening as he exchanged glances with Tom, who was sitting beside him. "You really think we didn't notice? You two have been dancing around each other for months. We were just waiting for you both to catch up."

She opened her mouth to retort, but Anna cut in before she could get a word out. "Honestly, it was painful to watch sometimes," she added with a laugh, shooting a glance at Floyd, who was now trying to hide his own smile behind his coffee cup.

Floyd chuckled softly, setting down his cup with an amused shake of his head. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table, his eyes flicking to Evelyn with a look that made her pulse quicken. "I guess we took our time, huh?"

Anna clapped her hands together, her eyes bright with triumph. "See? Even he admits it! And we're all witnesses."

Evelyn rolled her eyes but couldn't help the smile that tugged at the corners of her mouth. She was relieved in a way, as if the teasing helped defuse some of the tension she'd been carrying. It wasn't exactly a secret anymore, not to their friends, and somehow, that made it easier.

"All right, all right," she said, holding her hands up in mock surrender. "You've had your fun. Can we move on now?"

"Not so fast," Malarkey said from the end of the table, his voice laced with laughter. "You've got to give us something! How'd it happen? Was it dramatic? Romantic?"

Floyd let out a small laugh and leaned back in his chair, running a hand through his hair. "Not much to tell," he said, his tone casual but with a hint of amusement. "It just... happened."

Anna's laughter rang out again, and the teasing continued for a while longer before the conversation finally shifted to other topics—discussions of the village, the war, and the uncertain future that still loomed over them. But throughout it all, Evelyn was acutely aware of Floyd sitting just across from her. Every so often, their eyes would meet, and there was a softness there, a quiet understanding between them that made her heart flutter.

As the group continued to talk and laugh, Evelyn felt a light brush against her hand under the table. She glanced down and realized that Floyd had reached over, his fingers grazing hers in a barely-there touch. It was subtle, almost imperceptible, but it sent a spark of warmth through her.

She glanced up at him, and he gave her a small, secretive smile, a smile just for her.

The days that followed in Austria passed in a peaceful blur. The small village nestled in the Alps became a haven for Evelyn and the rest of their group. For the first time in what felt like forever, the war seemed distant, like a memory slowly fading away into the misty mornings and quiet evenings. The rhythm of village life was simple and slow, a stark contrast to the chaos they had left behind.

One afternoon, after breakfast, Evelyn found herself wandering through the village with Floyd at her side. The cobblestone streets wound through charming cottages with sloping roofs and flower boxes hanging from the windows. Smoke curled lazily from chimneys, and the scent of fresh bread and woodsmoke filled the air. Every now and then, their arms would brush as they walked, sending a soft thrill through Evelyn's chest. She was hyperaware of him beside her, his presence steady and comforting.

They walked mostly in comfortable silence, though every so often, Floyd would point out something about the village, a crooked signpost, an old well covered in ivy, or a small wooden bridge arching over a stream. He had a quiet way of noticing things, and Evelyn found herself drawn to the way he observed the world around him.

At one point, they stopped outside a small bakery, the scent of warm, golden pastries wafting through the open door. Evelyn's stomach grumbled softly at the smell, and she turned to Floyd with a grin.

"Care for a pastry?" He asked, his voice low and filled with that easy warmth she had come to adore.

"I thought you'd never ask." She replied, her eyes lighting up at the prospect.

They squeezed through the door together, their shoulders brushing as they entered the tiny bakery. The space was cozy, with wooden shelves lined with fresh bread and pastries, and a small counter where a kindly-looking woman stood, wiping her hands on her apron. Floyd ordered for both of them, and as they waited, Evelyn felt his hand lightly graze her lower back, a subtle touch that made her heart flutter all over again.

They took their pastries outside, sitting together on a wooden bench just outside the shop. The sun was warm on their faces, and the village seemed to hum with quiet life around them. Evelyn took a bite of her croissant, savoring the flaky texture and buttery taste, while Floyd sipped his coffee beside her.

For a while, they ate in companionable silence, watching the villagers go about their day. But after a few minutes, Evelyn couldn't help but voice the thought that had been lingering in the back of her mind since they'd arrived.

"Do you ever think about how strange this is?" She asked, breaking the comfortable silence. "All this peace, while everything else is... falling apart?"

Floyd's smile softened, and he glanced at her thoughtfully. "Yeah," he admitted after a moment. "Sometimes. It feels like a dream, doesn't it? Like it can't be real."

Evelyn nodded, her gaze drifting out over the village. It did feel surreal, the quiet, the beauty, the sense of normalcy in the midst of so much chaos. It was almost like they were living in a different world, one where the war hadn't touched them at all.

Floyd turned to her, his expression gentle. "But right now, I'm not thinking about any of that," he said quietly, his voice filled with sincerity. "Right now, all I want is to be here. With you."

His words caught her off guard, and for a moment, she didn't know how to respond. Instead, she set her croissant down and leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. It was sweet and brief, but it left her feeling lightheaded, her heart beating just a little faster than before.

Floyd smiled against her lips, his hand gently resting on the back of her neck. "You know," he murmured, pulling back just slightly, "I could get used to this."

Evelyn laughed softly, her eyes crinkling at the corners. "Me too."

Later that week, they decided to take a hike up into the hills surrounding the village. The morning mist clung to the trees as they made their way up the winding path, the air cool and crisp. Evelyn found herself stealing glances at Floyd as they climbed higher, his face lit with a quiet contentment that mirrored her own. There was something about being in the mountains, away from everything, that made the world feel simpler—like nothing else mattered but the two of them, walking side by side.

When they reached a small clearing near the top, the mist parted, revealing a breathtaking view of the valley below. The village looked tiny from up here, nestled among the rolling hills and pine trees, and the mountains stretched endlessly into the distance, their peaks dusted with snow.

Evelyn stood still for a moment, catching her breath as she took in the view. "It's beautiful," she whispered, though her eyes weren't on the landscape. They were on Floyd.

He turned to face her fully, his expression softening. "Not as beautiful as you," he murmured, his voice so low that it made her stomach flip.

Before she could respond, Floyd stepped closer, his hand slipping around her waist. He lowered his forehead to hers, his breath warm against her skin, and for a moment, they stood there in perfect stillness, the world around them fading into the background.

Then, slowly, Floyd leaned in and kissed her. This time, the kiss was deeper, more intense, filled with all the emotions they hadn't yet spoken. Evelyn melted into it, her arms winding around his neck as she pressed herself closer to him. It was a kiss that spoke of everything they couldn't say—the uncertainty of the future, the weight of the war, and the fleeting moments of peace they were stealing for themselves.

When they finally pulled apart, both of them were breathing a little heavier, and Evelyn couldn't help but smile up at him. "You're getting good at this, Floyd." She whispered, her voice tinged with playful affection.

"Well, I couldn't pass up on the chance, could I?" Floyd replied, his thumb brushing gently along her jawline.

They lingered in the clearing for a while longer, sitting on a large rock and simply enjoying the quiet. Evelyn leaned her head on Floyd's shoulder, her fingers laced with his as they gazed out over the valley. For the first time in a long while, she felt truly at peace.

Another day, they found a small stream that wound through the outskirts of the village. The water was crystal clear, babbling over smooth stones as it meandered through the forest. Floyd had somehow found an old fishing pole, and they decided to spend the afternoon trying—and mostly failing, to catch something.

Evelyn sat on a rock near the water, watching with amusement as Floyd crouched by the edge, his brow furrowed in concentration. He looked so serious, so intent on catching a fish, that she couldn't help but laugh when yet another fish slipped out of his grasp.

"You're not exactly a master fisherman, are you?" She teased, her voice light and playful.

Floyd shot her a mock glare but then grinned, standing up and shaking his head. "Oh, you think you could do better?"

Evelyn raised an eyebrow, standing up and stepping closer to the water's edge. "Maybe," she said with a smirk.

Before she could say anything else, Floyd reached out and grabbed her around the waist, pulling her into the shallow water. Evelyn let out a surprised shriek, laughing as she tried to keep her balance while Floyd spun her around, both of them splashing in the stream.

"Floyd!" she exclaimed, breathless with laughter, her arms wrapping around his neck as she tried to steady herself.

He grinned down at her, his eyes bright with mischief. "What? You looked like you needed a dip."

She shook her head, still laughing, and leaned up to kiss him. The kiss was playful, both of them smiling as their lips met, the sound of the stream and their laughter blending together in the quiet woods around them.

Afterward, they sat on a rock by the water's edge, their clothes damp but their spirits high. The sun had begun to dip lower in the sky, casting a warm golden light over the trees, and the world around them seemed to glow with a soft, peaceful beauty.

Evelyn leaned against Floyd's shoulder, her fingers tracing idle patterns on his arm. "I could stay here forever," she murmured, her voice soft and content.

Floyd glanced down at her, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Yeah," he said quietly. "Me too."

That night, back in the village, they found themselves outside under the stars. The sky stretched above them, a vast expanse of glittering lights, and the air was cool and crisp, carrying the faint melody of a song drifting from the inn. The night felt almost magical, as if time had slowed just for them.

Without thinking, Floyd extended his hand to her, his eyes twinkling with a playful glint. "Care to dance?"

Evelyn laughed softly, surprised but delighted by the gesture. "Dance?" she repeated, glancing around at the quiet street. "Here? Now?"

"Why not?" Floyd shrugged, his smile widening. "There's music, there's moonlight... what more do we need?"

Evelyn couldn't argue with that, so she placed her hand in his, letting him pull her close. They swayed together under the stars, the faint music blending with the sound of the wind rustling through the trees. Floyd's arms wrapped around her waist, holding her gently, and Evelyn rested her head against his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart.

For a long moment, they danced in silence, the world around them fading away until there was nothing but the two of them, holding each other close under the vast Austrian sky. It mirrored the night they had first met, the indescribable feeling Evelyn had first felt she had now come to understand.

As the music from the inn faded, Floyd leaned down and kissed her again. This time, the kiss was slow and lingering, filled with unspoken promises—promises of more nights like this, more dances under the stars, and more moments where the rest of the world disappeared, leaving just the two of them.

When they finally pulled apart, Evelyn smiled up at him, her heart full and light. "I love you, Floyd." she whispered.

Floyd's smile was soft, his eyes filled with love. "I love you too, Dimples." he murmured, pulling her in for one last kiss as the stars shone brightly overhead.

The days they spent in Austria would be ones they remembered for the rest of their lives. There, in the quiet beauty of the mountains and the simplicity of village life, they had found each other. And in finding each other, they had discovered something worth holding on to—something that would carry them through the uncertain days ahead.

For now, though, there was only the peace of the present moment, and that was enough.

Chapter Text

The summer sun hung low on the horizon, casting a warm, amber glow over the assembled ranks of Easy Company as they stood in formation, their boots pressed tightly together, their hands stiffly at their sides. The heat clung to them like a thick blanket, but they were used to it by now. They were used to a lot of things that would break most men. Today, though, there was an undercurrent of something different—a tension and anticipation that crackled through the air, heightened by the presence of Lieutenant Speirs standing before them, his expression unreadable as always.

"Company. Platoon!" The soldiers shouted in unison, their voices echoing off the nearby trees, as the group snapped to attention.

Speirs stepped forward, his eyes scanning the ranks, sharp and unwavering. He held a helmet in one hand, inside which sat a single piece of paper. Evelyn White, standing among the ranks of the men, watched silently from the sidelines, her gaze unwavering as Speirs cleared his throat to speak.

"General Taylor is well aware that veterans, including Normandy veterans, still do not have the 85 points required to be discharged," Speirs began, his voice cold and commanding, but with a hint of something that might have been empathy beneath the surface. "On this anniversary of D-Day, he has authorized a lottery to send one man home in each company, effective immediately."

A murmur rippled through the men, a mixture of excitement, disbelief, and hope. Going home was a distant dream for many of them, something they dared not think too much about for fear it might never come. Evelyn felt her heart tighten in her chest as Speirs reached into the helmet and pulled out the small slip of paper.

"For Easy Company, the winner is... serial number 13066266, Sergeant Darrel C. Powers."

For a moment, there was stunned silence, and then the quiet was shattered by a wave of cheers and applause. Shifty Powers stood there, dumbfounded, his face slowly splitting into a wide grin as the men around him clapped him on the back, their congratulations loud and sincere.

"That's how it's done, Shifty!" One of the men shouted. "Way to go, Shifty!"

Evelyn couldn't help but smile as she watched him. Shifty was one of the best men she knew—humble, kind, and long overdue for some good news. He deserved this.

Speirs, however, was not done. As the cheers subsided, his voice cut through the air once more, pulling the men's attention back to him.

"Sergeant Grant will see to it the 2nd platoon takes over at the crossroads checkpoint, beginning tonight at 2200 hours," Speirs continued, his tone as sharp as ever. "General Taylor has also announced that the 101st Airborne will definitely be redeployed in the Pacific. So, beginning tomorrow at 0600 hours, we will begin training to go to war again."

The atmosphere shifted. The joy that had accompanied Shifty's good fortune quickly evaporated, replaced by a collective tension that settled heavily over the men. The Pacific. It was a word that carried weight—a new battlefront, a new hell to face. They had been through Europe, Normandy, and the Ardennes, and now, they were expected to cross an ocean and begin again. Evelyn felt the weight of it settle on her chest, a feeling of dread that twisted her stomach.

As the men were dismissed, their uniforms still crisp from the formation, Evelyn turned to walk with her friend. They moved in sync, their boots crunching over the dirt as they headed toward their usual spot to talk things over. They had developed a quiet camaraderie over the years, both finding a certain solace in each other's company that was hard to come by during the war.

But before they could get far, a voice called out from behind them.

"White. Wilson."

They turned as one, instantly recognizing the voice of Lieutenant Nixon, who stood a few paces away with Captain Winters by his side. Both men looked grim, their expressions sober and tense.

"Yes, sir?" Anna answered, her voice steady, though her eyes flickered with concern. Nixon wasn't one to mince words, and something about the way he was looking at them made Evelyn's heart sink.

Nixon sighed, running a hand through his already-disheveled hair before speaking. "They're calling the women of your operation to prepare to move out into the Pacific," he said, his tone clipped but weighed down with a heaviness that suggested he wasn't any more pleased about the news than they were. "We've received orders for one of you to head out immediately, while the other remains here with the company."

"One of us?" Evelyn asked, confused, her brows knitting together. This wasn't what she had expected at all. They had trained together, worked together. Sending them off separately made no sense.

Nixon nodded, his expression hardening. "Yes. They're not sending all of you together. They want to ensure there are enough of you to remain in Europe as well incase you are needed later in the Pacific."

It felt like a punch to the gut. The war had torn so many people apart, and now it was threatening to drive a wedge between her and the one person she had leaned on through it all. Evelyn felt the weight of the decision settle over her like a lead blanket. She understood why they were doing it, but that didn't make it any easier to swallow.

"I'll go." Evelyn announced suddenly, stepping forward with a determination that belied the knot forming in her stomach.

Anna's head whipped toward her, her eyes wide with disbelief. "What? No, I'll go," she protested, her voice firm, but Evelyn could see the fear behind her words.

Evelyn shook her head, her voice steady. "No, Art, it makes sense for me to go. You're better with the men. You've always had a way of keeping things steady. I'll be fine."

"That's not fair, Mary." Anna shot back, her voice rising slightly as her frustration boiled over. "You don't get to decide that for both of us. I can handle the Pacific just as well as you can."

"It's not about that," Evelyn replied, trying to keep her voice calm, though the tension between them was palpable. "You know as well as I do that we both can handle it. But someone needs to stay with the company, and you're better at that. You always have been."

Anna's jaw clenched, and for a long moment, they stood there, staring each other down, neither willing to back down. The men nearby were beginning to take notice, their quiet conversations halting as they sensed the brewing argument between the two women. Winters shifted uncomfortably, clearly unsure whether to intervene.

"You're just trying to protect me," Anna said finally, her voice quieter now but laced with anger. "You always do this, Mary. You think you have to carry everything on your own, and I'm telling you, you don't. Let me go."

Evelyn sighed, rubbing a hand over her face. "It's not about that. It's just-"

"It is about that." Anna cut in, her tone sharper now. "You've been doing this since we got here, always putting yourself in the line of fire so no one else has to. But you can't keep doing that, Mary. You're not invincible."

"I know that." Evelyn replied, her voice strained. "But someone has to go, and it might as well be me."

Anna's eyes flashed with hurt, and for a moment, it looked like she was going to argue again, but she stopped herself, her shoulders sagging in defeat. She knew, deep down, that Evelyn had already made up her mind. It was one of the things that frustrated her most about her friend—when Evelyn set her mind to something, there was no swaying her.

"Fine." Anna muttered finally, crossing her arms over her chest and looking away. "But don't think for a second that I'm happy about this."

Evelyn let out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. "I know," she said quietly. "I'm not either."

There was a long, tense silence before Nixon cleared his throat, bringing their attention back to him. "You'll be heading out at 2200 hours this evening," he said, his voice softer now, as if he recognized the weight of what he was asking of them. "You'll need to pack your things and be ready to go by then."

Evelyn nodded, feeling a lump form in her throat. 2200 hours. That gave her only a few hours to prepare, to say her goodbyes. It wasn't enough time, but it would have to be.

Without another word, she turned and headed back toward the barracks, her steps heavy as the reality of what was happening began to sink in. She was leaving. Again. And this time, it felt different. It felt final.

The Pacific. It felt like a different world altogether, a distant place where the men and women who had already been there told stories that sounded too horrific to be true. But it wasn't the place that haunted Evelyn, it was leaving behind the life she had built here. She was used to the rhythm of Easy Company, the people she had come to know like family. And, more than anything, leaving Floyd, who had become her quiet center amid the chaos of war.

She tried not to dwell on it as she packed her things, her hands moving mechanically, folding her uniform with precision. She placed her notebook inside, along with the small photograph of her family. She had looked at that photograph so many times that the edges had begun to fray. Her brother, her mother, her father, her sister, they all smiled at her through the paper, frozen in a moment long before the war began. They were her reminder of why she kept going, but now, even their smiling faces seemed distant. She would write to them before she left, despite the restrictions in place, but words felt hollow in moments like these.

When she was done, Evelyn stood up and surveyed the room. It was strange how much comfort she had found in these small, shared spaces, the clamor of the soldiers, the shared meals, the whispered conversations late into the night. It was all about to end.

The sun had begun to dip below the horizon, casting long shadows over the camp as Evelyn stepped outside, her bags packed and waiting by the door. She had a few hours left before she had to leave, and she wasn't ready to say goodbye yet. Instead, she let her feet carry her away from the barracks, through the familiar trails that led to the lake.

The lake was still, its surface reflecting the sky above. It had always been her place of solace, where she came to think, to breathe, to escape the noise and weight of the war. She leaned against the tree that had become her usual spot, her back pressing into the rough bark as she watched the water. The reflection of the first stars glimmered across its surface, and for a moment, everything was quiet.

The crunch of footsteps on gravel pulled her from her thoughts, and she turned to see Floyd approaching, his tall frame backlit by the fading light of the sun. His expression was softer than usual, his lips set in a thin line as he came to stand beside her. He didn't say anything right away, just stood there, his hands shoved into his pockets as he looked out over the water.

"I figured I'd find you here." Floyd said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper.

Evelyn smiled, though it didn't reach her eyes. "I needed some air." She replied, her own voice subdued.

For a long moment, neither of them spoke. The weight of the unspoken words between them grew heavier with each passing second. Evelyn could feel it pressing down on her chest, making it harder to breathe.

Floyd turned to look at her, his eyes soft but searching. "Dimples," he began, his voice tinged with concern, "what's going on? You've been distant all day."

Evelyn swallowed hard, her throat tightening. She had rehearsed the words in her mind a dozen times, but now, standing here with him, they felt stuck, tangled in her throat.

"I'm being sent to the Pacific." She finally said, her voice barely more than a whisper. She couldn't bring herself to look at him, instead keeping her gaze on the still surface of the lake.

There was a long pause as Floyd processed what she had said. His body tensed beside her, his breath catching in his throat. "When?" he asked, his voice low and tight.

"Tonight," Evelyn replied, her hands trembling slightly. "At 2200 hours."

She heard him exhale sharply, the sound of his breath shaky as the full weight of her words hit him. Before she could say anything else, Floyd moved closer, pulling her into his arms in one swift motion. His embrace was tight, almost desperate, as if he were trying to hold on to her, to keep her from slipping away. Evelyn's face pressed into his chest, and she could feel the rapid thrum of his heart beneath her cheek.

"Dimples," Floyd whispered, his voice breaking. "I don't want you to go."

Evelyn squeezed her eyes shut, tears pricking the corners of her eyes. She had promised herself she wouldn't cry, but now, with Floyd's arms around her, the enormity of what was happening began to overwhelm her. "I don't want to go either," she admitted, her voice shaky. "But I have to, Floyd."

Floyd pulled back slightly, just enough to cup her face in his hands, forcing her to meet his eyes. "I'll wait for you," he said, his voice filled with quiet determination. His eyes, usually so calm and steady, were now bright with unshed tears. "No matter how long it takes, I'll wait."

Evelyn's breath hitched in her throat, her heart swelling with the love and pain she felt for him in that moment. "And I'll wait for you," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "No matter what."

They stood there for what felt like an eternity, wrapped in each other's arms as the sky above them deepened into night. The stars began to twinkle overhead, but neither of them noticed. All that mattered was this moment, the warmth of Floyd's body against hers, the steady beat of his heart beneath her fingertips.

The hours that followed passed in a blur. They walked through the woods, talking about everything and nothing, trying to hold on to the precious few hours they had left. Their conversations ebbed and flowed naturally, but every now and then, a heavy silence would settle between them, a reminder of what was coming. In those moments, they would fall quiet, their hands entwined, their bodies close. It wasn't enough. It would never be enough. But they held on to each other with a quiet intensity, unwilling to let go.

As the night wore on, Evelyn felt time slipping through her fingers like sand. It was almost unbearable to think about what was coming, how, in just a few short hours, she would have to leave him behind. She had said goodbye to people before, but this felt different. This felt like leaving behind a piece of her heart.

Eventually, the time came for her to return to the barracks. The men of Easy Company were gathered outside, some sharing quiet conversations, others lounging by the fire, trying to make the most of the time they had left before the next chapter of the war began. Evelyn's heart tightened in her chest as she approached them. She had known these men for years, had fought beside them, laughed with them, grieved with them. She couldn't bring herself to say a formal goodbye, but she needed to let them know, in her own way, that she was leaving.

She took a deep breath, steeling herself as she walked toward the group. The men looked up as she approached, their faces curious.

"Evening, Mary." Bull called out, his tone light. "You heading out somewhere?"

Evelyn smiled faintly, though her heart ached. "Yeah," she said, her voice steady. "I've got some things to take care of."

Luz, always quick with a joke, raised an eyebrow. "Got a hot date we don't know about?" he teased, earning a few chuckles from the men around him.

Evelyn's smile wavered, but she played along. "Something like that." She replied, her tone light, though there was a sadness in her eyes that she couldn't hide.

Perconte, noticing the shift in her demeanor, frowned slightly. "You alright, Mary? You seem... different."

Evelyn shrugged, keeping her expression neutral. "Just thinking." She said quietly. "You know how it is."

The men exchanged glances, sensing that there was something more going on, but they didn't press her. They trusted her, and if she wasn't ready to talk, they wouldn't force her.

"You guys take care of yourselves, alright?" Evelyn said suddenly, her voice soft but filled with an emotion that made the men sit up a little straighter. "Look after each other. Don't do anything stupid."

There was a beat of silence as the men processed her words. They weren't used to hearing her speak like this, so serious, so final.

Malarkey, always perceptive, narrowed his eyes. "Where are you going, Mary?" He asked, his tone laced with suspicion.

Evelyn smiled faintly, but didn't answer the question directly. "Just... remember to stay out of trouble." She said, her voice wavering slightly. "You're all good men. Don't forget that."

The men exchanged uneasy glances, the mood suddenly shifting. They could sense something was off, but before they could press her further, Evelyn gave them a small wave and turned on her heel, walking away before they could ask any more questions.

Back at the barracks, Floyd was waiting by the car, his expression unreadable as he watched her approach. The weight of what was coming hung heavily in the air between them. Evelyn felt a lump in her throat as she approached him, the fear of what lay ahead constricting her chest.

"Ready?" Floyd asked softly, though the question felt loaded with so much more.

Evelyn nodded, swallowing hard as she placed her bags into the trunk of the car. She took a deep breath, summoning every ounce of courage she had. "I'll be back." She said, her voice barely above a whisper.

Floyd stepped closer, searching her eyes. "Promise?"

"Promise." She said, her heart aching with the weight of the word. They stood there for a moment, the tension between them palpable as they searched each other's faces.

But Evelyn couldn't stay. She had to go. So she turned and climbed into the car, casting one last glance at the camp. The men were still gathered outside, their silhouettes framed by the flickering firelight, their laughter ringing in her ears.

The engine roared to life, and as she drove away, Evelyn's heart felt like it was being torn in two. She didn't look back. She couldn't.

At the edge of the camp, Anna stood alone, her expression somber as she watched the car disappear into the distance. The men began to gather, confusion written on their faces as they approached her.

"Where's Mary going?" Lieb asked, concern etched into his features.

Anna opened her mouth to respond but found no words. The sadness that had settled over her made it hard to think. Instead, she just shook her head, turning away from them.

The men watched her go, a sense of foreboding settling over them as they exchanged glances. Something wasn't right, but they didn't know how to ask.

"Hey, wait." Perconte called out as Anna began to walk away, but she didn't stop. She just kept moving, her heart heavy with the weight of their unspoken goodbyes.

As she walked away, the echoes of laughter faded into the night, and the camp began to feel emptier, lonelier. The war continued to loom over them, its shadow stretching longer with each passing day. But for Evelyn, there was a glimmer of hope amidst the uncertainty, hope that love could withstand the test of time, even in the face of war.

And so, with tears in her eyes and her heart aching, Evelyn left the camp behind, carrying with her the memories of the life she had built there, promising to return to the people she had come to love.

Chapter Text

The humid Pacific air hit Evelyn Summers like a wall as she stepped off the transport ship and onto the makeshift pier. Her boots sank slightly into the damp, uneven planks beneath her feet, the wood creaking ominously under the combined weight of the gear she carried. She adjusted the strap of her rifle on her shoulder and took a deep breath, the salty, tropical breeze mingling with the acrid scent of fuel and sweat. The horizon before her was a shimmering blend of heat haze and scattered palm trees, their dark green fronds swaying against the backdrop of the deep blue ocean. The waves lapped against the pier, their rhythmic crashing a deceptive counterpoint to the warzone just beyond.

Evelyn scanned the horizon, her eyes taking in the foreign landscape. It was a world far removed from the open plains and clear skies of Wyoming where she had grown up. Here, the jungle encroached upon everything, thick and teeming with life, while the sky itself seemed oppressive, the sun casting a harsh, glaring light over the land. The humidity clung to her skin, weighing down her every breath, but the discomfort had become familiar. After months of preparation, of training, Evelyn was no stranger to the harsh conditions. The battlefield—this suffocating reality—was her new home.

As the engines of the ship roared behind her, she felt a strange sense of calm in the midst of the chaos. Everything about this moment felt strangely routine now—the heat, the weight of the rifle, the constant noise of machinery and shouting men. She had come a long way since the relative safety of Camp Davis, where she had first trained. Back then, she had been green, eager, full of nervous energy. That girl was long gone, left behind with whatever innocence she'd carried when she signed up.

Evelyn's orders were clear: she was to integrate with the 77th Division and continue with Operation Athena. Athena's presence was an open secret—spoken about in whispers, if at all. Officially, Evelyn was just another soldier, here to support the infantry. Unofficially, she was something more. The Athena operatives were trained not just in conventional warfare, but in espionage, sabotage, and assassination—tools necessary for a covert war. These were skills Evelyn had perfected in the past year, honing her body and mind to a fine point, much sharper than those of her male counterparts.

The letters she had sent back home told a different story, one crafted with careful lies. To her parents, she was still Evelyn, their quiet, thoughtful daughter from Wyoming. They had no idea that the Evelyn who stepped off the boat today was not the same girl who had left. This Evelyn was colder, harder. The girl they knew had been left behind somewhere in the endless training drills, or maybe she had disappeared the moment Evelyn had agreed to this secret life.

"Mary White?" A voice snapped her from her thoughts.

She turned quickly, her gaze landing on two women standing a short distance away on the shore. They were dressed in fatigues, but something about them was different from the other soldiers milling about the camp. Their posture, their steady eyes, and the way they held themselves spoke of experience and skill that went beyond basic training. Like Evelyn, these women weren't just soldiers—they were operatives.

The taller of the two stepped forward, extending a hand. "Captain Helen Parker," she said in a low, quiet voice, her gaze flicking around to make sure they weren't being overheard. "This is Lieutenant Deyanira Reyes—Dey, to most."

Evelyn grasped her hand firmly, then nodded to Dey, who stood slightly back, her dark hair tied tightly under her helmet, her sharp eyes assessing Evelyn quickly. "Good to meet you," Evelyn said, masking the swirl of emotions inside her with a steady tone.

Dey nodded in return, her eyes narrowing slightly. "We heard you'd be joining us. About time they sent reinforcements."

Evelyn suppressed a smile, knowing it was a standard greeting, but there was a hint of weariness in Dey's voice. These women had been here long enough to see what this place did to people.

Helen gestured for Evelyn to follow them. "Come on, we need to get you briefed. The others are already out on recon, but there's work to be done."

They moved through the bustling camp, weaving between soldiers busy unloading supplies, patching up trucks, and tending to the wounded. The ground underfoot was uneven, the dirt churned up by the constant traffic of boots and vehicles, and the scent of diesel and blood hung heavy in the air. As they passed, Evelyn noticed the men—the grizzled veterans and green recruits alike—working with a grim determination, the kind of single-minded focus that came with the knowledge that death was never far away.

The Pacific theater had earned its reputation for brutality. The jungle swallowed men whole, and if the disease, the insects, or the heat didn't kill them, the Japanese soldiers would. This was a different kind of war, one fought not only against an enemy that refused to surrender but also against the very environment itself. Every step here was a battle.

The tent they approached was nestled deeper into the camp, away from the main thoroughfare. Its flaps were pulled shut to keep the worst of the heat at bay, though the stifling air inside hit Evelyn the moment she stepped through. A handful of men and women sat around the dimly lit interior, their faces shadowed in the gloom. Maps were spread across the tables, radios crackling with static as distorted voices tried to cut through the interference. The tension in the room was palpable.

Helen led her to a large table in the center, where a map of the surrounding area had been laid out, heavy with annotations and marks. "You're embedded with the 77th," she said, pointing to the map. "But Athena's got its own orders. We're here for more than just taking ground."

Dey leaned in, tracing her finger along a route marked on the map. "The Japanese are entrenched in this village here. It's close to a vital supply route, which makes it strategically important. They're using it as a hub to move men and munitions. Command wants it back, but Athena's mission goes beyond that."

Evelyn nodded, absorbing the information. She had been briefed on the general objectives before arriving, but now she was getting the specifics. This was the kind of operation she had trained for—one that required not just brute force, but precision. Intelligence, sabotage, assassination. The war behind the war.

"The village is fortified," Dey continued. "Mines around the perimeter, snipers in the hills. It's a small place, mostly civilians, but the Japanese are using it as a command post. We expect resistance."

Helen met Evelyn's eyes. "We've been assigned to deal with the officers there. They're our priority. We're to infiltrate, gather intel, and—if the opportunity presents itself—eliminate them. The rest of the troops will handle the main force, but we'll be working separately."

Evelyn felt a knot form in her stomach. The prospect of killing didn't unnerve her anymore—not like it once had. She had done it before, and she would do it again. But civilians were involved here, and that always complicated things. Innocent lives caught in the crossfire, some of them likely aiding the Japanese out of necessity or fear.

Dey seemed to read her thoughts. "Some of the locals might be sympathetic to the Japanese. Others won't. Either way, we have to be prepared. It's never clean."

The day passed quickly in a blur of preparations. Evelyn met the rest of the platoon she'd be working with, a mix of hardened veterans and jittery new recruits. The soldiers shared quiet conversations over tin cups of coffee, some staring off into the distance, lost in their thoughts. Everyone knew what was coming. They had all seen enough death to know that not everyone would be coming back.

As the sun began to set, the oppressive heat gave way to a heavy, stifling darkness. The jungle came alive with the sounds of insects and unseen creatures, their noises amplified in the humid night air. The platoon gathered at the edge of the camp, checking their weapons, their eyes hard with the knowledge of what lay ahead.

Evelyn walked in the middle of the formation as they moved out, her rifle held steady in her hands. The path ahead was narrow, barely visible under the thick canopy of trees that loomed above them. The rustle of leaves and the distant crash of the ocean were the only sounds that accompanied them as they advanced toward the village.

The soldiers moved silently, well-trained to avoid making themselves easy targets. The jungle around them seemed to press in from all sides, the dense foliage hiding anything—or anyone—that might be watching. Evelyn felt the familiar tension coiling in her gut, a mix of anticipation and dread. The village was just a mile away, hidden somewhere beyond the trees.

As they approached the outer perimeter, the atmosphere changed. The air felt heavier, thicker, as if the very jungle was holding its breath. Evelyn's pulse quickened, her senses heightened as she scanned the path ahead for any signs of movement. She glanced to her right and saw Dey crouched low, signaling with her hand for them to hold position.

Helen crawled forward, peering through her binoculars at the first few huts they could see from the treeline. "Snipers," she whispered, pointing to a glint of metal on one of the rooftops.

Evelyn sank into the undergrowth, her breathing steady as she waited for the signal. The plan was simple: the main force would engage the enemy head-on, drawing their attention, while Helen, Dey, and Evelyn flanked the village to take out the officers and sabotage any supply caches they could find. It was a strategy that relied on speed and precision. They couldn't afford to get bogged down.

The crack of a rifle shattered the silence, the first sniper taken out by one of their own marksmen. Chaos erupted immediately. Japanese soldiers in the village returned fire, and the platoon surged forward, bullets flying, grenades exploding in bright flashes of light. The sound was deafening, a cacophony of gunfire and shouts as the battle began in earnest.

Evelyn stayed low, moving quickly through the underbrush as she followed Rose and Kat around the side of the village. They darted from cover to cover, avoiding the worst of the gunfire. Bodies were already dropping around them—some American, some Japanese—though in the chaos it was impossible to tell who was who.

The smell of gunpowder and blood filled the air as Evelyn moved through the shadows, her rifle at the ready. Her mind was focused, sharp, as she pushed all thoughts of fear and doubt to the back of her mind. There was no room for hesitation here.

Helen led them through a narrow alley between two huts, the walls vibrating with the force of nearby explosions. They were close to their target now: the officer's barracks, a small building at the heart of the village. It was where the Japanese command post was located, and if their intelligence was correct, it would be filled with valuable information.

As they neared the building, Helen raised a fist, signaling them to stop. She scanned the area, then nodded to Evelyn. "We go in fast. Secure the intel, then get out."

Evelyn's heart pounded as she moved toward the door. With one swift motion, she kicked it open, her rifle raised, finger on the trigger.

Inside, the dimly lit room was sparse, its furnishings scattered and broken. The stench of sweat and smoke clung to the air. Her eyes quickly adjusted to the gloom, and then she saw her.

A woman stood in the center of the room, dressed in civilian clothing. Her face was pale and gaunt, her eyes wide with terror. She couldn't have been much older than Evelyn, though the fear etched into her features made her look older, worn down by the horrors she had undoubtedly witnessed.

For a moment, the chaos outside faded away. Evelyn's heart raced as she stared at the woman, a strange sensation flooding her chest. This wasn't the enemy she had been prepared to face. This was a civilian. She wasn't supposed to be here.

"Get back!" Someone shouted from behind her, the voice cutting through her thoughts.

Before Evelyn could react, a hand grabbed her arm, pulling her back violently. It was one of the men from their squad. He yanked her out of the doorway just as the woman's expression changed and Evelyn barely registered the shift before the explosion rocked the building.

The blast threw her backward, slamming her body into the dirt. The force knocked the air from her lungs, and for a moment, the world went silent. All she could hear was a high-pitched ringing in her ears as she lay dazed on the ground, her vision swimming.

She struggled to breathe, her chest heaving as she gasped for air. The smoke and dust from the explosion filled the air, burning her lungs as she coughed and choked. She rolled onto her side, her body aching from the impact.

The soldier lay nearby, his body twisted and broken from the blast. His eyes stared lifelessly at the sky, his mouth frozen in a scream that would never come. Evelyn's stomach lurched at the sight, bile rising in her throat. She looked away, but the image was burned into her mind.

Two other soldiers who had been with them were gone, their bodies likely destroyed in the explosion. Evelyn could feel the heat of the blast still radiating from the wreckage, the acrid smell of burning flesh and wood assaulting her senses.

The woman—the civilian—had been strapped with explosives. A human bomb.

Evelyn sat up, her head spinning as she tried to make sense of what had just happened. Her hands trembled as she wiped the dust and blood from her face, her mind struggling to process the horror of it all. This wasn't war. This was madness.

The Japanese had turned that woman into a weapon. An innocent civilian, forced into becoming a human bomb. The thought twisted something inside Evelyn, something deep and primal. She had seen death before, she had killed before, but this was different. This was cruelty on a level she hadn't been prepared for.

Her hands shook as the rage began to build inside her, a cold, detached fury that blocked out everything else. She had been trained to be an operative, to be precise and controlled, but now, that control was slipping.

She pushed herself to her feet, her rifle still in her hands. The battle was still raging around her, the sounds of gunfire and explosions echoing through the village. But all Evelyn could focus on was the fury burning in her chest.

Without thinking, without hesitation, she charged back into the fray. The world around her blurred as she moved, her rifle steady in her grip. She didn't think. She didn't feel. She just acted.

A Japanese soldier appeared in her path, his rifle raised. Evelyn shot him before he could pull the trigger, the bullet tearing through his chest. He fell to the ground, his body crumpling like a rag doll. Another soldier rushed at her with a bayonet, his face twisted in a snarl. She sidestepped the attack and fired point-blank into his chest, his blood spraying across her uniform.

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She moved through the chaos like a machine, her shots precise, deadly. Japanese soldiers fell before her, their bodies dropping like targets in a shooting range. She didn't think about their faces. She didn't think about the fact that they were people. To her, in that moment, they were the enemy. They were obstacles to be eliminated.

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The battle raged on, but Evelyn was focused, her mind blank as she fired shot after shot. She didn't stop until the gunfire began to die down, until the screams of the dying were replaced by the quiet murmurs of the wounded.

The Americans had taken the village, but at a heavy cost. Bodies littered the ground, both Japanese and American, and the air was thick with the stench of death. Evelyn stood in the middle of it all, her rifle still in her hands, her breath coming in ragged gasps. The sun was beginning to rise, casting a pale light over the blood-soaked village.

It was over. But the cost was unimaginable.

Hours passed, but it felt like a lifetime. Evelyn found herself sitting alone on the outskirts of the village, her back resting against a crumbling stone wall. The weight of her rifle lay heavy on her lap, the metal cold against her bloodstained hands.

The medics were still working tirelessly to save the wounded, their voices low and urgent. The sound of shovels digging into the earth could be heard as the dead were prepared for burial. Evelyn stared out at the horizon, the rising sun casting long shadows across the ground. The beauty of the dawn felt like an insult to the carnage around her.

Her mind replayed the events of the battle, over and over again, each moment sharp and vivid in her memory. The explosion. The woman. Jenkins. The blood. The killing. It all blurred together into a nightmarish haze, a swirl of violence and horror that wouldn't leave her.

She had killed without hesitation, without mercy. She had stopped seeing the Japanese soldiers as people, and that terrified her. She had become something else in the heat of the battle, something cold and ruthless. She hadn't realized how close she had come to losing herself completely.

138. 138 men she had killed over her time in the war. Their souls rested heavy on her conscience, they were humans, just like her, only they were standing on the wrong side of her rifle.

Evelyn looked down at her hands, stained with dirt and blood. She flexed her fingers, trying to remember what it had felt like to be herself before all this. But that girl—Evelyn from Boston—felt distant, like a ghost from another life.

War had a way of turning people into monsters. And she wasn't sure she could ever come back from that.

