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dcyllom · 4 months

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What's Your Name?

Hey @lovememadly92, merry Christmas!! I'm your secret santa for the hbowar fic exchange! I'm sorry this is a few days late but I had some major technical difficulties with the Google Doc I was writing on which stopped me from posting earlier. There's also going to be another part to this that I'm still trying to recover, so I'm sorry for the wait 😅 🎄

Request: one of the men falling in love with an SOE agent and vice versa for either enemies to lovers or friends to lovers.

Pairings: Lewis Nixon x OFC (Rosemary Young)

I hope you like this, Merry Christmas! :)

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A branch snapped. Rosie stiffened, glancing around the clearing she was in. There was a rustling to her left, perhaps ten metres away.

A voice called out, shaky in the uncertainty of the night. “Flash!”

Rosie exhaled sharply, relief flooding her body before answering in kind. “Thunder.” There was a pause after she spoke, followed by hurried whispers, as the Americans she’d been addressing registered the feminine tone of her voice.

She waited patiently. Branches were pushed apart as a face streaked with black appeared, eyes shining in the moonlight under thick brows. Rosie and the man stared at each other, before the quiet was broken by a nasal voice.

“Hey Lieutenant, can we move out? My foot’s cramping.” The Lieutenant glanced behind him, one brow raised, before shifting forwards. Several khaki-clad figures holding rifles stepped out cautiously, all aiming their guns at her head. There were four of them, with eagles emblazoned on their jackets. 101st Airborne, then. Just who she was looking for.

Rosie spoke as reassuringly as she could. “Bonjour, les Américains. I am with the French Resistance, and have been ordered to aid the Americans with their landings for Operation Overlord. I have a message for your Colonel Sink.” She knew her French accent was impeccable, but she didn’t like how it made the man in front of her grin so smugly.

The Americans looked between each other for a moment. Rosie caught movement in her peripheral vision, seeing a young, clearly uneasy Private on the left of the rag-tag group of soldiers fiddling with the safety catch of his gun. The Lieutenant noticed her gaze move, and followed her line of sight.

“Put the damn gun down, Penkala. She look like a Kraut to you?”

Rosie let her shoulders relax as Penkala lowered the gun, and the Lieutenant strode forward, hand outstretched and smirking. “Pleasure to meet you, miss. I’m Lieutenant Nixon, intelligence officer with the 101st Airborne.” Well, that explained the smug grin. This officer had likely been briefed on the SOE agents who would be joining their little adventure back in England. He had a smooth, self-assured voice, and was clearly well-educated. He also happened to be quite handsome, and he looked like he knew it too if the gleam in his eye was anything to go by.

Rosie gripped his hand firmly and shook it, hoping the flush in her cheeks would go unnoticed in the low light. “Call me Thérèse. You are five miles from your drop zone, Lieutenant Nixon. I have been searching for your men and your Colonel for the better part of the night.”

“Well, mind telling us where we actually are, Thérèse? We’re in a bit of a hurry.” His tone was light, but Rosie heard an edge to it all the same. Her mouth thinned.

“Take out your map, Lieutenant, and I will show you where you are.” Nixon looked a bit ruffled at the change in her attitude, but did what she asked all the same, pulling the scarf from around his neck. Rosie watched curiously as he shook it out, and then shone her flashlight on the silk to reveal a detailed map of Omaha and Utah beach, and the surrounding countryside.

The other Americans crowded around them at the behest of their Lieutenant, and she pointed to a point just east of a little French village on the outskirts of Saint-Marie-du-Mont, the silk slippery under her finger. The Lieutenant swore under his breath, something Rosie privately thought the village of Pouppeville did not deserve. The words drawn from his superior’s lips also caused Private Penkala to look at him askance, twisting his shocked face to stare very hard at Rosie with beseeching eyes in what she assumed was supposed to be an apology on Nixon’s behalf. He needn't have bothered. Rosie’s good opinion of Lieutenant Nixon had not been very high to begin with anyway.

The trek to Drop Zone C, where the paratroopers she was accompanying were meant to have landed before hell opened up on them, was made quick by Rosie’s knowledge of the hedgerows they were skirting around. To his credit, Lieutenant Nixon did not question her competence as she led them through the Normandy fields, but he did tail annoyingly close, his arm brushing her shoulder occasionally. Rosie would’ve been tempted to stop abruptly so he would run into her back, if the commotion wouldn’t have put them at risk of alerting any nearby Germans. Rosie cast a look at Nixon, only to find him already staring at her and unnervingly close. But before she could do more than lift an eyebrow they heard noises from the hedgerow on the opposite side of the road they were on.

Nixon held up a hand and the Americans were silent, watching, waiting, to see if they’d been spotted. Rosie crept forward, only to be stopped by a hand grasping her wrist. She gritted her teeth and wrenched her arm out of Nixon’s grip, moving silently across the road to lie in the ditch just in front of the hedge. Rosie reached behind her, aware of the brown eyes burning a hole in her skull, and pulled out her pistol before shifting forwards to peer through a small hole in the leaves.

A few tired looking Wermarcht soldiers were walking along the path, talking quietly amongst themselves as they came back from what must have been a patrol.

She turned around slowly, meeting Lieutenant Nixon’s frantic eyes, and held up her fingers to show the number of Germans there were. The Lieutenant motioned something to her, but he was using US Army hand signals and was therefore being quite useless. She could see him mouthing ‘Thérèse’ at her, but she ignored him, throwing up a hand to halt any movement the Americans might make. She took aim, and fired, dropping the German closest to her with a neat shot to the head, before taking out the other two in quick succession. They barely even had time to shout in pain and shock, unaware of their fate due to the silencer attached to her pistol.