As the first rays of sunlight hit her face, Evelyn closed her eyes, her hands still trembling as she tried to steady her breath. There were more battles to fight, more missions to complete. But the person she had been before was gone.

Chapter Text

The village was quiet now, its streets strewn with the debris of war. Smoke curled lazily from the smoldering remains of the huts, the scent of charred wood and blood thick in the humid air. The dead lay scattered, twisted in unnatural poses where they had fallen, Japanese soldiers, civilians, and American bodies all mingled together in the aftermath of violence. Flies buzzed in the oppressive heat, drawn to the blood that soaked the earth.

Evelyn sat alone near the outskirts of the camp, her back pressed against the rough bark of a tree, her rifle resting limply across her knees. She stared blankly at the ground, her thoughts a jumbled mess, replaying the events of the battle in an endless loop. The woman. The explosion. Jenkins. The relentless killing.

It all swirled inside her, a chaotic, uncontrollable storm of images and sensations. She could still hear the ringing in her ears from the explosion that had taken Jenkins. Could still see the panic in the eyes of the young Japanese soldier who had hesitated for just a second too long before she'd pulled the trigger. He couldn't have been older than eighteen. Maybe younger. And she had killed him without hesitation, without even blinking.

Her fingers twitched, flexing unconsciously, as if they could still feel the cold steel of her rifle's trigger beneath them. It had given beneath the pressure of her touch with a familiar resistance. And with each pull, another life had tumbled into the dirt. Another body had crumpled at her feet.

She had done it all without thought, without hesitation. It was muscle memory now. Reflex. She had killed with the same ease that others might brush a strand of hair out of their face or adjust their collar. Her hands moved with precision, her mind detached, cold.

Was this what she had become?

She had known, going in, that war would change her. They all had. No one made it through without scars, visible or not. But she hadn't expected to feel so empty, so hollow. As if the part of her that cared, the part that could still feel the weight of the lives she had taken, had been stripped away, left behind somewhere in the jungle.

There was no turning back now. No going home to the life she had left behind. The girl from Boston, the one who had once dreamed of becoming a teacher, was dead. Buried beneath the layers of grime and blood that coated her skin. All that remained was the soldier. The assassin. The operative trained to kill without mercy, without pause.

And Evelyn didn't know how to reconcile that with who she used to be.

The familiar sound of footsteps crunching softly through the underbrush reached her ears, but she didn't bother to look up. She already knew who it was.

"White."

The voice was low, steady. Helen.

Captain Helen was a woman Evelyn had come to respect in the short time they had served together. She was a leader in every sense of the word, calm under pressure, decisive in the heat of battle. She was a woman of few words, but when she spoke, her quiet authority demanded attention. It was that calm, unwavering presence that had kept the platoon together through the worst of it, that had seen them through battles that should have left them broken.

Evelyn glanced up, meeting Helen's gaze. The Captain's expression was unreadable, as it often was, but there was something in her eyes, something that suggested she knew exactly what was going through Evelyn's mind.

Helen crouched down in front of her, resting her forearms on her knees. "How are you holding up?"

Evelyn shrugged, the movement small, barely noticeable. "I'm fine."

Helen studied her for a long moment, her eyes searching Evelyn's face for any sign of emotion. When she found none, she nodded slowly, as if she had expected as much. "Good. Because we've got another mission. And this one's on you."

Evelyn frowned, her fingers tightening slightly around the barrel of her rifle. "What kind of mission?"

"A solo op," Helen said, her voice quiet, careful. "We've received intel on a Japanese commander in the area. He's been coordinating their movements, keeping them organized. Taking him out could destabilize their forces long enough for us to gain some ground. Command wants him eliminated. Cleanly."

Evelyn's chest tightened. Another assassination. Another life to take.

She should have been used to it by now. But the thought of going in alone, of facing another life she was meant to extinguish, made something deep inside her twist in protest. She shoved the feeling down, burying it beneath layers of steel and resolve.

"When?"

"Tonight," Helen said. "You'll infiltrate their camp under cover of darkness. The commander is stationed at an outpost about two miles from here, surrounded by jungle. We've marked a route for you that should keep you off their patrols, but you'll need to be careful. This isn't just some grunt you're taking out. He's well-guarded, and he knows what he's doing."

Evelyn nodded, her mind already shifting into mission mode. The details of the operation began to take shape in her head—routes, timing, possible obstacles. She would move fast, silent. Eliminate the target and get out before anyone realized what had happened. It was simple. Clean.

But the knot in her chest remained.

Helen straightened, her eyes still on Evelyn. "You don't have to do this if you're not ready."

Evelyn's gaze snapped to hers, sharp, defiant. "I'm ready."

Helen studied her for a moment longer, then nodded. "Alright. You leave at 1900. Gear up."

Without another word, Helen turned and walked away, leaving Evelyn alone with her thoughts once more. Evelyn watched her go, the weight of the mission settling over her like a cloak. She stood, stretching her stiff muscles, and headed back to the camp.

She was ready. She had to be.

Night fell quickly, the dense canopy of the jungle swallowing the last rays of sunlight, plunging the world into darkness. The air grew cool, a welcome reprieve from the oppressive heat of the day, but Evelyn barely noticed. Her mind was focused on the mission ahead, every detail of the operation etched into her memory.

She moved silently through the undergrowth, her footsteps barely audible on the soft, damp earth. Her rifle was slung across her back, a knife strapped to her thigh, and a suppressed pistol in her hand. She wore dark clothing, her face smeared with mud to break up the outline of her features. Every inch of her was prepared for the mission ahead.

The route Helen had given her was accurate, keeping her well away from the main paths the Japanese patrols favored. She moved like a shadow through the trees, her senses heightened, every sound and movement in the jungle registering in the back of her mind. The chirping of insects, the rustle of leaves in the breeze, the distant crash of waves on the shore, all of it was background noise to the singular focus that drove her forward.

Infiltration was her specialty. It had been drilled into her during her training with Athena—how to move without being seen, how to blend into the shadows, how to strike swiftly and leave no trace. Evelyn had taken to it naturally, her quiet demeanor and sharp instincts making her a perfect candidate for covert operations.

But this mission was different.

The commander she was hunting wasn't just a faceless enemy. He was a man, a person with a family, with hopes and dreams of his own. And tonight, she would snuff all of that out. The weight of that knowledge settled heavily on her shoulders as she crept closer to the outpost, her mind wrestling with the morality of what she was about to do.

But there was no room for hesitation. Not here. Not now.

Evelyn crouched low behind a thicket of bushes, her eyes fixed on the Japanese outpost that lay just ahead. It was a small structure, a wooden building with a thatched roof, surrounded by a perimeter of barbed wire and sandbags. A handful of soldiers stood guard, their rifles slung casually over their shoulders, unaware of the danger lurking just beyond the trees.

Her target would be inside, likely in one of the back rooms. The plan was simple: infiltrate the building, eliminate the commander, and exfiltrate before anyone realized what had happened. She had done this before, countless times. This should have been no different.

But it was.

The knot in her chest tightened as she studied the outpost, her mind racing through the steps of the mission. Her pulse quickened, her breath coming in shallow bursts. She forced herself to focus, to push the unease aside. This was her job. This was what she had been trained to do.

Evelyn watched the guards, their movements methodical and predictable. They shifted positions regularly, patrolling the perimeter with a laziness that suggested they didn't expect any real threat. She waited for the right moment, her muscles coiled with tension.

When one of the guards turned to light a cigarette, she seized the opportunity. Moving swiftly and silently, she darted across the clearing, her body low to the ground. The shadows of the trees swallowed her whole as she slipped past the guards, her heart pounding in her chest.

She reached the perimeter of the outpost, crouching low behind a stack of crates. Her eyes scanned the area, her mind calculating the best route to the building's entrance. The guards were spread out, their attention divided. She could slip through the gap between them if she timed it right.

Evelyn waited, her breath steady, controlled. When the nearest guard turned his back, she moved. She slipped through the gap, her feet barely making a sound on the dirt path. The building loomed ahead of her, its wooden walls casting long shadows in the dim light.

She reached the entrance and pressed her back against the wall, her breath steady, controlled. The door was slightly ajar, and through the crack, she could see the faint glow of a lantern inside. Voices drifted through the opening—low, murmured conversation in Japanese. She couldn't make out the words, but she didn't need to. Her target was inside.

Evelyn slipped through the door, her pistol raised, her body moving with practiced precision. The room was small, sparsely furnished, with a low table in the center and a map spread out across it. Two soldiers stood near the table, their backs to her, discussing something in hushed tones. They hadn't noticed her.

She moved swiftly, silently, closing the distance between them in a matter of seconds. The first soldier didn't even have time to react before Evelyn's knife was in his throat, silencing him with a single, swift motion. The second turned just as she drove the blade into his chest, his eyes wide with shock as he crumpled to the floor.

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Evelyn wiped the blade on her sleeve, her heart pounding in her ears. She moved toward the back of the room, where a curtain hung over the entrance to another room. The commander would be in there.

Her hand tightened around the grip of her pistol as she approached the curtain. Her mind was blank, her body moving on autopilot. She pulled the curtain aside, her pistol raised, finger on the trigger.

The room was small, lit by a single lantern hanging from the ceiling. And there, seated at a low table, was her target.

The Japanese commander looked up as she entered, his eyes narrowing in confusion for a split second before understanding dawned on his face. He reached for the pistol at his side, but Evelyn was faster. She fired once, the suppressed shot barely making a sound as the bullet tore through his skull. He slumped forward, his body falling limp across the table.

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Evelyn lowered her pistol, her heart still racing in her chest. It was done.

She stood there for a moment, staring down at the lifeless body of the man she had just killed. There was no satisfaction in the act, no sense of victory. Just emptiness. Another life taken, another death added to the growing list of names that haunted her at night.

But there was no time for reflection. She had to move.

Evelyn turned and left the room, her movements swift and efficient as she retraced her steps through the outpost. The guards outside were still unaware of the chaos that had just unfolded inside. She slipped past them, disappearing into the shadows once more.

The jungle swallowed her whole as she made her way back to camp, her mind numb, her body moving on autopilot. The mission was complete, but the weight of it settled heavily on her shoulders. Each step felt like a burden, each breath a reminder of what she had just done.

The next day, Evelyn sat in silence as the rest of the platoon prepared for their next move. The news of the successful assassination had spread quickly, and there was a sense of relief among the soldiers. The Japanese forces had been thrown into disarray, and their defenses were weaker than ever. The Americans were planning a full assault, hoping to capitalize on the confusion and push the enemy back.

Evelyn should have felt proud. She had played a crucial role in the success of the mission, and her actions had directly contributed to the victory that was within their grasp. But all she felt was exhaustion. The weight of the mission, the lives she had taken, pressed down on her like a suffocating blanket.

The battle came swiftly, without mercy.

The sun was just beginning to rise when the platoon moved out, the jungle alive with the sounds of birds and insects stirring in the early morning light. The air was thick with humidity, the kind that made each breath feel like an effort. The soldiers moved in a tight formation, their rifles at the ready, their eyes scanning the trees for any sign of movement.

Evelyn was near the front of the column, her senses heightened, her mind locked in the cold, detached focus that had become second nature in the heat of combat. The world around her seemed distant, the sounds of the jungle fading into the background as she focused on the task at hand.

They had received intel that the Japanese forces, though disorganized, were still holding a position a few miles north, near the coast. It was a key location, strategically vital to both sides. If the Americans could take it, they would have a clear path to push further inland, cutting off Japanese supply lines and forcing a retreat.

But the Japanese weren't going to give it up without a fight.

As they neared the objective, the sound of gunfire erupted from the trees ahead, sharp and sudden. The platoon hit the ground instinctively, their rifles up, scanning the jungle for the source of the shots.

"Contact front!" Someone shouted, and the platoon sprang into action.

Evelyn rolled to her stomach, her rifle pressed against her shoulder, her eyes narrowing as she scanned the treeline for movement. Shapes flitted between the trees, Japanese soldiers, their rifles spitting bullets into the American line.

"Push up!" Helen's voice cut through the chaos, calm and steady as always. "Keep moving! Don't let them pin us down!"

The platoon surged forward, moving in short bursts, covering each other as they advanced through the dense underbrush. Evelyn moved with them, her rifle barking as she fired controlled bursts at the enemy positions. She could hear the bullets zipping past her head, the dull thud of rounds hitting the ground or splintering the trees around her. But she kept moving, kept firing.

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The world around her blurred into a haze of noise and movement. Gunfire, shouts, the crack of branches underfoot. She felt the ground tremble beneath her as grenades exploded nearby, sending dirt and debris into the air. The smell of gunpowder and blood filled her nostrils, thick and metallic.

Somewhere to her right, a man screamed—a high, thin sound that cut through the chaos like a knife. She didn't turn to look. There was no time.

Evelyn dropped to one knee behind a fallen log, her rifle steady as she fired at a group of Japanese soldiers advancing through the trees. She could see their faces now, contorted with anger and fear, their rifles raised as they fired back at her.

She squeezed the trigger, and one of them fell, clutching his chest as he crumpled to the ground. She fired again, and another went down, his body jerking violently as the bullets tore through him.

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There was no satisfaction in it. No sense of victory. Just the cold, mechanical efficiency of a soldier doing her job.

The battle raged on for hours, a brutal, relentless back-and-forth as both sides fought for control of the jungle. The thick canopy overhead blocked out much of the sunlight, casting the battlefield in a perpetual twilight that made it hard to see more than a few feet ahead.

Evelyn moved with the rest of the platoon, her rifle never silent for long. She fired until her magazine was empty, then reloaded without thinking, her hands moving automatically, the motions practiced and familiar. She could feel the sweat dripping down her face, stinging her eyes, but she didn't stop. Didn't pause.

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The sounds of the battle were deafening, the crack of rifles, the dull thud of grenades, the shouts of soldiers on both sides. The air was thick with the smell of gunpowder and blood, and the ground was slick with mud and the bodies of the fallen.

Evelyn didn't look down at the bodies as she stepped over them. She couldn't afford to.

They pushed forward, inch by inch, the Japanese forces giving ground grudgingly, every inch of the jungle contested with deadly force. The Americans fought with a dogged determination, their movements coordinated, their fire disciplined. But the Japanese were tenacious, using the dense jungle to their advantage, launching ambushes and counterattacks that kept the platoon on its toes.

At some point, Evelyn found herself pinned down behind a large rock, bullets zipping past her head with a high-pitched whine. She could see the muzzle flashes from the enemy positions just ahead, but every time she raised her rifle to return fire, a hail of bullets forced her back into cover.

Her heart pounded in her chest, her breath coming in short, ragged bursts. She glanced to her left and saw Helen crouched behind a fallen tree, her rifle trained on the enemy. The Captain's face was streaked with dirt and sweat, but her eyes were sharp, focused.

"Flank left!" Helen shouted over the gunfire, pointing to a narrow gap between the trees. "We'll pin them down here!"

Evelyn nodded and moved, her body low to the ground as she darted between the trees. She could hear the shouts of her comrades, the sound of gunfire intensifying as they laid down covering fire. She pushed through the underbrush, her rifle at the ready, her mind focused on the objective.

As she rounded a large tree, she saw them, three Japanese soldiers, their backs to her as they fired at the rest of the platoon. They were hunkered down behind a low ridge, using the terrain to their advantage. They hadn't seen her yet.

Evelyn raised her rifle, her finger tightening on the trigger. She fired, and the nearest soldier went down, his body jerking violently as the bullets tore through him. The other two turned, their eyes wide with shock, but she didn't give them a chance to react. She fired again, and another fell.

The third soldier raised his rifle, but he was too slow. Evelyn's bullet caught him in the chest, and he crumpled to the ground, his body twitching as the life drained out of him.

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The battle continued, a brutal slog through the dense jungle. The platoon fought their way through enemy positions, pushing the Japanese forces back step by bloody step. But the cost was high.

Evelyn had lost track of how many men had fallen. Every time she glanced around, she saw another body lying in the mud, another life snuffed out in the chaos of battle. Some of them she recognised, men she had fought beside. Others were strangers, their faces blank, their names unknown.

But each death weighed on her, a heavy stone added to the pile already crushing her chest.

She kept moving, kept fighting, her mind locked in the cold, detached focus that had kept her alive through countless battles. But the emptiness inside her was growing, spreading like a disease, eating away at the person she used to be.

By the time the battle finally ended, the jungle was littered with the bodies of the dead and dying. The air was thick with smoke and the stench of death, the once-vibrant greenery now stained with blood and scorched by fire.

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The Americans had won. The Japanese forces had been routed, their lines shattered, their hold on the jungle broken. But it didn't feel like a victory.

Evelyn stood in the middle of the battlefield, her rifle hanging limply at her side, her body trembling with exhaustion. She looked around at the carnage, at the bodies strewn across the ground, and felt nothing.

No relief, no triumph. Just a hollow, aching emptiness.

Helen approached her, her face grim, her eyes hard. She placed a hand on Evelyn's shoulder, squeezing gently.

"You did good, White," she said quietly. "We couldn't have done this without you."

Evelyn nodded, but the words barely registered. She was too tired, too numb to care.

As the platoon began to regroup, gathering their wounded and preparing to move out, Evelyn stood alone, staring out at the jungle.

The battle was over. But the war inside her had just begun.

Chapter Text

The sun hung low in the sky, casting a burnt-orange hue over the dense jungle. The thick air was already oppressive, pressing in like an invisible weight. Evelyn stood at the edge of the clearing, her rifle cradled against her shoulder, staring out into the expanse. Weeks had passed since the assassination of the Japanese commander, and though they'd struck a significant blow, her relief was overshadowed by an ever-growing sense of dread that wouldn't dissipate.

Earlier that day, just as dawn broke, Helen had pulled Evelyn and Dey aside, her tone severe, her voice low to avoid the other soldiers overhearing.

"Operation Athena... the mission's been leaked back home," Helen said, her eyes darting over her shoulder as if checking for any eavesdroppers.

Evelyn felt her stomach drop. "Leaked? You mean... they know?"

"Yes," Helen confirmed, her voice curt, but Evelyn could hear the sympathy hiding in her clipped tone. "It's in the newspapers. Major newspapers, too—though so far, it seems like the men out here haven't caught wind of it. News travels slowly in the Pacific, and we're... isolated."

Dey nodded, her usual mask of calm giving way to a twinge of concern. "I read a clipping. There was... speculation. Some articles seemed to guess at who we all were—at least our roles here."

Helen cut in. "It's going to come out here eventually, Mary. You should know what that means for us." Her gaze softened for a moment. "For all of us."

Evelyn's heart hammered in her chest, a mix of horror and disbelief flashing across her mind. All she'd fought to conceal, every maneuver and secret operation—now out in the open? It felt unreal, as if she'd awoken to find herself the subject of a story she had no control over. The specter of her and Anna's work, the one shadowing her constantly, now loomed larger than ever.

"I... I thought we'd be safe. That our... involvement would be buried, at least until we were home." Evelyn's voice was barely a whisper, and she knew Helen and Dey could hear the trembling in it. She felt a sick kind of panic creeping in, the thought of being stripped of her anonymity, her roles exposed to the men she'd fought beside without them ever knowing who she really was.

Helen nodded, her expression tight. "This war drags everyone's secrets to light eventually. We still have a role to play, Mary, and right now, I need you here, sharp. We'll worry about fallout when it comes. Understood?"

Evelyn nodded numbly, but Helen's words echoed in her mind long after she and Dey had walked away, and as the hours passed, the knot in her stomach only grew tighter. Evelyn knew she should focus on the mission at hand, but the thought that her fellow soldiers might discover her secrets clouded every thought, every step.

As she stood at the edge of the clearing, the weight of every life she'd taken now felt even heavier. Each kill was a brick, stacking up into a wall around her, threatening to trap her in her own past. Secrets she'd fought to keep hidden from her platoon and especially from the men in Easy Company were no longer secrets, and she knew she couldn't hide forever.

The heat was stifling, wrapping around her like a suffocating blanket. Sweat trickled down her back, pooling at the small of her waist. The air was thick with humidity, and the smell of damp earth mixed with gunpowder lingered in her nostrils. She had been trained for this—trained to fight, to kill, to endure the suffering of war—but no amount of training could prepare her for the mental toll it would take.

"Mary!" Helen's voice snapped her back to the present, urgent and commanding. "We're moving out in ten. Gather your gear."

Evelyn blinked, shaking off her reverie, though her mind was still foggy, her emotions a tangled knot of dread and regret. "Right," she murmured, though her voice sounded distant even to her.

She turned back to the camp, where her platoon was preparing for their next mission, the capture of a well-guarded Japanese base nestled in the hills near a civilian village. The intelligence indicated it was a significant hub for the enemy's communications and supply lines, a capture that would tilt the odds in their favor. But Evelyn couldn't shake the gnawing sense of foreboding creeping in alongside her other anxieties. Easy Company's voices echoed in her mind, their friendship, the image of them finding out, confronting her, knowing what she'd done... It was too much to bear, and she felt her resolve beginning to crack.

She attempted to push those thoughts aside, though it meant she could still hear the screams of the men she had killed echoing in her mind, haunting her like a specter. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw their faces—wide eyes filled with fear, mouths open in silent screams. It was becoming unbearable. She was losing herself, piece by piece, with each life she snuffed out.

Evelyn's hands trembled as she checked her gear, methodically going through her supplies: ammunition, grenades, a small first-aid kit, and a knife strapped to her thigh. It was all routine, yet the familiar motions felt alien. They had trained for this, rehearsed the operation countless times, but now that the moment was upon them, the anticipation of violence gnawed at her insides.

"Hey, you alright?" Dey approached, her eyes searching Evelyn's face. Kat had been with her through thick and thin, a constant presence in the chaos of war. "You look like you've seen a ghost."

"Yeah," Evelyn lied, forcing a smile that felt more like a grimace. "Just thinking."

"Don't overthink it. Just stick to the plan." Dey's voice was steady, an anchor in the storm swirling in Evelyn's mind. "We've got this. We're a team."

Evelyn nodded, grateful for Dey's presence, but her heart felt heavy. They were going into the fray once again, and with every step closer to victory, Evelyn felt her mental state deteriorate further. The thrill of battle had faded, replaced by a grim acceptance of the chaos that lay ahead.

At 1800 hours, the platoon moved out, creeping through the dense foliage that surrounded their camp. The air was thick with the scent of damp earth and decay, the jungle alive with the sounds of rustling leaves and distant animal calls. Each soldier moved in silence, their faces set with determination, but Evelyn could sense the tension in the air. The weight of expectation loomed over them; everyone understood the stakes of this mission.

As they approached the Japanese base, the jungle opened up into a clearing, revealing the village that surrounded their target. It was a cluster of huts made from wood and thatch, smoke curling from cooking fires. Evelyn's heart sank as she took in the scene. The villagers were oblivious to the storm brewing on the horizon, going about their daily lives, unaware of the violence that would soon unfold.

"Hold," Helen ordered, signaling the platoon to stop. They crouched low, hidden in the underbrush, eyes fixed on the base a few hundred yards away. It was well-guarded, a series of watchtowers flanking the perimeter, soldiers patrolling the area with a sense of casual ease.

"Intel says they change shifts every thirty minutes. We'll need to move quickly before the next rotation." Helen studied the layout, her eyes sharp and focused.

Evelyn's mind raced as she surveyed the area. She could hear the faint sounds of laughter and chatter from the village, and a part of her recoiled at the thought of the violence that was about to unfold. "What about the civilians?" She whispered, though she already knew the answer.

"Collateral damage," Helen replied, her voice low but firm. "We can't let sentimentality cloud our judgment. We have to secure the base first."

Evelyn swallowed hard, feeling the knot in her stomach tighten. The reality of war was harsh and unforgiving, and the moral gray area they operated in was suffocating. She pushed the thought away and focused on the task at hand.

The plan was straightforward: move in quickly, neutralize the guards, and secure the base. They had rehearsed it many times, but the weight of the lives that hung in the balance made her stomach churn.

"On my mark," Helen instructed, her voice steady. "One, two, three... go!"

They surged forward, moving as a single unit through the underbrush. Evelyn felt adrenaline surge through her veins, her senses sharpening as they approached the base. The guards were unaware, their attention focused elsewhere, and it was a fleeting moment of calm before the storm.

Evelyn's heart raced as they closed in. She felt the familiar thrill of combat wash over her, but it was tinged with the darkness that had settled in her mind. She moved in silence, her rifle raised, her breaths steady and controlled.

In a flash, the platoon was upon the guards. The first shot rang out—a quick, decisive move as one of the soldiers dropped to the ground, clutching his throat. The element of surprise was theirs, and chaos erupted.

Evelyn fired, her aim true as she took down another guard before he had a chance to react. The sound of gunfire erupted around her, mingling with the cries of soldiers and the distant screams of civilians as the village descended into chaos.

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The weight of it all crashed down on her, every bullet that left her rifle was a life extinguished, a family shattered. The laughter she had heard moments before was replaced by terror, and the reality of their mission felt more visceral than ever.

"Push forward!" Helen shouted, her voice cutting through the din. "We need to secure that building!"

They moved deeper into the chaos, the sounds of battle filling the air, gunshots, explosions, the cries of the wounded. Evelyn fought alongside her platoon, her rifle an extension of herself as she pulled the trigger, again and again. But each life taken felt like a shard of her soul splintering away, and she could feel herself spiraling further into a dark abyss.

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They breached the gates of the base, and the scene was carnage. Japanese soldiers were scrambling, trying to organize themselves amidst the chaos. The platoon pressed forward, relentless in their pursuit of victory.

Evelyn's mind was a whirlwind of confusion and fear. She fought mechanically, her body moving without thought, her heart numb to the violence around her. It was as if she were watching from a distance, a mere spectator to the horrors unfolding before her.

Each step brought her closer to the heart of the base, where the command center lay. She knew they had to secure it, but the cost of victory was weighing heavily on her. She could feel the dread building inside her, an ever-present reminder of the darkness that had taken root in her mind.

"Evelyn! Watch your six!" Helen's voice pierced through her fog. Evelyn snapped back to reality just in time to see a soldier charging toward her, his rifle raised. Without thinking, she fired, her shot hitting him square in the chest.

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He fell to the ground, lifeless, and for a moment, time stood still. The world around her faded, and all she could see was his face—confused, terrified, just like the others. The impact of her actions hit her like a freight train, and she felt her breath hitch in her throat.

"Keep moving!" Helen shouted, pulling Evelyn back to the present. "We need to secure that building!"

They pushed onward, but Evelyn felt like she was moving through molasses. The adrenaline that had surged through her veins began to ebb, replaced by a heaviness that threatened to drag her down. She forced herself to focus, to keep moving, but each step felt like a battle against the tide.

The command center loomed ahead, a fortified building surrounded by a series of sandbags and watchtowers. Soldiers swarmed around it, but the platoon pressed on, determined to take the objective. Evelyn moved with them, her rifle at the ready, but the numbness in her heart was becoming harder to ignore.

The door to the command center burst open, and chaos erupted. Soldiers surged inside, gunfire echoing off the walls as they engaged in close-quarters combat. Evelyn followed, her mind clouded with fog and confusion, and stepped over a fallen body. It was all a blur, gunfire, shouting, chaos, but her focus narrowed, zeroing in on her objective.

She found herself in the heart of the command center, the walls lined with maps and communication equipment, but the noise of the battle outside drowned out her thoughts. The air was thick with smoke and the acrid smell of burnt gunpowder. It was a hellish scene, and Evelyn struggled to maintain her grip on reality as the weight of her actions pressed down on her.

Suddenly, an explosion rocked the building, sending debris flying. Evelyn stumbled back, barely regaining her footing as chaos erupted around her. "We need to get out of here!" she shouted, her voice barely audible over the cacophony.

Dey was by her side, a fierce look of determination etched across her face. "We have to secure the communication room first! We can't let them call for reinforcements!"

Evelyn nodded, pushing through the disorientation. They moved deeper into the building, gunfire still ringing out around them. As they navigated the narrow hallways, the stench of blood and sweat filled the air, mingling with the sound of desperate shouting.

"Cover me!" Dey yelled, charging forward. Evelyn hesitated for a split second, a deep-seated fear clutching at her heart, but she pushed it down, focusing on her friend's words.

As Dey dashed into the room, Evelyn's instincts kicked in. She covered her, firing at the soldiers rushing in from the opposite side. Time felt elastic; every shot felt like it echoed for eternity as she continued to pull the trigger, taking down soldiers one after another.

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But the weight of each life taken was crushing. It was a relentless cycle, one that threatened to engulf her completely. Evelyn could feel herself starting to slip away as the chaos continued around her.

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Then, in a split second, everything changed. A soldier burst through a door to her right, his weapon raised. The gunshot rang out, sharp and searing, before Evelyn fully registered what had happened. In an instant, pain exploded through her side, blinding and raw, and a scream ripped from her lips. Her vision blurred as she staggered back, clutching at her side where blood was already soaking through her uniform, warm and sticky. The rifle slipped from her fingers, landing in the mud with a muted thud, but she was only vaguely aware of it.

A wave of panic surged through her, mingling with the agony that radiated from her side. Her heart thundered as she struggled to steady herself, but her legs buckled beneath her. She crumpled to the ground, her fingers pressing instinctively against the wound, but she couldn't stop the blood from pouring out.

"Dey..." she tried to shout, her voice barely more than a hoarse whisper, and the world around her dimmed as shadows clawed at her vision.

Somewhere in the haze, memories rose unbidden, sharp and vivid as her grip on consciousness began to slip. She saw pictures of her happiest play through her mind, images of her family, friends, and the brothers, and sister, she had fought alongside.

Time seemed to slow down, the pain etching it's way through her entire being yet she held on, the thoughts of who she had waiting for her barely pulling her through whilst her conscience began to slip.

A voice broke through the fog, faint but desperate. "Mary! Mary, hold on!"

The sound was distant, muffled, but she recognized it. Dey. Evelyn tried to call out, but her voice failed her, a barely-there rasp slipping past her lips. Her thoughts fractured, splintering between the memories of her time in Easy Company and the cold, brutal reality pressing in on her.

The world around her faded further, her vision narrowing as darkness crept in. But her mind lingered on her memories, on the faces she'd cherished, the bonds she'd fought so hard to protect. If this was the end, she thought, at least she'd carry those memories with her.

And with that, her eyelids grew heavy, a slight tear falling down her cheek as her eyes finally seeled.

Chapter Text

Easy Company had felt hollow after Evelyn's farewell. The days stretched on endlessly, the absence of her presence like a ghost lingering at the edge of their consciousness. Every meal, every idle conversation, every quiet night was tainted by the lingering knowledge that something vital was missing. The men had formed a bond that could never truly be broken, but Evelyn's departure left a gaping wound in the tight-knit group, one that seemed to ache with every passing day. No one felt this more acutely than Anna. The absence of her friend and comrade weighed on her heavily, though she kept it hidden behind a mask of stoicism, a mask she had learned to wear well during her time in the war.

To make matters worse, John Janovec had passed away, his life tragically cut short when his jeep struck a barrel and flipped. His death, sudden and brutal, only further eroded the already fragile morale of the Company. The men had become accustomed to loss, but each time it happened, it seemed to take a deeper toll, as if there was only so much grief one could carry before it became unbearable.

Anna sat alone in a small chair in a dimly lit room, surrounded by the remaining men of Easy Company. The television across from her flickered in the shadows, the low hum of static filling the room before the screen sprang to life once more. The footage from the Pacific theatre played out like a grim dance of death, soldiers trudging through mud and smoke, the dead littering the battlefield. A voiceover narrated the scene with a detached calmness that felt almost cruel in its cold efficiency.

"The Yanks have been gradually moving forward," the narrator intoned, "each small step a hard and tough fight that they win through blood and anguish. Soldiers from Europe have been beginning to move into Japan, aiding the fight. The death toll is steadily increasing as by each step they draw closer to victory, the Yanks lose as many as 1,000 men in a day's fight. Each small win in battle means they are one small step closer to victory."

The weight of those words pressed down on Anna like a heavy blanket, suffocating and relentless. She had seen enough death, enough bloodshed, to understand the cost of every one of those steps. The footage rolled on, showing broken bodies, weary faces, and the hollow eyes of men who had seen too much. The war was moving into its final, desperate stages, but that knowledge brought little comfort to those who still had to fight it.

Suddenly, the screen flickered, and the image vanished, plunging the room into darkness. The lights overhead buzzed to life, flickering before settling into a steady, harsh glow. The men who had been gathered around the television quickly scattered, murmuring to one another as they shuffled out of the room, leaving Anna behind. She sat for a moment longer, her thoughts swirling, before rising to her feet and following them out into the hallway.

Her boots echoed in the dimly lit corridor as she made her way toward the common room. The weight of the past weeks sat heavy on her chest, and she could feel a storm brewing in the air. She pushed the door to the common room open and stepped inside, the sight that greeted her immediately confirming her suspicions.

A group of men huddled around a newspaper, their expressions unreadable. The tension in the room was palpable, the air thick with the weight of unspoken words. Anna's eyes narrowed as she approached them, her voice cutting through the silence.

"What's going on, boys?" She asked, her tone casual but laced with suspicion.

None of the men replied at first. They glanced at each other nervously, unsure of how to proceed. One of them shifted uncomfortably, finally stepping aside to reveal the newspaper they had been so intently focused on. As the headline came into view, Anna's heart stopped for a brief second, the bold words screaming out at her:

"OPERATION FEMALE SPIES: THE SECRET MISSION OF THE WOMEN OF WAR"

Her stomach lurched as she froze, her gaze locked on the headline. Before she could stop herself, she snatched the newspaper from the man's hands, her eyes scanning the page as dread pooled in her chest.

The article was plastered with grainy, black-and-white photographs of women—women in combat, women in disguise, women captured in moments of terrifying clarity and brutal violence. And then, among those faces, she saw it. Her heart skipped a beat as her eyes landed on a familiar figure, though the face was obscured by shadows and blurriness. The scar, however, was unmistakable. It was Evelyn.

Each photo in the article was blurry, chaotic, as if captured in moments of intense action. But one image, in particular, stood out, a woman in a light blue gown, her scarred neck barely visible beneath the sweeping collar. The caption read: Marie Schmidt, 'Bloody Marie', dancing with a German general in enemy territory.

Anna's eyes widened as her focus shifted to another image, a battlefield scene, smoke curling in the air, the bodies of fallen soldiers scattered across the ground. In the center of it all stood a woman with streaked blonde hair, a rifle clutched tightly in her hands, her face hard and cold. Her scar, pale and jagged against her skin, was illuminated by the flash of the camera. The caption beneath this photo was simple: Unidentified female soldier, prominent scar linked with 'Bloody Marie', Western front.

The final image was the most haunting. A woman stood silhouetted in the darkness, her face obscured by shadow, her body poised as if ready to flee. But even in the darkness, that scar—the same scar that Evelyn bore, was unmistakable, like a streak of pink across her neck. The caption read: Unidentified female agent, codename 'Bloody Marie.'

Anna's breath caught in her throat as she forced herself to read the article beneath the photos:

'In an era where war has redefined the roles of both men and women, the Army's decision to deploy female soldiers to the front lines was a historic move, acting on the decision entirely despite the discourse across our country. Women had long proven their ability to contribute in support roles—nurses, communication specialists, and factory workers back home—but the deployment of women to active combat zones marked a radical shift in military policy. The training grounds at Camp Davis became infamous, a place where these women were not just trained to fight, but where, as it now appears, something much more secretive and sinister was also unfolding.

As the Army proudly announced the inclusion of women in combat, the nation watched with a mix of skepticism and admiration. These brave women were to fight side by side with men, equipped with the same weapons, enduring the same harsh conditions, and subjected to the same dangers. It was heralded as a step toward equality and recognition of women's capabilities in the most extreme of circumstances. But what if the story was far more complex than that? What if, hidden beneath this historic moment, was a clandestine operation of spies?

A growing number of reports have surfaced suggesting that many of these women were not only deployed as soldiers but also recruited for intelligence missions, their true purpose hidden from even their male comrades. Soldiers have written to their families expressing confusion and concern over their female counterparts' erratic disappearances—sometimes for hours, sometimes for days, and in a few cases, even weeks. Upon their return, these women seemed drained, exhausted beyond the physical toll of war, often bearing fresh injuries with no clear explanation as to where they had been or what they had been doing.

"She disappeared for four days," one soldier wrote home about a female comrade. "No one knew where she went. Came back with a nasty bruise on her side and cuts on her hands. She didn't say a word about it, just put her rifle down and fell asleep as if nothing happened."

Many in the Army assumed these absences were simply the result of secretive reconnaissance missions or survival exercises, but rumors soon began to swirl that the women were involved in something more covert. After all, the sheer number of disappearing female soldiers across different units couldn't be coincidental. There were too many stories that sounded the same: women vanishing, reappearing as if nothing had happened, refusing to explain themselves. Yet, their injuries told a different story—one of struggle, danger, and violence far beyond the front lines.

As the war grew on, the Germans were the first to realize the truth about these women. What initially seemed like isolated incidents of missing female soldiers soon began to take on a pattern. The Germans observed that strategic intelligence leaks, sabotage, and assassinations of high-ranking officers coincided with the presence of these women. They began to suspect that these female soldiers were not merely combatants but were trained spies, their roles carefully hidden from even their own comrades.

In intercepted German communications, a growing sense of paranoia emerged. One report, written by a German officer, noted: "The women are not what they appear. They move too freely, too unnoticed, and by the time we realize they've been in our midst, it's too late. We cannot trust any civilians or captives, for they may be one of them in disguise." Another chilling message sent by a commander on the Western Front warned his officers: "If you capture a female soldier, question her carefully. But do not expect answers. These women are trained for deception, and they are more dangerous than any man we've faced."

Despite their growing suspicions, the Germans struggled to catch these women in the act. Their training was too sophisticated, their covers too intricate to decipher. Most of these women remained completely anonymous to the enemy—blending in with civilians, altering their appearances at will, and executing missions with deadly precision. However, as the war dragged on, whispers of one woman—one particularly fearsome operative—began to spread, one at which the German command could actually identify. She was known only by a code name that struck terror into the hearts of the Germans: "Bloody Marie."

This elusive figure, identified only by a vicious scar that ran across her neck, became a ghostly presence on the battlefield. She was a master of disguise, slipping in and out of German-occupied territories, leaving a trail of death and destruction in her wake. Her reputation grew not only for her ruthless efficiency but also for her ability to evade capture at every turn. Despite the Germans' best efforts, they could never get close to her. Those who did often didn't live long enough to tell the tale.

One particularly harrowing mission involved the assassination of a high-ranking German officer stationed in Germany. According to reports, the officer had been integral to orchestrating German defenses along the coast. There had supposedly been a party going on that night, many civilians having been invited to celebrate a small victory, however the officer's body was soon discovered the next morning in the garden, having been severely stabbed. The Germans found only one clue—the photo of her beside the officer in her pale blue dress, her identity signified by the large scar that ran across her neck and the name she introduced herself being 'Marie'. They didn't know her true name, but could only suggest her as the culprit due to the others being shrouded in utter secrecy with no identifying marks.

The mystery surrounding Bloody Marie deepened with each report. German officers referred to her in hushed tones, her reputation almost mythological. "If you see Bloody Marie, you are already bound for death," one intercepted German transmission warned. It was as if she were a specter, appearing and disappearing at will, her true identity known only to a select few. Her death toll remains unknown, but based on the missions attributed to her, it is believed she claimed over 100 lives. Her name, her face—everything about her was designed to strike fear into the enemy, yet no one could conclusively identify her, save for the scar she carried like a badge of honor.

But it wasn't just the Germans who noticed something amiss. Within their own ranks, soldiers began to piece together fragments of the truth. The women who had been fighting alongside them—the same women they ate with, laughed with, bled with—were often not who they claimed to be. Soldiers began to notice discrepancies in their stories, slip-ups in conversation, where women would call each other by different names than they had given.

"It happened a few times," one soldier recounted. "I remember sitting around the campfire, and I overheard one of the women slip up and call the other by a name I hadn't heard before. She got real quiet after that. We didn't think much of it at first, but now it makes sense, don't it?"

These slip-ups, small as they were, began to sow seeds of doubt. What were these women really doing on the front lines? Who were they, really? The more the soldiers observed, the more they realized how little they truly knew about their female comrades. Many had assumed they were simply there to fight the same battles as the men, but the mounting evidence suggested otherwise. Were these women even operating under their real names? Or were their entire identities constructed, elaborate fabrications meant to protect the larger secret?