Only the crickets buzzing in the grass could be heard for a fraught second, before a loud “What the fuck!” came from the nasally soldier, who was apparently called Liebgott. Rosie slipped back to the Americans, stuffing her pistol in her pocket, only to be met by Lieutenant Nixon’s slack jaw.

His gaze became tense, hands flexing at his side. “Don’t take a risk like that again. Let us handle it. It’s our job.”

She stared at him. “It is also mine, and that I am far more experienced at this than you, Lieutenant. I would expect an intelligence officer to already know this, but apparently not. Now follow, unless you want me to leave you at the hands of the next Germans who decide to wander through here.” She walked away, leaving the disgruntled but mollified soldiers to trail in her wake towards the sounds and conversation of the American base.

Rosie earned a lot of sideways glances as she strode through the crowd of soldiers, with their harsh accents and loud voices. Eventually, however, just when she was losing hope that she’d ever find an officer amongst the men scattered around the Normandy village where they’d set up a base, Lieutenant Nixon surged forwards from behind her to greet a harried but kind looking man who made himself known as Captain Hester, and Rosie was able to leave the aggravating Lieutenant behind in order to find Colonel Sink.

But, before she could slip into the crowd, a hand wrapped itself around her wrist once again and she was pulled back to face Lieutenant Nixon.

“Hey, Thérèse, before you run off–” He stopped as she attempted to rip her arm out of his hold, but he’d clearly expected this as he simply adjusted his grip as she glared at him.

“Before you run away, I wanted to say thanks.” Rosie stayed silent, not trusting herself to speak. For a moment, he didn’t speak either, just looked at her. “Your name’s not really Thérèse, is it?”.

Rosie’s answering smile was smug.

“What’s your name?” Nixon pressed.

“Call me Rosie, Lieutenant Nixon. My apologies, but I really must be going. I have a job to do,” and with that she slipped out of his loosened grip and darted through the mess of soldiers, dodging as she went and ignoring the shout from Nixon after her

“Hey, hey! Is that even your real name?!”

But Rosie had already vanished into the night.

#band of brothers #lewis nixon #easy company #band of brothers fanfic #hbowarsanta23 #hbo war #lewis nixon x oc

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softguarnere · 3 months

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For Whatever We Lose

Lewis Nixon x OFC (slow burn, enemies to lovers) Chapter Four: A United Front

Summary: Dick, as always, has a plan A/N: Finally, the moment we've been waiting for. Warnings: period typical sexism Taglist: @kujofam @dcyllom

It starts immediately.

They return from their run with Easy Company to find their bunkhouse has been trashed. Footlockers have been overturned, mattresses and pillows have been ripped open and off of beds, spilling feathers across the floorboards. They have to clean it up themselves, of course. And it’s not until they’re halfway through and Juanita asks if anyone has seen her underwear that they all collectively realize that their Army issued undergarments are gone.

Fortunately or otherwise, they aren’t hard to find, seeing as they’ve been strung up on the flagpole. The only person who seems more upset about it than the Women’s Squad is Colonel Sink. We don’t want these girls here! the action screams. But the colonel has never been one to back down from a challenge. They remain where they are.

Other signs that they are disliked and unvalued are less extreme, less obvious.

Someone up the chain of command learns that Minerva can play the piano and that Anna can sing, and they find themselves providing entertainment for an officer’s dinner. Women are constantly assigned to the kitchens for their duties, and snickers about how they’re “back where they belong” follow them everywhere. No matter how they wear their hair, someone always find a way to pull it when running past, like schoolboys tugging on pigtails before giggling and running away.

Except this isn’t the school yard. This isn’t a game. This is war.

The letter that arrives that morning is written in very block-like handwriting and begins with Minerva’s least favorite nickname.

Dear Minnie,

Minerva sighs around a mouthful of toast and reminds herself that she’s fortunate only John-Michael calls her that.

I am fine. How are you?

The Germans are gone now, so things are quiet. Pop and I watch for them from the lighthouse. He says that we are holding down the fort while you are away. So you do not have to worry about us, because Sparky and I can hold off the U-Boats.

I hope your training is going good. Mom and I pray for you every night at church. Jack’s mom –

The name physically pains Minerva to see in print. She squeezes her eyes shut, the paper crumpling in her hand as she lets the wave of emotion wash over her. When it ebbs out to sea again, she continues, not quite from where she left off.

I hope we get to see you before you ship off. You are all anyone here talks about. I am very proud to be your brother.

That last part tugs on her heartstrings in a way that makes her feel guilty for how angry she was with her brother for opening the letter with her hated nickname.

From across the table, Keziah sighs. Her posture is stiff – the sort of tense posture that usually comes from a mother hovering over a child’s shoulder while they try to complete their homework. She jerks her neck, the tilt of her head indicating one of the tables across the aisle from where they sit.

“Look at them,” she mutters. “Gaping.”

She’s not wrong, really. Minerva can’t be sure, but she suspects that someone somehow incentivized Easy Company to be companionable with their new additions, because most of them have been amiable enough. Sure, there are a few who have made it known that they do not agree with the women being made part of their company – or part of the military at all – but the treatment coming from within their own company is nowhere near as bad as what they’ve been experiencing from the others.

And at least the men who don’t seem to mind them too much have tried to be polite. Like Webster, several have introduced themselves, made an attempt to get to know their new sisters in arms. Some are more subtle about their intentions. It didn’t take Minerva long to realize that when she gets up to run Currahee in the mornings, Speirs or Lieutenant Winters – or Dick, he keeps assuring her she can call him – materializes out of thin air and joins her for the run. If one of the girls has to walk somewhere, one or two of the men will peel away from the group to tail them, just to make sure that they get to where they are trying to go.

Though none of the men have dared bridge the gap by sitting with the women during their meals, a chosen few have made a habit out of choosing seats at the table beside theirs. All the women politely pretend not to notice the men glancing at their table, constantly checking up on them. But they would have to be blind not to notice that some of them stare.

Like Bill Guarnere is now. There are nine women at the table, but his gaze keeps seeming to land on Keziah.

“Hey, Guarnere!” The woman in question flashes him a smile, though her eyes are cold. “You never seen an Indian before, or something?”

The man at the next table over blinks, taken aback. “What?”

“Didn’t your mother ever tell you that staring is rude?” Keziah clarifies. She doesn’t turn her attention back to the women’s table until Guarnere has averted his eyes and inserted himself into the conversation of the men beside him. Satisfied, she leans back in her chair and resumes eating.

Minerva smirks. “Poor guy. What a way to get turned down.”

Keziah’s gaze shoots up. Her eyes are wide, and in her surprise, she drops her fork onto her plate with a clatter that makes several other women leave their own conversations to flash her a concerned look. “What?”

“Kez.” Minerva leans across the table, like they’re sharing secrets during class, trying not to get caught by the teacher. “He wasn’t looking at you like that. Not in a bad way, I mean. He likes you.”

“No,” Keziah insists. She doesn’t meet Minerva’s eye. That particular thread of conversation has been severed.

“Okay.” If that’s what Keziah wants to think, she won’t argue. There’s obviously some sort of soreness in this topic, some hurt that hasn’t healed yet. Minerva isn’t about to go picking at other people’s emotional scabs. But she has been on the receiving end of enough looks of that sort to know that Guarnere feels something towards her friend. And she’s a teacher. She sees that look passing between students a hundred times a day in the classroom. Suffice it to say, she knows what she’s talking about.

No fraternization, Sobel had warned her and Diana. Well, clearly if the men received the same ultimatums, they aren’t taking them as seriously – or they didn’t receive them at all. What do you do when your captain makes it clear that mistakes will not be tolerated, but then seems to set you up for failure at every turn?

To some, Easy Company’s Women’s Squad seems destined to fail from the start. Despite Sobel’s insistence that Easy Company will maintain its stellar record – or rather, that he maintains his reputation – the girls can’t seem to catch a break.

Anna’s weekend pass gets revoked after Sobel sees her smile at Floyd Talbert. Lori Sinclair’s pass is revoked for having the slowest time up and down Currahee. Lucy McNair is assigned to clean the latrines after a joke about Sobel is – allegedly – traced back to her. Bianca Mancini gets yelled at in front of everyone on the rifle range for not being able to assemble her gun fast enough, and then Joe Liebgott’s is revoked because he steps in and attempts to help her.

“We can’t let them go on like this,” Dick says. It’s morning, and though his tone is strong and assured, his voice is quiet, and Nixon only just hears him over the clatter of silverware and the morning chatter that fills the officer’s mess.

It takes a minute for the caffeine in his cup to circle through his bloodstream and wake him up enough to realize what his friend is talking about, and even then, he’s a little unsure. “Huh?”

Dick shrugs, never taking his eyes off the piece of toast that he’s spreading jam onto. To anyone passing by, it looks like just a casual conversation over breakfast. But Nixon is just awake and alert enough to know that this is very quickly turning into something much more serious.

“The whole company hates our commanding officer,” Dick explains, voice still quiet enough that he won’t be overheard. “But he’s even harder on the women. And then he’s furious when the men try to stick up for them the way they would any of their own.”

“Well, what are we going to do about it?” Nothing they can do, really. Well, maybe something, but he’s not the one clever enough to find it. And honestly, if it weren’t for Dick, he probably wouldn’t even be considering any of the possibilities.

“Not much we can do,” Dick says, affirming Nixon’s original impression of the situation. “But – “ Of course he’s come up with something. Nixon bites the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling. “ – we can make it a little easier on the women. Show them that they’re not alone in this.”

“How?”

“Let’s talk to their sergeants. Reach out, create a dialogue. Let them know that we’re on their side. Show them that they can count on us, and that we can work together. They’re in this thing, now, and it’s time that they had officers in their corner instead of instigating more trouble for them.”

If he didn’t know any better, he would say that Dick has already planned this whole thing out. “What do you have in mind?”

“Tonight, in here. We’ll meet with them, discuss their concerns, ask how we can help. And then we’ll help them. Whatever they want, whatever they need.” He pauses, quirks an eyebrow. “What?”

Nixon shrugs, smiling into his coffee cup as he sips the hot liquid inside. “Smart move, setting the meeting in a public place, but at a time where we won’t be disturbed. We can still be accused of fraternization, but the accusations wouldn’t hold up very well, seeing as we’re all in a place where we could be caught at any minute. That counts as evidence that nothing inappropriate has happened.”

“Exactly.”

“If Sobel finds out, he’ll probably still revoke our weekend passes, though.”