The deception ran deep, extending far beyond the soldiers in the field. Even officers of high rank were kept in the dark, unaware of the full extent of Operation Athena—the codename for the covert program that had trained these women to be not only soldiers but also spies. These women were deployed with one primary mission: to gather intelligence, disrupt enemy operations, and, when necessary, eliminate high-value targets. And they had been frighteningly effective at it.

The secrecy surrounding Operation Athena has sparked fierce debate, both within the military and among the public. Some argue that these women, trained in espionage, were essential to the war effort, their work behind enemy lines crippling German intelligence and supply chains. Others, however, see their presence as a dangerous distraction, a corrupt manipulation of the very principles the Army was founded on. How can soldiers be expected to fight with trust and unity when the very people beside them are living under false identities? How can an Army claim to uphold honor when even its highest-ranking officers are being lied to about the true nature of their missions?

Concerns have been raised about the potential long-term consequences of such secrecy. If the Army can deploy soldiers without even revealing their true purpose to their comrades, what other secrets might be lurking behind closed doors? Families back home have voiced their disapproval, some worried that the integrity of the military has been compromised. "If they can't even trust each other, how are they supposed to fight the enemy?" One concerned parent wrote in a letter to the War Department.

As more details of Operation Athena come to light, the debate will undoubtedly continue. But one thing is certain: the role of women in this war has been far more complex, and far more dangerous, than anyone could have imagined. These women were not just soldiers—they were spies, assassins, and saboteurs, moving in the shadows, their true identities hidden even from those they fought beside.

In the end, the question remains: was this deception justified? Or has the Army, in its quest for victory, sacrificed its very soul?'

Anna's grip on the newspaper tightened, her knuckles turning white as she finished reading. She lowered the paper slowly, her mind spinning. The men around her were silent, their gazes locked on her. She could feel their confusion, their shock, their distrust simmering just beneath the surface.

Finally, Bull broke the silence, his voice tinged with disbelief. "Art... is this true?"

Anna sighed deeply, running a hand through her hair as she walked to the large wooden bench in the center of the room. She sat down heavily, the weight of the moment pressing down on her shoulders. "I'll answer any questions you have," she said quietly, her voice carrying the strain of years of secrets. "Just... you might want to sit down for this."

The men exchanged glances before slowly following her suggestion, each taking a seat on the bench across from her. The tension in the air was palpable, thick and suffocating.

"What is this?" Malarkey asked, his voice barely above a whisper. His eyes were wide with confusion and betrayal. "What the hell is Operation Athena?"

Anna exhaled slowly, her eyes dropping to the floor. "Operation Athena," she began, her voice low and steady, "was a covert operation that trained women as both soldiers and spies. We were placed on the front lines, not just to fight but to gather intelligence, sabotage enemy operations, and disrupt their command. We were trained to blend in, to be invisible when we needed to be. That's why... that's why some of us would disappear for days at a time."

The men sat in stunned silence as Anna spoke, their eyes fixed on her as they tried to process what they were hearing. She could feel their disbelief, their struggle to reconcile the woman they had fought alongside with the secret she had been carrying all this time.

"So you were all spies?" Perconte asked, his brow furrowed as he leaned forward, his voice sharp with confusion. "Every woman on the front lines?"

"Yes, all of us," Anna clarified. "We trained at Camp Davis all together, and many women dropped out, those that remained are the ones currently placed out on the frontlines. Our missions took us deep into enemy territory, often alone. We were trained to handle ourselves... but it wasn't easy."

Another voice cut through the murmur of shock. "How long have you been doing this?" Lipton asked, his tone flat but laced with accusation.

Anna looked up, meeting his gaze with a calmness that belied the storm inside her. "Since the beginning," she said simply. "I was recruited for Operation Athena before I even joined Easy Company. That's why I was here. Why Mary was here."

The mention of Evelyn's name sent a ripple of unease through the group. They all remembered her—her strength, her sharp wit, the way she had become an irreplaceable part of their unit. And now they were being told that the woman they had trusted, fought alongside, had been living a double life.

Lieb shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "So what about this 'Bloody Marie' business?" he asked, his voice heavy with skepticism. "Is that our Mary?"

Anna hesitated, her fingers unconsciously tracing the edge of the newspaper in her lap. The name "Bloody Marie" had always been a shadow that followed Evelyn, a name whispered among their enemies with a mix of fear and respect.

She nodded slowly, her voice barely audible. "Yes. 'Bloody Marie' is our Mary."

Malarkey's mouth hung open for a moment before he managed to stammer out, "Why? Why did they call her that?"

Anna swallowed hard, her throat tightening as she forced herself to explain. "Mary was... one of the best operatives we had. She could get into places no one else could. She was fast, precise, and she never left a job unfinished. Each woman was assigned a name, and hers was Mary White, or more so, Bloody Mary. She was basically a killing machine in their eyes, and obviously the Germans thought the same. They gave her that name because every time someone saw her, it was too late. By the time they realized who she was... there was already blood."

The room fell into an eerie silence as the men absorbed her words. They had always known that war changed people, but hearing this, understanding what Evelyn had done, what she had been forced to do, was something else entirely.

After what felt like an eternity, Perconte finally broke the silence. "And you?" he asked quietly. "What's your name? Your real name."

Anna's breath caught in her throat, and for a moment, she considered staying silent. But these men—these brothers—deserved the truth. After everything they had been through together, she couldn't hide from them anymore.

"My name..." she began, her voice wavering. She hesitated, her eyes flicking to the floor before she lifted her head and met their gazes. "My real name is not Artemis. It's Anna Blake. But... I don't mind if you still call me Art, it's what you know me by."

"Anna?" Bull questioned as he thoughts for a moment, trying to find why he felt familiarity with the name. "That's... When you were hit, Mary called out to you calling you 'Anna'.

The group fell silent as it dawned on them that they had missed such a crucial detail that would have led them to finding out the truth.

"I thought she was just slipping over her words because she couldn't think straight." Babe commented, a look of pure shock on his face. "I didn't realise it was actually your name."

Anna sighed lightly. She hadn't remembered Evelyn doing that, but after all, she was in a bit too much pain at the time to fully realise it. "You never questioned it?"

"She was devastated after you got hit, none of us had the heart to remind her of that moment." Malarky answered, all the men looking slightly guilty as the memory of Evelyn's cries filled their minds.

"What's Mary's name?" Lieb asked, cutting through the small silence that had fell over them.

"She wouldn't want me to tell you." Anna revealed, pondering for a moment, memories of their time spent together flashing through her mind. "But, there's no guarantee she'll make it, and I want her to be honoured through her true identity, for who she really is. Mary's real name is Evelyn Donovan."

The men grew silent once more, thinking about what the woman had just said.

"I definitely think Evelyn fits her more." Johnny spoke up, his voice being heard for the first time in the room as the men quickly nodded in agreement.

Suddenly, Floyd walked into the room but quickly stood frozen in the doorway, his eyes scanning the tense faces before settling on Anna.

"What the hell's going on?" He asked, his voice heavy with confusion.

One of the men tossed the newspaper toward him. "Did you know about this?"

Floyd caught the paper and glanced over it, his face hardening as he read the headline and scanned the article. He didn't say anything at first, just let out a long, tired sigh before folding the newspaper and setting it down.

"Mary told me a little," he admitted, his voice quiet. "But not everything. I trust her. I trusted her then, and I trust her now."

Anna nodded in gratitude, her heart heavy with relief at Floyd's words. He didn't ask any more questions. He didn't need to, he trusted the woman he loved.

The men exchanged glances, and slowly, the tension in the room began to dissipate. They had fought beside her, bled beside her, and now, despite the secrets she had kept, they understood.

"You're still one of us," Bull said, his voice firm. The others nodded in agreement, their faces softening as they came to terms with the truth. "It doesn't matter what your name is or what you've done. We know who you are. We've fought beside you. We've got your back."

Anna swallowed the lump in her throat, nodding as emotion threatened to overwhelm her. "Thank you." She whispered.

Anna felt a weight lift from her chest, a quiet relief washing over her. She had feared this moment for so long, feared what it would mean for her place in the company. But Bull's words, simple as they were, meant everything.

The rest of the men followed suit, one by one, offering quiet words of acceptance. They were soldiers, and in the end, that was all that mattered. Whatever secrets Anna had kept, whatever she had done in the past, they had fought beside her. She was one of them.

And that, in the end, was all that really mattered.

Chapter Text

Anna stood silently as Nixon's voice called out, "Wilson." She turned to face him, her mind still spinning from the earlier briefing. The war had ended in Europe, but the battles weren't over. Now, it seemed, she was about to fight one on a different front. Nixon, in his usual brisk and efficient manner, barely waited for Anna's acknowledgment before speaking again.

"You have someone here to see you," he said.

Stepping aside, he revealed a figure that Anna recognized immediately. Atalanta Hugo, now a Major, walked in with a commanding presence that had developed over years of experience in the field. Anna's stomach churned slightly as she took in the sight of her old comrade. The years had been hard on both of them, though it was clear Atalanta's burden of responsibility had weighed heavily on her. Her once sharp features were etched with lines that told of sleepless nights and impossible decisions.

Anna rose quickly to her feet and saluted the higher-ranking officer. The badge gleamed against Atalanta's uniform, reflecting the cold light of the room.

"Wilson," Atalanta greeted her, shaking her hand. "It's good to see you again."

Despite the small smile on her face, Anna could see the concern etched in her eyes. This wasn't a friendly reunion—it was something far more complicated. Anna hadn't seen Atalanta since their initial training at Camp Davis when both of them were raw recruits. They had been fresh-faced, determined to prove themselves in a world that had little room for women on the battlefield. Now, after years apart, here they were again, bound together by secrets and sacrifices.

"Atalanta," Anna responded, a formal edge to her voice. She straightened up, suddenly aware of the weight of this meeting. "What's going on? Why are you here?"

"The revelation, the public now knows enough," Atalanta sighed, a tired smile creeping into her expression. "But now the military wants to give them faces to go with the story. And guess who they picked?"

Anna groaned, rubbing her temple. "Let me guess. Us?"

"Yep. We're front and center, Wilson. The brass wants you and me to attend a press conference. They want heroes to parade in front of the cameras."

Anna rolled her eyes, the bitterness rising in her throat like bile. "So, now they want to play up the 'progressive' angle, right? Suddenly we're the shining example of how the military 'embraced' women in combat roles. Never mind that they buried us during the war, kept us in the shadows until it was convenient to show us off."

Atalanta nodded. "Exactly. We weren't allowed to be public when we were doing the dirty work, but now they're eager to claim credit for it."

"And what the hell are we supposed to say?" Anna asked, her frustration boiling over. "How are we supposed to talk about everything we did without betraying the secrets? Not everything we did is something the public should know about."

"That's part of the tightrope we're going to have to walk," Atalanta said quietly. "We talk about our contributions without giving away too much. But that's not the worst part."

Anna narrowed her eyes. "What's the worst part?"

"The reporters. They're not going to go easy on us. They're going to ask why it took so long for Athena to be acknowledged, why women weren't celebrated from the beginning. And they'll be looking for ways to undermine us. You know how this goes."

Anna exhaled slowly, folding her arms. "Great. Sexist assholes trying to trip us up while we're forced to smile and play nice."

"At least we'll be in it together," Atalanta said with a grim smile. "And Mary—"

"Mary," Anna interrupted, her voice catching slightly. She hadn't heard from Evelyn, known as 'Bloody Mary' to those who feared and admired her, in months. "Where does she fit into all this? The newspaper basically based the entire revelation on her identity."

"Because she's the only one they could truly identify. But right now she's in the Pacific, still fighting," Atalanta replied, her expression softening. "The press will ask about her, too. We'll have to handle that. She won't be here to defend herself."

Anna's heart sank. Of course, Evelyn was still in the thick of it. Even with Europe behind them, the war wasn't completely over for some. "She'd hate this. She'd hate every second of it."

Atalanta chuckled darkly. "Yeah, she would. She'd probably rip into the reporters the moment they tried to patronize her."

Anna smirked at the thought of Mary tearing into a journalist with the same ferocity she used against enemies in the field. "That's an understatement."

Atalanta put a hand on Anna's shoulder. "We'll get through it. But we need to be ready. This isn't going to be easy."

Anna nodded. "Yeah. I'll be ready. But I'm not going to sit back and let them paint us as some kind of novelty act."

Atalanta gave her a long, serious look. "Neither am I. Let's give them something to remember."

The press conference room was packed. The harsh lights of the large cameras beamed down on Anna and Atalanta as they took their seats at the front, cameras positioned in front of them. The room buzzed with anticipation, the reporters shuffling through their notes, eyeing the two women like they were lions in a cage. Anna's pulse quickened, but she forced herself to keep her expression neutral, determined not to let them see any sign of nervousness.

Atalanta sat beside her, composed and alert, her uniform spotless. Major Hugo was every bit the formidable soldier she had become, and Anna took comfort in knowing she wasn't facing this alone.

The first question came almost immediately from a man in a crumpled suit, his cigarette dangling from his mouth. "Major Hugo, Miss Wilson—Operation Athena has been called revolutionary, but why are we only hearing about it now? Were you not trusted enough to be public during the war?"

Atalanta, calm and controlled, leaned forward slightly. "The nature of our missions required secrecy. It wasn't about trust; it was about ensuring the success of the operation and the safety of those involved. Our work was highly sensitive, and revealing our roles too soon would have jeopardized everything."

The man smirked, clearly unimpressed. "Sensitive or not, seems like a convenient excuse to keep women out of the spotlight."

Anna couldn't help herself. She leaned forward, her eyes locking with his. "Convenient? We infiltrated enemy lines. We sabotaged Nazi operations. We saved lives by gathering intelligence no one else could. We weren't 'kept out of the spotlight'—we were doing our jobs."

Another reporter, younger, with slicked-back hair, raised his hand. "So, you're saying you were out there while men were dying on the front lines? Sounds like you were playing some kind of spy game while the real soldiers fought the war."

Anna's jaw tightened. "Spy games? Let me tell you something—there were no games about it. We risked our lives just as much as anyone on the front lines. Do you know what it's like to be hunted by the Gestapo? To have your cover blown and barely make it out alive? No, you don't. So don't reduce what we did to 'games.'"

A few seats down, a man let out a snide chuckle. "And I'm sure you broke a lot of nails while you were at it."

Anna's patience snapped. She shot him a glare so cold it could have frozen the air. "Yeah, I broke a few nails. And I broke a few Nazi networks while I was at it. But please, keep focusing on the trivial. It says more about you than it does about me."

Atalanta jumped in, her voice steady but with an edge of steel. "What we did wasn't any different from what our male counterparts did. In fact, we had to be better because we were constantly underestimated. That was our greatest asset—being seen as non-threatening. We used that to gather intelligence the enemy never saw coming."

The tension in the room thickened. Another reporter, a woman this time, raised her hand. "Do you think this opens the door for women to take on more combat roles in the future? Now that the war is nearly over, where do you see women in the military going forward?"

Anna took a deep breath. "Women have already proven themselves in this war. Not just in Operation Athena, but across every theater. We've been pilots, engineers, spies, soldiers. The war wouldn't have been won without us. Going forward, I expect women will have the same opportunities to serve in whatever capacity they choose. We've earned that right."

An older man in the back scoffed loudly. "Women in combat? Isn't that a bit too much to ask? Women have their place, and it's not on the battlefield. You should be at home, taking care of the family."

Anna's blood boiled, but her voice remained steady. "Our place? Our place was in the field, doing our jobs just like the men. I had a life of my own before this war, but my place was where I was needed, and that was serving my country. Women have more than proven they can handle combat, and we deserve the right to continue serving."

The man leaned back, unimpressed. "Well, if that's the future of the military, I hope we don't end up relying too much on women. It's a man's job."

Before Anna could retort, another reporter piped up, changing the subject. "What about 'Bloody Mary'? We've heard rumors she's in the Pacific. Doesn't it seem excessive to send a woman into that kind of danger?"

Anna's eyes flashed. "Excessive? Sending any soldier into combat is dangerous. But Mary is more than capable of handling herself, just like she handled herself in Europe. If you're asking if it's dangerous, the answer is yes, but it's no more dangerous for her than it would be for any man. She's a soldier, and she's doing her job. In fact, I and every woman from this operation know it's more dangerous for the Japanese that Mary has been sent out there, she's worth more than just a singular soldier."

The room fell silent for a moment, the reporters scribbling furiously or simply staring at her.

Atalanta leaned forward, her eyes scanning the small crowd. "Let me make one thing clear—Operation Athena wasn't about women playing a special role. It was about soldiers, highly trained and highly skilled, doing what needed to be done. We don't want special recognition because we're women. We want recognition because we did the job, and we did it well."

Anna took a deep breath, her voice filling with the passion she had carried for years. "You want to know why Operation Athena is important? It's not because we were women. It's because we were soldiers. Soldiers who did our job just as well—if not better—than many of the men who fought beside us."

She looked around the room, making eye contact with as many reporters as possible, her words sharp and clear. "We faced the same dangers. We made the same sacrifices. We lost friends, we endured pain, and we came out the other side because we were trained, disciplined, and ready. The fact that we're women doesn't make us any less capable. In fact, it makes what we did even more remarkable because we did it while fighting the very system that was supposed to be protecting us."

She paused, the silence in the room deafening.

"We didn't have the luxury of being open about our roles during the war. We operated in silence, in secrecy, because that's what was expected of us. Now, after the war is won, you want to ask whether we should have been there in the first place? We shouldn't even have to answer that question. The results speak for themselves."

Anna's voice grew stronger. "Women were crucial to this war effort. From the nurses on the front lines to the engineers building planes to intelligence officers like us, infiltrating enemy lines. We've been here all along. And we're not going anywhere."

The room fell into stunned silence, the reporters scribbling furiously or simply staring at her.

Hours later, after the press conference ended and the flood of reporters dispersed, Anna found herself alone, wandering the hallways of the military base. The adrenaline that had kept her strong during the press conference was draining fast, leaving her hollow and exhausted. She felt the weight of everything they had said—everything they had revealed—and the magnitude of how much had been left unsaid.

She made her way to the officer's quarters, where she knew George was waiting. George, the steady presence in her life, the man who had seen her through so many dark days. When she entered the room, he was sitting at the small desk, writing something down in his usual precise script.

The moment he saw her, his expression softened. He stood up, arms open, and Anna didn't hesitate. She collapsed into his embrace, the tension in her body unraveling as she let herself lean into his strength.

For a long time, neither of them said anything. George held her, his hand running soothingly through her auburn hair, offering silent comfort.

Finally, Anna spoke, her voice barely above a whisper. "It was worse than I thought."

"I know," George murmured. "I saw it. You did incredible, Anna. You really did."

Anna pressed her face into his chest, her tears hot and silent. "I don't know if I can keep doing this. It's one thing to fight the enemy, but this... this is so much harder."

George held her tighter. "You've fought harder battles than this. You've always come out stronger."

Anna shook her head, her voice breaking. "I miss her, George. I miss Evelyn so much. I wish she was here with us. She'd know what to say. She'd know how to handle all of this."

George didn't say anything for a moment, but his hand continued to stroke her hair. "I miss her too. But she's still out there, fighting. And she's probably thinking the same about you."

Anna let out a soft, bitter laugh through her tears. "She'd probably laugh at me for letting them get under my skin."

"She'd tell you to keep going," George said softly. "That's what she would do. She'd tell you that you're stronger than any of those idiots in the press."

Anna pulled back slightly to look up at him, her eyes red-rimmed but filled with a fierce determination. "We did what we had to. And I'm not going to let them rewrite our story."

George nodded, his thumb brushing away a tear from her cheek. "And you won't have to. You made sure of that today."

Anna rested her head against his chest again, letting the sound of his heartbeat calm her. "I hope so."

For now, in George's arms, she allowed herself to breathe. The war wasn't over—not really—but for this moment, she let herself feel the safety of being with someone who understood her completely. Tomorrow, the fight would continue, but tonight, she let herself rest.

Chapter Text

Anna sat in the dimly lit room, her heart warmed by the men surrounding her. A smile rested on her face as she leaned back in her chair, watching Floyd and George across the table. The two men were engaged in a round of cards, their banter weaving a comforting atmosphere that momentarily masked the war outside. The flickering light from the oil lamp cast shadows on the walls, creating a cozy haven amid the chaos that loomed beyond.

George was animated, his hands gesturing wildly as he recounted yet another outrageous story. "And I told him to..." he began, leaning forward with mock seriousness, "if you're going to take a shot, you better make it count! Otherwise, you might as well be shooting blanks. That's how I ended up with an empty bottle of whiskey and a drunk parakeet!"

Floyd chuckled, shaking his head, "You and your damn stories, George. What happened to that parakeet?"

George smirked, taking a drag from the cigarette resting between his lips. The smoke curled lazily toward the ceiling as he relished the moment. "Let's just say it could whistle a tune, but it could never hold its liquor."

The room erupted in laughter, momentarily lifting the weight of the world off their shoulders. The humor provided a brief respite from the relentless tension that hung over them, a reminder of the normalcy that felt like a distant memory. Anna let herself indulge in the laughter, savoring the camaraderie that filled the air. But the lighthearted atmosphere was shattered when the door slammed open, and a disheveled Private rushed in, his face pale and eyes wide with panic.

"Sergeant Grant's been shot!" The words struck Anna like a physical blow, sending a shockwave of dread through the room. The laughter died instantly, replaced by a heavy silence that hung in the air like a storm cloud. Anna quickly stood up, her heart racing as she glanced at Floyd, who was already on his feet, the gravity of the news sinking in. The rest of the men in the room reacted immediately, their previous mirth evaporating as they stormed out, urgency replacing the casual camaraderie.

As Anna practically sprinted out of the building, the cold air hit her like a slap. The chill was a stark contrast to the warmth inside, snapping her back to reality. The sight that awaited her was harrowing: Chuck lay motionless on a stretcher, blood seeping from a wound on his head, his face pale against the white fabric beneath him. Panic coursed through her veins as Floyd rushed past her, reaching his friend's side in an instant. The other men formed a protective circle around them, tension radiating from every one of them.

"Head back in. Me and Tab will deal with this," Anna ordered, her voice steady despite the turmoil inside her. Without waiting for a response, she dashed toward the stretcher, her determination solidifying as she focused on Chuck, willing him to fight. She could feel her heart pounding in her chest, each beat echoing the urgency of the situation.

They transported him to the hospital with hurried urgency, the weight of his life pressing heavily on their shoulders. As they entered, Anna spotted the first surgeon she could find, her voice rising above the chaos around her. "We need help!" She exclaimed, grabbing his arm as they placed Chuck on a table.

The surgeon barely glanced at Chuck, his eyes scanning the wound with a detached air. He then turned to Speirs, who had gently grasped Chuck's hand, his face a mask of concern. "Jesus," the surgeon muttered, shaking his head. "This isn't good."

"What?" Speirs questioned, his voice low and tense, a sense of dread creeping into his gut.

"He's not gonna make it," the surgeon replied, casually fiddling with the cigarette dangling from his lips. He exhaled a puff of smoke as if they were discussing the weather, the casualness of it infuriating Anna. She could feel anger boiling beneath her skin; how could he be so indifferent at a moment like this?

"You can't operate on him?" Roe asked, stepping forward, desperation lacing his words.

"Not me. You need a brain surgeon," he replied with a dismissive wave. "And even if you had one, I don't think there's any hope."

Anna scoffed at his nonchalance, her heart racing as she watched him walk away, yawning as though he had just finished a long day of work, not having just condemned a man's life.

"You find the shooter. I want him alive," Speirs commanded, pointing at Floyd. "Come on, help me!"

Anna quickly moved to the other side of the stretcher, assisting Speirs in lifting Chuck up. Floyd's face was heavy with grief, his eyes wide as he processed the surgeon's words.

"What are you doing?" He managed to ask, voice strained.

"We're going to find a brain surgeon!" Speirs answered, determination flooding his voice. The small group immediately sprang into action, racing out of the room, Floyd momentarily leaving to order the men.

Outside, Anna found herself sitting atop a jeep, her hand clasped around Chuck's limp one. Roe sat at the edge, holding up a small pack of IV fluids, the sounds of chaos and uncertainty swirling around them. Anna's thumb gently caressed Chuck's hand, as if her touch could somehow soothe him, could draw him back from the brink.

She watched from the side as Speirs banged frantically on a door, desperation etched across his features. "Come with me," he demanded, his voice carrying an authority that brooked no argument.

"Why?" came the hesitant reply from the man at the door, eyes flicking nervously over Speirs' gun.

"Get in the jeep," Speirs ordered, voice clipped, urgency clear.

The man hesitated, glancing back into his home before grabbing a robe hanging beside the door and slipping it on. "Where are we going?" he asked, apprehension lining his features.

"To the hospital. Get in," Speirs commanded, his grip tightening around the weapon, desperation bleeding into his tone.

"If you're going to shoot me, shoot me. If you're not, put the gun away," the surgeon pleaded, hands raised to signal that the barrel of the gun should be lowered.

"Get in the jeep, now," Speirs practically begged, his voice hollow, the weight of their comrade's life pressing down on them.

"What happened to him?" The man asked, his eyes darting nervously between Anna and Roe.

"He was shot in the head," Roe replied, his voice steady despite the chaos.

"Half-hour ago," Speirs added, urgency brimming as the surgeon examined Chuck's bandaged head.

"Come on," he urged, trying to pull the man towards the jeep.

"If you want him to live, you'll help me. First by putting that away," the surgeon said, his voice trembling slightly.

With a deep sigh, Speirs slowly lowered the gun, shoving it into his pocket as he moved to the wheel. But the surgeon stopped him. "Let me drive. We'll get there faster."

With a reluctant nod, Speirs moved aside, climbing into the passenger seat as the surgeon took the wheel. The jeep roared to life, speeding through the darkened streets, the headlights illuminating their path ahead. Anna's heart raced in her chest, the sound of the engine echoing her urgency.

They arrived at the hospital in a blur of urgency. Anna leaped from the vehicle, gripping the end of the stretcher tightly as they rushed inside, the surgeon leading the way. The hustle and bustle of the hospital filled her ears, the cries of the wounded and the clattering of feet echoing in her mind.

They dropped Chuck onto a large table, the surgeon immediately getting to work as Speirs turned to Anna. "Help the men," he ordered, his voice firm.

With a quick nod, she turned and shot off into the night, her heart racing. She was determined to find the man responsible for Chuck's condition, to make him pay for what he had done.

—

Anna found herself sitting beside George again, the tension palpable as they listened to the muffled sounds of pain from the other room. She watched George and Floyd as they played a round of cards, trying to escape the grim reality surrounding them. The game provided a temporary distraction, but Anna could feel the undercurrent of anxiety that threaded through their laughter.

"Jesus. Again. What a hand," George muttered, lighting another cigarette, smoke curling in the air as he tried to zone out the shouts from the other room. "I don't know who's taking a bigger beating, me or him?"

Floyd shuffled the cards in his hand, his expression weary. "Wanna play a different game?" He asked, his tone lacking its usual enthusiasm.

"Same game, just shuffle them up good, eh?" George replied, the sound of punches and groans growing louder in the background. Agitation crept into Floyd's demeanor as he slapped the cards together, unable to focus on the game.

"You alright?" Anna asked, concern knitting her brows as she observed Floyd's tense features.

"Yeah, I'm alright," he replied, though the strain in his voice told a different story. The weight of Chuck's condition loomed over them like a dark cloud, and it was beginning to suffocate.

"Wanna go in there and join in?" George suggested, a teasing glint in his eyes, but the levity was lost on Floyd.

"I should go in and stop this," Floyd mumbled, shifting uncomfortably in his seat, his heart heavy with conflict. He was torn between wanting to protect his friend and the fury bubbling inside him.

"Floyd, let's just play cards, alright?" George urged, his tone more serious now as he tried to ground Floyd in the moment.

"Floyd, he's getting what he deserves," Anna chimed in, placing a hand on his shoulder, attempting to offer some comfort. The truth of her words hung in the air like a bitter pill.

Floyd sighed lightly, fiddling with the cards in his hands as he stared blankly at the table, his mind wondering far. "What would Mary do?" He finally asked, his eyes clouded with worry.

"What?" Anna replied, momentarily confused by his sudden introspection.

"I mean, what would she be doing right now? Would she go in there to stop them?" Floyd asked, his voice filled with a yearning that resonated deep within Anna. The thought of Mary, or rather Evelyn, sent a pang of nostalgia through him, twisting his heart painfully.

"Floyd." Anna began, pausing to consider his words. "Mary would be in there joining in. I'd probably have to hold her back so she wouldn't kill him." A wry smile tugged at her lips, a momentary distraction from the gravity of the situation.

A silence fell over them, the weight of their words settling in the room. Floyd's expression turned pensive, a struggle evident in his eyes. His friend was barely clinging to life; he was listening to a man being brutalized for shooting Chuck, and the absence of his 'unofficial' girlfriend loomed over him like a dark cloud.

He opened his mouth, about to reply, when the door slammed open again.

"Where is he?" Speirs demanded as he stormed through, his gun gripped tightly at his side, eyes blazing with urgency. The air crackled with tension, and the room stilled as everyone turned to face him.

"How's Grant?" Floyd asked, his voice trembling slightly, the fear evident in his eyes.

"Where is he?" Speirs repeated, impatience seeping into his tone.

"Is he okay?" Floyd pressed, anxiety creeping into his voice.

"WHERE IS HE?!" Speirs shouted, the raw emotion in his voice silencing the room. Floyd fell silent, the three of them exchanging worried glances, signaling the location of the man they had captured. Speirs quickly caught on, storming forward and pushing the door wide open.

"This him?" Speirs questioned, entering the room where the men had gathered, revealing the sight of a bloodied man strapped to a chair. The room was filled with a palpable tension, the air thick with the scent of blood and sweat.

"That's him," Bull replied, his voice barely audible over the groans of pain that filled the air. "Replacement. I Company."

Speirs approached slowly, his eyes narrowed, filled with a simmering rage as he addressed the man. "Where's the weapon?"

"What weapon?" the man choked out, blood caking his face, a smug look on his face.

In an instant, Speirs struck the man's face with the butt of his gun, blood flying from his mouth, a sound that made Anna flinch, the violence shocking her despite the circumstances. She felt a mixture of horror and understanding as she witnessed Speirs' fury unleashed.

"When you talk to an officer, you say Sir." Speirs instructed, his voice cold and detached as the man cried out in pain, fear clouding his features.

Suddenly, the sound of a gun cocking drew Anna's attention back to the scene. Speirs held the weapon directly at the man's head, the tension in the room thickening. The men around them shifted uncomfortably, eyes darting away from the confrontation, an unspoken understanding passing between them.

After a long, agonizing pause filled only by the man's cries, Speirs wiped the blood that covered his palm onto the man's shoulder, a dark satisfaction filling his eyes as he pulled off his hat. "Have the MPs take care of this piece of shit."

He swiftly exited the room, his eyes still filled with a fury that left Anna breathless. She couldn't help but feel a sense of relief that someone was finally taking charge, but the violence left her unsettled.

"Grant's dead?" Floyd asked, his voice barely above a whisper, dread clinging to every word.

"No. Kraut surgeon says he's gonna make it." Speirs announced, his tone flat as he continued to walk away. The heaviness in the air lifted slightly at his words, a collective sigh of relief sweeping through the room as the men forced the shooter onto his feet, dragging him away.

Anna let out a deep sigh, feeling a weight lift from her chest as she turned to face George, who sent her a small smile. His drained face mirrored her own exhaustion, both of them grappling with the chaos surrounding them. He raised his hand, placing it gently on her back before pulling her into a small hug.

Anna rested her head against his chest, drawing comfort from his presence. The warmth of the moment wrapped around her, allowing her a brief escape from the grim reality outside. As she stood there, lost in thought, Floyd watched from the sidelines, a profound sadness in his eyes. Memories of his moments with Evelyn flooded his mind, leaving his heart heavy with longing.

Man, did he miss his girlfriend.

Chapter Text

The days continued to pass in a blur for the men of Easy Company, their routine consisting of training and waiting, waiting and training, as those without enough points remained in the war in the Pacific. The air was thick with tension, uncertainty looming like a dark cloud overhead. Each day seemed to stretch on endlessly, with only fleeting moments of camaraderie to break the monotony.

Amidst this haze of confusion and fatigue, Anna found herself called to assist Lipton in organizing the surrendered German troops. As she approached the jeep, her heart raced with anticipation. The remnants of war surrounded them, an eerie stillness interrupted only by the distant shouts of soldiers in training. She climbed into the vehicle alongside Lipton, Richard "Dick" Winters, and Lewis Nixon, the four of them united by their shared experiences.

Upon arriving at the designated area, they were met by a sea of German soldiers, all standing at attention, their expressions a mix of resignation and defeat. The sight was jarring, a poignant reminder of the war's cost. Lipton and Anna exchanged a glance, silently acknowledging the gravity of the situation.

"Let's get this over with." Lipton muttered, a hint of weariness in his voice. Anna nodded in agreement, her heart heavy with the weight of what lay ahead.

The tension crackled in the air as Lipton approached the gathered soldiers. He was met by a German commander who quickly walked up to him, his demeanor serious yet respectful. The commander's uniform was tattered, evidence of the struggles he had faced.

"With your permission, I would like to address my men, briefly." the German commander requested, his voice steady despite the circumstances. Anna quickly turned to Lipton.

"He wants to address his men." She translated, feeling the tension in her own chest tighten.

"That'll be fine, General." Lipton concluded, offering a curt nod. Anna gave a small signal to the German commander, allowing him to proceed.

The commander marched through the ranks of German soldiers until he reached a small clearing, where he stood at attention. As he began to speak, Anna listened intently, her heart aching at the weight of his words, which she translated with ease.

"Men, it's been a long war, it's been a tough war. You have fought bravely, proudly, for your country. You are a special group who found one another, a bond that exists only in combat, among brothers of shared foxholes. You have held each other in dire moments. You have seen death and suffered together. I am proud to have served with each and every one of you. You deserve long and happy lives of peace."

Anna felt her heart grow heavy with empathy. Each word held deep serenity within it, despite being spoken by the enemy. It reminded her that, despite the horrors they had endured, there was a shared humanity that transcended the boundaries of conflict.

Lipton glanced at her, his expression one of understanding, having seen the impact the speech had on her. He knew the truth in the commander's words. They had all endured so much together, and it was a bittersweet moment—one that held both victory and loss.

As the tension of the surrender dissipated, shouts of excitement echoed through the field where the men of Easy Company had found a reprieve in a game of baseball. Makeshift wooden planks served as bats, and laughter filled the air, creating a brief oasis of joy amid the chaos of war.

Webster took his place at the batting plate, his focus intense as he prepared for the pitch. He swung hard, launching the ball rapidly into the air, the sound of the crack echoing like a gunshot against the blue sky.

Buck Compton, effortlessly caught the ball in his glove as it fell, cheers erupting around him. He basked in the camaraderie, feeling the warmth of brotherhood that had become his lifeline during the war.

'Buck Compton came back to see the company to let us know he was all right. He became a prosecutor in Los Angles. He convicted Sirhan Sirhan in the murder of Robert Kennedy and was later appointed to the California Court of Appeals.'

The game continued, and Martin quickly threw the ball to Ramirez, who instantly connected with it, sending it soaring into the air as cheers erupted from the men.

'David Webster became a writer for The Saturday Evening Post and Wall Street Journal. He later wrote a book about sharks. In 1961, he went out on the ocean alone and was never seen again.'

As the ball sailed through the air, Johnny Martin picked it up and threw it fast across the field, where George Luz stood with a smug smile on his face, ready to catch it.

'George Luz became a handyman in Providence, Rhode Island. And as a testament to his character, 1,600 people attended his funeral in 1998.'

As the game continued, George was quickly pushed away by Ramirez, laughter filling the air as they engaged in friendly shoves. Anna then stood ready at the plate, gripping her bat tightly, her heart racing with excitement. She focused on the thrower, her competitive spirit ignited.

'Anna Blake, formerly known to us as Artemis Wilson, returned to her home in New York. Her brother survived the war but was left without his right hand after it was blown off by flak during the fight over Germany. Anna spent many weeks back at home until she eventually realized she could not live without the man she had fallen in love with during the war. She soon moved to Providence, Rhode Island, joining George's side as she became an advocate for women's rights within the US. She even met President Harry S. Truman to promote the movement in 1950. Anna and George had three children together.'

With a determined swing, Anna hit the ball hard, sending it flying into the air as she made a run for it. The ball was quickly passed between the catchers, and despite her efforts, she was forced out by George, who tagged her. Immediate protests erupted from her, causing the group to erupt in laughter.

"Hey! No fair!" Anna exclaimed, her laughter mingling with their cheers as she tried to catch her breath.

Roe quickly stepped up to the plate, bat in hand, ready for his turn.

'Doc Roe died in Louisiana in 1998. He had been a construction contractor.'

Laughter continued to cascade across the group as they basked in the warm sun, a sense of peace beginning to set over them as they felt they finally had a few moments to breathe.

'Frank Perconte returned to Chicago and worked a postal route as a mailman.'

Frank dove to reach the plate, sending sand billowing everywhere, but he was quickly blocked by Lieb, who grinned down at him.

'Joe Liebgott returned to San Francisco and drove his cab.'

Bull quickly took the batting plate, raising his bat, a large cigarette hanging from his lips.

'Bull Randleman was one of the best soldiers I ever had. He went into the earth-moving business in Arkansas. He's still there.'

'Alton More returned to Wyoming with a unique souvenir: Hitler's personal photo albums. He was killed in a car accident in 1958.'

As Alley caught the ball with ease in his glove, he tossed it back to the pitcher while Floyd prepared to take his shot, a small grin painting his features.

'Floyd Talbert returned home to Kokomo, Indiana, where he immediately accepted a position with Union Carbide. He soon transferred to a similar position within the company based in Alexandria, Indiana. He passed away in 1982.'

With a determined swing, Floyd walloped the ball, sending it flying as Lipton and Lieutenant Welsh cheered from atop the jeep, their faces lit with excitement.

'Carwood Lipton became a glass-making executive in charge of factories all over the world. He has a nice life in North Carolina.'

'Harry Welsh married Kitty Grogan and became an administrator for the Wilkes-Barre, Pennsylvania school system.'

Suddenly, the loud honk of a car caused their play to stop as all the soldiers turned to see a large jeep driving away from them. From behind emerged a figure they had all been missing for months. There stood Evelyn, battered and bruised, a large bandage wrapped around her stomach, her hand pressed against her side, clearly struggling to stand.

"Evelyn!" Anna screamed, her heart racing with a mix of joy and relief. She instantly ran towards her friend, enveloping her in a tight hug, holding her close as if she feared she would vanish again. The rest of the men smiled at the scene, the joy of reunion filling the air.

As Anna pulled away slightly, her thumb gently brushed across a small cut that rested on Evelyn's cheek. "You look terrible!" She exclaimed, though her voice was filled with concern rather than accusation.

"Thanks for the compliment," Evelyn replied with a teasing smile, though the pain in her eyes was evident. "It's good to be back. I missed you all so much."

Evelyn turned to the others, her smile brightening at the sight of them. The happiness on their faces brought her a sense of ease, a balm for the wounds of war. She soon locked eyes with the man she had been missing desperately—Floyd. The warmth in his gaze made her heart race as she offered him a large smile, a grin that stretched from ear to ear.

Before she knew it, he was rushing towards her, and for a brief moment, the world faded away.

"Dimples." He breathed, enveloping her in a tight hug. She felt the warmth of his embrace, a familiar comfort despite the slight pain it caused her in her side.

"I missed you." He whispered, his voice low, only loud enough for her to hear. There was an intensity in his gaze that sent shivers down her spine, and she could see the relief written all over his face.

"I missed you too," Evelyn replied softly, her hand coming up to rest against his cheek. "I thought... I thought I wouldn't see you again."

"Don't say that. You're here now, and that's all that matters." His thumb brushed against her arm gently, grounding her as the reality of their reunion settled in.

As they stepped back slightly, taking in each other's presence, Anna moved closer to them, her heart swelling with joy. "You're back, Mary! We thought we lost you. How did you manage to get here?"

"Oh, you know me," Evelyn said with a light laugh, trying to brush off the seriousness of her injuries. "I'm tougher than I look."

"But seriously, what happened?" Anna pressed, concern lacing her voice.

Evelyn hesitated for a moment, glancing at Floyd before continuing. "I got into a bit of trouble over there, but I'm fine. Just a few bumps and bruises."

Floyd interjected, his expression serious. "She's downplaying it. She was in the thick of it. I can't believe she made it back."

The gravity of their conversation hung in the air for a moment, but Evelyn quickly broke the tension. "I wouldn't miss coming back to see you all for the world. It feels like a lifetime since I've seen you."

"I can't believe you're really here," Anna said, her voice full of warmth. "We have so much to catch up on."

The game resumed around them, but the three of them remained in their bubble, sharing smiles and laughter. As they watched the others play, Anna turned her attention back to Evelyn. "You've got to tell me everything. I want to hear every single detail about your time in the Pacific."

"I'll fill you in, I promise," Evelyn replied, her eyes sparkling with affection.

'Evelyn Donovan, better known as Mary White or Bloody Mary, returned home to Boston, Massachusetts, to find her brother safe and sound in the arms of their parents. She spent many weeks at home, telling her family story after story of her time in war as they accepted her identity and role within the conflict entirely. She soon moved to Kokomo, Indiana, returning to Floyd's side, where they adopted a cat, which, true to her word, was named Captain Whiskers. Floyd also adopted a German Shepherd, and Evelyn became a painter while living in Kokomo, particularly passionate about painting illustrations of the war to educate others. The two of them had four kids together, and Evelyn later passed in 1982 due to what the doctors deemed as heartbreak, just two weeks after Floyd's passing.'

As they stood together, Evelyn felt a sense of belonging wash over her. The familiarity of their friendship was a balm for her spirit. Just then, Lieutenant Speirs strode over, a commanding presence that drew the attention of everyone around.

'Ronald Speirs stayed in the army and served in Korea. In 1958, returned to Germany as governor of Spandau Prison. He retired a Lieutenant Colonel.'

"Easy Company! School circle!" He commanded, and the soldiers quickly gathered around, eager to hear what he had to say.

Evelyn, leaning against Floyd, felt the energy shift as they all fell into formation. The camaraderie that had become a hallmark of Easy Company enveloped her like a warm blanket.

"Listen up. Got some news." Winters began, his voice steady and calm. "This morning, President Truman received the unconditional surrender from the Japanese. War's over."

Cheers erupted from the soldiers, an overwhelming wave of emotion washing over them as the reality of the moment sunk in. Some hugged, others raised their hands in celebration, laughter mingling with shouts of joy.

'Regardless of points, medals, or wounds, each soldier in the 101st Airborne would be going home. Each of us would be forever connected by our shared experiences and would have to rejoin the world as best they could.'

The excitement filled the air, and Evelyn felt tears prick at the corners of her eyes. She had fought hard to return, and now, they all had the chance to go home.

"I can't believe it's finally over." She whispered to Floyd, her voice trembling with emotion.

"Yeah," he replied, pulling her closer. "We're going home."

As the soldiers began moving toward the army tents, Evelyn leaned into Floyd's side, her heart brimming with happiness. Anna walked beside them, her smile radiant.

"Can you believe it? We're all going home!" Anna exclaimed, her excitement contagious.

"Home," Evelyn repeated, savoring the word as it rolled off her tongue. "It feels surreal."

The group's laughter and shouts faded into the background as they approached the tents, a sense of hope blooming within them. They would all face the future together, united by their shared experiences.

'Lewis Nixon had some tough times after the war. He was divorced a few times, then in 1956, he married a woman named Grace and everything came together for him. He spent the rest of his life with her, traveling the world. My friend Lew died in 1995.'

'I took up his job offer and was a personnel manager at the Nixon Nitration works until I was called back into service in 1950 to train officers and rangers. I chose not to go to Korea; I'd had enough of war. I stayed around Hershey, Pennsylvania, finally finding a little farm, a little peaceful corner of the world where I still live today. There is not a day that goes by that I do not think of the men and women I served with who never got to enjoy the world without war.'

As they settled into their new reality, the bonds forged in battle would remain with them, a testament to their resilience and strength. Together, they faced the dawn of a new chapter, ready to embrace life beyond the war.

Chapter Text

Evelyn stepped out of the cab, her fingers clinging to the strap of her worn leather bag, the weight of it barely noticeable in comparison to the emotional baggage she carried. She exhaled softly, taking in the familiar sight of her home, a place that had been frozen in her mind since the day she left for war. The two-story house stood just as she had remembered it, with its modest white facade and green shutters, a picture of simplicity that somehow made her heart ache.

The garden out front had changed slightly, the flowers blooming in colors she didn't remember planting, but it was still unmistakably home. The scent of earth and blossoms floated toward her on the breeze, mixing with the distant scent of rain on the horizon. It was a smell she had longed for during sleepless nights on the battlefield, a smell that symbolized safety, peace, and a life she wasn't sure she could return to.

For a moment, Evelyn stood frozen, her eyes scanning over every detail, as if she needed to memorize it all over again. Every crack in the sidewalk, every paint chip on the front door, every piece of her childhood, everything was the same, yet different. And now, she was different too. Could she ever fit back into this life?

She swallowed the lump in her throat, shaking off the momentary paralysis, and took a deep breath before stepping forward. Each step felt heavier than the last, the weight of her past—of all that she had seen, all that she had endured, pressing down on her with each passing second. By the time she reached the front porch, her knees felt weak, her heart pounding in her chest. She raised her hand to knock, but froze, her fist hovering just inches from the door.

What would they think of her now? What could she possibly say to explain the person she had become?

Before she could make the decision herself, the door swung open, almost startling her.

"James." Evelyn breathed out, her voice barely audible. The figure standing before her was the one person she had prayed for every night, the one she had worried about when the gunfire grew too close or when the days stretched into weeks.

James stood in the doorway, his face both familiar and foreign, lined with scars and wrinkles that told a story no words could. The boyish charm she remembered was still there, but it was buried beneath the hard lines of experience, of pain and survival. He looked older, so much older than his 22 years, his eyes carrying the same haunted look she had seen in the mirror countless times.

"Evie." His voice was a whisper, filled with disbelief, as if he had been waiting for this moment for so long, yet couldn't quite believe it was real. In a second, he crossed the threshold and pulled her into his arms, wrapping her in a hug that was tight and desperate, as if he needed to reassure himself that she was truly there.

Evelyn melted into his embrace, her bag slipping from her shoulder and falling to the porch with a soft thud. Her arms circled around his back, clinging to him like a lifeline as her face pressed against his shoulder. She inhaled deeply, taking in the scent of him—soap, sweat, and something uniquely her brother. Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes, but she blinked them back, holding onto the moment for as long as she could.

Neither of them spoke, the silence between them speaking louder than any words could. They had both lived through horrors they would never be able to fully explain, but in each other's arms, they didn't need to. They had both survived, and for now, that was enough.

James pulled back slightly, his hands gripping her shoulders as his eyes scanned her face. His gaze lingered on the large scar that ran along her neck, the raised, pale skin a stark contrast to the rest of her. He froze, his mouth opening as if to ask the question, but then closing just as quickly. His brow furrowed as the realization hit him—he didn't need to ask. The scar, like his own, was a story they both already knew. War left its mark on everyone, some more visibly than others, and hers already signified him of what she went through.

Without a word, James gave a small nod and stepped back, his hand sliding down to take hers. "Come on," he said softly, leading her inside. "Let's see Mom and Dad."

The warmth of the house hit her immediately as they stepped into the entryway, the familiar smells of cooking and wood polish filling the air. The floorboards creaked under their feet, a sound that sent a rush of memories flooding back. She could hear the distant clatter of dishes in the kitchen, followed by the soft murmur of her mother's voice.

For a second, Evelyn stopped in her tracks, overwhelmed by the sudden rush of familiarity. This house—this life—felt like a relic of another time, another person. She had left here as a girl of 17, naïve, hopeful, and full of dreams. Now, she was returning as someone else entirely, someone who had seen the darkest corners of humanity and who wasn't sure if she could ever shake the shadows that clung to her.

"James? Honey, did you get the vegetables that quickly?" Her mother's voice called from the kitchen, light and filled with the casual warmth Evelyn had forgotten she longed for.

Evelyn's heart twisted in her chest at the sound. Her eyes burned with the sudden rush of emotion as she remembered the nights she had lain awake, thousands of miles away, trying to recall that exact voice. The war had a way of making you forget the small things—the sound of a loved one's voice, the smell of home, the feeling of safety.

James gave her hand a reassuring squeeze and led her further down the hall.

As they stepped into the kitchen, Evelyn's eyes immediately found her mother, standing at the stove with her back to them, her movements fluid as she stirred a pot. Her father sat at the table, his weathered hands resting on the surface as he quietly talked to Maggie, who was hunched over a book, her young face filled with concentration.

For a moment, Evelyn simply stood there, taking it all in. It felt surreal, like stepping into a dream.

Then, Maggie looked up.

"Evelyn!" Maggie's voice was filled with surprise, her book falling from her hands as she sprang to her feet. In an instant, she was across the room, throwing her arms around her sister in a fierce hug. Evelyn laughed, the sound bubbling out of her before she could stop it. She wrapped her arms around Maggie, holding her tight as her little sister buried her face in Evelyn's shoulder.

"God, you've gotten so tall," Evelyn said with a watery laugh, pulling back just enough to look at her. Maggie had grown so much in the three years Evelyn had been gone. She was nearly as tall as Evelyn now, her face beginning to take on the sharper features of adolescence. It felt strange to realize how much time had passed.

"You're really home," Maggie whispered, her voice shaky with emotion as she clung to her older sister. "You're really here."

"I'm here." Evelyn replied softly, her throat tightening as she held her sister close again.

Behind them, their mother had turned around, her wooden spoon clattering to the floor as her eyes widened in disbelief. "Evelyn?"

At the sound of her mother's voice, Evelyn's chest tightened, and before she could say anything, her mother rushed forward, her arms open wide as she enveloped her in a hug. Evelyn was caught between her mother and Maggie, the weight of their love and relief nearly knocking the breath from her lungs. Tears welled in her eyes, spilling over as her mother's familiar scent, flour, lavender, and soap, washed over her.

"My baby." Her mother whispered, her voice thick with emotion as she stroked Evelyn's hair, her hands trembling slightly. "Oh, my baby..."

Her father stood from the table, his expression softening as he took in the sight of his eldest daughter standing in the kitchen. He moved slowly, his steps hesitant, as if he was afraid that if he moved too quickly, the moment would shatter like glass.

"Evie." He said, his voice gruff but filled with emotion as he stepped forward, wrapping his arms around his wife and daughters.

Evelyn was surrounded by them—by the people she had thought about every day for three years, by the family she had prayed she would come home to. The warmth of their embrace was overwhelming, the relief palpable. And suddenly, all the walls she had built up, all the strength she had relied on during the war, came crashing down.

The sobs broke from her chest before she could stop them, her body trembling as the weight of everything she had carried for so long finally found release. She pressed her face into her father's chest, her tears soaking through his shirt as she cried, the fear, the pain, the loss, everything she had buried deep inside, pouring out of her in a flood.

Her mother stroked her hair, her voice soft and soothing as she whispered comforting words. "It's okay, baby. You're home now. You're safe. You're safe."

Evelyn's body shook with the force of her sobs, the sound muffled by her father's chest as he held her close, his large hands gently rubbing her back in the same comforting way he had when she was a child. For the first time in years, she allowed herself to be vulnerable, to let someone else carry the weight of her pain.

James stood nearby, his own eyes misty with unshed tears as he watched his sister break down in their parents' arms. He understood more than anyone the burden she carried, the scars that couldn't be seen. He had carried them too.

As Evelyn's cries slowly subsided, the room grew quiet, the only sound the soft murmur of their mother's voice and the occasional sniffle from Maggie, who clung to Evelyn's arm, her face pressed against her sister's shoulder.

Evelyn pulled back slightly, wiping at her eyes with the back of her hand as she tried to compose herself. "I'm sorry." She whispered, her voice thick with emotion. "I didn't mean to-"

"Shh, none of that now." Her father said softly, his hand still resting on the back of her head. "You have nothing to apologize for, Evie."

Her mother cupped her face, her thumb gently wiping away the remaining tears. "You've been through so much, sweetheart. You don't have to be strong all the time. Not here."

Evelyn nodded, though the lump in her throat made it impossible to speak. She glanced at James, who gave her a small, reassuring smile. They had both survived, but they both knew the battle wasn't over, not for either of them.

"Come on." Her mother said gently, slipping her arm around Evelyn's waist. "Let's get you settled. You must be exhausted."

Evelyn allowed her mother to lead her out of the kitchen and down the hall, her legs feeling like lead as the adrenaline from the day began to wear off. As they reached the staircase, her mother paused, glancing at Evelyn with a soft, almost hesitant smile.

"Your room's just the way you left it," she said quietly. "I kept it just in case you...in case you wanted it to be the same when you came home."

Evelyn's chest tightened at the words, her heart swelling with both gratitude and guilt. Her mother had kept her room the same—had held onto the hope that she would return, that she would walk through the door again. And now, here she was, standing in the house she had dreamed of coming back to, but feeling like a stranger in her own skin.

"Thank you, Mom." She whispered, her voice barely audible as she took a step forward, her hand brushing the banister as she made her way up the stairs.

With each step, the familiar creak of the floorboards beneath her feet seemed to echo louder, pulling her deeper into the past. Memories of her childhood flashed before her eyes—running up these same stairs with Maggie, playing hide and seek, slamming the door in teenage frustration, laughing with her friends during sleepovers. It all felt so distant now, like it had happened to someone else entirely.

When she reached the top of the stairs, she paused outside the door to her room. The wood was smooth under her fingers as she turned the knob, pushing the door open slowly. The sight that greeted her was almost too much to bear.

Everything was exactly as she had left it.

The small twin bed with its patchwork quilt, the shelves lined with books and knick-knacks, the posters on the walls of movie stars and musicians she had once adored. Even the curtains—those soft, yellow curtains her mother had sewn for her when she was twelve—were still there, fluttering slightly in the breeze from the open window.

Evelyn stepped inside, her breath catching in her throat as the familiarity of it all washed over her. It was as if time had stood still in this room, as if the war, the pain, the horrors she had witnessed hadn't touched this small, sacred space.

But she wasn't the same girl who had left this room. She wasn't the same girl who had packed her things and kissed her family goodbye, full of hope and determination. That girl was gone, and in her place was someone else, someone who had seen too much, who had lost too much.

Her mother stood quietly in the doorway, watching her with soft, understanding eyes. "Take your time, sweetheart." She said gently. "I'll be downstairs if you need anything."

Evelyn nodded, not trusting herself to speak as her mother quietly closed the door behind her, leaving her alone in the room that had once been her sanctuary.

For a long moment, Evelyn simply stood there, staring at the bed, at the shelves, at the walls that had once seemed so safe. Then, slowly, she walked over to the bed and sat down, the mattress creaking slightly under her weight. She ran her hand over the quilt, her fingers tracing the familiar patterns of fabric that had once brought her comfort.

But now, the comfort was gone.

The memories of war, of death, of fear, crashed over her like a tidal wave, and before she could stop it, the tears came again, harder this time. She buried her face in her hands, her shoulders shaking as sobs wracked her body, the weight of everything she had carried for so long finally breaking free.

She cried for the friends she had lost, for the innocence that had been stolen from her, for the girl she used to be. She cried for the nightmares that haunted her, for the scars—both seen and unseen—that would never fully heal.

The door creaked open softly, and before Evelyn could look up, she felt the gentle weight of her mother's arms wrapping around her. Without a word, her mother sat beside her, pulling her into her lap the way she used to when Evelyn was a child.

Evelyn didn't resist. She leaned into her mother's embrace, her face pressed against her chest as the sobs continued to shake her.

"It's okay, baby." Her mother whispered, her voice soft and soothing as she rocked her gently. "It's okay. I'm here. I've got you."

Evelyn clung to her, the warmth of her mother's arms the only thing anchoring her in that moment. And for the first time since the war, she allowed herself to be a child again—to let someone else carry the burden, if only for a little while.

Her mother's hand stroked her hair, her voice a soft hum as she began to sing the lullaby she used to sing to Evelyn when she was small, the familiar melody wrapping around her like a blanket.

Evelyn's sobs slowly subsided, her breathing evening out as exhaustion took hold. Her mother continued to hold her, rocking her gently until finally, Evelyn's eyes fluttered closed, her body going limp as sleep overtook her.

She was home.

And for the first time in a long time, she felt safe.

As Evelyn drifted off to sleep in her mother's arms, the weight of the war, the fear, and the pain began to fade, replaced by the soft, warm comfort of home. It was a fleeting peace, she knew, one that would be tested in the days and nights to come. But for now, in this moment, she was a daughter again, cradled in her mother's love, and that was enough.

The shadows of the past would linger, but tonight, Evelyn Donovan was finally home.

Chapter Text

Evelyn awoke to the soft, pale light of dawn filtering through the yellow curtains in her childhood bedroom. For a moment, she lay still, blinking up at the ceiling, unsure of where she was. The bed beneath her was soft and familiar, a stark contrast to the hard, cold earth she had grown accustomed to. She reached out instinctively, her fingers brushing the quilt, and the realization hit her—she was home.

The room was quiet, the only sound the distant chirping of birds outside. She could hear the faint clatter of dishes downstairs, the murmur of her mother's voice mingling with the sound of the radio playing softly in the background. Her body felt heavy, both from the physical exhaustion and the emotional weight she had carried with her for so long.

Sitting up slowly, Evelyn rubbed her eyes, her fingers brushing against the scar on her neck, a constant reminder of the war she had survived. Her muscles ached, a dull throb that had become a part of her daily life, but the pain was nothing compared to the memories that haunted her. The memories of Europe, of the Pacific—the sights, the sounds, the screams that echoed in her mind, even now.

She forced herself to stand, her legs shaky as she crossed the room. The floorboards creaked beneath her feet, and she paused by the window, looking out over the small garden below. The flowers her mother had planted swayed gently in the breeze, their vibrant colors a stark contrast to the gray and brown landscapes she had grown used to overseas.

For a long moment, she stood there, watching the world outside, trying to ground herself in the present. But the peace of the morning felt fragile, as if it could be shattered at any moment by the ghosts of her past.

A soft knock on the door broke the silence, and Evelyn turned to see her mother standing in the doorway, her face filled with warmth and concern.

"Good morning, sweetheart," she said softly, stepping into the room. "Did you sleep okay?"

Evelyn offered a small smile, though it didn't quite reach her eyes. "I did, Mom. Thank you."

Margaret crossed the room and placed a gentle hand on her daughter's shoulder, her thumb brushing over the fabric of Evelyn's worn shirt. "I'm glad you're home, Evie. I've missed you so much."

Evelyn swallowed the lump in her throat, nodding. "I've missed you too."

Her mother gave her a small squeeze before stepping back. "Come downstairs when you're ready. I'm making breakfast—just like old times."

Evelyn nodded again, watching as her mother left the room. The smell of cooking—bacon, eggs, and something sweet—wafted up the stairs, pulling her back into memories of long-ago mornings. But those mornings felt so far away now, like they had belonged to someone else.

She quickly dressed in one of the few clean outfits she had, her hands lingering over her dog tags for a moment before she tucked them back under her shirt. As she made her way downstairs, she felt the weight of the house settling around her, a comforting presence that both grounded her and made her feel strangely out of place.

The kitchen was filled with light, the sun streaming in through the windows and casting a warm glow over the worn table and the familiar cabinets. Her father sat at the table, reading the newspaper, while James leaned against the counter, watching their mother bustle around the stove. Maggie was already seated, her face half-buried in a book, her long brown hair falling over her eyes.

"Morning, Evie," James said, his voice soft but steady as he gave her a nod. His eyes met hers, and in that brief exchange, she knew he understood how hard it had been to get out of bed, to face the day.

"Morning," she replied, her voice quieter than she intended.

Margaret turned from the stove, a bright smile on her face. "Sit down, honey. Breakfast will be ready in just a minute."

Evelyn moved to the table, sliding into the chair across from Maggie, who glanced up from her book long enough to offer a shy smile. "You slept for a long time," Maggie said softly, her voice still carrying the innocence of youth, despite the world that had changed around her.

"Yeah, I guess I did," Evelyn replied, feeling a pang of guilt. She hadn't meant to sleep so late, but her body had been too exhausted to care.

Her father lowered the newspaper, his eyes soft as they settled on her. "How are you feeling, Evie?"

Evelyn hesitated for a moment, unsure of how to answer. "I'm... okay," she said finally, though the words felt hollow. How could she explain the way her mind seemed to be constantly spinning, filled with images she couldn't control? How could she explain the nightmares that clawed at her every night, even when she was surrounded by the comfort of home?

Before anyone could press further, her mother set a plate of food in front of her—a generous helping of scrambled eggs, bacon, and pancakes drizzled with syrup. The smell alone brought back a rush of memories, of mornings spent with her family before the world had turned upside down.

"Eat up, honey," her mother said with a gentle smile. "You've got to keep your strength up."

Evelyn nodded, picking up her fork and taking a small bite, though her appetite wasn't quite there. The food tasted just as she remembered, warm and familiar, but it didn't ease the knot in her stomach.

As the conversation around the table picked up, Evelyn found herself slipping into silence, listening as her family talked about small things—her father's work at the factory, Maggie's school projects, the flowers in the garden. It was the kind of mundane conversation she had craved for years, but now that she was here, she felt like an outsider looking in.

She forced herself to join in, offering a smile when her mother asked about her favorite flowers, nodding along when her father talked about his new toolshed. But her mind kept drifting back, back to the foxholes in Europe, to the endless expanse of the Pacific, to the faces of the friends she had lost.

It wasn't until James quietly reached over and gave her hand a squeeze under the table that she realized her hands were trembling.

"You okay?" He asked softly, his voice low enough that only she could hear.

Evelyn nodded quickly, though her heart was racing. "Yeah. I'm fine."

But James didn't press her. He simply nodded, giving her hand another squeeze before letting go. He understood, even without words, in a way that no one else could. They had both seen too much, both carried the same weight and in that moment, his silent support was enough to help her steady herself.

After breakfast, the day passed in a quiet blur. Evelyn helped her mother in the kitchen, just like she used to. They peeled potatoes together, their hands moving in sync as they worked in comfortable silence. But every now and then, her mother would glance over at her, a soft, worried look in her eyes.

"How are you really doing, Evie?" Margaret asked gently as she sliced carrots for the stew they were preparing. "You don't have to pretend everything's okay."

Evelyn paused, her knife hovering over the potato in her hand. She didn't know how to answer that question. She didn't know how to put into words the constant ache in her chest, the way her mind seemed to wander back to places she didn't want to revisit.

"I'm... I'm trying, Mom," she said finally, her voice quiet. "It's just... it's hard."

Margaret nodded, her eyes soft with understanding. "I can't even begin to imagine what you've been through, but just know that we're here for you. All of us."

Evelyn swallowed the lump in her throat, nodding. "I know. It's just... it's not something I can explain."

Her mother reached over and squeezed her hand, her touch warm and reassuring. "You don't have to explain, sweetheart. We'll just take it one day at a time."

Evelyn forced a smile, though it felt shaky. "One day at a time," she echoed, though in her mind, she wasn't sure if she could make it through the night.

That night, after everyone had gone to bed, Evelyn lay awake in the dark, staring up at the ceiling. The house was quiet, the only sound the faint creak of the floorboards as the wind blew outside. But her mind was far from quiet. Images flashed before her eyes—gunfire, explosions, the faces of friends who hadn't made it home.

She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to push the memories away, but they came rushing back with a vengeance. She could hear the distant echoes of bombs falling, the shouts of men scrambling through the mud, the cries of the wounded.

Suddenly, she was back there—back in the trenches, the stench of gunpowder and death filling her nostrils. Her heart raced, her chest tightening as panic gripped her.

"Mary, look out!"

The shout echoed in her mind, followed by the deafening roar of an explosion. She gasped, her body jerking as if the blast had hit her all over again. Sweat drenched her skin, her breath coming in ragged gasps as she sat up, her hands clutching the quilt.

She wasn't there. She was home. She was safe.

But the pounding in her chest didn't stop. The images didn't fade.

The door creaked open, and James stepped into the room, his face etched with concern. "Evie?" he asked softly, moving to sit on the edge of her bed. "You okay?"

Evelyn didn't answer. She couldn't. The words were trapped in her throat, buried beneath the weight of the memories that threatened to overwhelm her.

James didn't say anything else. He didn't need to. He just sat there, his presence grounding her, pulling her back from the edge.

After a long moment, Evelyn finally managed to take a shaky breath, her hands slowly unclenching from the quilt. She wiped at her damp forehead, her fingers trembling as she tried to steady herself.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, her voice hoarse.

"Don't be," James said quietly. "I get it."

Evelyn glanced at him, her eyes searching his face. And in his eyes, she saw the same haunted look she had seen in her own reflection—the same pain, the same fear.

They didn't need to talk about it. They both knew what it felt like to carry the weight of war, to be haunted by the things they had seen. And in that moment, Evelyn knew she wasn't alone—not in the way she had feared.

"Thank you," she whispered, her voice barely audible.

James gave her a small nod, his hand resting briefly on her shoulder before he stood up. "Get some rest," he said softly. "I'll be right down the hall if you need me."

Evelyn watched as he left the room, the door clicking shut behind him. She lay back down, her heart still pounding, but the panic had begun to fade.

She wasn't alone. Not completely.

The days that followed were a blur of routine—helping her mother in the kitchen, working in the garden with her father, spending time with Maggie as they walked through the fields near their house. But despite the comforting familiarity of home, Evelyn felt the shadows of the war clinging to her, always lurking just beneath the surface.

She did her best to keep busy, to throw herself into the small tasks of daily life. Cooking with her mother became a small solace, a way to ground herself in the present. They baked bread together, the smell filling the house with warmth, and her mother taught her how to make new recipes that Evelyn had never had the chance to learn before.

"I've been trying new things while you were away," Margaret said one afternoon as they kneaded dough side by side. "I thought you'd like to try them when you got home."

Evelyn smiled, her hands working the dough as she focused on the simple, rhythmic motion. "I'd like that."

They didn't talk much about the war, though Evelyn could feel her mother's silent worry hanging in the air. Instead, they talked about the garden, about Maggie's schoolwork, about the weather. It was a comforting distraction, even if it didn't erase the memories that haunted her.

But the nights were harder.

The nightmares came more often than not, dragging her back into the foxholes, into the jungles of the Pacific, into the blood and the fear. And every time, James was there, his quiet presence a lifeline that pulled her back from the darkness.

One night, after waking from another nightmare, she found herself standing in the doorway of his room, her heart still racing.

"Can't sleep?" He asked, sitting up in bed, his eyes filled with understanding.

Evelyn shook her head, her throat tight as she crossed the room and sat on the edge of his bed.

James didn't say anything else. He just reached out, taking her hand in his, and for a long time, they sat in silence, the quiet of the house surrounding them.

Eventually, the storm inside her began to calm, and she felt the tension in her body ease.

"Thank you," she whispered again, her voice barely audible.

James gave her hand a small squeeze. "You're not alone, Evie. You'll never be alone."

As the days turned into weeks, Evelyn began to find a fragile sense of normalcy in her life at home. She spent more time with her family, helping her father with small projects around the house, listening to Maggie chatter about her friends and school. They laughed together, shared meals, and for brief moments, Evelyn could almost forget the war.

But the memories never stayed gone for long. Her brain insistently replayed moments from the war, moments of pain, suffering and grief. Ones that she wished she could just forget.

Evelyn swallowed hard, pushing the memories away as she forced herself to focus on the conversation around the table. But even as she smiled and laughed with her family, she knew the shadows of the past would always be with her.

Still, for now, she had her family. And that was enough.

Chapter Text

The sky hung heavy with a soft palette of pinks and oranges as the first light of dawn crept over the horizon. The sun's rays were weak, but enough to glint off the morning dew that rested lazily on the blades of grass in Evelyn's small garden. She sat quietly in an old wooden chair, slightly tilted back so she could rest her feet on the low, weather-beaten fence that framed her modest yard. The stillness of the early morning should have been comforting, but instead, it pressed on her like a weight she couldn't shake.

Sleep had long eluded Evelyn. The nightmares, persistent and brutal, clawed at her every time she closed her eyes. The gunfire, the explosions, the faces of the dead—both comrades and enemies—came for her in the silence of the night, dragging her back to the battlefields she had fought so desperately to leave behind. She had learned not to fight it anymore. Instead, she would wake before dawn, slipping out of bed silently so as not to disturb her family, and she'd find her way to the garden. It was her one place of solace, even if it couldn't fully drown out the storm raging inside her.

The air was cool, carrying the earthy scent of damp soil and the faint fragrance of blooming flowers from the garden beds her mother had lovingly tended before Evelyn had gone off to war. That was a lifetime ago now, or so it felt. She was home, back in a world that should have felt familiar, safe. But it didn't. The colors, the smells, the sounds—they all felt distant, like she was seeing them through a fog. Everything here was untouched by the war, unchanged. Yet Evelyn felt as though she had been carved out and left hollow by the things she had seen, the things she had done.

Her mind drifted, as it often did, to Anna. Her chest tightened as the memories of her friend surfaced, raw and unrelenting. Anna had been her anchor during the darkest days of the war, even when Floyd couldn't. They had been inseparable, both on the front lines and in the quieter moments between missions. Together, they had weathered the horrors of Europe, their bond forged in fire. Anna had been the one constant, the one person who understood what it meant to carry the weight of war because she carried it too.

Now, she was home, and Anna was thousands of miles away in New York. Evelyn hadn't written since she arrived, too caught up in trying to adjust to life here, too overwhelmed by her own emotions to find the words. But the ache in her heart had grown unbearable, and she knew she couldn't put it off any longer.

Slowly, Evelyn stood and made her way back inside the house. It was still early, and the rest of the family was asleep. She moved quietly, careful not to wake them as she rummaged through a drawer in the kitchen, pulling out a pen and a piece of paper.

She sat down at the table, the pen feeling heavy in her hand as she stared at the blank page before her. How could she possibly put everything she was feeling into words? How could she explain the loneliness, the nightmares, the sense that she didn't belong here anymore?

For a long moment, she sat there, the tip of the pen hovering over the paper, her mind racing with a thousand thoughts. But then, with a deep breath, she began to write.

October 30th, 1945

Dear Anna,

I've been home for almost two months now, and I'm sorry it's taken me this long to write. I've been meaning to, but every time I sat down to do it, I just... couldn't. I don't know if it's because I didn't know what to say, or if I was afraid of what would come out if I tried. Maybe it's both.

I miss you. I miss you more than I can put into words. There's a hole here without you, a quiet that I can't seem to fill, no matter how hard I try. I'm surrounded by people I love—my family, James—but I've never felt so alone in my life. They don't understand, not really. How could they? They weren't there. They didn't see what we saw, didn't feel what we felt. Sometimes I wonder if I'll ever be able to explain it to them, or if it's something I'll have to carry by myself forever.

You and I, we went through hell together, and somehow, it was easier to bear because I knew you were there with me. Now that we're apart, I feel like I'm lost in this endless fog. I keep trying to find my way back, but I don't even know where I'm supposed to be going. Everything here is the same, but I've changed, and I don't know how to fit back into a world that feels like it moved on without me.

Do you remember that day in France, when I told you I just wanted to go home and pretend none of it ever happened? I thought that once I got here, everything would feel right again.

But it doesn't. It doesn't feel right at all.

I have these dreams, Anna. Every night, I see their faces—the ones who didn't make it. I hear the explosions, the gunfire, the screams. Sometimes I wake up and forget where I am. I think I'm still there, and for a few moments, I can't breathe, I can't move. And then I remember, but it doesn't make the fear go away. I feel like I'm still in the war, like a part of me never left, and I don't know how to come home fully. I don't know if I ever will.

I haven't been able to talk to anyone about this. James... he gets it, I think. He's been through it too, and sometimes, just having him near is enough to keep me grounded. But there are things I can't even say to him. Things that feel too big, too heavy. I don't want to burden anyone with them, and maybe that's why I haven't written to you sooner. I didn't want to unload all of this onto you.

But I guess I'm doing that now, aren't I?

I keep thinking about you. I wonder if you're feeling the same way, or if being in New York has helped you. I hope it has. I hope you're finding your way, that you're feeling some kind of peace. You deserve that, more than anyone I know. You've always been stronger than me. I always looked up to you for that.

I know we'll see each other again, but I wish it could be sooner. I need to hear your voice, to sit with you like we used to and talk about everything, about nothing. I need to feel like I'm not so alone in all of this. Writing this letter helps, I guess, but it's not the same.

Please write back when you can. I'd love to hear how you're doing, what New York is like, if it's everything you hoped it would be. And even if it's not, I want to know. I want to hear your stories, your thoughts, your heart.

Take care of yourself, Anna. You mean the world to me, and I can't wait until the day we're sitting together again, laughing about something silly, like we used to.

With all my love,

Evelyn

Evelyn put down the pen, her hand trembling slightly. As she read over the words she had written, tears blurred her vision. She hadn't realized how much she had been holding inside until it spilled out onto the page.

Folding the letter carefully, she placed it in an envelope and addressed it to Anna in New York. She would send it off that day, and then all she could do was wait—wait for a reply, wait for some connection that might help her feel less adrift.

For now, though, she felt a little lighter, as if sharing her thoughts, even through a letter, had eased some of the weight pressing down on her chest. She stood up, tucking the letter under her arm as she walked back into the house, the warmth of the sun just beginning to chase away the morning chill.

But deep down, she knew the loneliness would remain until she could see Anna again, until she could find a way to make peace with the pieces of herself that still felt lost in the war.

As she stepped through the hall, she was met with the sight of James watching her, a newspaper she recognised all to well held under his arm.

"I guess you want me to explain?" She sighed, her eyes already looking directly at the many photos of her before she signalled to the table, to two of them settling down into chairs as Evelyn placed the now forgotten envelope onto the table.

Her eyes scanned over the article as she tried to collect her thoughts on where to even begin.

"Uh... Well. I take it you already know that's me in the photos?" She pointed as her brother nodded slightly, his eyes not once leaving hers as she breathed out a nervous sigh before continuing. "Uhm... I was sent into Europe to not only fight on the frontlines, but to fight from within the enemy as well. That meant I, along with all the other women, were sent on missions, basically to act as spies. These pictures, I don't know how they were taken, but they capture me on those missions."

"How did you get that scar?" James's voice cut through.

"D-day. I dropped in and was ambushed by a Kraut, he held a knife to my throat. I thought I was going to die, James." Her voice broke slightly as she relived the moment vividly. "I managed to break free, and I killed him."

"Here, it says you're estimated to have killed over 100 soldiers." He spoke, pointing at the article. "How many have you truly killed?"

Evelyn paused for a moment. She knew this question was coming, hell, she'd counted every single time one of her bullets lodged into a body. But to have to explicitly reveal the number, it felt to hard.

"174." She revealed quietly, the guilt weighing down on her as she couldn't face her brother's reaction.

The quiet that had settled between them was thick, almost suffocating, as James stared at her, his eyes searching hers. His fingers tightened around the edge of the newspaper as if holding it was the only thing keeping him grounded.

"174..." he repeated, his voice low, almost disbelieving. "That's... Evelyn, that's more people than I can even fathom."

She flinched at his words, the shame she had been holding in for so long now rising to the surface. Her heart pounded in her chest, and for a moment, she wished she could shrink away, disappear from the weight of this confession. She hadn't planned on telling James—hadn't planned on telling anyone. The number felt like a secret she would carry to her grave, a mark on her soul that she didn't know how to reconcile with.

"I know," she whispered, her voice cracking. "I counted every single one."

James blinked, the color draining from his face as he processed her words. He opened his mouth to speak, then closed it again, shaking his head as if trying to clear the confusion clouding his mind. His jaw tightened, and for a moment, Evelyn feared the worst—that he would be disgusted by her, that he would look at her the way so many others had when they found out what she had done, what she had become.

"I... I don't understand how..." James began, his voice faltering. "How did you—how could you-?"

Evelyn's breath caught in her throat as she stared at her brother. Her vision blurred with unshed tears, and she pressed her palms against the table, her fingers trembling. She had been prepared for his confusion, his disbelief, but hearing it aloud tore something open inside of her. She wasn't ready for this. She wasn't ready to explain the unimaginable choices she had made, the lives she had taken.

"Do you think I wanted to do any of it?" Her voice broke, and the flood of emotions she had kept locked away began to pour out. "Do you think I didn't feel every single one of them, James? I see their faces every night in my dreams. I feel the weight of every life I took, and I hate it. I hate myself for it. But I didn't have a choice. It was either them or me."

James's face softened, but his eyes remained full of uncertainty. He rubbed a hand over his face, struggling to grasp the enormity of what she was telling him. "I know you didn't have a choice," he said slowly. "But 174? I just—Evelyn, that's... that's so many."

Tears welled in her eyes as she dropped her gaze, unable to meet his. "I know. I know how it sounds. But you weren't there. You don't know what it was like. Every day, it was life or death. And I had to make sure I came home." She paused, her voice shaking. "I had to survive, James. That's all I could think about."

James stared at her, his expression torn between sympathy and disbelief. He exhaled slowly, his hands falling from the table. "I don't know how to make sense of all of this."

"You can't," Evelyn said quietly, wiping away a tear that had slipped down her cheek. "I've tried. I've tried to make sense of it, to justify it somehow, but I can't. The only thing I can tell you is that I'm still here because of it. I'm here because I fought like hell to survive."

James was silent for a long moment, his eyes still locked on hers, his mind clearly racing. The weight of what she had confessed hung heavily between them, a gulf of understanding that seemed too wide to bridge.

But then, slowly, he leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. "You're still my sister," he said softly, his voice gentle but firm. "I can't even begin to imagine what you went through. I don't know if I ever will. But I know you. I know your heart. And if you did what you had to do to come home, then... then that's enough for me."

Evelyn's breath hitched, the tears she had been holding back spilling over. She hadn't expected his acceptance, hadn't dared to hope for it. The relief that washed over her was almost too much to bear. "James..." she whispered, her voice breaking.

He reached across the table, taking her hand in his. His grip was firm, reassuring. "I've missed you," he said quietly. "I've missed you so much. And I don't care what happened over there. You're still my sister. You're still Evelyn."

For the first time in weeks, Evelyn felt a sense of peace settle over her. It was fragile, delicate, but it was there. James's acceptance didn't erase the guilt, the shame, but it softened the edges, made it a little easier to bear.

"I thought you'd hate me," she admitted, her voice trembling. "I thought you'd be disgusted by what I've done."

James shook his head, squeezing her hand. "I could never hate you. You've been through hell, and you made it back. That's all that matters to me."

Evelyn swallowed hard, the tears still streaming down her face. "I'm so scared, James. I'm scared I'll never be able to live with what I've done. I don't know how to be normal anymore."

James's expression softened, and he gave her hand another gentle squeeze. "Maybe you don't have to be 'normal,'" he said quietly. "Maybe it's okay if you're different now. You've been through something most people will never understand. But that doesn't mean you can't find your way back."

Evelyn nodded, though the weight of his words hung heavily in her chest. She wanted to believe him, wanted to think that there was a way to heal, to move forward. But the scars of war ran deep, and she wasn't sure if she would ever truly be free of them.

"You don't have to talk about all of it now if you're not ready," he said softly. "But when you are, I'll be here."

Evelyn nodded, her throat tight with emotion. "Thank you," she whispered. "I... I just need some time."

James nodded in understanding. "Take all the time you need."

As James left the room, Evelyn stood there for a moment, staring at the crumpled newspaper on the table. The images, the memories, would never go away. She knew that. But for the first time in a long time, she felt like maybe she didn't have to face them completely alone.

She glanced over at the envelope on the table, the letter she had written to Anna. Maybe that was the first step. Reaching out to the one person who had been there with her, who had seen the same horrors and survived the same battles. Maybe, in sharing her pain with Anna, she could begin to heal.

With a deep breath, Evelyn picked up the letter and slipped it into her pocket. She had a trip to the post office to make.

Her mind suddenly crossed over to Floyd, how his presence had warmed her in moments she couldn't handle herself.