“Probably,” Dick says. “But it’s a chance I’m willing to take.”

And take it he does.

At the end of the day, right after the last of the dinner crowd has cleared out, the Women’s Squad sergeants appear in the doorway. The smaller of the two hesitates in the doorway, like she’s unsure if this is something she should risk, but the tall one with the dark hair breezes in with no qualms. Revels, reads the name on her fatigues.

Sergeant Revels, Nixon corrects himself. One of the college grads who was made an NCO by order of Colonel Sink himself. Nixon would recognize the name even without that, though; one of Sobel’s favorite chores to give him is censoring the mail for the company. Clearly the captain didn’t realize that the chore would feed Nixon’s penchant for a good story. Anyway, the name Minerva had stuck out to him because he thought it was ironic that someone sharing a name with a goddess of war would join up, and then be promoted to NCO so quickly. Very fitting. And looking at her now, it is fitting.

He’s seen her around, of course, now that the women are officially part of Easy Company. But this is the first time he’s seen her up close. She’s got a very attractive diamond shaped face, and freckles spatter across her olive-colored skin. When she smiles, it reaches all the way to her eyes, which are a piercing green. Her dark hair, even pulled back in a ponytail, falls in sleek waves over her shoulder. This is the woman who writes with such care, such fine prose, to her family back home in some place called Frisco, which Nixon may or may not have had to look for on a map, just out of pure curiosity.

“Sergeant Revels.” Dick extends a hand to her, and she pumps it hardily. “Sergeant Bradham. Allow me to introduce Lieutenant Nixon.”

“Nice to meet you.” Minerva smiles.

Ah, there it is! That strange accent that he’s heard so much about. No, not strange. Unique might be a better word for it. It’s not unpleasant – just something that Nixon has never encountered before.

He smiles as he shakes her hand. “The pleasure is all mine.”

The other Sergeant, Diana, seems nice enough. It’s obvious from her body language, the way that she keeps glancing at Minerva, that she feels out of her depth, but is trying her hardest not to automatically defer to her fellow NCO. Good on her. She doesn’t radiate the sort of confidence that Minerva does, but as Nixon watches her, he can tell that she’s a good, thoughtful listener.

Hopefully everyone else does enough listening for all of them, because Nixon sure as hell doesn’t. He wants to help them, yes, and he wants to support Dick, of course, but the old socialite instincts kick in and it’s like his body runs purely on muscle memory for a moment.

As they sit down, Dick offers the NCOs coffee, which they both accept. From his pocket, Nixon produces his trusty flask, and with a quick glance over his shoulder, tips some of the contents into his cup. From across the table, Diana giggles. The joke approved, he holds up his flask as a sort of offering. Diana shakes her head, though she’s smiling.

Minerva, however, pushes her coffee cup towards him when he makes the same gesture to her. He only pours in a splash of liquor, feeling Dick’s disproving glance from beside him. It makes the sergeant all the more interesting in Nixon’s eyes. Especially when she flashes him a brilliant smile and takes a sip of the drink.

Shenanigans over, Dick immediately gets down to brass tacks. He’s gone over his thoughts with Nixon at least a hundred times since this morning. But Nixon is interested to see how the women will react to what he has to say.

He takes careful note of their reactions. It’s a simple meeting, really. Dick just wants them to know that they can come to him with any issues, that he’s on their side, and that he’s willing to do anything in his power to help with their Sobel issues. The women, for their part, seem thankful, and Diana even has a suggestion of her own.

“I think things would be better if the men and women could get to know each other,” she admits. “Sobel has everyone afraid of losing their passes on fraternization charges. Some of the women feel like they can’t get to know the people they’ll be taking bullets for because of the rule.”

“A stupid rule designed to create divisions between us that’s unfairly enforced,” Minerva mutters.

Diana nods as if to say, Exactly! If she were a little braver, those might have been her exact words.

Dick nods, brows drawn in thought. “Okay,” he says after a moment. “I think we can do something about that.”

We can? Nixon almost asks. He takes a sip of his spiked coffee to stop himself. For someone who’s usually good at reading people, he has no clue what his friend is planning. Better to remain a united front, though. He waits until they’ve bid the women good night – with Nixon flashing them his most charming smile – to ask.

“If the men can engage in bonding exercises, then the women should be able to join them,” Dick explains with a shrug. “Like Sergeant Bradham said: they should know the people that they’ll be taking a bullet for.”

“Do you think they will though? Have to take a bullet for someone, I mean.”

“Why wouldn’t they?”

Now it’s Nixon’s turn to shrug. “Some people seem to think that the Women’s Squad is just a publicity stunt. There are rumors that they won’t see any actual combat; just show up and look pretty for photos or do minimal work on the front lines.”

Dick seems really and truly shocked by the news, which in turn shocks Nixon. People have been whispering about it all week. How has Dick not heard the rumors?

“Well. That would be a shame if the military resorted to using them for models.”

Nixon is inclined to disagree. Some of the women are very attractive and would probably make excellent models. He doesn’t bring it up, though, since that’s not what Dick meant, and the joke wouldn’t land well.

“So, what do you have in mind?”

Dick purses his lips. “They’ve hardly had the chance to socialize. The men have already formed into cliques, and I’m willing to bet the women have, too. Maybe we need an activity that will allow them to get to know each other, form new connections.”

“Well, they can’t sit around and do ice breakers without Sobel accusing us of encouraging fraternization. Hell, he would think we had set them all up on first dates.”