She had given him her address, but in the celebrations of VJ Day had forgotten to ask for his, leaving all chance of communication up in his hands. Evelyn still hadn't heard from him, yet she tried to push the thoughts of doubt aside, he must be struggling just like her, and so she couldn't expect him to reach out in that state.

As she walked outside, the morning sun warmed her skin, and for the first time in what felt like ages, she lifted her head and allowed herself to feel it.

The war had left its scars, deep and unrelenting. But maybe, just maybe, she wasn't beyond saving.

Chapter Text

"Evelyn! Honey, you've got some mail!" Her mother's voice rang out through the house, slicing through the haze of early morning light filtering through the curtains. Evelyn stirred awake in her bed, remnants of a restless sleep clinging to her. Squinting at the clock on her nightstand, its hands creeping toward noon, she felt a flicker of excitement.

Pushing off her quilt, she hurriedly swung her legs over the side of the bed and padded down the creaky wooden stairs. Each step felt electric, a surge of anticipation coursing through her. As she reached the bottom, she spotted her mother standing in the kitchen, the morning light casting a soft glow around her.

"Here you go, sweetie," her mother said, handing her a thick white envelope with an elegant cursive return address. Evelyn's heart raced as she recognized the handwriting immediately. It was Anna's. A smile broke across her face as she took the envelope, her fingers trembling with a mix of excitement and anxiety.

"Thanks, Mom!" she called over her shoulder as she turned to retreat back to her room, clutching the envelope like a precious treasure. She practically tore the envelope to shreds in her haste, not caring about the delicate paper as she fumbled to pull out the letter inside.

The scent of Anna's familiar floral perfume wafted up from the page, wrapping around her like a warm embrace. She unfolded the letter, her heart pounding as she read the elegant script:

24th November, 1945

Dearest Evelyn,

I hope this letter finds you well. I can hardly believe it's been weeks since I received your last note. Your words meant so much to me, and I've thought about you constantly since. I can't express how grateful I am for your friendship, especially as I navigate this new chapter in my life.

I wanted to share some exciting news—George and I are making plans to move to Rhode Island! He's been pestering me to join him in his continuous letters, and after some long discussions (and many cups of coffee!), we decided it was the right time to take this leap. I can already picture us exploring the beautiful coastline, sipping coffee in quaint little cafes, and finding our way in a new town together. It feels exhilarating and terrifying all at once!

But amidst all the excitement, I can't help but think of you. I wish you were here to join us on this adventure. I remember our dreams of traveling together, discovering new places and building lives that were truly ours. I can't help but feel that this move is a step toward that dream—one we always shared.

Please know that no matter where life takes us, you are always in my heart. I'd love for you to come visit once we're settled, along with Floyd, of course. I want to show you all the beauty Rhode Island has to offer! We could stroll along the beaches, visit the charming lighthouses, and eat the best clam chowder we can find. What do you think?

Take care of yourself, my dear friend. I hope to hear from you soon. Remember, I'm just a letter away.

With all my love,
Anna

Evelyn's breath caught in her throat as she finished reading. A wave of nostalgia washed over her, and her heart ached with a bittersweet mix of happiness for Anna and sadness for herself. The idea of Anna and George building a life together in a new place felt surreal, like something out of a dream that she could barely grasp.

Evelyn sat down on the edge of her bed, the letter trembling slightly in her hands. She could picture Anna—her laughter, her boundless enthusiasm for life. The memory felt like a beacon, guiding her back to a time before the war when dreams seemed within reach.

As she reread Anna's words, a yearning bubbled within her. Would she ever be able to visit Rhode Island? Would she ever feel free enough to leave behind the heaviness that clung to her? The thought made her pulse race, both thrilling and terrifying.

With a deep breath, she carefully folded the letter back up, deciding she would write to Anna soon. Perhaps she could share her own hopes, her own struggles. Perhaps she could find a way to reach out across the miles and remind herself that she wasn't as alone as she sometimes felt.

Evelyn's heart raced with conflicting emotions as she sat on the edge of her bed, Anna's letter folded neatly in her hands. The sunlight streamed in through the window, casting a warm glow that contrasted sharply with the chill in the air, a reminder of the shifting seasons and the passing of time. She felt both proud and wistful for Anna as she thought about her friend's impending move to Rhode Island, but it was a sharp reminder of the silence that had enveloped her own life since she had lefts Floyd's side.

The mention of Anna finally taking the first steps with George prompted Evelyn to remember all the promises she had made with Floyd—of finding a quaint, peaceful area for the two of them to build their life together, a home where laughter and love would flourish. But now, as weeks turned into months of silence, doubt crept in like an unwelcome guest. She wondered if perhaps Floyd was too busy trying to reintegrate into society or if he had grown distant, perhaps even indifferent. The last thought pierced her heart like a cold blade—maybe he didn't love her anymore, and the pain of war had haunted the delicate blossom of their memories, ones that she herself cherished so deeply.

"Evie, are you okay? You've been staring at the paper for a while." Maggie's voice broke through the fog of her thoughts, pulling her back to the present.

Evelyn turned to see her younger sister standing in the doorway, her brow furrowed with concern. Maggie's bright auburn curls bounced as she shifted her weight from one foot to the other, her blue eyes searching Evelyn's face for answers.

"I'm fine, Maggie. Just thinking is all," she replied, forcing a smile as she ruffled her sister's hair. Evelyn tucked Anna's letter into her pocket, the physical reminder of her friend's love and support a comfort against the rising tide of her own worries. "I'm going to head out to do some gardening. Do you want to join?"

"Sure!" Maggie's face lit up with enthusiasm, and Evelyn couldn't help but giggle at her sister's infectious energy. With that, the two of them slipped out into the back garden, where a riot of color greeted them.

The garden was a patchwork of greens and vibrant blooms, the late October sun casting long shadows as they walked along the narrow path bordered by marigolds and zinnias. The sweet smell of earth and flowers filled the air, grounding Evelyn as she knelt to pull a few stubborn weeds from around the daisies.

"Evie, did you see any flowers in the war?" Maggie asked, her innocent curiosity shining through as she knelt beside her sister. "Like, pretty ones?"

Evelyn paused, her hands stilling in the soil as she searched for a suitable answer. "Well, there were a few flowers," she said slowly, trying to keep the mood light. "Mostly wildflowers, and some of them were actually quite lovely. They grew in the fields when the sun shone down just right."

Maggie's eyes widened. "Did you pick them?"

"Not really. I was usually busy with other things," Evelyn replied, her heart heavy as she thought of the chaos and confusion of war. "But I did see a lot of beautiful places. Sometimes I would catch glimpses of sunsets over the hills, and they were just breathtaking. It was like the whole sky was painted in oranges and pinks. Just like a garden, but a little more... wild."

"Wild is good!" Maggie chimed, her young mind absorbing Evelyn's words. "Did you ever see any animals? Like horses or cows?"

Evelyn chuckled, grateful for Maggie's innocent imagination. "Well, yes, there were some horses. They were often grazing in the fields. I remember one time, I saw a little foal trying to run but tripping over its own legs. It was so cute! I wished I could take it home with me."

Maggie giggled, her laughter brightening the cool air around them. "I want to see a baby horse! Can we get one?"

"We'll have to wait until we have more space," Evelyn said, planting a seedling into the soil. "But maybe one day, when we have our own little farm, we can have a horse, or even a few goats. How does that sound?"

"Yay! And we can have a big garden, too!" Maggie exclaimed, her eyes sparkling with dreams. "And we can grow all the flowers you saw!"

Evelyn smiled, the warmth of her sister's enthusiasm lifting her spirits. "Exactly! And we can plant all kinds of flowers, not just the ones I saw. We can make it our own little paradise."

As they continued to plant, Maggie's questions flowed easily, each one a reminder of the innocence that still thrived in her sister's spirit, despite how mature she had grown to be. In Evelyn's mind, she still saw her sister as the young little girl she had left behind when she joined the war. She answered each query with lighthearted responses, transforming her memories into tales of wonder, weaving a world for Maggie that was vibrant and full of hope.

But as the sun dipped lower in the sky, casting a golden hue over their garden, a deeper thought lingered in Evelyn's mind. She wondered if she could somehow embrace the uncertainty that loomed over her own life, the same way she was helping Maggie nurture their little corner of the world. Perhaps she could find a way to reach out to Floyd, to send him a letter filled with the same hope she felt for Anna.

"Evie?" Maggie interrupted her thoughts, pulling her back to the present once more. "Can we plant some sunflowers next?"

"Of course! Sunflowers are the best!" Evelyn exclaimed, the idea lighting her up. She stood up and brushed off her hands, feeling a renewed sense of purpose. "Let's get some seeds and find the perfect spot."

As they walked back toward the shed, Maggie chattered excitedly about all the adventures they would have with their garden. Evelyn listened, her heart slowly mending as she reveled in the simple joys of life and the bond she shared with her sister. Perhaps, just perhaps, there were still new beginnings waiting for her beyond the garden gate.

They quickly returned to their old position, weaving the seeds into the soil with ease, the exact movements she had done in the years before the war.

"Evie, do you like anyone?" Maggie randomly asked, startling Evelyn out of her thoughts.

"Of course I do. I like you, I like James, I like Mom and Dad." Her voice didn't hide her confusion.

"No! Not that! Like, do you love someone? Like how Mom and Dad love each other." The question now caused Evelyn to freeze as she thought about her sister's words. Of course she did, how could she not?

"Why are you asking? Do you like someone?" She asked with a teasing tone, trying to direct the conversation away from her.

"What? No!" Maggie shouted, but her reaction only garnered more teasing.

"You do!" Evelyn gasped dramatically. "Who is it? Come on, tell me, Maggie."

"No, I, uh—" Her sister tried to reason but quickly gave up as she saw the look on Evelyn's face. "He's in my math class at school."

"Is he nice?" Evelyn asked, her voice soft as she watched her sister trying to distract herself from the embarrassment as she continued planting.

"Yeah. He's top of the class as well." Maggie revealed.

"You, Maggie Donovan, have a crush on the smartest guy in school when you can't even write a proper sentence?" She teased, earning a light smack on her shoulder from her sister.

"Hey! Don't be mean." She grumbled.

"Do you like him then?" Evelyn asked, a lot more genuine than she had been for the majority of their conversation.

"I don't know, when he's near I just feel so much happier." Maggie answered, a smile painting her face as she was obviously reminiscing. "So I thought I'd ask you."

"When have I ever been good at love?" Evelyn questioned skeptically.

"I thought you dated William Carpenter from down the road?" Her sister looked confused.

"What? Me? With William Carpenter, like the William Carpenter that can't even read?" She questioned, her thoughts running haywire as she tried to connect the dots.

"Yeah? He's been going round saying you've been together since you were sixteen and he's waiting for you to return and he misses you and blah blah blah." Maggie revealed, shrugging her shoulders.

"Has he actually?" Evelyn almost slapped her hand to her face at the stupidity. "I never dated him. I would never willingly. What did he think was going to happen when I came back?"

"I don't know. Maybe he thought you'd be stupid enough to run into his arms at your return." Maggie joked as the two immediately began laughing, the image of that playing in their minds.

"You mean I would be standing there, and he'd come up, all 'Evie, my darling, I've missed you so much!' and I'd be like, 'Oh, William, how could I have lived without your terrible English!'" Evelyn mimicked dramatically, clutching her heart as if she were swooning.

Maggie doubled over in laughter, her cheeks flushed with mirth. "Exactly! And then he'd probably offer you an unreadable poem to celebrate your reunion."

"Unreadable poem?" Evelyn laughed, shaking her head. "I'd rather eat dirt! Oh wait, we might end up doing that anyway with his cooking!" She picked up a handful of soil, pretending to contemplate it like a fine delicacy.

"Evie! You wouldn't!" Maggie exclaimed, eyes wide with mock horror.

"Oh, I would! Just to avoid that dreadful meal!" And with a quick flick of her wrist, Evelyn tossed a small clump of soil at Maggie.

"Hey! No fair!" Maggie squealed, her eyes lighting up with playful defiance. She quickly scooped up her own handful of dirt and retaliated, launching it right back at Evelyn.

Evelyn ducked just in time, the clump splattering harmlessly against the fence. "Is that all you've got?" She teased, her competitive spirit igniting.

Maggie grinned, determination flashing in her eyes. "No way! I'm just getting started!" She scooped another handful, and before Evelyn could react, she unleashed a flurry of dirt, the earthy fragments showering down around them.

With laughter spilling from her lips, Evelyn grabbed another handful and charged at Maggie, who squealed and ducked behind a blooming zinnia for cover. "You can't hide forever!" Evelyn called, the thrill of the impromptu mud fight fueling her excitement.

The garden erupted into chaos as they hurled clumps of soil at each other, giggling and dodging amidst the colorful flowers. Evelyn's laughter rang out as she ducked low, narrowly avoiding a direct hit from Maggie's latest attempt.

"You're going to regret that when Mom sees you!" Evelyn shouted, her voice a mix of playful threat and glee.

"She won't care! It's just dirt! Plus, look at how much fun we're having!" Maggie giggled, shaking dirt from her hair and eyes, her laughter infectious.

As the sun dipped lower in the sky, painting everything in hues of gold and orange, the garden was transformed into a battlefield of laughter and joy. Evelyn felt the weight of her worries lift, replaced by the simple pleasure of her sister's company.

Finally, out of breath and covered in dirt, they collapsed onto the grass, laughter subsiding into a comfortable silence. The garden was a mess, but it felt alive with their shared joy—a testament to their bond.

"Okay, truce?" Maggie said, breathing heavily, her cheeks flushed with exertion.

"Truce," Evelyn agreed, offering her hand to help her sister up. They both looked at each other, faces smeared with dirt, but smiles plastered wide across their faces.

"Next time, we bring the water," Maggie declared, already scheming for their next playful battle.

Evelyn laughed, brushing off the remnants of their playful war. "And maybe we should plant the sunflowers first before we go crazy!"

Together, they walked back toward the shed, a newfound lightness in their steps. In that moment, Evelyn realized that while uncertainty loomed over her life, there were still bright spots waiting to blossom, just like the flowers in their garden. And with Maggie by her side, she felt ready to face whatever came next.

Chapter Text

The cold winter air was beginning to leave over Boston, Massachusetts, though the cold air was still sending a shiver through Evelyn as she crossed the street. Winter had practically come and gone as spring was slowly starting to set in, and now, she could officially say she was old enough to buy a drink—though she doubted she ever would. The brown and red leaves had fallen from their trees early on, leaving the skeletal branches to sway in the biting wind.

With Maggie in school for the last few weeks, just returning back after new years and her brother back at work in the local factory alongside their father, Evelyn had decided to take a stroll through the quiet streets of her neighborhood. The house felt overwhelmingly still, a suffocating silence filling every corner. Her mother was busy helping the elderly at their local church aid stations, leaving Evelyn to her own thoughts—thoughts that often consumed her, thoughts she wished would vanish.

As she walked, her mind drifted to memories she could never escape, the war, the horrors she had witnessed, the friends she had lost. Each recollection weighed heavily on her conscience, pressing down on her every waking moment.

Evelyn had kept in contact with Anna throughout the weeks. Anna's letters described her plans to join George in Rhode Island, painting pictures of hopes and dreams Evelyn could hardly bear to read. Though she felt happy for her friend, it only amplified the doubts that echoed in her mind about her own life. Joining the war had meant she had not finished high school, and that left her few options for employment. She realized her only real chance at a comfortable life would come from marrying a man who could offer it—yet she could not imagine marrying anyone other than Floyd.

Floyd had held her together through her worst moments, mending and healing her soul in ways she couldn't fully articulate. So she clung to the hope that he would find his way back to her. Every day without him felt like a year.

Lost in her thoughts, she almost missed the moment she spotted Maggie walking toward her, her backpack slung over her shoulder and a broad smile lighting up her face.

"Evelyn!" Maggie exclaimed as she ran up to her sister, wrapping her in a tight hug.

"Hi, Mags. School done already?" Evelyn asked, brushing a few loose strands of hair out of Maggie's face.

"Yeah!" Maggie beamed, her eyes shining with excitement. "Look what Alex gave me!"

Evelyn froze for a moment at the mention of Alex, a name that reminded her of Penkala, one of the men she had fought alongside who hadn't made it back home. Her heart grew heavy, his face flashing through her mind as a frown carved her face. She quickly pushed those thoughts aside, however, and smiled back at her sister, looking down at the small cupcake Maggie was holding.

"So Alex is his name?" She wiggled her eyebrows playfully, earning another smack from Maggie.

"Leave me alone!" Maggie turned away, her cheeks flushing red, before racing off toward home, leaving Evelyn laughing softly to herself. Shaking her head, she soon followed, her thoughts feeling somewhat lighter.

As she entered their home, warmth enveloped her, a stark contrast to the biting cold outside. She quickly stripped off her heavy coat and boots, ready to escape back into the comfort of her room.

"Evie, is that you?" Her mother's voice called out from the kitchen.

"Yeah, it's me, Mom!" Evelyn shouted back, planning to head straight upstairs.

"You've got a guest! Come to the kitchen."

Evelyn sighed, knowing she had no plausible excuse to avoid whatever was about to unfold, though she just wished she could crawl back under the warmth of her covers.

"Coming!" She shouted, reluctantly making her way to the kitchen.

As she stepped through the doorway, she froze. Her heart raced, practically beating out of her ribcage. There, leaning against the counter, was Floyd, a vision she had dreamt about countless nights. Next to him stood Maggie, asking a whirlwind of questions while their mother cooked, blissfully unaware of the emotions swirling in the room.

The moment their eyes met, it was as if the entire world faded away, leaving just the two of them in a bubble of disbelief.

"Dimples." Floyd murmured, a soft smile breaking across his face as he slowly approached her, his arms opening wide.

"Floyd." Evelyn's voice barely escaped her lips as she stepped forward, letting him envelop her in a tight hug. The warmth of his embrace felt like coming home. She pressed her head against his chest, breathing in the familiar scent of him—the comforting blend of soap and something uniquely Floyd. She clung to him, afraid that if she let go, he would vanish again.

Minutes passed as they stood there, lost in each other's presence. Neither wanted to pull away, both savoring the moment that felt like a dream. Maggie and their mother exchanged glances, smiles spreading across their faces as they witnessed the heartfelt reunion.

Finally, they pulled apart, gazing into each other's eyes. Floyd's thumb brushed gently against her cheek, a gesture that sent shivers down her spine.

"Why didn't you write me?" Evelyn asked, her voice trembling slightly as pain flickered across her features.

Floyd sighed, running a hand through his hair, his expression turning serious. "I thought you wouldn't want me to write, that maybe you'd given up on us," he admitted, his voice low and filled with emotion.

Evelyn felt a lump form in her throat. "How could I? You're all I've thought about. I waited for your letters, Floyd. Every day felt like an eternity."

He looked down for a moment, as if weighing his words. "I didn't want to burden you with the things I was going through. I thought... maybe it was better to stay away."

"Better?" she echoed, frustration bubbling up within her. "I was terrified, Floyd! Every day, I wondered if you were okay, if you were alive. I needed you."

His gaze snapped back to hers, and for a moment, silence reigned in the kitchen. "I'm here now," he said softly. "I'm here."

Maggie, sensing the emotional weight of the moment, cleared her throat, trying to lighten the mood. "Okay, lovebirds! Dinner's almost ready, but I want to hear more about what you've been up to!"

Evelyn couldn't help but chuckle, breaking the tension. "Right, dinner."

Their mother bustled about, setting the table and fussing over the meal, while Floyd took a seat at the table, glancing around the kitchen as if taking it all in. Evelyn sat beside him, their knees brushing together, a small comfort that made her heart race.

"Wow, you have a lovely home," Floyd remarked, looking around.

"Thank you!" their mother chimed in, beaming with pride. "It's a work in progress, but we love it."

Dinner was filled with laughter and chatter as Maggie bombarded Floyd with questions about his time away. "So, what was it like? Did you see any action? What's the craziest thing you did?"

Their father, Thomas, interjected with a more serious tone, "And what are your plans now that you're back, Floyd? Are you going to find work?"

Evelyn's heart raced as she watched Floyd navigate the barrage of questions. He spoke about his experiences, carefully omitting the more traumatic details, and focused on the camaraderie he had found among his fellow soldiers. Each story he shared brought laughter, but James remained inquisitive.

"Do you plan on staying around here, or...?" Thomas's voice trailed off, leaving the question lingering in the air.

"I'll be around as long as Evelyn wants me here," Floyd replied, his gaze steady and sincere as it met hers.

Their mother, sensing the undercurrent of tension, interjected. "Let the poor boy eat! You're interrogating him like he's a criminal."

Laughter erupted again, and Floyd took a moment to enjoy the warmth of the family atmosphere. It felt surreal to be there, at the table, surrounded by people who cared.

After dinner, Thomas pulled Floyd aside, motioning for him to follow him into the living room. Evelyn watched, her heart pounding. "What are those two talking about?" She asked Maggie, who was busy clearing the table.

"Probably asking him about his intentions." Maggie replied, rolling her eyes playfully.

"Typical Dad." James chimed in from the side as Evelyn shook her head in response.

In the living room, Thomas wasted no time. "So, Floyd. What are your intentions with my daughter?"

Floyd stood up straight, his expression turning serious. "I care about Evelyn more than anything. I know things have changed since I left, but I want to be a part of her life. I want to support her, whatever that looks like."

Thomas studied him for a moment, his brow furrowing in thought. "You do realize she's been through a lot, right? Adjusting back to normal life after everything she's seen is going to be difficult."

"I understand, sir." Floyd replied, his tone earnest. "I'm here for her. I want to help her heal. I just want to be with her."

After a long pause, Thomas nodded slowly. "Okay, but you need to understand that this family comes first. If you're going to be in Evelyn's life, you need to respect that."

"I do." Floyd assured him, a flicker of relief crossing his face.

Thomas continued. "And are you planning to take her away from here? To wherever you're staying?"

Floyd hesitated for a moment. "I'll be happy wherever I am, as long as I'm with Evelyn."

James nodded, seemingly satisfied with his answer. Just then, Evelyn walked into the room, catching the last part of their conversation. "Dad? Can I take Floyd for a walk?"

"Just don't do anything stupid." Thomas replied with a chuckle, shaking his head at the two of them.

"Thanks!" Evelyn exclaimed as she grabbed Floyd's hand, excitement bubbling inside her whilst they stepped outside into the cold night air.

The streets were quiet as they walked side by side, the moon illuminating their path. Evelyn could feel the warmth radiating from Floyd as they strolled, and for the first time in what felt like forever, she felt light.

"Thank you for coming back," she said softly, glancing up at him. "I didn't know how much I truly missed you until I saw you again."

"I missed you too," Floyd replied, his gaze locked on her. "It felt like forever."

Evelyn took a deep breath, the cold air filling her lungs, but it was not enough to cool the heat rising inside her. "I've been struggling since I got back," she confessed, her voice trembling slightly. "I thought being home would be easier, but sometimes it feels even harder."

"Why's that?" he asked, concern etched on his face.

"It's just... everything reminds me of what I went through. I can't escape it. I see people living their lives, and I feel like I'm stuck. Like I don't belong here anymore."

Floyd stopped walking, turning to face her fully. "Dimples, you belong here. You just need time to adjust. You're not alone in this. I'm here with you. We can figure this out together."

Tears prickled at the corners of her eyes. "What if I can't? What if I can't find my place again?"

"Then we'll find a new place together," he said firmly. "I'll help you. We can go anywhere. You can join me in Kokomo, Indiana if you want. We can start fresh. Just you and me."

Evelyn's heart raced at the thought. "Kokomo... Indiana? What would I do there?"

"You'd be with me," he replied, his eyes sparkling with hope. "We can find a job, make new friends, build a life. I can't promise it'll be easy, but I promise it'll be worth it."

"I don't know, Floyd," she said hesitantly, "What if it's just an escape? What if I need to face everything here first?"

"Facing everything doesn't mean you have to do it alone. Let me be there for you. Wherever we are, we can support each other. I want to be your safe place."

Evelyn felt her resolve waver, and for a moment, hope blossomed within her. "What if it doesn't work? What if we end up hurting each other?"

"Then we'll figure it out together. We'll talk about it, communicate. I don't want to lose you again." Floyd's voice was earnest, and his grip on her hand tightened, anchoring her in the moment.

Evelyn nodded slowly, her heart warming at the thought of them building a life together, whatever that might look like. "Okay," she finally said, a small smile breaking through her worries. "I'll think about it."

"How did your parents react to you arriving home?" Evelyn asked, looking up at the man with a bright smile on her face.

"My mom cried." Floyd chuckled, replaying the memory in his mind. "Dad was timid as usual, knew he missed me though."

Evelyn smiled brighter at that as their hands remained clasped together. "They sound sweet, Floyd."

"Yeah, they are." He answered quietly, turning to look at her as he took her all in, not once glancing away as they walked forward.

"You're staring." Evelyn cut through, turning to look right back at him.

"Can I not stare at my beautiful girlfriend?" Floyd questioned, butterflies filled her stomach as she heard his words.

"Quit flirting." She swatted his face away, laughter erupting from him as he watched her cheeks grow red. He released his hand from her grip, quickly wrapping his arm across her shoulders as he pulled her in closely, placing a light kiss on her head.

Evelyn drew in a deep breath, the cold air filling her lungs, but she felt anything but cold. Next to her, Floyd radiated warmth, and with each step they took, the weight of the world seemed to lift off her shoulders.

"It's crazy how much things have changed," she said, breaking the silence as they walked side by side. Her gaze drifted toward the sky, the light reflecting on the ground.

"Yeah, but some things feel the same," Floyd replied, his voice low and sincere. He stole a glance at her, a hint of nostalgia dancing in his eyes. "Like how my heart races whenever I see you."

Evelyn felt a warmth spread through her at his words. They weren't new; they were familiar, yet they ignited something deep within her. "You always know what to say, don't you?" she teased lightly, attempting to mask the flutter of her heart.

"It's a gift." He said, a playful grin tugging at his lips as he nudged her shoulder with his.

"Or a curse." She shot back, a laugh escaping her lips. "You could just be saying it to charm me."

Floyd's expression shifted, his teasing smile fading into something more earnest. "Maybe I'm just being honest. It's been a long time since I've felt this way about anyone, let alone you." He paused, letting the weight of his words hang in the air between them.

Evelyn stopped walking, turning to face him fully. "I know what you mean. It feels like everything I thought I knew about us changed overnight."

He stepped closer, closing the distance between them. The air seemed to thrum with tension as he searched her eyes, looking for a sign, any sign, that they were on the same page. "But it didn't have to. We had something special, and I'm here to remind you of that."

Her heart raced, and she felt her breath hitch. "So, what do you want to do right now?" she asked, a spark of defiance igniting within her.

Floyd smiled, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "How about I remind you of all those times I flirted with you?"

She rolled her eyes but couldn't help the smile that crept across her face. "Flirting is not going to solve anything, you know."

"Maybe not," he replied, stepping even closer, his breath warm against her skin. "But it certainly helps."

Evelyn bit her lip, trying to suppress the smile that threatened to break free. "You really think you can charm me back into your good graces?"

"I don't think—I know," he said confidently, tilting his head as he studied her. "You've always had a weakness for my charm, haven't you?"

"Maybe," she admitted, feeling heat rise in her cheeks. "But you're not getting off that easy. I need to know you mean it."

"Alright, let's make a deal," he proposed, his voice dropping to a softer tone. "Let's just be honest with each other. No games, no pretenses."

"Fine. Honesty it is," she replied, a hint of playfulness in her tone. "So what's on your mind?"

He took a deep breath, his gaze unwavering as he searched her eyes for understanding. "I want to be with you, Evelyn. I want to try again. I don't want to lose you again. Being apart felt like an eternity. I've missed you every single day."

Evelyn's heart swelled at his confession, and for a moment, everything else faded away. "I've missed you too," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. "But what if we can't go back? What if things are different now?"

Floyd stepped even closer, the warmth radiating from him enveloping her in a way that felt safe and inviting. "I don't want to go back to how things were. I want to move forward—together."

The sincerity in his eyes made her pulse quicken. She felt the world around them shrink, the air thick with unsaid words and longing. "It's just... it's scary, you know?" she said, vulnerability creeping into her tone.

"I know," he said softly, reaching out to gently tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear, his fingers lingering for just a moment longer than necessary. "But it's worth the risk if it's with you."

The moment felt electric. The warmth of his hand against her skin sent shivers down her spine, and her breath caught in her throat. "What if we get hurt again?"

"Then we'll figure it out together," he replied, his voice steady. "I'm not going anywhere, Dimples. You have my word."

With that, Evelyn felt the walls around her heart start to crumble. "I want to believe you," she confessed, her eyes searching his. "I really do."

He took another step closer, their bodies nearly touching. "Then let's take a chance, just this once."

Evelyn's heart raced as she felt the tension between them intensify. "You know, you're really pushing it with all this talk about feelings." She said, trying to inject some humor into the moment, but it fell flat as the weight of the conversation pressed down on them.

"Maybe I am." Floyd replied, his expression serious yet playful. "But it's because I care about you, and I want to make sure you know that."

Evelyn felt the heat rising to her cheeks, and she tried to suppress a smile. "You're annoying."

"Annoying? Maybe. But I'm also persistent," he said, his tone low and teasing, leaning in slightly. "And I can't help but think that maybe, just maybe, this moment could lead to something more."

Evelyn's breath hitched again, and she felt her heart skip a beat. "Are you saying what I think you're saying?"

"Depends." He said, a teasing smile playing on his lips as he leaned closer, his gaze fixed on hers. "What do you think I'm saying?"

Her pulse quickened as she felt the heat radiating off him. "That you want to kiss me?"

His smile widened, and he closed the gap between them, tilting his head slightly. "What if I am?"

Evelyn's heart raced, and she felt herself leaning into him, drawn by an invisible force. "Then maybe I wouldn't mind that," she murmured, her voice trembling slightly.

"Then let's not waste this moment," Floyd said, his voice low and husky. He took her hand in his, the warmth of his skin igniting a spark within her. "Just trust me, Dimples."

As their eyes locked, the world around them faded into the background. The only sounds were the rustling leaves and the soft whispers of the wind. With a tentative smile, Evelyn tilted her head slightly, her heart pounding in her chest as Floyd closed the distance between them.

Time seemed to slow as their lips met, soft and tentative at first, a gentle exploration of all the unspoken emotions that had built up between them, ones they hadn't exchanged since their farewell kiss in Europe. The kiss deepened, becoming more passionate, their bodies instinctively moving closer together as if they were two magnets drawn to each other.

Evelyn felt herself melting into him, the world around them disappearing completely as they lost themselves in the moment. The kiss was everything she had missed—the warmth, the familiarity, the connection that sparked between them like a flame.

When they finally pulled away, both breathless and wide-eyed, a mixture of surprise and delight washed over Floyd's face. "Wow," he breathed, looking at her with a newfound intensity. "I think I could get used to that."

Evelyn laughed softly, her cheeks flushed. "Yeah? Maybe we should do it again sometime."

"Definitely." He replied, a grin spreading across his face. "And again. And again."

They stood there for a moment, simply gazing at each other, the weight of the world slipping away as they took in the reality of their connection. The sunset bathed them in a soft glow, and everything felt right.

"Okay, we should probably head back." Evelyn finally said, breaking the spell as she reluctantly took a step back, their fingers lingering together before they fell apart.

"Yeah, probably." Floyd agreed, a hint of mischief in his eyes. "But I'm glad we did that. I've been wanting to for a long time."

"Me too," Evelyn replied, her heart still racing as they began to walk back home, hands brushing against each other as they moved. The cool evening air wrapped around them, but the warmth between them lingered, a promise of what was to come.

They continued walking, the night deepening around them, lost in their conversation about dreams, fears, and everything in between. They shared laughter and memories, and with each step, Evelyn felt a little lighter.

When they returned home, Evelyn led Floyd to her childhood room. "I want to show you something," she said, excitement bubbling within her.

As they entered, Floyd looked around, taking in the familiar surroundings. The walls were adorned with posters of old movies, photographs of friends, and mementos from her life before the war.

"This is amazing," he said, walking over to her bookshelf. "You've collected quite the treasure trove."

Evelyn laughed, feeling a blush creep onto her cheeks. "It's just stuff, really."

"But it's your stuff. It tells your story." He picked up a small figurine, turning it over in his hands. "What's this?"

"That's from my first school play. I was so nervous, but it was one of the best experiences of my life." She smiled, remembering the rush of adrenaline and excitement.

Floyd moved from one item to the next, asking questions and engaging with her memories. They spent hours talking, sharing stories, and laughing over the silliest things.

Eventually, as the exhaustion of the day settled in, Evelyn found herself curling up next to Floyd on her bed. The world outside faded away as they held each other close, feeling the warmth radiating between them.

As the room grew dark, they fell into a comfortable silence, wrapped in each other's arms. Slowly, their breathing synchronized, and they drifted off to sleep, their hearts finally at ease.

Meanwhile, down the hall, Evelyn's parents stood at the doorway, watching the peaceful scene unfold. They exchanged glances, smiles spreading across their faces as they took in the sight of their daughter finally looking content, wrapped in the arms of the boy who had stolen her heart.

"She deserves this," Evelyn's mother whispered, a soft tear escaping her eye. "She's been through so much."

Thomas nodded in agreement. "She's finally found someone who cares for her. That's all I ever wanted."

The two stood there for a moment longer, cherishing the newfound happiness in their daughter's life before quietly slipping away, leaving Evelyn and Floyd to their dreams.

In the cocoon of warmth, Evelyn stirred slightly, nestled against Floyd. She felt safe, loved, and for the first time in a long while, she was at peace. As the night deepened, they remained wrapped in each other's arms, ready to face whatever challenges the future held, together.

In that small moment, within the walls of her childhood room, Evelyn felt the seeds of a new beginning sprouting, filled with hope, love, and the promise of tomorrow.

Chapter Text

Evelyn stirred, her eyes fluttering open to the soft morning light that seeped through the thin fabric of her curtains. The warm hues of the sunrise filled the room with a golden glow, casting long shadows across the walls. For a moment, she lay still, cocooned in her blankets, savoring the drowsy warmth of her bed. But as she shifted slightly, she became acutely aware of the emptiness beside her.

Her heart lurched, and a rush of fear surged through her as she reached out her hand to the cool, untouched space where Floyd had been the night before. Was it all a dream? The question lingered in her mind, gnawing at her. The vividness of his presence, the sound of his voice, the warmth of his embrace—they had felt so real. But now, in the quiet stillness of her room, doubt crept in.

Evelyn sat up, pushing the blankets off of her with a sense of urgency. Her heart ached at the thought that she had imagined it all, that she had merely dreamt his return, and that reality was still the same cold, empty place it had been before. The room felt suddenly too quiet, too lonely.

Just as her breath quickened with worry, a burst of laughter echoed from downstairs. His laughter—unmistakable, deep, and warm, like it always had been.

Relief flooded through her, so overwhelming that her entire body seemed to exhale the tension all at once. She closed her eyes for a second, taking in the sound, letting it fill her with a peace she hadn't felt in months. Floyd was real. He was downstairs, here, with her, and the weight of that realization made her heart swell.

Rising from the bed, Evelyn ran her hands through her hair, sweeping loose strands away from her face. She stretched her arms over her head, feeling the stiffness in her muscles from a restless sleep. As she moved, the faint scent of him still clung to the sheets—a comforting mix of soap and something distinctly Floyd that made her heart flutter all over again. She smiled to herself, a small, secret smile, as she padded barefoot across the wooden floor toward the door.

Descending the stairs, she moved quietly, her footsteps barely making a sound on the well-worn wood. The house was peaceful in the early morning light, the golden hues spilling through the windows and casting long, gentle rays that stretched across the hallway. As she neared the kitchen, the sound of conversation grew clearer, accompanied by the familiar clinking of dishes being washed and dried.

Evelyn paused for a moment just outside the kitchen, listening. Her mother's voice carried through the air, cheerful and animated, interspersed with Floyd's deep laughter. Their conversation sounded easy and light, the kind of casual banter that spoke of familiarity and comfort. It was a sound she hadn't realized she missed so much—Floyd's voice blending into the everyday rhythms of her family life.

With a soft smile, Evelyn stepped into the kitchen, and the sight before her warmed her heart.

Her mother, apron-clad as always, stood at the sink, her sleeves rolled up as she methodically washed the breakfast dishes. She hummed quietly to herself, occasionally casting a glance over her shoulder as she spoke to Floyd. Beside her, Floyd was drying the dishes with a faded checkered flannel, his broad shoulders relaxed, his movements unhurried. He looked perfectly at home there, in the warm glow of the kitchen, the morning light catching in his dark hair and highlighting the faint stubble along his jawline.

The sight of him, here in her home, performing such an ordinary task, filled Evelyn with a strange sense of contentment. It was as if, for the first time since the war, the pieces of her life were beginning to fall back into place.

Floyd glanced up from the plate he was drying, catching sight of Evelyn standing in the doorway. His face lit up instantly, a wide, easy smile spreading across his lips. "Good morning, Dimples," he greeted, his voice warm and playful.

Evelyn felt her cheeks flush slightly at the familiar nickname, but she couldn't help the grin that spread across her own face in response. "Morning," she replied, stepping further into the kitchen. "I see you've been put to work already."

Her mother chuckled from the sink, casting a teasing glance over her shoulder. "Oh, I didn't have to twist his arm too much. He volunteered."

Floyd held up the dishtowel with a mock-serious expression. "Can't let your mom do all the work. Besides, I'm trying to earn my keep."

Evelyn's mother swatted playfully at him with a soapy hand, laughing. "Don't you start, Floyd Talbert. You've already earned your place here just by showing up."

Evelyn felt a swell of gratitude toward her mother. She had always been generous with her affection, quick to welcome people into their home, and her warmth toward Floyd made Evelyn's heart ache in the best way possible. It meant more to her than she could express, seeing her family embrace Floyd without hesitation.

"Do you need any help?" Evelyn offered, though she suspected they had things well under control.

Her mother waved her off with a smile. "We're almost done, dear. Why don't you sit and have some breakfast? I saved you a plate."

Floyd shot her a glance. "Yeah, your mom's been spoiling me with a feast this morning. I think I've eaten enough for two people already."

Evelyn laughed, making her way to the small kitchen table where a plate of eggs, bacon, and toast awaited her. "I'll never say no to breakfast." She said as she sat down, her stomach rumbling at the sight of the food. She hadn't realized how hungry she was until now.

As she began eating, she couldn't help but steal glances at Floyd. The sight of him moving around the kitchen so naturally filled her with a sense of peace. He looked good—healthier than she had feared, though there was still something different about him, something that only she could see. It was in the way he carried himself, the slight tension in his shoulders, the shadows that occasionally flickered across his eyes when he thought no one was watching. She knew he had been through things, seen things, that had left their mark on him. But for now, in this moment, he seemed more at ease than he had the night before.

After a few minutes of comfortable chatter, her mother wiped her hands on her apron and declared, "Well, I think that's everything cleaned up. I'll leave you two to catch up. I'm going to check on the garden."

She gave Floyd's shoulder a gentle pat as she passed, then pressed a kiss to Evelyn's forehead before heading out the back door, leaving the two of them alone in the kitchen.

For a moment, silence settled between them, but it wasn't uncomfortable. Floyd sat down across from her at the table, leaning back in his chair with a contented sigh.

"You're up early," Evelyn remarked, taking a bite of toast. "I thought you'd sleep in after everything."

Floyd shrugged, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "I've never been much of a sleeper, especially lately. Besides, your mom makes a mean breakfast."

Evelyn chuckled. "That she does."

For a few moments, they fell into an easy rhythm, exchanging small talk and laughing softly at each other's jokes. But beneath the surface, Evelyn could sense the weight of unspoken words between them. There was so much they hadn't yet said, so much that needed to be shared, but she wasn't sure where to begin.

Floyd seemed to sense it too because his expression grew more serious as he leaned forward, resting his arms on the table. "Dimples," he began, his voice soft, "about last night..."

Evelyn's heart skipped a beat. She had been dreading and anticipating this conversation in equal measure. There was no denying the unresolved tension between them—the questions she had, the answers she needed.

"I'm sorry," he continued, his gaze dropping to his hands. "I didn't mean to shut you out for so long. I know I hurt you by not writing."

Evelyn swallowed, setting her fork down. She had promised herself that she wouldn't let her emotions take control, but hearing him acknowledge the pain he had caused made her throat tighten. "Why didn't you?" she asked quietly, her voice betraying the hurt she had tried so hard to hide. "Why didn't you write, Floyd? I waited... I waited every day for months, hoping for something."

Floyd sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. "I wanted to, believe me. But every time I tried... I couldn't find the words. I didn't want to burden you with what was going on over there. And part of me thought... I don't know, maybe it was better if I just stayed away."

"Better?" Evelyn's voice trembled, the frustration bubbling up despite her best efforts to stay calm. "How could it be better, Floyd? Do you have any idea how hard it was, not knowing if you were alive or dead?"

He flinched at her words, his gaze dropping to the table. "I know," he whispered, his voice thick with regret. "I know. And I'm sorry. I thought I was doing the right thing, but I was wrong."

For a moment, they sat in silence, the weight of their emotions hanging heavily in the air between them. Evelyn stared down at her plate, her appetite suddenly gone. She had imagined this conversation so many times, rehearsed what she would say, but now that it was happening, it felt so much harder than she had anticipated.

Floyd broke the silence first, his voice low and hesitant. "I didn't want you to see me like this," he admitted, gesturing vaguely to himself. "The things I've seen... the things I've done... I'm not the same person I was before. And I didn't want you to feel like you had to fix me."

Evelyn's heart ached at his words. She had always known, deep down, that the war would change each one of them, that they wouldn't come back the same person who had left. But she hadn't been prepared herself for how much it would affect him. She reached across the table, placing her hand over his.

"You don't need to be fixed, Floyd," she said softly. "I just want you back. I just want to be there for you."

Floyd looked up at her, his eyes filled with a mixture of gratitude and sorrow. "I don't know if I can be the person you need me to be."

Evelyn squeezed his hand gently, her voice steady and full of conviction. "You're already the person I need, Floyd. We'll figure the rest out together."

For a long moment, they simply held each other's gaze, the silence between them filled with unspoken promises. It wasn't going to be easy—Evelyn knew that much. There were still so many wounds that needed to heal, both visible and invisible. But for the first time in a long time, she felt hopeful.

Eventually, Floyd broke the silence with a small, tentative smile. "You know," he said, his tone lightening, "I've missed this. Being here, with you."

Evelyn smiled back, her heart warming at his words. "I've missed you too."

They stayed like that for a while, talking and laughing softly as the morning sun continued to rise, filling the kitchen with light. Outside, the world was still spinning, the challenges of life still looming ahead of them. But for now, in this small, quiet moment, they had each other. And that was enough.

The sun hung high in the sky, a brilliant but cold April afternoon that filled the streets with a soft, golden glow. The crisp air clung to their breath as Evelyn and Floyd wandered hand-in-hand along the tree-lined path, their steps leisurely, as if they had all the time in the world. It had become a favorite activity of hers since returning home, this act of walking—perhaps because it gave her mind time to roam, to process the overwhelming rush of emotions that had come with Floyd's return. But also, it was an excuse to be near him, to feel his warmth beside her.

The street was quiet, save for the occasional rustle of leaves as the wind caught in the trees, shaking them gently, and the soft sound of their shoes against the pavement. Floyd's hand was firm around hers, his thumb tracing small circles over her knuckles in a slow, absentminded motion that sent tingles down her spine.

"Floyd," she began, her voice soft, hesitant. She had been thinking about this for the entire night since he appeared, and she couldn't keep it to herself any longer. "I think... I think I want to move to Kokomo with you."

Her words lingered in the air for a moment, their weight palpable. She could feel Floyd's steps slow beside her, his hand tightening slightly around hers as he absorbed her statement. After a few moments of silence, he came to a full stop, gently pulling her to a halt as well. He turned to face her, his expression unreadable, though his dark eyes searched hers, clearly taken aback by her words.

"You don't have to, Dimples." He said, his voice soft but firm, using the nickname he had always called her, the one that seemed to roll off his tongue so naturally, as if it had always belonged to her. "I'm happy wherever we are. I don't want you to feel like you have to uproot your life just for me."

Evelyn bit her lip, a slight flush creeping into her cheeks. She hadn't expected him to say that, and while she appreciated the sentiment, it didn't change what she had been feeling since she returned home. "No, Floyd... it's not that. You're right, I don't have to. But I want to." She shifted her weight slightly, looking down at her shoes before lifting her gaze back to his. "You have to head back eventually, right? To Kokomo? I know you're just visiting now, but... it doesn't feel right for me to stay here."

Floyd's brow furrowed slightly, concern flickering in his expression. "What do you mean? This is your home."

"That's just it," she said, her voice growing more certain as the words tumbled out. "It doesn't feel like home anymore. Ever since I came back, it's like... like I don't belong here. Like the person I was before doesn't fit in this place anymore. And I think I need a fresh start, somewhere new. Somewhere that's ours."

Floyd let out a long sigh, his expression softening as he processed her words. He glanced down the street for a moment, his eyes following the way the sunlight glinted off the rooftops of the houses, and then back to her. "I've still got a few more days here, so... think hard about it, okay? Don't rush into anything."

But Evelyn nodded almost immediately, the certainty already solidified in her mind. She knew what her decision was—she had known for days now. "I don't need to think about it, Floyd. I know."

His lips curved into a small, crooked smile, though there was a seriousness in his eyes that told her he wasn't taking this lightly. He reached out and cupped her cheek with his free hand, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "You're something else, you know that?" He murmured, his thumb brushing lightly against her skin. "We'll figure it out."

They continued their walk, the conversation left to linger in the air between them as they strolled down the street. A cold breeze stirred the leaves around them, causing Evelyn to shiver slightly despite Floyd's arm now wrapped protectively around her. He pulled her closer to him, his warmth shielding her from the wind.

As they passed by the larger houses that lined the street, the familiar sound of a voice called out from behind them.

"Evelyn?"

She turned, and her eyes widened in surprise as she saw William Carpenter standing a few feet away, his expression one of shock, as if he couldn't quite believe he had run into her. His eyes scanned over her quickly, then flicked to Floyd beside her, and his brow furrowed slightly.

"William?" Evelyn greeted, forcing a polite smile to her lips despite the unease that settled in her stomach. "Hi, how are you?"

"Good, I guess," he replied, though his tone lacked conviction. His gaze shifted again to Floyd, lingering for a moment before he asked, "Who's that?"

Evelyn blinked, momentarily caught off guard by the question. "Oh, well... this is Floyd," she said, glancing up at Floyd with a soft smile. "He's my boyfriend."

At her words, she felt Floyd's arm tighten slightly around her waist, his hand resting firmly on her hip, as if to affirm the statement. She couldn't help the light blush that crept into her cheeks, feeling the protective gesture.

William's eyes widened further, and for a split second, something flashed across his face—disbelief? Disappointment? It was hard to tell. "Boyfriend?" He echoed, his voice tinged with something that made Evelyn's skin prickle uncomfortably.

"Yes," Evelyn said, her tone more assertive now. "We served in the same company."

There was a brief, awkward pause as William's eyes shifted between the two of them, his jaw working slightly, as if he were trying to process what she had just said. The silence stretched on for what felt like an eternity, and Evelyn could feel the tension growing by the second.

"Well... that's, uh... that's great," William finally said, though the words sounded forced, and his smile didn't quite reach his eyes. He cleared his throat awkwardly, shuffling his feet as if unsure of what to say next.

Evelyn felt her stomach twist with discomfort. She had never been particularly close to William, but the awkwardness of this encounter, combined with the knowledge of what her sister had told her, made the situation all the more unbearable.

"Yeah," Evelyn said, her smile tight now. "It's been really good having him home."

An uneasy silence followed, and Evelyn could tell that neither she nor William knew how to navigate this conversation any further. She could feel Floyd's gaze on her, his brow slightly furrowed as he observed the exchange, no doubt picking up on the awkwardness in the air.

"Well," Evelyn said finally, her voice bright but firm, "it was good to see you, William. But we should get going." She took a step back, tugging lightly on Floyd's arm. "We're just out for a walk."

"Oh, right. Of course," William said, nodding quickly, though his expression remained clouded. "Nice meeting you, Floyd."

Floyd gave him a brief nod, his hand still resting protectively on Evelyn's waist. "Likewise." He said, though there was a sharpness to his tone that told Evelyn he had sensed the tension as well.

With that, Evelyn turned on her heel, pulling Floyd along with her as they resumed their walk, eager to put as much distance between themselves and William as possible. Her heart pounded in her chest, though she wasn't entirely sure why. She felt a mixture of frustration, relief, and something else she couldn't quite place.

After a few moments of walking in silence, Floyd glanced down at her, his brow arched in curiosity. "So... who was that?"

Evelyn let out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding, her cheeks flushing slightly as she prepared to explain. "That was William Carpenter," she said, glancing up at him sheepishly. "Maggie told me he's been telling people we were dating while I was away at war."

Floyd stopped in his tracks, his eyes widening in disbelief before he burst out laughing—a deep, hearty laugh that echoed down the street. "Wait- what?" he asked, his laughter only growing as he looked at her, clearly finding the whole situation absurd. "That guy?"

Evelyn couldn't help but laugh as well, the tension from the encounter dissolving with the sound of Floyd's laughter. "I know! I didn't even know until Maggie told me. She said people around town were talking about it like it was some big secret or something."

Floyd shook his head, still chuckling as they resumed walking. "Well, I guess it's a good thing I showed up to set the record straight," he teased, pulling her closer to him again. "Can you imagine?"

Evelyn giggled, leaning into him as they walked. "I know. It's ridiculous."

They laughed together for a few more moments, the absurdity of the situation lightening the mood between them. The awkward encounter with William now seemed like a distant memory, eclipsed by the warmth of their shared amusement.

As their laughter finally subsided, Evelyn felt a wave of contentment wash over her. She looked up at Floyd, her smile softening. "Anna wrote to me recently. She's moved to Rhode Island to be with George."

Floyd raised an eyebrow. "Really? Rhode Island, huh?"

"Yeah," Evelyn nodded. "She's been talking about it for a while now, and I guess they finally made the decision. She said it's what she wants—a fresh start, something new."

Floyd was quiet for a moment, his gaze thoughtful. "Sounds like you two have more in common than you think." He said softly, squeezing her hand.

Evelyn smiled up at him, feeling a sense of peace settle over her. Maybe he was right—maybe this was the start of something new, something different. And as long as they were together, she knew they would be just fine.

Chapter Text

The rest of Floyd's time in Boston passed in a blur. Each day felt fleeting, marked by long walks and quiet moments, as if Evelyn were trying to hold on to every second before he had to leave. He had become part of her daily routine, helping her mother with small tasks, sharing stories with Maggie, and even spending time with her father and brother, earning their trust bit by bit.

But the decision Evelyn had been carrying in her heart grew heavier with each passing day. She knew she had to tell her family that she was planning to leave Boston, to go with Floyd to Kokomo. Though it felt right to her, the idea of leaving home was daunting—especially knowing how her family might react. Boston had been her world for so long, but since returning from the war, it didn't feel like home anymore. Her memories of the city were tangled with the person she had been before everything changed, and that person seemed like a distant stranger now.

It was a quiet evening, after dinner, when Evelyn finally found the courage to speak. Her family was gathered in the living room, enjoying one of their rare moments of peace together. Her mother, Margaret, was knitting by the fire, her father, Thomas, was sitting in his usual chair reading the newspaper, and Maggie was sprawled out on the couch with a book in her hands. James sat in the far corner, cleaning some tools from the factory where he worked. Floyd was beside her, his hand resting lightly on hers, offering silent support.

Evelyn cleared her throat, her voice quiet but steady as she began. "Mom, Dad, James, Maggie... I need to talk to you all about something important."

The room stilled. Her father lowered his newspaper, and Amelia paused mid-knit, her fingers frozen as she watched Evelyn intently. Maggie looked up from her book, curiosity flashing in her young eyes, and James leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms as he studied his sister.

"What is it, Evie?" Her mother asked gently, sensing the seriousness of her tone.

Evelyn took a deep breath, feeling the weight of what she was about to say. "I've decided... I'm going to leave with Floyd. To Kokomo."

For a moment, silence filled the room, thick and heavy. The crackling of the fire was the only sound that could be heard as her family processed her words.

Her father was the first to speak. His voice was deep, calm, but there was a hint of concern beneath the surface. "You're leaving Boston? To go all the way to Indiana?"

Evelyn nodded, her eyes meeting her father's. "Yes. I've thought a lot about it, and I feel like... I don't belong here anymore. Everything's changed since the war. I've changed. And I want a fresh start, somewhere new. With Floyd."

Margaret's face softened, but her worry was clear. "But, darling, this is your home. We're your family. What if you regret it?"

"I know, Mom. I've thought about that, too." Evelyn replied, her voice trembling slightly. "But I need to do this. Staying here feels like I'm stuck. I need to find my own way, and Kokomo feels like the right place for me to do that."

James, who had been sitting quietly, finally spoke up. "So, what? You're just going to run off to some town in the middle of nowhere? What's waiting for you in Kokomo, Evelyn?"

His words were sharp, but Evelyn could hear the underlying concern in his voice. James had always been protective of her, especially since she came back from the war.

"I'm not running away, James," she said, holding his gaze. "I'm making a choice for myself. Kokomo might be small, but it's where Floyd's family is, and it's where we can build something new together."

James uncrossed his arms, leaning forward slightly, his voice growing more intense. "And what are you going to do there, Evie? You don't know anyone besides Floyd. You don't have a job lined up. You didn't even finish high school because of the war. What's the plan?"

Evelyn's heart sank at the reminder of the things she hadn't completed, but she stood firm. "I know it won't be easy, but I'll figure it out. I'll find work, and maybe I'll finish school someday. But more than anything, I need a fresh start, somewhere where I can breathe again."

Maggie, who had been quiet until now, chimed in, her youthful voice filled with innocence and concern. "But what about us, Evie? Won't you miss us?"

Evelyn's heart softened as she looked at her little sister, sitting there with wide, worried eyes. "Of course I'll miss you, Mags. I'll miss all of you. But I'll come back to visit. And you can write to me anytime you want. I'm not disappearing forever."

Maggie seemed to accept this, though her lips still pouted in disappointment. Margaret, on the other hand, was still watching Evelyn with a mix of love and sadness in her eyes. "And what about Floyd's family? What do they think of all this?" She asked, turning her gaze to Floyd.

Floyd, who had been silent through most of the conversation, finally spoke up, his voice steady. "My family's been supportive, ma'am. But, honestly, going back hasn't been easy for me either. It feels different... not like home anymore." He glanced at Evelyn, his voice softening. "We're both trying to figure out where we fit in now. And Kokomo seems like a place where we can build something together."

Thomas, who had been quiet, now leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, his gaze fixed on Floyd. "And what are your plans, Floyd? If you take my daughter with you, how do you plan on supporting her? Providing for her?"

Floyd didn't flinch under Thomas's stern gaze. "Sir, I've already spoken with my father back home. There's work lined up at the police department, and I'm ready to start as soon as we get there. I'll work hard to provide for Evelyn, and I'll do everything I can to make sure she's happy and safe."

Thomas's brow furrowed as he thought it over. He didn't like the idea of his daughter moving so far away, but he could see the determination in both of them. After a long pause, he nodded slowly. "I can see you've made up your mind, both of you. And I trust you'll do right by my daughter, Floyd. But you make sure to take care of her, you hear me?"

"I will, sir," Floyd said, his voice firm. "You have my word."

Evelyn's heart swelled with relief. She knew her father didn't give his approval easily, but this felt like a step in the right direction.

James still looked skeptical, though. He leaned back in his chair, his arms crossed once more. "I still think this is risky, Evie. What if things don't work out? You've barely had time to settle back in, and now you're running off again."

Evelyn looked at her brother, understanding his concern. "I know it's risky, James. But life's been nothing but risks since the war. I can't live in fear of what might go wrong. I need to take a chance on something that feels right."

James sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I get it. Just... promise me you'll be careful. And if things go south, you'll come back. Don't try to tough it out alone."

Evelyn nodded, feeling the weight of her brother's concern. "I promise, James. If it doesn't work out, I'll come back. But I have to at least try."

Maggie stood up from the couch, walking over to hug Evelyn tightly. "I'm gonna miss you." She whispered.

"I'll miss you too, Mags." Evelyn whispered back, hugging her sister close.

Margaret wiped a tear from her eye as she watched her daughter's embrace. She stood up and walked over, placing a hand on Evelyn's shoulder. "You've grown into such a strong woman, Evelyn. I'm proud of you. And if Kokomo is where you feel you need to be, then I'll support you. Just promise you'll write often."

"I will, Mom." Evelyn said, her voice thick with emotion.

Thomas stood up as well, walking over to give Evelyn a tight hug. "You're always welcome back here, you know that, right?" He said, his voice gruff with emotion.

"I know, Dad. Thank you." She replied, squeezing him tightly.

Finally, Evelyn turned to Floyd, who had been standing quietly by her side. "I guess we're really doing this." She said, a small smile tugging at her lips.

"We are." Floyd replied, his voice steady and sure. "And we'll make it work. Together."

The day of their departure came quickly. Evelyn packed her things into a small suitcase, her heart heavy with both excitement and sadness. Her family gathered on the front porch to say goodbye, the morning sun casting long shadows on the ground.

Floyd loaded their bags into the back of the car, while Evelyn shared one last round of hugs with her family. Maggie clung to her for a moment longer, her eyes brimming with tears.

"Don't forget to write." Maggie whispered.

"I won't." Evelyn promised, kissing the top of her sister's head. "You take care of Mom and Dad for me, okay?"

"Okay," Maggie said, her voice small.

James gave her a more subdued hug, his protective nature surfacing once more. "Be safe, Evie. And keep an eye on Floyd," he said, half-joking but serious all the same.

"I will, I promise," she replied, feeling a swell of love for her brother.

Margaret stepped forward, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. "I'll always be here for you, sweetheart. Just remember that. You've got a home here, no matter what."

"I know, Mom. I love you," Evelyn said, tears spilling over her cheeks as she hugged her mother tightly.

Finally, it was time. Evelyn turned to Floyd, who was leaning against the cab, watching her with a mix of pride and affection. He took her hand, and they walked toward the car together, leaving the warmth of her family behind.

As they drove away, Evelyn took one last look at her home, her heart heavy but hopeful. She knew that a new chapter was beginning, filled with uncertainties but also with possibilities. With Floyd by her side, she felt ready to face whatever lay ahead.

"Ready for this?" Floyd asked, glancing over at her as they pulled onto the road.

"More than ready," she replied, squeezing his hand tightly. "Let's go start our new adventure."

As they drove toward Kokomo, the world outside the cab window began to change, the familiar streets of Boston giving way to open roads and rolling hills. With each mile they traveled, Evelyn felt a sense of freedom wash over her, a feeling that she was finally taking control of her life. She glanced over at Floyd, who was focused on the road ahead, and knew in her heart that they would face whatever challenges came their way—together.

The drive to Kokomo felt both exhilarating and nerve-wracking for Evelyn. The anticipation of meeting Floyd's family and stepping into this new life was overwhelming. After what felt like an eternity, they finally arrived in a quaint neighborhood lined with modest houses, each one exuding its own charm. The sun was beginning to dip low in the sky, casting a warm golden hue over the landscape.

Floyd parked the car in front of a lovely two-story home, painted a soft shade of blue with white trim. The front porch was adorned with blooming flower boxes, and a small swing swayed gently in the evening breeze. Evelyn's heart raced as she took it all in.

"This is it," Floyd said, turning to her with a reassuring smile. "My parents are really excited to meet you."

Evelyn nodded, feeling a flutter of nerves in her stomach. "What if they don't like me?" she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.

Floyd chuckled softly, squeezing her hand. "Trust me, they'll love you. Just be yourself. They're just as eager to meet you as you are to meet them."

Taking a deep breath, Evelyn stepped out of the car. The scent of blooming lilacs filled the air, grounding her as they made their way to the front door. Floyd knocked, and almost immediately, the door swung open.

"Floyd!" A woman with warm brown hair and kind eyes rushed forward, enveloping him in a tight hug. "Oh, it's so good to see you back!"

"Hey, Mom," Floyd said, laughing as he hugged her back. "I missed you."

Evelyn stood back, taking a moment to observe the loving reunion. Then Floyd's mother turned to her, her expression shifting from joy to surprise. "And you must be Evelyn!" she exclaimed, her voice ringing with enthusiasm. "Welcome! I've heard so much about you!"

"Hi, Mrs. Talbert," Evelyn said, her voice shaky but sincere as she stepped forward to shake her hand. "It's nice to finally meet you."

"Oh, no need for formalities! Call me Nellie." she said, pulling Evelyn into a warm embrace that enveloped her like a soft blanket. "We're so happy you're here. Come in, come in!"

Stepping inside, Evelyn was immediately struck by the cozy atmosphere. The living room was inviting, with plush sofas and family photos lining the walls, each one telling a story of their own. A fireplace sat in the corner, adorned with a mantle that held an assortment of framed memories—Floyd as a child, a family vacation, and even a graduation photo.

"Dinner is almost ready," Nellie said, guiding them further into the house. "We made your favorite, Floyd—meatloaf and mashed potatoes. I hope you're hungry!"

"Starving," Floyd replied, grinning as he glanced at Evelyn, who smiled back, feeling a warmth spread in her chest.

Just then, a man appeared from the kitchen, wiping his hands on a dish towel. He had a rugged look, with salt-and-pepper hair and an easy smile that immediately put Evelyn at ease. "Well, if it isn't my boy and his girl!" he boomed, wrapping Floyd in a bear hug. "I'm so glad to see you, son."

"Hey, Dad!" Floyd replied, returning the embrace. "This is Evelyn."

"Pleasure to meet you, young lady," Mr. O'Donnell said, extending his hand with a friendly grin. "I'm Russell. Floyd's told us a lot about you."

"Nice to meet you, Mr. Talbert," Evelyn replied, feeling a mix of relief and gratitude at their warm reception.

"Call me Russell, please." He insisted, a twinkle in his eye. "We're glad to have you here. Now, come on, dinner is ready, and I'll bet you're both starving!"

They made their way to the dining room, which was just as welcoming as the rest of the house. The table was set for four, with simple but lovely touches—a vase of fresh flowers in the center and bright, cheerful plates. Evelyn felt her heart swell as she took a seat, feeling the warmth of the Talbert family wrapping around her.

As they sat down to eat, the conversation flowed easily. Floyd's parents were genuinely interested in getting to know Evelyn, asking her about her life in Boston, her experiences during the war, and her hopes for the future. Evelyn found herself sharing stories about her family, her time serving, and her aspirations, her nerves slowly dissipating as she felt their acceptance.

Nellie leaned forward, her expression earnest. "You know, Floyd hasn't stopped talking about you since he got back," she said with a teasing smile. "I think he's smitten."

"Mom!" Floyd exclaimed, blushing as he shot her a playful glare.

Evelyn laughed, her heart feeling lighter. "I think he might be right about that," she said, glancing at Floyd with a shy smile.

After dinner, the family gathered in the living room to share stories and laughter, and Evelyn found herself feeling more at home than she ever expected. Russell and Nellie exchanged amusing tales from Floyd's childhood, each one revealing more about the kind of person Floyd was and the love that surrounded him.

Eventually, as the evening drew to a close, Evelyn realized it was time for them to head to their new home. As they stood up to leave, Nellie pulled Evelyn aside. "Just know that you're always welcome here, dear," she said softly, her eyes filled with warmth. "We're so happy to have you in our family."

"Thank you, Mrs. Talbert. I mean, Nellie." Evelyn said, her heart swelling with gratitude. "I really appreciate everything."

With that, Floyd took her hand, and together they stepped out into the cool evening air. The stars were beginning to twinkle in the night sky as they walked to the car, the soft glow of streetlights illuminating their path.

"See? That wasn't so bad, was it?" Floyd said, glancing at her with a grin.

Evelyn smiled back, her heart still brimming with joy. "No, it was actually really wonderful. Your family is amazing."

As they drove toward their new home, a cozy little house just a few blocks from the Talbert's, Evelyn felt a sense of belonging begin to bloom within her. She was stepping into a new chapter, and it felt right. Floyd reached over, intertwining his fingers with hers, and she could feel the warmth of his touch grounding her.

"I'm excited to start our life together." Floyd said, his eyes sparkling with enthusiasm.

"Me too," Evelyn replied, her voice full of determination. "This is just the beginning."

The new home awaited them, a place where they could build their dreams and share their lives. The road stretched ahead, and as they drove into the night, Evelyn felt ready to embrace whatever came next.

Chapter Text

Evelyn and Floyd had dreamed of their new life together, and now it was finally unfolding in the quiet town of Kokomo. The war was behind them, the fear, the loss, the sleepless nights. They had emerged from that darkness with a deeper love, stronger for the trials they had endured, and as they settled into their modest but cozy home on the outskirts of the town, it felt as if the rest of their lives were ahead of them, filled with possibility.

Floyd had started working at Union Carbide's Haynes Satellite, a stable job that provided them with a decent income, enough to buy the little things they needed to build a life. Their house was modest, a single-story cottage with a small yard, a wooden porch, and large windows that let in the morning sun. Evelyn loved the way the light filtered through the curtains, casting a golden glow on the simple furniture they had carefully chosen. They had moved in just a few months ago, but already, the house felt like home.

Those first months were filled with a gentle, peaceful rhythm. Evelyn would spend her mornings tidying up, cleaning the house, and taking care of small errands, while Floyd went off to work. It was an easy pace, a far cry from the chaos they had once known, and each evening when Floyd returned home, they would sit down together, talk about their day, and share dinner. There was no rush anymore, no sense of urgency or looming danger. It was just them, building a life from the ground up.

One evening, as the last of summer's warmth lingered in the air, Evelyn and Floyd decided to go for a walk. The air was crisp, the sky a deepening shade of orange as the sun began to set. They walked hand in hand, their fingers intertwined, enjoying the quiet that came with the fading light.

"I can't believe how different everything feels now," Evelyn said softly as they walked, her eyes scanning the tree-lined street. "Sometimes I wake up and expect to hear the sounds of war. But instead, I hear the birds. It's strange, but... good."

Floyd nodded, squeezing her hand. "I know what you mean. It's almost too quiet sometimes, like we're waiting for something to go wrong. But I'm trying to get used to it, to this... normalcy."

Evelyn glanced at him, a small smile playing on her lips. "We'll get used to it. It's what we fought for, right? To have peace. To just... live."

"Yeah," Floyd agreed, his voice quiet. "To live. And to be with you. That's all I wanted through it all."

They continued walking in silence for a few moments, their steps in sync. Then, as they turned a corner, they came across a street artist. He was an older man, his hair grey and wild, sitting at an easel in front of a small canvas. His paints were spread out on the ground beside him, tubes of color and brushes of various sizes. The artist was working intently, his hands moving with precision, his eyes focused on the scene he was creating—an autumn landscape, filled with vibrant reds, oranges, and yellows.

Evelyn's eyes lit up, and without a second thought, she released Floyd's hand and approached the artist. "Excuse me," she said gently, her voice warm with curiosity, "your painting... it's beautiful."

The artist looked up, his eyes kind but tired, and smiled. "Thank you, miss," he replied, setting down his brush. "It's what I love to do."

Evelyn crouched down beside him, her interest piqued by the array of materials spread out before her. "What kind of paints do you use?" she asked, her eyes scanning the tubes. "Oil or acrylic?"

"Oil," the man replied with a nod. "I find it gives the colors more depth. They blend easier, too, especially when I'm trying to capture something as alive as the changing of the seasons."

Evelyn's gaze lingered on the painting, her fingers itching to reach for a brush. "It's amazing," she murmured. "The way you've captured the light... it feels like the trees are glowing."

Floyd stood off to the side, watching with a soft smile on his face. He had seen this spark in Evelyn before—the way her whole face lit up when she talked about art. It was a passion she had never fully embraced, always busy with something else, whether it was the war or their move to Kokomo. But now, watching her talk to the artist, Floyd realized something: this was her true love. Not just him, but this—art, painting, creating.

As Evelyn continued to chat with the artist about his techniques, Floyd's heart swelled with pride. He had always known that Evelyn was more than just strong and brave; she was also deeply creative. It was something that had been overshadowed by the war, but now, in this peaceful moment, it was coming to life again. And he wanted to nurture that in her, to give her the space and the tools to explore it.

The next day, after a long day at work, Floyd walked through the door to find Evelyn sitting on the couch, a book in her lap. She had spent the afternoon cleaning and now looked relaxed, her hair pulled back in a loose bun, her eyes soft as they lifted to greet him.

"Hey, you," she said with a smile, closing the book and setting it aside. "How was work?"

Floyd shrugged, kicking off his shoes and walking over to her. "Same as usual," he said, leaning down to kiss her forehead. "But I was thinking about you all day."

Evelyn laughed softly, her eyes twinkling. "Oh yeah? What about me?"

Floyd stood up straight and reached into his coat pocket, pulling out a small bundle wrapped in brown paper. Evelyn's eyes widened with curiosity as she watched him carefully unwrap it. Inside were a set of paintbrushes, a few tubes of oil paint, and a stack of thick, textured paper.

"I thought you might like these," Floyd said, holding them out to her.

Evelyn's eyes filled with tears as she stared at the brushes and paint, her hands trembling slightly as she took them from him. "Floyd..." she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. "You didn't have to..."

"I wanted to," Floyd replied, his voice soft but firm. "You've always loved painting, Dimples. I want you to have the time and the tools to do what you love."

Evelyn let out a small squeal of joy, her heart bursting with happiness as she jumped up from the couch and threw her arms around Floyd's neck. "Thank you, thank you, thank you!" she cried, her face buried in his shoulder.

Floyd chuckled, wrapping his arms around her and holding her close. "You don't have to thank me," he murmured. "I just want to see you happy. That's all that matters to me."

Evelyn pulled back slightly, her eyes shimmering with tears of joy as she looked up at him. "I'm so happy, Floyd. I can't even tell you how much this means to me."

"You don't have to," Floyd said softly, brushing a strand of hair away from her face. "I can see it in your eyes."

From that day on, when Floyd left for work, Evelyn would spend her time painting. She had set up a small corner in their living room, near the window where the light was best, and she would lose herself in the colors and shapes that filled her mind. Each evening, when Floyd came home, she would excitedly show him her latest piece, her eyes bright with pride.

"Look at this one," she said one night, holding up a painting of a field of wildflowers, ones that she had seen across her time in Europe, the colors vibrant and alive. "I tried to capture the way the sunlight hits them in the late afternoon. What do you think?"

Floyd studied the painting, his eyes thoughtful. "It's beautiful," he said, smiling at her. "You've really got a gift, Evelyn."

Evelyn beamed, her heart swelling with pride. "Thank you," she said softly, setting the painting down. "It means a lot that you believe in me."

"I'll always believe in you," Floyd replied, pulling her into his arms. "You're amazing."

As the weeks passed, their life in Kokomo settled into a comfortable routine. Evelyn's art collection grew, and Floyd couldn't have been prouder of her. He loved seeing her so happy, so passionate about something that was all her own.

One evening, after Floyd had come home from work, the two decided to go on another evening walk. The sky was painted with hues of pink and orange as the sun began to dip below the horizon, casting a warm glow over the quiet streets. Hand in hand, they walked in comfortable silence for a while before Floyd broke the quiet.

"So," he began, his voice thoughtful, "what do you think our future's going to be like?"

Evelyn glanced up at him, her eyes soft and contemplative. "I think... I want it to be simple," she said slowly. "I want us to have a home filled with love. Maybe some kids one day, a few animals. I want to keep painting, and I want you to be happy in your work. But mostly, I just want us to be together, no matter what."

Floyd smiled, squeezing her hand. "I like the sound of that," he said softly. "Kids, huh? You think we're ready for that?"

Evelyn chuckled, leaning her head against his shoulder as they walked. "Maybe not just yet," she admitted. "But someday. I can picture it, though—our little house filled with laughter, you chasing after a couple of toddlers while I'm painting."

Floyd laughed, the sound rich and warm. "Sounds like chaos," he teased. "But the good kind."

As they continued walking, Evelyn suddenly stopped, her eyes drawn to a small box on the side of the street. It was moving slightly, the lid shifting as if something inside was alive.

"Floyd," she whispered, tugging on his hand. "Look at that."

They approached the box cautiously, and when they opened it, they were met with the sight of a tiny white kitten and a German shepherd puppy, huddled together inside. The kitten was trembling, its eyes wide with fear, while the puppy let out a small whimper.

Evelyn's heart broke at the sight. "Who would just leave them here like this?" She murmured, bending down to stick her hand out for the animals to sniff. The kitten leaned into her touch, purring softly as it nuzzled against her hand.

Evelyn looked up at Floyd, her eyes filled with determination. "Remember that night in Bastogne?" she asked, her voice soft but firm. "We talked about how I wanted a cat, and you wanted a dog."

Floyd sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Yeah, I remember," he said with a small smile. "You're not going to let this go, are you?"

Evelyn shook her head, her eyes bright with hope. "Nope."

Floyd let out a long sigh, but there was no real reluctance in his voice. "Alright," he said finally. "We'll take them home."

Evelyn let out a delighted squeal, jumping up to hug him tightly. "Thank you, thank you!" she exclaimed, her heart overflowing with love for this man who always seemed to know just how to make her happy.

Life with the kitten and puppy—whom they named Captain Whiskers and Storm—quickly became an adventure. Captain, the tiny white kitten, was full of curiosity and mischief, always finding his way into the most unexpected places, like the kitchen cabinets or the laundry basket. Storm, the German shepherd, was all paws and energy, constantly knocking things over with his wagging tail and trying to chew on everything in sight.

From the very first morning after their arrival, it became clear that these two would add a lot more to their lives than just companionship. Captain Whiskers quickly proved to be a fearless explorer, treating their home as if it were a jungle filled with untold adventures. Storm, meanwhile, was all enthusiasm, bouncing around the house on his oversized puppy paws, knocking into furniture and wagging his tail as if his entire body were caught in a whirlwind.

One afternoon, Evelyn had just finished sweeping the kitchen floor when she heard a soft thud followed by a rustle coming from the living room. Wiping her hands on her apron, she peeked around the corner only to find Captain Whiskers perched proudly atop the highest shelf of the bookcase, his tail swishing back and forth as he surveyed his kingdom.

"Floyd, come see this!" Evelyn called, trying to stifle her laughter.

Floyd emerged from the hallway, wiping his hands from a repair he had been working on. "What's going on?" He asked, walking over. The sight of the tiny kitten teetering on the edge of the shelf made him chuckle.

"How did he even get up there?" Floyd asked in disbelief.

Evelyn crossed her arms and shook her head. "I have no idea, but he's been scaling every piece of furniture like he's auditioning for a circus act."

Captain Whiskers let out a soft meow of triumph, then, without warning, made a daring leap from the shelf onto the back of the armchair, narrowly avoiding a tumble to the floor.

"Well, at least he's confident." Floyd remarked, watching in awe.

"You think he's confident now? Just wait until we find him in the rafters." Evelyn quipped.

As if on cue, Storm bounded into the room, his paws slipping on the hardwood floor as he excitedly chased after a ball. His tail wagged furiously, knocking into a side table and sending a lamp wobbling dangerously.

"Storm! Easy, boy!" Floyd called out, rushing over to catch the lamp before it toppled.

Evelyn shook her head, both amused and exasperated. "These two are going to turn this house upside down. Maybe we should've named them Chaos and Mayhem."

Floyd laughed as he set the lamp back in place. "Captain Whiskers and Storm do sound like the more innocent versions of that, though."

Later that evening, after dinner, Evelyn and Floyd settled onto the couch, ready to unwind. Captain Whiskers, ever the opportunist, jumped up and found his place on Evelyn's lap, curling into a soft ball of fur. Storm, not wanting to be left out, placed his chin on Floyd's knee, looking up at him with his big puppy eyes.

"Look at him," Floyd said with a grin, patting Rex's head. "He's already learned how to guilt me into petting him. He knows he's too cute for his own good."

Evelyn giggled, running her fingers through Captain Whiskers' soft fur. "I think they both know exactly how to wrap us around their paws. We don't stand a chance."

As the days turned into weeks, Evelyn and Floyd found themselves adapting to the quirks and chaos that came with their new furry companions. Captain Whiskers had a particular fascination with Evelyn's painting supplies. More than once, she would come into the living room to find the kitten batting at her paintbrushes or swatting at the end of a pencil as if it were a dangerous predator.

"Captain!" Evelyn scolded one afternoon as she caught the kitten dipping his tiny paw into a jar of water she used to clean her brushes. "You're not helping, you little rascal!"

Floyd, who had been watching from the doorway, couldn't help but laugh. "Maybe he's trying to contribute. He might be an artist at heart, just like you."

Evelyn rolled her eyes, though she couldn't suppress a smile. "At this rate, he's going to knock over the whole easel one of these days."

Captain Whiskers meowed innocently as he continued to play with the brush, flicking it across the floor.

Storm, on the other hand, was a constant whirlwind of energy. One sunny morning, Floyd decided to take him out to the yard to teach him how to fetch. Armed with a tennis ball, Floyd threw it a short distance, hoping to start small.

"Go on, boy! Fetch!" Floyd called out with enthusiasm.

Rex, who had been watching the ball closely, suddenly bolted off—only to veer off course halfway to the ball and become distracted by a fluttering butterfly. He leaped into the air, trying to catch the delicate insect between his teeth, completely ignoring the ball altogether.

Floyd let out a groan, rubbing the back of his neck. "So much for fetch."

Evelyn, watching from the porch, burst into laughter. "He's easily entertained, that's for sure."

Storm eventually returned to Floyd, his tail wagging as if he had accomplished something grand. Floyd sighed dramatically, then patted the puppy on the head. "We'll try again tomorrow."

Despite the small disasters—spilled water jars, knocked-over lamps, shredded newspapers—Evelyn and Floyd loved every moment with their new companions. Even when they found themselves cleaning up after Captain Whiskers had taken it upon himself to knock over a plant or when Storm chewed through one of Floyd's shoes, they couldn't help but laugh at the ridiculousness of it all.

One evening, as they sat in the living room, Floyd looked over to see Storm lying in a lazy sprawl on the rug, his large puppy paws twitching as he dreamed. Captain Whiskers was perched on the back of the couch, his eyes half-closed as he purred contentedly.

"You know," Evelyn began softly, her voice thoughtful, "watching you with them, it makes me think about what you'll be like with our kids one day."

Floyd glanced at her, surprised by the sentiment. "You think so?"

Evelyn nodded, her eyes tender as she reached over to take his hand. "You're so gentle with them. Even when Storm gets into trouble, you're patient. I can see you being that way with our children. It makes me excited for the future."

Floyd squeezed her hand, a soft chuckle escaping his lips. "Well, I suppose if I can handle these two, a couple of kids can't be much harder, right?"

Evelyn laughed, leaning her head against his shoulder. "Maybe. But I think they'll be a little more challenging than a kitten and a puppy."

Floyd smiled, resting his cheek against her hair. "I can't wait, Evelyn. I can't wait to build that future with you. We've got a good life here, and I want to share it with a family of our own."

They sat in peaceful silence for a while, the warmth of their little home wrapping around them like a soft blanket. Outside, the last rays of sunlight filtered through the windows, casting a golden glow across the room.

Their home was far from perfect, with its occasional chaos and laughter-filled moments, but it was theirs. And as Captain Whiskers purred quietly and Storm snored softly at their feet, Evelyn and Floyd couldn't help but feel that they were exactly where they were meant to be.

In the months that followed, Captain Whiskers and Storm grew into inseparable companions. The kitten would often curl up on Storm's back as the puppy napped, and Storm would bark protectively if Captain Whiskers ventured too close to the front door. They made the perfect pair, just as Evelyn and Floyd had imagined back in that cold foxhole in Bastogne. And every day, their little family felt more complete, more like the life they had always dreamed of.

With the animals by their side, Evelyn and Floyd knew they were ready for whatever came next—whether it was a new adventure, a bigger family, or simply more days of laughter and love. Together, with Captain Whiskers and Storm, they were building a future full of hope, joy, and all the beautiful moments that made life worth living.