“No. But if they were to participate in an activity that would take several hours, during which they would have plenty of opportunities to talk . . .” Dick smiles. There’s a gleam in his eye that, despite how close they’ve become in such a short time, Nixon has not seen before. He can’t help but chuckle.

“What do you have in mind?”

Dick only shrugs, a casual gesture. “How do you feel about a scavenger hunt?”

#band of brothers #band of brothers fanfic #lewis nixon #lewis nixon x oc #band of brothers oc #oc minerva revels #my writing #for whatever we lose #hbo war #hbo war fanfic

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roadtogracelandx45 · 3 months

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Courage Under Fire| Pre War 4| Band of Brothers

@marycorleone

Dec 17th 1941

Phoenix Arizona

The days following the attack on Pearl Harbor were some of the most nerve-wracking ones that Olivia had experienced in her short 18 years on the planet and it was starting to show on her and on Marla who was picking up on her older siblings' queues. Even snapping back at her older sister when she snapped at her.

Something that was completely out of character for both girls.

James Sr out of worry for his kids kept all three of them home the next day and they all heard the President’s speech saying how Dec 7th, was going to be a day that would live in infamy and him declaring war on Japan and then Germany turning around and declaring war on them. Their futures that seemed so bright a few months ago, didn’t seem so bright anymore. And now Helen, James’s younger brother Michael’s wife was going to Arizona for her cousin's wedding, and Olivia’s presence had been requested by Lewis.

So his daughter was boarding a train and leaving his line of sight and it made him nervous. Even more so now that his uncle Finn was in charge of the Army Nursing Corp and Michael, his brother who was underneath Finn would want to have Olivia join the Corp and get her nursing training like that. But he wasn't ready to let her go, not after he got her back. "Daddy, don't worry, I am not going to get into that much trouble with Aunt Helen." Olivia's voice came shaking him out of his thoughts.

"It's not that I am worried about sweetheart," He answered, "If Bobby or Bill were going with you then I would be worried but since it's just you and Helen I am not worried." "You are worried about my brothers."

They hadn't heard from Nicholas or Thomas, James Sr's brother-in-law and all of the other Stewart boys who were of age were shipping out to either the Pacific or to Europe. "And you. I know you Liv, you are going to want to follow your brothers everywhere. Just like you have since you were little." "I can't do much Daddy." Olivia started, "I was born a lady in the middle of a war, what are they going to let me do?" They both knew if Liv put her mind to something she would figure out a way to do something. Including cutting her hair to look like her brothers and dressing as a boy. It worked when she and Robert were younger and he was sure they could pull it off now.

"The worst I can do is to keep volunteering at the VA hospitals." He could tell by the stubborn set of her jaw, that she wasn't going to give up that dream to be a nurse and help veterans out. She was too much like her grandmothers, great-grandmothers, and great Aunts do not. "You can't fault me for that."

"I know.' James agreed as a strong New York accent filled the air, "Livvy! Shake a leg baby doll! We got to go!" Helen Nixon-Stewart called.

"Coming Aunt Helen!" She called back before offering her father a smile.

"Liv." He started as he stood up and went to cross the room to her.

"Don't worry, I am not going to do anything that will get me or Aunt Helen in trouble. And I am not going to run off in the middle of the night and marry Lewis."

He paused as he was reaching for his wallet to pull out some of the bills he had to give to her.

"We heard you and Ma last night talking about it. I am a little too young to be getting married to anyone, especially to someone close to Nicholas's age."

"Can't blame me for worrying can you?" He handed the bills over to her.

"No, I can't but promise best behavior." She held up her fingers like she had seen her brothers do with the Boy Scouts. Helen appeared in the doorway surprised that Olivia hadn't come right out to meet her like she normally would. She and her husband had a long conversation about their niece and how she needed to do something.

And something worthwhile.

***

Bill was coming up the walkway as the two Stewart women came out of the house, the younger of the two was talking a mile a minute about something that only made sense to her and her aunt. “Where are you going Liv?’ Bill asked, surprised, Liv had been the constant around the neighborhood the last few weeks and now she was leaving. “Going to Lewis's wedding. I will be home next week.” Olivia said as she tucked her scarf into her coat to help keep her warm from the cold.

“This was planned before I even came back home. I can't bail last second,’ Helen paused next to her curiosity filling her, she and Michael had conversations about Olivia and Bill and how she didn't need to be tied down so young. And how she could do better.

“Liv.”

‘Don't start with that now Bill, we will talk about this when I get back.” The girl sounded tired like they had been having this fight for days and she was over it. She raised herself up on her toes and pressed a kiss to his cold cheek before going down the rest of the steps to the running cab that was waiting for the two Stewart girls.

“What is going on with that?” Helen asked once they were settled in the backseat and she told the driver where to go. “He wants me to get back together with him.’ Olivia replied looking out of the window, “I don’t think I am ready to fully forgive and forget. I really and truly loved Bill. And it feels like a knife to my heart every single time I see him and Evie together. I forgave Bill because I still love him, I want to punch Evie in the face. Make her feel an ounce of hurt that I felt every day for a year.”

“Livvy.” Helen covered her niece’s gloved hands and squeezed them.

“The funny thing is, I know that they are still together but yet I am letting myself get caught up with him.”

“You are 18 years old, you don't have to settle down right now and not be with the first boy you fall in love with. I didn't. Your uncle is my second greatest love.” Helen went quiet for a second as the taxi driver pulled in front of the train station, her hands squeezing Olivia’s again. There were groups of boys in uniforms with loved ones surrounding them.