Chapter Text

The sound of rapid gunfire filled Evelyn's ears, the staccato bursts ricocheting through her mind like the drums of war. It was everywhere, an inescapable cacophony that reverberated through her bones, shaking her to her core. Her breath came in ragged gasps, her heart pounding violently in her chest as she opened her eyes and found herself back in the thick of battle.

The world around her was chaos. A nightmare made real. Blood and smoke clouded the air, thickening it, making it impossible to breathe. She could smell the sharp tang of gunpowder, the metallic scent of blood, the suffocating stink of death. She stumbled forward, the familiar weight of her gun in her hands anchoring her, grounding her to this hellscape. Every nerve in her body was screaming, her muscles coiled with fear and adrenaline as her senses sharpened to the heightened tension of survival.

Bullets whizzed past her head, tearing through the air with deadly precision. They were so close, so loud, that she could hear the sharp crack as they broke the sound barrier. Each one was a near miss, but she didn't flinch. There was no time. No space for hesitation. She crouched low, scanning the battlefield through the haze of smoke and ash that hung in the air like a thick veil, her eyes darting back and forth, searching for any movement, any sign of danger.

The sky above was an ominous gray, thick with clouds of smoke that blotted out the sun. The only light came from the occasional flash of artillery fire and the flickering flames of burning buildings in the distance. The earth beneath her feet was no longer recognizable—what was once solid ground had turned into a muddy, blood-soaked wasteland littered with bodies, their faces twisted in agony, their lifeless eyes staring up at the sky as if asking why.

A scream echoed in the distance, cutting through the cacophony of gunfire and explosions. It was an agonized sound, one that sent a chill down Evelyn's spine, but she forced herself to block it out. There was no time to think about the dead or dying. No time to feel.

But she felt it anyway.

Her pulse quickened as she spotted movement out of the corner of her eye. A soldier, barely recognizable through the smoke, charged forward with his rifle raised, his face pale with terror. He was young, too young—barely more than a boy, his uniform hanging loosely off his wiry frame. His eyes were wide with fear, darting left and right, as if he didn't know where to run. He stumbled, and in that moment, everything seemed to slow. Evelyn's breath caught in her throat as she watched him, helpless, knowing what was about to happen.

The sharp crack of a rifle echoed through the air, and the boy's body jerked violently as the bullet found its mark. His rifle fell from his hands, clattering to the ground as he crumpled, collapsing into the mud. Blood bloomed across his chest, bright and stark against the dark fabric of his uniform, and he lay still, unmoving.

Evelyn felt her stomach churn as she turned away, bile rising in her throat. She had seen death before—too much of it—but every life lost on the battlefield felt like a fresh wound, tearing at her already battered soul. She pressed her back against the jagged remains of a wall, her chest heaving as she struggled to steady her breathing, to keep the rising panic at bay.

She closed her eyes for a brief moment, trying to shut it all out—the noise, the fear, the blood. But even in the darkness behind her eyelids, the images remained. The dead boy. The blood. The screams.

Suddenly, a deafening explosion rocked the ground beneath her, the force of it knocking her off balance. She hit the dirt hard, her vision blurring as the impact rattled through her bones. Pain shot through her side, sharp and sudden, but she forced herself to her feet, her body operating on pure adrenaline now. She had to keep moving. She had to survive.

The world around her was a blur of motion and sound—gunfire, explosions, the distant rumble of tanks, the cries of men in pain. She stumbled forward, her legs heavy, her head spinning, barely able to see through the thick smoke that choked the air. Her hands were shaking so badly that she could hardly grip her rifle, but she clung to it like a lifeline, like it was the only thing keeping her grounded in this nightmare.

Another barrage of gunfire erupted nearby, and Evelyn instinctively dropped to one knee, raising her weapon and firing blindly into the smoke. She didn't know if she hit anything. She didn't care. She just needed to fight, to keep pushing forward. But no matter how hard she tried, the battlefield seemed endless, a never-ending cycle of death and destruction. There was no end in sight. No escape.

She blinked, and suddenly the world shifted.

The heat and noise of battle faded, replaced by the bitter, bone-chilling cold of winter. Snow crunched beneath her feet, and her breath came out in white puffs as she crouched low in a foxhole, her body trembling not just from the cold but from the fear that gripped her heart like a vice. The trees around her were bare, skeletal, their branches reaching up toward the sky like the fingers of the dead. The ground was frozen solid, a wasteland of ice and snow.

She was in Bastogne.

The distant rumble of tanks echoed through the forest, the sharp crack of rifles punctuating the silence. Her fingers were numb from the freezing air, barely able to pull the trigger of her rifle as she scanned the treeline, her eyes wide and unblinking, her body tensed for the next attack. She could hear the screams of her comrades, the sounds of men dying all around her. She had to move. She had to fight. But her limbs felt like they were made of lead, too heavy to lift.

Suddenly, a shadow loomed over her. She looked up, her heart skipping a beat as her eyes met the cold, unfeeling gaze of a German soldier standing above her, his rifle aimed directly at her head. Time seemed to slow as they stared at each other, the world around them fading into the background. Evelyn's breath hitched in her throat, her mind racing as she realized this was it. This was how it was going to end.

Her hands went slack on her rifle, her body frozen with fear.

But then, just as quickly as he had appeared, the soldier was gone. His body crumpled to the ground as a bullet tore through his skull, blood spraying across the snow, staining it red. The shot had come from somewhere behind her, but she didn't know where. All she could do was gasp for breath, her chest heaving as she scrambled backward, her mind struggling to process what had just happened.

The world around her began to warp, the edges of her vision blurring as the sounds of battle faded into a dull roar. She could still hear the screams, the gunfire, the explosions, but it was distant now, like it was happening in another world. Evelyn looked down at her hands, her fingers coated in blood. She didn't know if it was hers or someone else's. It didn't matter. Nothing mattered anymore.

Her breath came in short, panicked gasps, her chest tightening as the weight of the war bore down on her, suffocating her. She couldn't breathe. She couldn't think.

Suddenly, the ground beneath her shifted again, and she was back in the thick of a firefight. Bullets whizzed past her head as she sprinted across the battlefield, her legs heavy with exhaustion, her lungs burning with every breath. She didn't know where she was going. She didn't care. All she knew was that she had to keep running, had to keep moving, or she would die.

Then she saw them.

Her comrades, the ones she had fought alongside for so long, the ones she had bled with, laughed with, cried with. Bill. George. Anna. They lay motionless on the ground, their bodies broken and bloody, their eyes wide open in death. Evelyn stumbled to a halt, her heart pounding in her chest as she stared at the lifeless forms of her friends.

"No..." she whispered, her voice trembling as tears filled her eyes. "No, no, no..."

But it was too late. They were gone. All of them. She was alone.

The world around her began to spin, the sounds of battle growing louder, more intense. Evelyn's breath came in short, panicked gasps as the weight of the war crashed down on her, suffocating her. The gunfire, the blood, the death—it was too much. She couldn't breathe. She couldn't think.

Her body jolted violently, her heart hammering in her chest as she was wrenched from the nightmare. She sat up in bed, gasping for breath, her skin damp with sweat. The room was dark, save for the faint glow of moonlight filtering through the curtains. She was in her bed, safe, but her mind hadn't caught up yet. The images of war, of blood and death, still danced behind her eyes, refusing to let her go.

Her chest heaved as she gasped for air, her hands trembling violently as she clutched the bedsheets. Tears streamed down her face, her body wracked with sobs as she tried to shake off the nightmare, but the terror clung to her like a vice.

Suddenly, a hand touched her arm, and Evelyn flinched violently, her mind still in the grip of the battlefield. In her panic, she lashed out, her fist connecting with something solid—Floyd.

"Evelyn! Evelyn, it's me!" Floyd's voice was frantic, full of worry, but all she could hear was the roar of the battlefield, the screams of dying men.

"Get away!" She cried, her voice raw with fear and confusion as she struggled against him. Her vision blurred with tears as she fought to free herself, her hands flailing wildly as she pushed him away, seeing him not as the man she loved, but as the enemy.

"Evie, it's me! It's Floyd!" He grabbed her wrists, trying to hold her still, his voice shaking with desperation. "You're safe! You're home! It's just a dream!"

But she couldn't hear him. Her mind was still trapped in the nightmare, and all she saw was the face of the German soldier, his rifle aimed at her head. The terror gripped her, suffocating her as she fought to escape.

"Please, Evelyn!" Floyd pleaded, his voice breaking as he held her tightly, trying to stop her from hurting herself—or him. "It's me! It's Floyd! You're safe!"

Her struggles began to weaken, the sound of his voice finally breaking through the fog of fear that clouded her mind. Slowly, the images of the battlefield began to fade, replaced by the familiar warmth of Floyd's arms around her, the steady rhythm of his breathing.

"F-Floyd?" She whispered, her voice trembling as she blinked, her vision clearing enough to see his face. His eyes were filled with worry, his grip on her gentle but firm.

"It's me," he said softly, his voice thick with emotion. "I'm right here, Evie. You're safe."

Evelyn's breath hitched in her throat as the realization hit her—she had been fighting him. She had hurt him. Her heart clenched with guilt as she looked at him, tears streaming down her face. "Oh, God... Floyd, I'm so sorry..."

He shook his head, pulling her close and wrapping his arms around her. "Don't apologize," he whispered, his voice soothing. "You don't have to apologize for anything."

But the guilt was overwhelming. Evelyn buried her face in his chest, sobbing uncontrollably as the weight of the nightmare, the war, everything, came crashing down on her. "I'm sorry... I'm so sorry..."

Floyd held her tightly, his hand gently stroking her hair as he whispered comforting words. "Shh... it's alright. You're safe now. I'm here. I've got you."

Evelyn clung to him, her body trembling with the force of her sobs as she let herself fall apart in his arms. The war had left scars on her soul, scars that ran deep, that would never fully heal. And tonight, those scars had opened up again, bleeding all over her reality.

"I... I can't... I can't stop seeing it," she choked out between sobs. "The blood... the bodies... I can't stop hearing them."

Floyd's heart ached as he listened to her, his own eyes filling with tears as he held her close. He knew she had been through hell—he had been there too—but seeing her like this, so broken, so vulnerable, it tore him apart. He wished he could take her pain away, wished he could erase the memories that haunted her. But all he could do was be there, hold her, and remind her that she wasn't alone.

"It's over now," he whispered, his voice steady despite the tears that threatened to spill from his eyes. "The war is over. You're home, Evelyn. You're safe."

She nodded against his chest, but the tears kept coming, her sobs wracking her body as she clung to him. "I... I didn't mean to wake you," she said, her voice barely audible. "I didn't mean to hurt you."

"You didn't hurt me," Floyd said softly, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of her head. "You're hurting, and that's okay. I'm here for you, Evie. I'm not going anywhere."

His words broke through the storm of guilt and anguish that swirled inside her, and slowly, her sobs began to subside. She took deep, shaky breaths, her grip on him loosening slightly as the terror that had gripped her began to fade.

Floyd held her until her breathing steadied, until the worst of her panic had passed. Even then, he didn't let go. He knew how fragile she felt, how much she was carrying, and he wasn't about to leave her to face it alone.

"I'm sorry," Evelyn whispered again, her voice small and broken as she rested her head against his chest.

Floyd shook his head, his hand still gently stroking her hair. "You have nothing to be sorry for," he said softly. "We've all been through hell. But we made it out. And we're going to keep going, together."

Evelyn closed her eyes, letting his words wash over her. She knew he was right, but the weight of the war still lingered, a shadow that would take time to fade. But in Floyd's arms, she felt a little lighter, a little more whole.

She didn't know how long they stayed like that, wrapped in each other's embrace, but eventually, the exhaustion caught up with her, and she felt her body begin to relax. Floyd held her close, his steady heartbeat lulling her back toward sleep, but this time, it wasn't the nightmare that claimed her.

This time, she was safe. And she wasn't alone.

Nightmares like these became common between the two, often consuming them as when they awoke they struggled to decipher reality from their imagination. Many nights passed since Evelyn's first nightmare as the two tried their best to reconnect with society, though the nights became the toughest part.

Evelyn stirred in the middle of the night, her eyes fluttering open to the sound of soft murmurs, low and distressed. For a moment, she thought she was still caught in the remnants of her own nightmare, but as she blinked the sleep from her eyes, she realized the voice wasn't her own. It was Floyd.

She turned her head, her heart sinking as she saw him thrashing slightly in his sleep, his brow furrowed, his lips pressed tightly together as he muttered under his breath. His hands clenched and unclenched the bedsheets, his body tense, as if he were trapped in some unseen battle.

"Floyd," she whispered softly, reaching out to touch his arm. "Floyd, wake up."

But he didn't hear her. He was too deep in the nightmare, too far gone to be pulled out by a whisper. Evelyn's heart ached as she watched him, knowing exactly what he was seeing, what he was feeling. She had been there herself, too many times to count. She knew the weight of the war, the way it clung to you even in the quiet moments, even in sleep.

"Floyd," she said again, louder this time, her voice shaking slightly as she gently shook his shoulder. "Floyd, wake up. You're safe."

His eyes flew open, wide and terrified, and for a moment, he didn't recognize her. His breath came in short, panicked gasps, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he looked around the room, disoriented, still half-trapped in the nightmare.

"It's okay," Evelyn whispered, her voice soft and soothing as she cupped his face in her hands, forcing him to focus on her. "It's okay, Floyd. You're safe. You're home."

Floyd blinked, his eyes clearing as he focused on her face, his breathing still heavy but beginning to slow. He swallowed hard, his hands trembling as he reached up to cover hers, his grip tight, desperate.

"I... I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice rough and broken. "I didn't mean to—"

"Shh," Evelyn interrupted, shaking her head as she pulled him into her arms, holding him close the way he had held her so many times before. "You don't have to apologize."

Floyd buried his face in her shoulder, his body trembling as he fought to regain control of his emotions. He had always been the strong one, the one who held her together when she was falling apart, but tonight, he was the one who needed comforting, and Evelyn was more than willing to be his anchor.

"I... I keep seeing them," he whispered, his voice barely audible against her skin. "The men we lost... the ones we couldn't save... I keep hearing their voices."

Evelyn closed her eyes, her heart breaking for him as she held him tighter. She knew exactly what he meant. She had heard those voices too, seen those faces in her own nightmares. The war never really left them, even when it was over.

"You're not alone," she whispered, her voice soft but firm. "I'm here, Floyd. We're in this together."

Floyd nodded against her shoulder, his grip on her tightening as he let himself lean into her, let himself be vulnerable in a way he rarely allowed. It was a moment of quiet, shared understanding—a reminder that they were both survivors, both carrying the same scars, and that they didn't have to face the darkness alone.

They stayed like that for a long time, wrapped in each other's arms, the silence between them filled with unspoken words of comfort and love. And eventually, the nightmare faded, replaced by the steady, soothing rhythm of their breathing, their hearts beating in time with each other.

For now, they were safe. Together. And that was enough.

Chapter Text

Evelyn and Floyd emerged from the car, their hands quickly meeting each other's as they walked forward into the hall, their hearts heavy.

They had been invited to Easy Company's first reunion in mid-1946, located in Indianapolis, Indiana.

"I don't know if I can do this." Floyd said finally, his voice low and rough.

Evelyn reached over and gently took his hand in hers. "You don't have to do it alone," she said softly. "I'll be right there with you. And so will they."

Floyd looked at her, searching her eyes for reassurance. There was a strength in Evelyn that had carried him through so many dark moments. She had seen him at his worst and had stood by him, steady and unwavering. It was a comfort he clung to now.

After a moment, he squeezed her hand and nodded. "Alright," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "Let's go."

They stepped out of the car and walked toward the hall, hand in hand. Each step felt heavier than the last for Floyd, as if the memories were pushing down on him, but Evelyn's presence beside him gave him strength. When they reached the entrance, Floyd paused, his hand resting on the door handle.

He took a deep breath and looked at Evelyn. She gave him a small, encouraging smile.

The doors to the reunion hall swung open with a soft creak, and Floyd hesitated for just a second, his hand still tightly gripping the handle. Inside, the familiar voices of Easy Company men filled the room, mingling with the soft clinks of glasses and the occasional burst of laughter. The war had been over for more than a year now, but in many ways, it had never really ended for the men gathered in that room. Memories of Normandy, Carentan, Bastogne, and the Eagle's Nest lingered in their minds and hearts like shadows that couldn't be shaken.

Evelyn felt Floyd's hesitation beside her, his hand still clasped in hers. She squeezed it, a silent reminder that they weren't walking into that room alone. The strength that had carried them through the war years was still there, an unspoken bond that tethered them to each other—and to the men inside.

"We've got this," she whispered, giving him a reassuring smile. "Together."

Floyd looked at her, the furrow in his brow relaxing just a little. He nodded, taking a breath before stepping inside. As they entered the hall, the room seemed to buzz with energy. Men in uniform, now back in their civilian clothes, greeted one another with handshakes and hugs. Some wore smiles that stretched wide, but there was an underlying weight to it all—a shared understanding that the worst days of their lives had forged bonds stronger than family.

Floyd loosened his grip on her hand as he saw familiar faces—men he'd fought alongside, men who had saved his life, and whose lives he had saved in return. His shoulders relaxed slightly as he was pulled into the fold, greeted by Joe Toye and Skip Muck, their laughter easing some of the tension in his body.

Evelyn hung back for a moment, watching as Floyd was swept into conversations and back slaps. She was proud of him. She knew how much it had taken for him to come here, to confront the past that haunted him.

"Mary!" A familiar voice called out, cutting through the hum of the room.

Evelyn turned quickly, her eyes lighting up as she spotted Bill Guarnere standing on the far side of the hall. He was leaning heavily on crutches, but his face was as lively as ever, the same mischievous grin she had known in the war etched across his features.

"Gonorrhoea!" She cried back, rushing forward and wrapping him in a tight hug, careful not to jostle him too much.

"Easy there, girl, or you'll knock me right off these sticks!" Bill chuckled, patting her back with one hand while balancing on his crutches with the other. When they pulled away, he grinned at her, his eyes sparkling with the same irrepressible humor that had kept the men going during the darkest days.

"How've you been?" Evelyn asked, her voice full of warmth and affection.

"Well, pulling through," he said with a shrug, though the way he stood on his crutches suggested otherwise. His eyes flicked to Floyd, who was still caught up in conversation nearby. "So, you and Floyd, huh?" he teased, a smirk playing on his lips.

Evelyn felt her face flush instantly, her cheeks growing warm under Bill's knowing gaze. She lightly slapped his shoulder in mock indignation. "Stop! You always were too nosy for your own good."

Bill let out a hearty laugh, a sound that had become rare since the war ended. "Hey, I call it like I see it," he replied, giving her a wink. "But I'm happy for you two. Floyd's a good man. And you—you're tougher than most of us."

Evelyn rolled her eyes, though she couldn't suppress the smile tugging at her lips. "You've always been sweet on me, Guarnere. Admit it."

"Sweet on you?" Bill scoffed, though his grin didn't fade. "Girl, I'm sweet on any dame who can keep up with me on the battlefield. Now go on, say hi to the rest of the fellas. They've been waiting for you."

Evelyn gave him one last smile and a gentle pat on the arm before making her way through the room. As she passed clusters of men, some of them called out to her—remnants of the camaraderie that had kept them alive through the war. She exchanged handshakes and hugs, feeling a warmth spread through her chest as each familiar face greeted her. These men were her brothers, too, in a way. The women of Easy Company were few, but they had earned their place.

She spotted Babe Heffron and Don Malarkey standing near a table, both deep in conversation but quick to light up when they noticed her approach.

"Mar- Evelyn! Look who finally showed up!" Babe exclaimed, pulling her into a quick hug. "You haven't aged a day!"

"You haven't changed either," Evelyn shot back with a grin. "Still causing trouble, I see."

"Oh, you know me," Babe replied with a mischievous grin. "I'm a saint compared to some of these guys."

Malarkey chuckled, shaking his head. "That's a low bar, Babe."

Evelyn stayed with them for a few moments, exchanging stories, laughing about shared memories, and catching up on where life had taken them after the war. Babe had gone back to Philadelphia, where he was working for the city, while Malarkey had settled in Oregon, where he was trying to piece his life back together.

"We all are," he said softly, his eyes betraying a quiet sadness. "But we're getting there."

Evelyn nodded, understanding the weight behind his words. They were all trying to get there—to find some semblance of peace after the chaos and horror of war.

Suddenly, out of the corner of her eye, Evelyn spotted two familiar figures standing by the window, locked in conversation. Her heart leapt, a smile spreading across her face as she quickly made her way toward them.

"Anna! George!" She called out, her voice filled with excitement.

Both heads turned at the sound of her voice, and in an instant, Anna Blake's face lit up. She rushed forward, meeting Evelyn halfway and pulling her into a tight embrace.

"Evelyn!" Anna breathed, her voice thick with emotion. "God, I've missed you."

Evelyn held her close, feeling the flood of memories from the war rushing back—the foxholes in Bastogne, the cold nights, the whispered dreams of the future that had sustained them when it felt like the world was ending.

"I missed you too," Evelyn whispered, pulling back to look at Anna's face. She still had the same sparkle in her eyes, but there was a softness now, a peacefulness that hadn't been there during the war.

George Luz stepped up next, grinning widely as he pulled Evelyn into a playful hug. "Look who it is! Miss Evelyn Donovan, back from the dead!"

"Oh, shut up, Luz," Evelyn laughed, swatting at him as she pulled away. "Still full of it, I see."

George gave an exaggerated bow. "I aim to please, darling."

The three of them laughed together, the sound light and full of life. For a moment, it was like they were back in the war, huddled together, finding comfort in each other's presence. But now, there was something more—something different. They were home, and that made all the difference.

"So," Evelyn began, turning to Anna with a grin. "How's Rhode Island treating you? You must love it there, now that you've joined George."

Anna's face softened as she glanced at George, her smile warm and full of affection. "It's beautiful," she said. "Quiet, peaceful. Exactly what we needed after everything."

"Yeah, and I'm teaching her how to properly curse." George chimed in, winking at Evelyn.

"Oh, great," Evelyn laughed. "That's exactly what Anna needs—more foul language."

Anna rolled her eyes, though she was clearly trying to suppress a smile. "Don't listen to him. He's been more than a handful, but we're making it work."

"I bet," Evelyn replied, her tone playful. "But seriously, I'm so glad you two are together. You deserve it."

George puffed out his chest dramatically. "I keep telling her she hit the jackpot with me."

Evelyn snorted. "Is that right?"

"Absolutely," George said, feigning offense. "I'm a catch."

Anna shook her head, though her eyes gleamed with amusement. "I keep him around for the entertainment value," she teased, glancing at George with a fond smile.

Evelyn laughed, but she couldn't shake the feeling that there was something more behind the lighthearted banter. There was a softness in the way Anna and George looked at each other—a closeness that went beyond the bond they had shared during the war.

Then, as if reading her thoughts, Anna took a deep breath and reached into her purse, pulling out a small envelope. She held it out to Evelyn, her eyes glistening with unshed tears.

"What's this?" Evelyn asked, taking the envelope and glancing between Anna and George.

Anna bit her lip, her voice trembling slightly as she spoke. "It's an invitation. George... he proposed. We're getting married."

For a moment, Evelyn could only stare, her mind reeling with the weight of Anna's words. She looked down at the envelope in her hands, then back at her friend, her heart swelling with emotion.

"Anna..." Evelyn whispered, her throat tight with the surge of tears that threatened to spill over. "Oh my God..."

She pulled Anna into another hug, this one tighter, fiercer. The two women clung to each other, their shared joy mixing with the memories of all the nights they had spent dreaming of a future beyond the war. A future that, somehow, they had managed to reach.

"I'm so happy for you," Evelyn choked out, her voice thick with emotion. "You have no idea."

Anna sniffled, pulling back just enough to look at her friend. "I do, though. Because we talked about this, remember? In those foxholes, when we didn't think we'd ever get out. We talked about having a life—about love, and family, and... and this."

Evelyn nodded, her tears finally spilling over as she smiled through them. "I remember."

George, standing a few steps away, cleared his throat, his usual joking demeanor softened by the emotion of the moment. "You know, it's not every day I propose to a girl in the middle of a cornfield."

Anna laughed, wiping at her eyes. "It wasn't a cornfield."

"It was close enough," George replied with a wink.

Evelyn chuckled, shaking her head. "Leave it to you, Luz, to make a romantic moment sound like a comedy sketch."

"Hey, I aim for balance," George said, grinning. "Keeps life interesting."

Evelyn laughed again, but her heart was full—full of love for her friends, full of gratitude for the life they had fought so hard to live. She opened the envelope, pulling out the invitation inside. It was simple but elegant, with Anna and George's names written in beautiful script, the date and location of the wedding beneath.

"I can't wait," Evelyn said, her voice soft as she looked back at her friends. "Floyd and I will be there. You can count on that."

Anna smiled through her tears, and the two women hugged again, their shared joy palpable. They had made it. Against all odds, they had survived, and now they were building the future they had once only dared to dream of.

For the rest of the night, the reunion continued, filled with laughter, stories, and the unspoken understanding that they had all come through something extraordinary. Floyd eventually found his way back to Evelyn, his arm wrapping around her shoulders as they stood together, watching the room full of their comrades—of their family.

Evelyn glanced up at him, her heart full as she leaned into his embrace. They had all fought for this moment—for this life. And now, standing among the men and women who had become her family, Evelyn knew that they had all earned it.

—

The wedding day dawned bright and clear, the early morning sunlight streaming through the windows of the little Rhode Island chapel where Anna and George were to be married. Evelyn had barely slept the night before, her mind racing with anticipation for the day ahead. She was Anna's maid of honor, and the weight of that responsibility, combined with the sheer joy she felt for her dear friend, made it hard to settle her nerves. But beneath it all, there was an overwhelming sense of happiness—Anna and George were getting the future they had dreamed about, the life they had talked about while huddled together in foxholes, freezing cold and unsure if they would ever live to see it.

As Evelyn helped Anna into her wedding gown in a small room off the chapel, she felt her breath catch in her throat. The dress was simple but elegant, the soft ivory lace falling gently over Anna's shoulders, the skirt sweeping out in a delicate cascade of fabric that moved like a cloud around her feet. Anna looked radiant, her dark hair pinned back with a few soft curls framing her face, her cheeks flushed with excitement.

Evelyn stood back for a moment, her hands trembling slightly as she adjusted the hem of Anna's dress. When she finally lifted her gaze, her eyes met Anna's in the mirror, and for a brief second, they simply stared at each other, the enormity of the day settling over them both.

"You look beautiful." Evelyn whispered, her voice catching in her throat.

Anna turned, her eyes glistening with unshed tears as she smiled at Evelyn. "Thank you... for everything. For being here, for always being by my side."

Evelyn tried to respond, but her words faltered as she felt a lump rise in her throat. Instead, she nodded, blinking quickly to keep her own tears at bay. She hadn't expected to feel this emotional, but seeing Anna, her friend, her sister in every way that mattered, standing there in her wedding gown, ready to marry the man she loved, was overwhelming.

"You're going to make me cry." Evelyn finally managed, dabbing at the corners of her eyes with a tissue.

Anna laughed softly, stepping forward to take Evelyn's hands in hers. "I'm already crying," she admitted with a watery smile. "But they're happy tears. I never thought this day would come."

Evelyn squeezed her hands, her heart full. "It's here. You've made it."

Anna nodded, her lip trembling slightly as she looked at herself in the mirror once more. "I'm marrying George," she whispered, as if saying it out loud would make it more real.

"And he's a lucky man," Evelyn said, her voice warm with affection. "He knows it, too."

Just then, there was a soft knock at the door, and one of the bridesmaids peeked in. "It's time," she said gently, her eyes wide with excitement.

Anna took a deep breath and let it out slowly, nodding as she turned back to Evelyn. "Let's do this," she whispered, her voice steady now.

Evelyn smiled, feeling a surge of pride for her friend's strength, for the journey they had both taken to get here. She straightened her dress and took her place beside Anna as they made their way toward the chapel entrance. The soft murmur of guests settling into their seats reached them as they approached, and Evelyn's heart pounded in her chest, her nerves fluttering with anticipation.

As the music began, Evelyn stepped out first, walking down the aisle with quiet grace, her eyes briefly meeting Floyd's as he stood at the front of the chapel with George and the other groomsmen. He smiled at her, a quiet, reassuring smile, and she felt her nerves settle just a little.

Then, it was Anna's turn.

When Anna stepped into the doorway, framed by the soft sunlight streaming through the stained glass windows, there was an audible gasp from the guests. She was radiant, glowing with a kind of joy that seemed to light up the entire room. Evelyn, standing just to the side at the front, felt her eyes fill with tears all over again as she watched her best friend begin the walk down the aisle.

Each step Anna took seemed to echo with the weight of everything they had been through—the war, the losses, the fear—and yet now, here she was, walking toward a future that had once seemed so far away, so impossible. And George, standing at the altar with an expression of pure awe on his face, was waiting for her, just as he had always been.

Evelyn swallowed hard, willing herself not to completely break down as Anna walked toward George, her eyes locked on his the entire way. There was a moment when Anna's gaze flickered to Evelyn, and they shared a brief, emotional smile, as if acknowledging everything that had led them to this moment.

When Anna finally reached George, the two of them stood there for a long moment, simply staring at each other, their hands joined. There were no words needed; everything was spoken in the way they looked at one another.

The ceremony passed in a blur of emotion, vows exchanged, rings placed on fingers, and finally, the words everyone had been waiting for: "I now pronounce you husband and wife."

The applause that erupted as George kissed Anna was full of joy and relief, as if the whole room had been holding its breath, waiting for this moment to happen.

As the newlyweds made their way back down the aisle together, hand in hand, Evelyn stood with the other bridesmaids, beaming with pride. She felt Floyd's eyes on her again, and when she turned to look at him, his smile made her heart swell.

The afterparty was a lively affair, held in a beautifully decorated reception hall not far from the chapel. The room was filled with laughter and conversation as people mingled, offering their congratulations to Anna and George. Evelyn stayed close to Anna for much of the evening, feeling a sense of duty as the maid of honor but also not wanting to stray far from her friend on such an important day.

"You look like you're floating." Evelyn teased as she handed Anna a glass of champagne.

"I feel like I am," Anna replied with a soft laugh, her eyes sparkling with happiness. "I can't believe this is real."

"It's real," Evelyn said, smiling as she took a sip of her own drink. "And you deserve every bit of it."

The evening passed in a whirlwind of toasts, laughter, and dancing. Evelyn found herself swept up in the joy of it all, but there were quiet moments too—moments where she caught Anna's eye and they shared a smile, a silent acknowledgment of how far they had come.

At one point, Anna gathered all the women for the bouquet toss. Evelyn hadn't planned on participating; she wasn't exactly in the mindset for that kind of thing, but before she knew it, she found herself standing off to the side, watching as Anna prepared to throw the bouquet over her shoulder.

The crowd of girls gathered closer, jostling for position, giggling with excitement. Anna grinned, giving a playful wink before tossing the bouquet high into the air.

It flew in an arc, spinning slightly as it descended. The group of women surged forward, hands reaching out—but in a stroke of pure chance, the bouquet bounced off one of the women's outstretched arms, ricocheted off another, and then—without warning—landed squarely in Evelyn's hands.

For a moment, there was stunned silence, and Evelyn just stared down at the bouquet, her eyes wide in surprise. The girls around her erupted into laughter and cheers, but all Evelyn could do was look up at Floyd, who was standing beside her with a bemused grin on his face.

"Well," Floyd said, chuckling softly. "I guess that's a sign."

Evelyn blinked, still holding the bouquet, feeling its weight in her hands as if it were some kind of cosmic joke. She looked up at Floyd again, her surprise mirrored by his amused expression. The laughter from the other women had subsided, and now they were all watching her expectantly, as if waiting for her reaction.

Floyd shrugged with a soft chuckle, stepping closer to her. "Guess you just couldn't avoid it, huh?" He said, his voice warm with affection. He wrapped his arm around her shoulders, pulling her close. "Looks like the universe has plans."

Evelyn felt a rush of warmth flood her cheeks, not just from the attention of the others but from the way Floyd's arm felt around her, solid and reassuring. She couldn't help but laugh, the absurdity of the situation catching up with her. "I wasn't even trying!" She protested lightly, but her smile gave her away.

"You never know," Floyd said with a teasing glint in his eye. "Maybe it was meant to be."

She glanced up at him, her heart fluttering in her chest. There was a tenderness in his gaze, a promise of something more, something beyond this moment. Evelyn smiled, leaning into him, resting her head against his shoulder as the party around them seemed to melt away. "Maybe," she whispered.

The evening continued, and as the hours passed, Evelyn found herself frequently by Anna's side, helping with little things, sharing quiet moments of reflection, and laughing together over memories from the war. It was a bittersweet joy, their friendship had been forged in fire, and now, they were here, celebrating life in a way that neither of them had thought possible during those dark days.

The music slowed, signaling the start of the couples' dance. Anna and George stepped onto the dance floor, and the room grew quiet as they shared their first dance as husband and wife. The two moved together in perfect harmony, their love palpable to everyone watching. Evelyn stood near the edge of the dance floor, her heart swelling with emotion as she watched Anna, her dearest friend, in the arms of the man she loved. It was a vision of pure happiness, and for the first time in a long time, Evelyn let herself feel the weight of it.

Small tears began to prick the corners of her eyes, and she quickly wiped them away, but the sight of Anna and George swaying together under the soft glow of the lights was too beautiful to ignore. It was everything they had dreamed of, whispered about in the dark of night while they had been cold, hungry, and scared. This moment felt like the fulfillment of a promise, the promise of peace, of love, and of a future they had fought so hard to have.

Floyd noticed the tears sliding down Evelyn's cheeks and leaned closer, his voice a gentle whisper in her ear. "You alright?" He asked softly, concern and affection lacing his tone.

Evelyn nodded, unable to keep the smile from her face. "I'm fine," she whispered back, wiping her eyes again. "I'm just... so happy for them."

Floyd pulled her in close, his arms wrapping securely around her as they both watched the couple dancing. "It's a good thing to see," he said, his own gaze softening as he looked at George and Anna, but then flicking back to Evelyn, his heart full as he imagined a similar future for the two of them. For a moment, he let himself picture what their wedding might look like, how Evelyn would look walking down the aisle toward him, how it would feel to hold her, to know she was his forever.

"I hope we get our moment like that one day." Floyd whispered quietly, his voice full of longing, though he didn't expect her to hear it.

But Evelyn did, and she turned her head slightly to look at him, a mix of surprise and tenderness in her eyes. She leaned up to kiss him softly on the cheek, not needing to say anything. The moment felt complete, the connection between them deepening in a way that words could never fully express.

The night continued with dancing, laughter, and the warmth of friends and family celebrating love and life. When it was time for everyone to return to their rooms, the guests slowly trickled out, leaving behind the lingering magic of the day.

Evelyn and Floyd retired to their shared room, the energy of the day slowly giving way to the quiet intimacy of the evening. They kicked off their shoes and settled into bed, the soft glow of the moon filtering through the curtains. Evelyn curled into Floyd's side, her head resting on his chest as he held her close.

For a while, they were silent, both lost in their thoughts. The events of the day, the memories of the past, and the promise of the future all mingled together, creating a peaceful, reflective mood.

"I never thought I'd see this day," Floyd finally said, his voice low and thoughtful. "Seeing George and Anna so happy... after everything we've been through... it feels like a miracle."

Evelyn nodded against his chest, her fingers absentmindedly tracing patterns on his shirt. "I know what you mean. It's like... we fought so hard to make it here, and now that we're here, it almost doesn't feel real." She paused, her voice softening. "But I'm so glad we're here. I'm glad we get to see this, to be a part of it."

Floyd's hand moved up to gently stroke her hair, his touch gentle and soothing. "You've been by Anna's side through it all," he murmured. "I know it means the world to her that you're still here, still supporting her. You're a good friend, Dimples."

Evelyn smiled at the nickname, her heart swelling with affection for Floyd. "And you're a good man," she said quietly. "George couldn't have asked for a better friend to stand beside him today. We've all been through so much together, and... I don't know. I guess it's just overwhelming, in the best way."

Floyd shifted slightly so he could look down at her, his hand gently lifting her chin so their eyes met. "We've made it this far, haven't we?" he said, a small, hopeful smile tugging at his lips. "And who knows? Maybe one day it'll be us up there, saying our vows."

Evelyn's heart skipped a beat at his words. She had thought about it, of course, what it would be like to marry Floyd, to build a life together, but hearing him say it out loud made it feel so much more real. She searched his eyes, seeing the sincerity there, the love that had grown between them through everything they had faced.

"I'd like that." She whispered, her voice barely audible but full of emotion.

Floyd smiled, his eyes soft as he leaned down to kiss her gently. "Then let's make sure we get there," he murmured against her lips. "Because I can't imagine my future without you."

Evelyn felt tears prick at her eyes again, but this time they were happy tears, tears of hope, of love, of everything that was yet to come. She wrapped her arms around him, pulling him closer as she buried her face in his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath her cheek.

"I love you, Floyd." She whispered, her voice full of emotion.

Floyd's arms tightened around her, his own heart swelling with love and gratitude. "I love you too, Evelyn. More than anything."

And in that quiet moment, wrapped in each other's arms, they both knew that no matter what the future held, they would face it together. Just like they always had.

Chapter Text

Evelyn and Floyd's life had been a beautiful whirlwind since the end of the war. The days, months, and years had passed quickly, each day an echo of the one before, but each moment filled with the healing peace they had sought for so long. They had rebuilt their lives piece by piece—slow walks through the quiet streets of Kokomo, simple dinners where laughter easily spilled from their lips, and long nights filled with the soft, warm companionship that only a deep, enduring love could provide.

By the autumn of 1947, Floyd had kept his promise. The burden of the war had grown lighter with each passing season, and their shared walks, sometimes accompanied by Storm or Captain Whiskers, were moments of quiet joy. Together, they had worked to stitch their lives back together, creating a patchwork of memories that layered over the scars of the past. It was a soft evening in October, the kind that hinted at the coming winter, when Floyd had proposed.

There had been no grand gestures, no extravagant declarations of love. It had simply been them, sitting under the stars in their backyard, the same place where they often sat together after dinner. The night had a stillness to it, a calm that wrapped around them, making the moment feel intimate and sacred.

Floyd had cleared his throat nervously, his hands fidgeting in his lap. Evelyn had noticed, of course—she always noticed when he was nervous, the way his fingers tapped rhythmically against his knees or how his eyes shifted away from her, only to return a moment later.

"Evie," he had started, his voice thick with emotion. "I've been thinking about this for a while, and I...I don't want to waste another second without asking you this."

He had stood then, his movements slow and deliberate, and dropped to one knee before her. The way his hand had trembled when he reached into his coat pocket to pull out the ring made Evelyn's heart swell. She could hardly hear his words over the rush of blood in her ears, but his voice, raw and honest, broke through the haze.

"I can't imagine my life without you, Evelyn. After everything we've been through, I know I don't want to face another day without you by my side. Will you marry me?"

Evelyn hadn't waited for him to finish the question. Her heart had answered before her voice, but when she spoke, her yes was filled with every bit of love she had for him. She had thrown herself into his arms, the night air filled with the sound of her laughter as they embraced under the stars.

Their wedding day came the following summer in 1948, a day that felt like a dream come to life. The small church where they had exchanged their vows had been filled with family, friends, and comrades who had shared in their struggles and their joy. The air was thick with the promise of new beginnings, a life waiting to unfold before them.

Inside the bridal suite, Evelyn had stood before a tall mirror, adjusting the delicate lace sleeves of her gown. The dress had been a gift from her mother, a beautiful piece with a soft, flowing skirt and intricate lace detailing that whispered of old-world charm. The bodice had been cinched at the waist in a way that made Evelyn feel elegant and strong, the fabric trailing behind her like a reminder of the past she was ready to leave behind.

Anna had been by her side, unable to contain her tears as she looked at Evelyn.

"Eve, you look...breathtaking. I swear, I'm going to cry," Anna had said, her voice thick with emotion as her hands flew to her face, trying to stop the flood of tears.

Evelyn had laughed, though she could feel the sting of her own tears gathering in her eyes. "Don't you dare, Anna, or I'm going to lose it too. If you cry, I'll ruin my makeup."