“Has Uncle Michael or Uncle Finn found anything out about Nicky or Uncle Tommy?”

James, her naval pilot brother, had been confirmed to be alive after being on the Enterprise but they hadn't heard about them. Her brother Nicolas was two years younger than Edward and had been stationed on the Arizona, as a naval officer. And her uncle Tommy was stationed at the hospital with his wife Carreen and not a word about them. Helen and the other sisters-in-law were worried that their family was going to finally fall apart.

“Not yet. They are still trying to get everyone accounted for.” The older girl said as the porter opened the car door, “They will let us know as they do.”

Olivia nodded her head as she followed her out of the taxi, her eyes going to the soldiers. The sudden fear that she had been trying to push down in an effort to put on that strong facade she had lived behind for the last few years climbed up her chest and gripped at her heart. She hadn't been sleeping since the news of the attack hit on her birthday. She would fall asleep and wake up in a cold sweat and proceed to stay up the rest of the night reading books by candlelight. She was scared to death about the possibility of losing her brothers or Bill or one of the neighborhood boys.

Helen put a gentle hand on her elbow and started steering her towards the terminal. For the first time really, she had no real words to comfort her or ease those fears she had. She had been a little girl when the First World War happened and her father rarely talked about his experiences if at all. Taking a deep breath, she hooked her arm through Olivia’s and started the trek to the gate where their train was departing from.

***

2 Days Later

***

“Hello, Aunt Doris,” Helen replied, “What’s wrong?”

“Lewis.”

At the mention of the man, Olivia perked up, “Is he okay?” Doris shook her head, “I think a visit from you will help.”

“I am on it,” Olivia said offering the older woman a tired smile.

“He is upstairs in the suite.” Doris returned with her own smile, thankful that she was here, out of everyone that was there, Olivia was the best bet to get through to him.

“That’s the first real smile she probably has had since the attack,” Helen muttered watching her niece going to the elevator as a bellman came over. “Excuse me, Mrs. Stewart, you have a call from Washington.’

Helen felt her heart drop to her stomach, she knew her husband was working hard in Washington with the Army, in a mad dash to get things ready for deployments. The only reason why he would be calling her is if they got news about Nicholas and Thomas.

“Thank you.” She managed to get out before she started numbly walking towards the phone.

“Micheal? Is everything okay?” Helen questioned once she picked the phone up, her heart already in her stomach he had told her before she left that he would only call if he found out anything about Nicholas and Thomas.

“No, honey, we just got confirmation that Nicholas was indeed on board the Arizona when it was attacked and didn’t get off in time. Thomas was killed by the Japanese shooting at the people in the water.’

"Oh Michael I am so sorry," Helen said into the receiver, her heart aching for her husband and suddenly wishing that she hadn't promised Lewis that she would be here for the wedding. She would rather be in Washington DC with him comforting him.

"It's okay," Michael paused to clear his voice of the building emotion, "You need to tell Liv and tell her that she isn't going back to South Philly like planned. That you are going to Charleston."

"Are they doing a memorial for Nicholas and Thomas?"

"Yes and for Pawpaw. He died this morning."

If her heart could drop any further it would be in her feet, it was one thing to inform Olivia of her brother and uncle's death it was another to inform her of her great-great grandfather's passing. Almost all of the Stewart kids young and old idolized Fredrick and Franklin, especially the twins who were named after them.

This was going to push Olivia over the edge completely and there was going to be no going back from it. She was thankful that the girl was upstairs with Lewis, he would be a good source of comfort for her.

"Michael."

"We are going to be okay Len, I am worried about Liv, this is a lot of change and quickly. And Uncle Finn is going to try and get her to join the Army Nursing Corp with Elizabeth."

"The woman that he is having an affair with?"

"Yes, but this is one chance Liv has to get her nursing taken care of without her having to work to support the school and herself."

"Your brother and his ex-wife are going to flip their lids."

"They have no choice in the matter, she is 18 and is being hand-selected to be a nurse and sent to an officer's school."

"At Benning?" Something her cousin said stuck out in her head, he had also joined the army earlier that year and was offered a spot at Fort Benning.

"Yes. It's going to be her and one other girl. Not sure where from yet. Why?'

"Lewis said something about Benning when I talked to him before he left to come here. It will be good for her to be with him, he cares for her. She is going to struggle without Bobby and her other brothers or Bill."

At the mention of their niece's ex-boyfriend, Michael swore, causing his Uncle who had just come into the office to ask what was going on.

'He wants her back but Livvy isn't going for it. She is terrified that she is going to get hurt again by him."

"Good, this will help keep them apart. Where is Liv anyway? I was expecting her to be right by you."

"She is already upstairs with Lewis, Aunt Doris asked her to go up and talk to him. I will go up and talk to her in a few minutes." She was dreading telling her this, this would break her heart into a thousand pieces.

***

"I said, I wanted to be left alone!" Lewis shouted as he walked towards the door, he had stormed up to his room in a fit of anger after a fight with his future wife.

"Even if it's me?" Olivia's familiar sweet southern accent asked from the other side.

"Liv! You came!" He exclaimed as he rushed to pull open the door.

"Of course, I came, Lew, I promised." She returned offering him a dimpled smile that felt natural for the first time since the attack on Pearl.

His dark eyes flicked over her and his smile faded seeing the faded dark circles under her eyes and the slump of her shoulders. And the unfamiliar concern he only felt towards her bubbled up and he pulled her into his arms holding her against him.

"No, no I am not okay." she whispered, "I am scared." She rested her head against his chest listening to his steady heartbeat, taking comfort in the fact that he was there and safe.

He squeezed her before he reached out and shut the door. "About what? The war? You don't have to worry about it, you can't be drafted."

"For my brothers, for Bill, for everyone."

Pursing his lips, Lewis squeezed her again and led her back towards the couch to sit down, he was unsure of how to comfort her. She pulled away from him to undo her coat and scarf, it wasn't nearly as cold in Phoenix as it was in Philly but she still bundled up to get off the train and keep warm.

A habit she had even in Charleston.

"My mother was there when you sent me that package." Wearing a smirk Lewis turned to her, he had sent her a package with a bottle of Vat. 69, a bracelet that was shining around her wrist and stuff that he should have been buying for Kathy.

"She thinks that you will steal me away and corrupt me more."

Lewis laughed, "Does she know the truth about us?"

He had moved over to the cart that held the Vat 69 to pour some of it into glasses.

"Yes, and so does Bill."

The topper he had in his hand clattered to the glass tray, he was surprised, he thought that it was a secret that they both would be taking to their graves.

"Blame Katherine, she read my diary. And flipped her top and wanted to send me to a convent.'

The picture of Olivia wearing a black dress and habit renewed his laughter, "No way you would give up smoking, drinking, sex, or the chance to be a wife and mother for that."

"That's what I said that night after she found the wrapper."

"My sweet Livia is turning into a harlot!" He teased, covering his heart, his uneven eyebrows wiggled causing her to laugh and shrug her shoulders as she crossed the room and took the pre-offered glass.

"Wait, you said there are no boys in Philly you would touch with a 20-foot pole then who did you sleep with?"

A smirk quirked on the corner of her mouth as she raised the tumbler to her painted red lips waiting for him to put two and two together.

"Olivia!" He gasped playing into her amusement once he figured it out, "You and Bill? What does Evie think?"

"What that girl doesn't know can't hurt her."

A surge of pride filled him and he lifted his own glass to salute her, she had a devious side that came out to play so often, and he enjoyed seeing it.

He had been of the opinion when he found out what happened, that Olivia should have taken revenge and been petty and hurt them right back but as he and Helen expected, she took the high road and held her head high and went to Charleston to try and carry on. He wondered what had changed in the 7 months since he had last seen her.

"How are things with you and dear Ol' Bill?"

The girl didn't answer, instead she drained the rest of the whiskey that was in her glass and held it out to him to refill.

He wordlessly tipped the bottle and poured more of the amber liquid into it.

"He wants me to get back together with him. And a part of me wants to get back together with him because he is familiar and comfortable and I do still care for him."

"But?"

"I can't picture myself in 5 years being in South Philly, pregnant with his kid, and working at the VA hospital while he works for the factory."

"What are you seeing in your future?" He was curious, he had heard his cousin and her husband's opinion on who she should be with along with her older brothers' opinion. Everyone had one when it came to what she should do and who she should be with. He didn't think anyone had asked her what she wanted.

"Not being a house in South Philly living in the same neighborhood with my parents and his parents."

“You could always move to Nixon with me and Kathy. I am sure Stanhope and Doris will pay for your schooling.”

Olivia pulled a face and shook her head, “I would rather assist Andie in unmedicated childbirth again before I ever move anywhere close to Kathy.” She had met Lewis’ future wife twice and both at her grandparent’s house and to say the girls didn’t mesh well was an understatement.

“But it would be worth it to be close to me.” He waggled his eyebrows at her again. “I am not gonna be your mistress, Lew, I deserve better than that.”

There was a sudden sharp knock on the door startling them. “Who is it?” He called putting his glass down, he didn’t want anyone to ruin this one-on-one time that he had with Liv. “It’s Helen. I need to talk to Liv.” “It’s open!” He grasped Olivia’s elbow in his hand and steered her towards the couch, deep in the pit of his stomach he knew that his cousin was there for her and his heart was already aching for Liv.

No one deserved this.

Helen came into the room and her eyes quickly found her niece and she sighed, “Liv, we got to talk.”

“No. Whatever it is Aunt Helen, I don’t want to know.” The girl said as Lewis pulled her down onto the couch next to her, his arm settling around her shoulders and pulling her into him. She didn’t care if she sounded like she was a 3-year-old like Steven but she didn’t want to hear the truth, she didn’t want to hear that she had lost her brother and her uncle in an attack.

“Olivia.” Helen started as she crossed the room and lowered herself to sit down on the coffee table in front of them, not surprised when Olivia reached her hands up and covered her ears. The older girl exchanged a look with her cousin who pulled down her hands so she could hear.

“I talked to Michael.”

“No,” she repeated as Lewis pulled her into him tighter.

“They got confirmation today that Thomas and Nicholas were both on the Arizona at the time of the attack. They were able to get Thomas’ body back, he was killed in the water. Nicholas was still on board.”

The sob that escaped Olivia broke her heart, she was so close to all of her brothers, having different relationships with each one of them.

“There is more Livvy, and I am so, so, sorry.” She reached her hands out and grasped the hand that wasn’t clutching Lewis’s shirt in a white-knuckled fist, “But Fredrick passed away this morning.”