Anna had managed a shaky laugh, wiping away a tear before it could fall. "I just can't believe it. After everything we've been through, you're finally here, getting married. You look like a princess, Eve."

Evelyn had turned slightly, her heart swelling as she adjusted the veil over her head. "It's hard to believe, isn't it? But it feels like everything we went through...was leading to this."

Anna had pulled her into a tight hug, her voice a whisper in Evelyn's ear. "We've got so much ahead of us. So much more to come."

Their eyes had met, and Evelyn had noticed the small, unconscious touch Anna had made to her growing belly. It was a gesture filled with hope, a quiet acknowledgment of the future that was already taking shape.

When Evelyn had finally stepped into the church, all her nerves had vanished. Floyd was waiting for her at the altar, his eyes only for her. He looked both nervous and overjoyed, a mix of emotions that she felt mirrored in her own heart. As she walked down the aisle, the weight of her father's hand on her arm gave her strength, but it was the sight of Floyd's wide, loving smile that made her heart race.

When her father placed her hand in Floyd's, there was a moment—just a heartbeat—where Evelyn felt the world still. It was as if everything they had endured, every painful memory, every moment of doubt, had led them here, to this place where the future spread out before them like a bright, open sky.

As they faced each other at the altar, Floyd held Evelyn's hands gently in his, his thumbs tracing slow circles over her skin as the officiant began the ceremony. The words were beautiful, but it was the way Floyd looked at her—the love in his eyes, the tenderness in his every gesture—that made the moment profound. When it came time for the rings, there was a soft commotion as everyone turned to see Captain Whiskers and Storm, dressed in tiny suits, trotting down the aisle. Each carried a small pouch on their backs containing the rings.

The room filled with laughter and affectionate murmurs as Captain Whiskers, true to his nature, paused frequently to accept pets and scratches from the guests, while Storm bounded ahead, tail wagging, eager to please.

Evelyn chuckled, shaking her head. "Of course," she whispered to Floyd as they watched their pets make their way forward. When they finally reached the couple, Floyd knelt to retrieve the ring from Storm's pouch, a grin splitting his face. Evelyn followed suit, carefully taking the ring from Captain Whiskers' bag.

With their hearts full and smiles wide, they exchanged rings, their fingers brushing as they slid the simple bands onto each other's hands. The symbolism was not lost on either of them—this was a promise, not just for the good days, but for the hard ones too. For the days when the memories of war would creep back, for the nights when the past would be too close for comfort. It was a promise to face it all together, hand in hand.

"You may now kiss the bride."

Floyd leaned in, cupping Evelyn's face gently as their lips met in a tender, lingering kiss that felt like a promise in itself. The church erupted into cheers, applause echoing off the walls as they pulled apart, smiles so wide they could hardly contain their joy. Hand in hand, they turned to face their guests, the future stretching out before them like a bright and shining path.

The reception that followed was filled with joy and laughter, the sound of clinking glasses and soft music filling the evening air. Evelyn and Floyd made their rounds, greeting guests and soaking in the love that radiated from everyone in the room.

At one point, Bill approached Floyd with a beer in hand and a crooked smile on his face. His gait was uneven, his crutches supporting his weight as he moved toward the couple.

"I never thought I'd see you like this, Mary," Bill said, his voice slurred slightly but his smile genuine. "I remember you stumbling into training like a kid fresh outta school, and now look at you. Married and everything."

Floyd chuckled, shaking his head at the remark made against his new wife. "Life takes some unexpected turns, doesn't it?"

Bill nodded, his eyes glinting with emotion as he looked between them. "It sure does. And I'm damn glad you two found each other in the middle of all that mess."

As the evening went on, the dance floor was cleared, and Evelyn and Floyd took to the center for their first dance as husband and wife. The room seemed to melt away as they moved together, their arms wrapped around each other, the soft melody of the music guiding their steps.

"This reminds me of the night we first met," Floyd whispered in her ear, his voice warm with memory. "That dance we shared before the world turned upside down."

Evelyn smiled, her cheek pressed against his chest. "You were such a charmer," she teased lightly. "It's no wonder you won me over."

Floyd's chuckle rumbled in his chest. "And you were just as beautiful then as you are now. More, even."

"Floyd," Evelyn murmured, her voice a mix of bashfulness and affection. "You're going to make me cry. Again."

"I could never stop," he whispered softly, his breath warm against her ear. "You're everything to me, Evelyn. Everything."

Her heart stuttered at his words, the sincerity of them wrapping around her like a warm embrace. She looked up at him, her eyes glistening with emotion. "I love you, Floyd. I've loved you since the moment we met, and I'll love you for the rest of my life."

Floyd's grip on her waist tightened, pulling her closer as they swayed together. "And I'll spend every day showing you that I love you," he promised, his voice thick with emotion as they shared the quiet moment.

By the spring of 1949, Evelyn and Floyd had welcomed their first children—twins, a boy and a girl, who had turned their mildly quiet home into an even larger whirlwind of activity. Floyd Jr. and Anna, named after the two most important people in Evelyn's life, had filled their home with laughter, tears, and the chaos that only new parents could understand.

The twins had been a handful from the moment they were born, their cries filling the house at all hours of the night. Evelyn and Floyd had taken turns waking with them, but there were nights when they both stumbled through the house, bleary-eyed and exhausted.

In one of her letters to Anna, Evelyn had written:

"You'd think after everything we survived during the war, I'd be prepared for sleepless nights. But these two...they've got me beat. Floyd and I try to take shifts, but some nights it feels like we're both up for hours. And yet, in the middle of all the crying and the exhaustion, I wouldn't trade it for the world. Holding them, even when they're screaming their little heads off...it makes me feel like the future is finally ours to shape."

Anna's reply had come swiftly, filled with the same humor and shared understanding that had always been the foundation of their friendship:

"Oh, Eve, I hear you! Thomas has decided that 2 a.m. is his favorite time to be awake, and I swear, I've never been more sleep-deprived in my life. The bags under my eyes are growing by the day. But isn't it the most amazing thing? To hold them, to know they're ours. Some days, I look at him and wonder how we got so lucky."

Evelyn had smiled at her friend's words, her heart full as she thought of their shared journey. The war had tested them in ways they had never expected, but they had come through it, stronger for it. And now, here they were, mothers, wives, building the lives they had once only dreamed of.

At home, the chaos of raising twins often felt overwhelming, but there were moments of pure, unfiltered joy that made it all worth it. There was the first time little Floyd Jr. had smiled, a gummy, wide-eyed expression that had made Evelyn laugh despite her exhaustion. And when Anna had laughed for the first time, the sound had been so sweet and melodic that it brought tears to Evelyn's eyes.

Years passed, and their family grew. In the winter of 1952, they welcomed their second son, James, into the world. He was the spitting image of Floyd, with the same dark hair and deep brown eyes that Evelyn had fallen in love with all those years ago. James quickly bonded with Storm, the two of them becoming inseparable as the weeks passed.

One evening, as Evelyn sat in the living room with the twins—now four years old—she marveled at how much they had grown. Little Floyd Jr. was busy playing with his toy trucks on the floor, his brow furrowed in concentration, while Anna was curled up next to Evelyn on the couch, a book clutched in her small hands.

"Mommy," Anna said suddenly, her voice soft but insistent.

Evelyn looked down at her daughter, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "Yes, sweetheart?"

"Will we always live here? In this house?" Anna's wide eyes were full of curiosity, her small fingers tracing the edge of her book absentmindedly.

Evelyn smiled softly, her heart full as she looked at her daughter. "I hope so, sweetie. This is our home, and I can't imagine being anywhere else."

Anna nodded thoughtfully, her gaze drifting to the window where the late afternoon light filtered in, casting a warm glow over the room.

"What about when we grow up?" Little Floyd Jr. asked from his spot on the floor, his attention momentarily diverted from his trucks. "Will we still live here with you and Daddy?"

Evelyn chuckled softly, her heart swelling with love for her children. "Well, one day, you'll both grow up and have your own homes, but you'll always have a place here with us. This will always be your home too."

Little Floyd Jr. seemed satisfied with that answer, nodding sagely before returning to his trucks. Anna, however, seemed to still be pondering something.

"Mommy, when I grow up, I want to be just like you," she said earnestly, her bright eyes locking onto Evelyn's. "I want to take care of people and have a big family."

Evelyn's heart nearly melted at her daughter's words, her eyes misting with emotion. She leaned down to kiss the top of Anna's head. "You can be anything you want to be, sweetheart. And I know you'll be wonderful, no matter what you choose."

Anna beamed up at her, her small face glowing with pride and happiness. "I want to help people, just like you and Daddy do."

Evelyn wrapped her arms around Anna, pulling her close, and whispered in her ear, "You already do, my love. You already do."

It was a warm summer afternoon in 1955 when George and Anna arrived at Floyd and Evelyn's house in Kokomo. The sun hung low in the sky, casting a golden hue over the fields that stretched out behind the house, while a soft breeze rustled the trees lining the yard. Evelyn had been anxiously awaiting this visit for weeks, her excitement building with each passing day. After everything they'd been through together—the war, the separations, the struggles of starting new lives—seeing Anna again after so many years was like reuniting with a missing piece of her soul.

As George's car pulled up the long, gravel driveway, Evelyn felt a burst of joy, her heart pounding with the anticipation of seeing her dearest friend again. From the porch, she watched as Anna stepped out of the car, holding baby George Jr. in her arms. Behind her, little Eddie and Eve clambered out, wide-eyed with excitement as they took in the house and sprawling yard. George followed soon after, giving a friendly wave to Floyd, who was already on his feet, heading over to greet them.

Evelyn hurried down the steps, unable to contain herself any longer. "Anna!" She called, her voice trembling with emotion.

Anna's head snapped up, her face breaking into a radiant smile. "Eve!" she replied, her voice full of warmth and familiarity.

They rushed toward each other, meeting halfway in a tight embrace, each woman holding the other with all the love and affection that years of separation could never diminish. Evelyn held on for a moment longer, feeling the tears welling up in her eyes. When they finally pulled back, both women were misty-eyed but smiling.

"It's been too long," Evelyn said, her voice thick with emotion.

"Far too long," Anna agreed, her eyes soft as she gazed at her friend. "But look at you, Eve. You haven't changed a bit." She glanced toward the porch where Floyd Jr., Anna, and James were peeking out shyly. "And your beautiful family..."

Evelyn laughed, wiping away a tear before it could fall. "I could say the same about you, Anna. Look at these little ones!" She bent down to greet Eddie and Eve, who shyly hid behind their mother's skirts for a moment before Eddie, the eldest, gave her a confident grin.

"This must be Eddie, right?" Evelyn said, ruffling his hair. "My goodness, you've grown so much!"

Eddie nodded proudly, puffing out his chest. "I'm almost eight!" he declared.

"And this little beauty must be Eve," Evelyn continued, turning to the curly-haired girl who clung to her mother's hand. Evelyn crouched down, her voice gentle. "Hello, sweetheart."

Eve gave a shy smile, her wide, brown eyes full of curiosity as she looked at Evelyn. "Hi," she whispered, her tiny voice barely audible.

"And this little one?" Evelyn turned her attention to George Jr., still nestled in Anna's arms, his chubby hands clutching his mother's dress.

"This is George Jr.," Anna said softly, kissing the top of the baby's head. "He's only six months old, so he's a bit of a mama's boy at the moment."

Evelyn's eyes filled with tenderness as she gently stroked the baby's soft cheek. "He's beautiful, Anna. Just like the rest of them."

At that moment, Floyd Jr. and Anna, Evelyn's oldest twins, came bounding down the porch steps, eager to meet their new playmates. "Can we go play in the garden, Mom?" Floyd Jr. asked, already eyeing the wide, open space behind the house where Storm was lounging in the grass.

"Yes, of course," Evelyn said with a laugh. "Go on, take Eddie and Eve with you."

Eddie needed no further encouragement. "Come on, let's go!" He shouted excitedly, grabbing Floyd Jr.'s hand as they raced off toward the yard, Anna following close behind with Eve as Storm barked happily after them.

Evelyn and Anna watched as their children disappeared into the garden, their laughter ringing through the warm afternoon air. The sound filled Evelyn's heart with a sense of peace she hadn't felt in years. She glanced at Anna, who had settled onto one of the garden chairs, her expression serene as she watched the children play.

"Feels like just yesterday we were running around like that on the random fields if Europe, doesn't it?" Evelyn said softly, taking a seat beside her.

Anna smiled wistfully, her gaze never leaving the children. "It really does. And now here we are, watching our own kids run wild. It's almost surreal."

Evelyn leaned back in her chair, letting out a contented sigh. "I've missed this, Anna. I've missed you."

Anna turned to look at her, her eyes full of emotion. "I've missed you too, Eve. So much." She paused, her voice catching slightly. "Sometimes I wonder how we made it through all those moments apart. There were days I didn't think I could do it without you."

Evelyn reached out, taking Anna's hand in hers. "I know. There were times I felt the same. But look at us now. We did it. We survived. And we're here."

Anna squeezed her hand tightly, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears. "We really did, didn't we?" She glanced down at George Jr., who was now dozing peacefully in her lap. "Sometimes I look at them—at my children—and I can't believe how lucky I am. After everything, we've come out the other side, and we've built these beautiful lives."

Evelyn nodded, her own eyes drifting toward the garden where Floyd Jr., Anna, and Eddie were chasing Storm around the yard, their laughter echoing in the distance. "I feel the same way. There were moments, back then, when I didn't think we'd ever find this kind of happiness. But here we are, with these incredible little ones who have no idea what we went through to get here."

Anna let out a soft laugh, though there was a hint of sadness in her voice. "I'm glad they don't know, Eve. I'm glad they'll never have to experience what we did."

Evelyn nodded in agreement. "Yes. That's the blessing, isn't it? That they'll grow up safe and loved. It makes all the struggles worth it."

For a moment, they sat in comfortable silence, simply watching their children play. The sun had begun to dip lower in the sky, casting long shadows over the garden. Evelyn glanced at Anna, her heart full of gratitude for this moment, for the way their lives had unfolded despite the odds.

"I remember," Evelyn began quietly, "those nights in the foxholes, when we'd lie there and talk about what we'd do if we ever got out. You always said you wanted a big family."

Anna smiled softly, her eyes distant as she recalled those long, dark nights. "I did, didn't I? I guess I always knew what I wanted. Even when everything seemed impossible, that dream kept me going."

Evelyn nodded, her voice thick with emotion. "And now you have it. You have this beautiful family, Anna. And you deserve every bit of happiness."

Anna's eyes filled with tears, and she looked at Evelyn, her voice trembling. "So do you, Eve. You and Floyd...you've built something incredible here. I'm so proud of you."

Evelyn blinked back her own tears, her throat tight. "We've all come so far, haven't we? Sometimes I look at Floyd, at the kids, and I wonder how we got so lucky. After everything...the war, the loss...it feels like a miracle to have this."

Anna nodded, wiping at her eyes as she tried to keep her emotions in check. "It really does. But we earned it, Eve. We fought for this, and we deserve it."

Just then, little Eve toddled over from the garden, her eyes wide with excitement as she held up a flower she had picked. "Mommy! Mommy, look!" she called, her small hands clutching the delicate blossom.

Anna smiled, her heart swelling with love as she took the flower from her daughter. "It's beautiful, Eve. Thank you, sweetheart."

Eve beamed, her face lighting up with pride before she turned and ran back to join her brother and the twins in the garden.

Evelyn watched the exchange, her heart full to bursting. "They're so full of life, aren't they?"

Anna nodded, her eyes soft as she watched her children play. "They are. They're everything, Evie. I never knew I could love anyone this much."

Evelyn smiled, reaching over to squeeze Anna's hand. "I know exactly what you mean."

Meanwhile, across the yard, Floyd and George had settled onto a bench near the edge of the garden, the quiet hum of the children's laughter drifting through the air as they talked. Floyd, who had a young James perched on his lap, handed George a cold bottle of beer, and the two men sat in companionable silence for a moment, taking in the peaceful scene around them.

"It's good to have you here, George," Floyd said after a while, his voice steady but filled with emotion.

George nodded, taking a long sip of his drink. "It's good to be here. Really good."

Floyd glanced over at his old friend, his expression thoughtful. "Can you believe how far we've come? There were times I wasn't sure we'd ever make it to this point."

George let out a low chuckle, shaking his head. "I know what you mean. There were days during the war when I thought I'd never see home again. And now, here we are—married, with families of our own. It's...unbelievable, really."

Floyd nodded, his gaze distant as he thought back to those dark days. "It feels like a lifetime ago, doesn't it? But at the same time...it feels like it was just yesterday."

George was quiet for a moment, his expression growing more serious. "I think about it sometimes—the war. The things we saw, the things we went through. It never really leaves you, does it?"

Floyd sighed, his eyes clouding with memories. "No, it doesn't. But I try not to dwell on it too much. We're here now. We've built these lives, and we have to focus on that. On the future."

George nodded, his expression softening as he looked over at their children, running and laughing without a care in the world. "You're right. And I wouldn't trade this for anything. Not after everything we've been through."

Floyd smiled, his heart full of pride as he watched his son and daughter playing with George's children. "We've come a long way, haven't we?"

George smiled back, his voice full of warmth. "Yeah, we have. And I'm damn proud of it."

The two men sat in comfortable silence for a while, watching their families—two families that had been shaped by the trials of war, by loss, by love, and by the unwavering bond that had seen them through it all. As the sun dipped lower in the sky, casting a warm glow over the scene, Floyd and George knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, they had already overcome the hardest part. Together.

And as their children's laughter filled the air, mingling with the soft rustling of the trees and the distant hum of the cicadas, they knew that this moment—this life—was the greatest victory they had ever achieved.

The years seemed to slip through Evelyn's fingers like sand as time marched on with a steady, relentless pace. Before they knew it, 1956 had arrived, bringing with it new joys, challenges, and changes. Life, once punctuated by the intensity of war and the uncertainty of survival, had now settled into a beautiful, rhythmic routine. And with the birth of their fourth child—a beautiful baby girl named Helen—their family felt, at last, complete.

From the moment Helen entered the world, she had wrapped herself around Evelyn's heart. With her dark, curious eyes and a head full of soft, blonde curls, Helen was a child who radiated sweetness. She seemed to possess a quiet understanding, even as an infant, of the comfort her mother's arms provided, and it wasn't long before she became known as a "Mommy's girl" in the household. No matter where Evelyn went, little Helen was close by, toddling after her mother on unsteady legs, her tiny hands reaching up for comfort.

It became a common sight—Helen clinging to Evelyn's dress, or nestled in her arms as they sat together in the garden, Evelyn humming softly as she brushed through her daughter's unruly curls. And though Evelyn's heart swelled with love for all her children, there was something deeply moving about Helen's steadfast attachment to her. It was as if Helen, in her own small way, was making up for all the times Evelyn had feared she might not live to see this life—the life where she could hold her children close, safe from the storms of the world outside.

The bond between mother and daughter was so strong that even Floyd, who adored his little girl, often found himself in playful competition for Evelyn's attention.

It was one evening, four months after Helen's birth, that Floyd found his entire family wrapped up together in a perfect moment of domestic bliss. The day had been long but satisfying. The children had spent hours playing outside, their laughter ringing out across the yard as they ran through the fields with Storm, the old dog still eager to chase after them despite his graying muzzle. Evelyn had prepared a hearty dinner, the smell of roast chicken filling the house, and now, as the evening wore on, the family had retreated to their shared bedroom—a cozy sanctuary where the heart of their home seemed to reside.

Floyd, having just finished clearing up downstairs, quietly made his way toward the bedroom, expecting to find Evelyn perhaps tidying up or getting ready for bed. But as he pushed open the door, he was greeted by the warm glow of the bedside lamp, illuminating a scene that made his heart swell with affection.

There, nestled together on the large bed, were Evelyn and their four children—Floyd Jr., Anna, James, and little Helen—curled up in a tangle of limbs, their laughter filling the room. Evelyn was at the center of it all, her back propped up against the headboard, with Helen snugly cradled in her arms, resting her head on her mother's chest. Anna and James were sprawled out beside her, giggling over some private joke, while Floyd Jr. sat at the foot of the bed, tossing a ball between his hands, joining in on the laughter.

It was a sight of pure, unfiltered joy, one that made Floyd pause in the doorway, a smile tugging at his lips as he watched his family, his heart full to bursting with pride and love.

"Am I having my wife stolen from me by my own children?" Floyd asked, his voice teasing as he stepped into the room.

Evelyn looked up, her eyes soft with love as she smiled at him. "They can't help it, can they?" She replied, laughing gently as she ran her fingers through Helen's hair, the baby already beginning to doze off in her arms.

Anna, always quick to play along, looked up at her father with a mischievous grin. "You're too late, Daddy. We've claimed her. She's ours now."

James, not wanting to be left out, added with a cheeky grin, "Yeah, there's no room left for you. Mommy's ours tonight."

Floyd chuckled, shaking his head as he made his way to the bed. He leaned down, brushing a soft kiss against Evelyn's forehead before turning to his children. "Oh, is that so? You think you can just take her from me?"

Floyd Jr. tossed the ball toward his father, laughing. "We're a team, Dad. And we always win!"

Floyd grinned, catching the ball mid-air and pretending to think it over. "Well, I suppose if I have to lose to anyone, I'm glad it's you lot." His eyes softened as he looked at Evelyn, the love between them evident in the way they exchanged glances. "But I might need to borrow her for a few minutes later—just to remind her I exist."

Evelyn laughed, shaking her head. "You're impossible, Floyd."

He sat down on the edge of the bed, his hand resting gently on her knee. "I know," he said softly, his voice tender. "But you wouldn't have it any other way."

The children continued to giggle and talk amongst themselves, their voices overlapping in a pleasant hum, but in that moment, Floyd's attention was fully on his wife. He watched her, the way she held Helen close, the way she smiled as she listened to Anna and Floyd Jr's playful banter. She had always been the center of their world, the steady force that kept them all grounded, and now, with Helen snuggled up against her, she looked more at peace than he had ever seen her.

"You're a wonderful mother, you know that?" Floyd said quietly, his voice full of admiration.

Evelyn looked at him, her eyes glistening with emotion. "I couldn't do it without you, Floyd."

He shook his head, a soft smile playing on his lips. "I'm not so sure about that. These kids—they adore you. You're their whole world, Evie."

Evelyn's eyes softened as she looked down at Helen, her heart swelling with love for the little girl who had become her constant shadow. "And they're mine," she whispered, her voice barely audible over the soft sounds of their children's laughter. "All of them. Every single one."

Floyd reached out, gently tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "We're lucky, aren't we?"

Evelyn nodded, her eyes misty as she met his gaze. "So lucky. I think about it all the time—how close we came to losing it all, and how we've ended up here, with this beautiful family. It feels like a dream sometimes."

Floyd smiled, his voice full of warmth. "It's not a dream, Evelyn. It's real. And it's ours."

For a moment, they sat there in the glow of the lamplight, watching their children—so full of life, so full of love. The room was filled with the sounds of quiet laughter, the soft rustling of sheets, and the steady breathing of little Helen, now fast asleep in Evelyn's arms. It was a moment of pure contentment, the kind of moment Floyd had longed for during those dark days of war, when the future had seemed uncertain and happiness had felt like something just out of reach.

Now, with his family gathered around him, that happiness was real, tangible, and it filled every corner of the room.

Evelyn looked down at Helen, her voice barely above a whisper. "She's going to be just like Anna, isn't she? Full of curiosity and mischief."

Floyd laughed softly. "Oh, definitely. And probably just as stubborn."

Evelyn smiled, brushing her fingers gently across Helen's cheek. "I wouldn't have it any other way."

As the night wore on and the children began to drift off to sleep, one by one, Floyd Jr. finally curled up beside his brother, and Anna snuggled close to Evelyn. Floyd watched them all, his heart full as he pulled the covers up around his family.

He glanced over at Evelyn, who was still holding Helen close, her eyes heavy with sleep. "You ready to call it a night?" he asked softly.

Evelyn nodded, her voice quiet as she looked at him with all the love in the world. "Yes. I think it's time."

Floyd stood and stretched, taking one last look at his sleeping children before he leaned down and kissed Evelyn's forehead. "Goodnight, love," he whispered.

"Goodnight, Floyd," she replied, her voice full of contentment as she settled in with Helen cradled against her chest.

As Floyd turned off the light and slipped into bed beside them, the room fell into a peaceful silence, broken only by the soft, rhythmic breaths of their sleeping children. In that quiet, intimate moment, with his family close around him, Floyd knew without a doubt that this—this was the life he had always dreamed of. And nothing in the world could ever take that away.

Chapter Text

The winter chill of 1957 still lingered in the air, but as the days grew longer, a palpable warmth began to fill the hearts of those in Kokomo, Indiana. It was a time of reunion, a time for remembrance and laughter, as Evelyn and Floyd prepared to host the annual Easy Company reunion in their home. It was an event that had grown to symbolize not only the camaraderie of the men who fought in the war but also the enduring bonds of friendship forged in the fires of hardship.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a golden hue over their backyard, Evelyn stood at the kitchen counter, expertly layering a chocolate cake. The sweet scent filled the room, mingling with the savory aroma of the roast that Floyd was preparing on the stove. Laughter echoed outside as their children played in the yard, their joyful voices a reminder of the life they had all fought so hard to protect.

Evelyn glanced out the window, her heart swelling with happiness. Floyd Jr. and Anna chased after Storm and Captain Whiskers, while James and little Helen giggled as they played tag with George Jr., Anna's son, who had also come to the reunion with his mother, Anna. George Jr. was glued to Anna's side, his big brown eyes sparkling with excitement, eager to join in the fun.

"Hey, can you keep an eye on the oven for me?" Evelyn called to Floyd, who was busily checking the roast. He looked up, nodding with a smile.

"Of course! I've got it under control," he said, his voice full of confidence.

"Good," Evelyn replied, her attention drifting back to the children. She couldn't help but smile as she watched them. It was moments like this—simple and joyful—that made everything worth it. The memories of the war felt distant, overshadowed by the laughter and love that filled their home.

The first guests began to arrive, their laughter and boisterous greetings filling the house. Evelyn's heart raced with excitement as she heard the familiar voices of the men she had come to know as brothers. Anna and George soon stepped through the door, their three kids in tow, alongside many other men from the Company. Evelyn soon found herself stood beside Anna in the large lounge, looking onto the small crowd of ex-soldiers that sat in the room.

As the memories of Camp Davis flooded back, Evelyn felt a wave of nostalgia wash over her. She remembered that steep, winding hill they had to climb just to reach the camp, a hill that seemed to symbolize their determination and grit.

"Do you remember that hill we had to conquer every morning just to get to Camp Davis?" Evelyn asked Anna, who laughed, shaking her head as if to dispel the remnants of that long-ago struggle.

"Of course! It felt like we were training for a marathon just to start our day," Anna replied, her eyes sparkling with mirth. "I swear, half the time I thought I was going to slide back down it!"

"I remember trying to keep up with you, practically huffing and puffing all the way up!" Evelyn chuckled. "It was like a scene from one of those military training films. But we made it, didn't we?"

"We did," Anna said, her voice tinged with pride. "And we had each other to lean on. I remember how you always encouraged me to push through. 'One step at a time, Anna,' you'd say, and somehow it felt like we could conquer anything."

Evelyn smiled at the memory. "That was our saying, wasn't it? One step at a time. If we could conquer that hill every day, then we could handle anything the military threw at us."

"I remember feeling the weight of that expectation," Evelyn admitted, her tone reflective. "I often wondered if I was strong enough to handle the challenges we faced. But every time we reached the top of that hill, it felt like a small victory."

"And then we would walk into camp like we owned the place!" Anna exclaimed, laughter bubbling between them again. "We were unstoppable!"

"Unstoppable and unapologetic," Evelyn added, a sense of fierce pride swelling within her. "We forged our own path, and in many ways, we set the stage for what women could accomplish. The hill was just the beginning."

"Do you remember the day we finally reached the top and just collapsed in a heap, laughing so hard?" Anna said, her eyes glimmering with the memory. "I think we might have scared the officers down below with our howls of laughter."

Evelyn shook her head in disbelief, the image still vivid in her mind. "Absolutely! We just lay there, breathless, while they stood there looking bewildered. I think it was then I realized how incredible it was to have you by my side."

"That was the moment we truly became a team," Anna said softly. "Every challenge we faced after that felt a little easier because we had each other to lean on."

"Exactly," Evelyn said, her voice warm. "And look at us now. We've come so far, from climbing hills to raising families, building lives full of love and laughter. I'm so proud of us, Anna."

"I am too, Evelyn. We fought our battles, not just against the enemy, but against the doubts and fears that tried to hold us back. And we did it together."

As they stood on the porch, watching their children play, Evelyn felt a surge of emotion. The laughter of their kids rang in the air, blending seamlessly with the echoes of their own past—two women determined to prove themselves, now mothers teaching their children the values of resilience, courage, and the importance of friendship.

As if reading her thoughts, Anna turned and said, "We owe it to them to tell our stories, don't you think? So they know the hills we climbed to get here?"

"Absolutely," Evelyn replied, her heart full. "They need to understand that strength isn't just about physical prowess but also about the bonds we forge and the love we share. Our stories are part of their legacy."

"Here's to the hills we've climbed and the journeys still ahead," Anna said, raising an imaginary glass.

"Here's to us, and the memories we've made along the way," Evelyn added, her voice thick with emotion.

In that moment, surrounded by laughter and the warmth of shared history, both women felt an overwhelming sense of gratitude. They had forged a bond that would last a lifetime, and as they watched their children play together, they knew that the legacy of their resilience and determination would continue to inspire future generations.

As the reunion continued, Evelyn made her way through the crowd, exchanging warm hugs and heartfelt greetings with the men of Easy Company. Each embrace was a reminder of the sacrifices they had all made, a testament to the brotherhood they shared that transcended the horrors of war.

Soon, she found herself face-to-face with Bill Guarnere, his signature grin lighting up his face. "Evelyn! Look at you, still stealing the spotlight after all these years!" he exclaimed, pulling her into a tight embrace.

"Bill! You haven't changed a bit!" she laughed, stepping back to take in his familiar features, now softened by time. "It's so good to see you!"

"Yeah, well, someone has to keep you guys grounded," he joked, slapping her playfully on the back. "How's Floyd? Still keeping you on your toes?"

"Always," Evelyn replied with a chuckle. "You know him. He's managing just fine, trying to keep up with all our kids. He's practically a human jungle gym at this point."

"Good to hear! He's a lucky man. And those kids—my God, they must be a handful!" Bill said, shaking his head in disbelief. "But I'm glad to see you happy. You deserve it."

"Thank you, Bill. That means a lot," she said, her eyes shining with warmth. "We've all come so far since those days, haven't we?"

Bill nodded, his expression turning serious. "Yeah, we have. You know, I still think about the war. The guys who didn't make it back. But seeing you and Anna here with your families—it's a reminder of why we fought, why it was all worth it."

Evelyn felt a lump rise in her throat. "I think about them too. Every single day. They gave everything for us, for our freedom. And I'll always be grateful."

"Me too," Bill said, his voice heavy with emotion. "But we carry their memory with us, in everything we do. And look at the lives we've built. It's beautiful."

As they talked, Evelyn noticed the children running around, playing tag and laughing as they chased each other across the lawn. Floyd Jr. and Eddie were wrestling on the grass, while Anna, with her boundless energy, darted around them, trying to catch up.

"Those kids are full of energy," Bill said, chuckling as he watched them. "They'll tire themselves out before dinner, I can tell you that much."

"Oh, they will," Evelyn agreed, her heart swelling with pride. "They love being together. It's like we've created our own little army of mischief-makers."

"Just like we were," Bill said with a wink. "It's great to see, really. The future looks bright."

Before they could continue, Lewis Nixon strolled over, a playful smile on his face. "Look at this reunion! It's like old times, only better because there are fewer parachutes involved."

"Speak for yourself!" Bill shot back, laughing. "Evelyn here always had a knack for causing a scene."

"Hey now, that was just my way of keeping you all on your toes!" Evelyn interjected, crossing her arms playfully.

"Yeah, and I knew from the first moment you and Anna arrived at Camp Davis that you two were spies," Nixon said with a teasing grin. "You can't fool me."

Evelyn raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms. "Oh really? Is that so? And how exactly did you come to that conclusion?"

"Come on! You both were too good at blending in. You had us all fooled for a bit, but I saw the way you maneuvered through those drills like you'd been trained your whole lives. It was suspicious!" he joked, laughter dancing in his eyes.

"Lewis, we just worked hard. You know that," Evelyn said, fighting back a smile. "But it's funny you mention it because I felt like we were under a magnifying glass the whole time!"

Nixon nodded, his expression growing more sincere. "I just knew you two were destined for something special. You both brought something unique to the company. You kept us grounded, gave us something to fight for beyond just the war."

"Or a place to sneak away for ice cream after drills," Bill interjected, a playful glint in his eye.

"Hey, that was our little secret!" Evelyn laughed, her heart full. "But honestly, it meant the world to us to have your support, especially when things got tough."

Nixon leaned closer, his tone softening. "I want you to know, Evelyn, that I always admired your strength. You were a beacon of hope for us, even in the darkest times. It's why we trusted you. We knew you had our backs."

Evelyn felt tears prick her eyes as his words washed over her. "Thank you, Lewis. That means so much to me. I always believed in what we were doing, and I never wanted to let any of you down."

"And you never did," Nixon replied, his voice firm. "You and Anna showed us the true meaning of bravery. You've done so much since then."

"Speaking of bravery," Evelyn said, glancing over at the children again, "look at them! They're fearless, just like we were."

"Yeah, but they have the benefit of not having to run up Currahee every day!" Nixon chuckled, glancing over at Anna and the kids. "But they're going to have their own battles to fight. We all do."

Evelyn's heart sank a little at the thought. "I just hope they learn from our mistakes and successes. I hope they understand the importance of standing together."

"Absolutely. And I think they will," Nixon replied. "You and Floyd are raising incredible kids. They've got you as role models."

As the conversation continued, Eugene Roe joined them, his presence bringing a sense of warmth and calm. "Evelyn," he said softly, his voice filled with sincerity. "It's so good to see you. You're doing well, I hope?"

"I am, Eugene. Thank you," she replied, her heart warmed by his gentle demeanor. "It's been a journey, but I'm grateful for every moment."

"Family looks good on you," he said, nodding towards the children. "You've created a beautiful life."

"Thank you. I couldn't have done it without Floyd. He's been my anchor through everything," she said, her voice full of admiration.

Eugene smiled knowingly. "That's the key, isn't it? Finding someone who supports you and helps you navigate through the storms."

"Yes, it is," Evelyn agreed, her heart swelling. "And I'll always cherish the bond we formed during the war. Those friendships kept us going, and they still do."

"I've often thought about those nights in battle, about how we all relied on one another," Eugene said, his gaze growing distant. "And I think it's beautiful that we've managed to create families now. It's a sign that we overcame the odds."

Evelyn nodded, her emotions bubbling up once again. "We fought for those moments. We fought for our futures, and now it's all unfolding before us."

"And those children will carry our stories," Eugene added softly, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. "They'll remember the sacrifices, and they'll learn from us."

As Evelyn stood there, surrounded by her comrades and friends, she felt a profound sense of connection. They had shared a bond forged in fire, and though the memories of the war remained, the laughter of their children brought hope and healing.

Just then, Dick Winters approached, his demeanor calm and collected, yet there was a hint of sadness in his eyes. "Evelyn," he said quietly, "it's good to see you again."

"Dick," she replied, her heart clenching. "It's always an honor to see you."

"Thank you," he said, his tone reflective. "I've been thinking a lot about the past lately, about all we've been through together."

"Me too," she said, her voice thick with emotion. "It's hard to forget the weight of those days. The losses we faced... it lingers."

Dick nodded solemnly. "You were always there, Evelyn. You supported us in ways we couldn't even see. You offered comfort in our darkest moments, and I always trusted you."

"Even with our secrets?" She asked softly, feeling vulnerable in his presence.

"Especially with them," he replied, his gaze steady. "You and Anna did what you had to do. I admired your courage, even if it was shrouded in secrecy. You fought for us, even when we didn't fully understand."

Tears brimmed in Evelyn's eyes as she absorbed his words. "I carried that guilt with me for a long time, you know? I felt like I was betraying you all by not revealing the truth."

Dick placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "You didn't betray us, Evelyn. You protected us, just like we all protected each other. We were a family, and families sometimes keep secrets to shield one another from pain."

"I hope you know how much we appreciated everything you did for us," Evelyn said, her voice trembling. "You believed in us, even when we doubted ourselves."

"And I always will," Dick assured her, his eyes shining with sincerity. "What you and Anna accomplished during that time was extraordinary. You changed the narrative for all of us, showing that strength knows no gender."

As they stood there, wrapped in a moment of understanding, the sounds of laughter echoed around them, weaving through their shared history. Evelyn felt a profound sense of gratitude—gratitude for the bonds they had formed, for the lives they had built, and for the moments that connected them all.

As the sun began to set, painting the sky in hues of orange and pink, George Luz wandered over, a broad smile on his face. "Well, well! If it isn't my favorite group of heroes!" he announced, his voice cheerful.

"George!" Evelyn exclaimed, stepping away from Dick to greet him. "It's great to see you!"

"Good to see you too!" George replied, wrapping her in a warm embrace. "I've missed this, you know? Being surrounded by everyone. It feels like we're back in the field, just without the bullets flying."

"Just the kids flying around instead," Evelyn said, glancing over at the children playing in the fading light.

"They'll tire themselves out soon enough," George chuckled, shaking his head. "You know, it's incredible to see how far we've all come. We started as a bunch of scared kids, and look at us now—families, reunions, and a lifetime of memories."

Evelyn felt a lump rise in her throat at his words. "It's surreal, isn't it? I often think back to those days in the field, the uncertainty and fear. And now we're here, living life."

"I think about it too," George said, his expression growing more serious. "Sometimes, I feel guilty. We all carry the weight of what happened. But then I see the families we've built, the lives we've created, and it reminds me that we've honored those we lost."

"It's hard not to feel guilty at times," Evelyn admitted, her voice trembling. "I still struggle with the secrets we kept during the war. I wonder if it was worth it."

"Evelyn, you need to let that go," George said gently. "When we found out about you and Anna, we didn't see you as betrayers. We understood why you did what you did. You protected us. And that's what matters."

Evelyn met his gaze, feeling a sense of relief wash over her. "Thank you, George. It means a lot to hear that from you."

George smiled warmly. "We've all come a long way, but we're still a family. You're still part of us, and always will be. The past doesn't define us; it shapes us, yes, but we are here now, together."

"Together," she echoed, her heart swelling with gratitude. "I wouldn't trade these friendships for anything."

As they continued to talk, the sun dipped lower in the sky, casting a warm glow over the gathering. The sounds of laughter, love, and connection filled the air, a reminder of the bonds they had forged through trials and triumphs.

Later that evening, as the reunion began to wind down, Evelyn and Floyd stood side by side, watching the children as they chased fireflies in the growing dusk. Helen was nestled against Evelyn's side, her small hand gripping her mother's tightly.

Floyd wrapped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her closer. "Look at them," he said, his voice filled with warmth. "They're a testament to everything we've fought for."

"They are," Evelyn agreed, her heart full. "And I'm so grateful to share this life with you, Floyd. You've been my anchor, my partner through it all."

He leaned down, planting a gentle kiss on her forehead. "And you've been my strength, Evelyn. I couldn't have imagined a better life. You've turned our dreams into reality."

As they stood there together, enveloped in the love of their children and the echoes of their shared past, Evelyn knew that every sacrifice had been worth it. They had climbed hills, faced battles, and weathered storms—but through it all, they had emerged stronger, united, and ready for whatever lay ahead.

"Here's to us," Floyd said, raising an imaginary toast as he looked into her eyes. "To our love, our family, and the journey still to come."

"Here's to us," Evelyn echoed, her voice steady. "And to the stories we'll continue to create together."

As the last rays of sunlight faded into the horizon, they stood side by side, watching their children dance with fireflies, surrounded by the love of friends that felt more like family. It was a beautiful moment, a testament to the life they had built, and a promise of all the tomorrows yet to come.

And as the stars twinkled above them, Evelyn knew that no matter where life led them, they would always have each other—and the enduring bonds of friendship and family that had been forged in the fires of war.