The sobs renewed and Lewis started muttering words of comfort to her and rocking her back and forth. Unsure of how to help her if they could help her. No words could fix the parts of her that were broken now because of these deaths and her fear.

“I got her.” He muttered over Olivia’s head to his cousin who looked torn, “Go help, Doris and Kathy, with the wedding stuff.”

“Don’t do anything you will end up regretting Lewis.” Helen hissed before she stood up and pressed a kiss to the side of her niece’s head.

Lewis pulled a face at her retreating before focusing back on the sobbing girl. Yes, he had done some things he wasn’t proud of in the past but he had more respect for Olivia than he did for his future wife or even himself than to take advantage of her when she was grieving.

“Liv, it’s okay.” He soothed, “I know it’s not what you want to hear but it’s the truth. Everything is going to be okay. I know you are scared.” The girl took a couple of steadying breaths and shifted to pull away from him and clean up her face.

“For me, for your brothers, for your family.” He paused and handed her the handkerchief that was sitting on the table near them. “For Bill.”

She nodded her head not trusting her voice just yet. Lewis smoothed his hand over her curls before standing up and refilling the glasses figuring drinking would help. It helped him and it could help her.

“Nick was going to ask Clara to marry him.” She sniffed as she crumpled the handkerchief in her hands, “came to Charleston and took me and Marla out to shop for the ring, he saved his salary from the Navy for 3 months to get it.”

The man nodded his head and rejoined her on the couch and handed her the glass. knowing it was probably best for her to let it all out and then keep it in, especially with having to be at the wedding and be around Kathy.

"We were so excited for them, we loved Clara for him. Thomas and Careen were going to start trying for a family. These damn." The now-empty glass flung across the room and shattered against the wall.

"Liv!" He exclaimed sitting up straight worried eyes on the girl.

"What were they thinking Lew?!" She was on her feet, her tears and grief shifting into anger.

White hot burning anger.

"Attack us where we are the weakest, destroying all those airfields, boats, and equipment. While the men were still sleeping? Or getting back to the boats?"

It struck Lewis as odd at first that she knew so much about the attack but then it hit him, she probably sat next to the radio listening to everything she could to find out the news or reading the newspapers. She was more involved with what was going on than Kathy was, she barely knew that there had been an attack that happened.

"Has it ever crossed your mind to join the Army Nursing Corp?"

The girl paused in her stride and looked at him, surprise filling her features like she hadn't thought about it.

"You have to be like 21 to join. I think."

"There are ways around it, sweets." He smirked, he could easily get her in contact with some of the shady guys he had met at Yale to get her fake documents. He knew she couldn't sit there and do anything while all the boys were off fighting, himself included. He could see the wheels turning in her head as she started working it out. Then her eyes landed on the pressed uniform that hung next to his tux. Ready for his trip out to boot camp after the extremely brief honeymoon.

"You are in the Army? After all the times we talked in the last few weeks and in all the letters we exchanged! You couldn't tell me that you joined the goddamn Army!'

Not wanting to stroke the fire that she had built, he got to his feet and moved to where he was standing in front of her.

"It never came up, Liv." He finally said his hand caught her wrists so she wouldn't slap him. He had joked one too many times about her being like Scarlett O'Hara for her not to slap him like Scarlett slapped Ashley and Rhett.

"Lew, let me go." She ordered, twisting her hands around in a circle trying to free them. Instead of letting her go, he pulled her into him, his free hand curving her waist pulling her as close as he possibly could.

"Lewis!'

"Olivia!" He parroted back.

“Let me go.” She ordered again, she didn’t know if it was the booze that she had been drinking or if it was being that close to Lewis again but all those swirling emotions were morphing into want and need, something to distract her from the hurt, pain, and fear.

For several long moments, he didn’t say anything, it was almost like he was trying to make up his mind if letting her go would be for the best or if holding her and trying to comfort her as he had in the past when Katherine destroyed all of her self confidence and self-love that Olivia had for herself in three swooping awful comments. It hadn’t taken long for him to realize that as much as she needed emotional comfort, she also needed physical comfort.

“Lew.’ She started giving a slight tug on his hold, “We can’t do whatever you are thinking about doing. You are getting married tomorrow, your whole family plus Kathy and her family are here.”

A smirk formed on his mouth and he leaned forward and brushed his lips against hers. “I really don’t care about all that. All I want right now is you.”

They both knew it was wrong but Olivia didn’t care anymore, she had always played by those rules that were set up by her family and Southern society and she always got burned for it. She had learned in the short few months back in South Philly that she didn’t have to play by those rules or what society thought was right. If it was okay for the men to do it then it should be okay for her to do it.

‘Then take me.” She whispered.

****

There was a loud knock on the door, waking Lewis up from the slumber both he and Olivia slipped into, “What?!” He called, pushing himself to sit up, careful not to wake the girl next to him who was probably getting the first real sleep since the 7th. The answering laugh from his older sister Blanche caused him to groan and flop back onto the bed, “What do you want Blanche?” “Mother wanted me to let you and Olivia know the rehearsal starts in an hour. And to make you both of yourselves presentable.”

It was no secret within the Nixon family and to a point Kathy’s family that Stanhope and Doris wanted Olivia to be in their family, and not just of her uncle’s marriage to their niece Helen. Stanhope at the engagement party that was given called Kathy, Olivia sent everything into a tailspin that led to Kathy wanting to disinvite Helen who said from day one that Olivia would be her plus one because Michael could never get time off of work to attend family events like this. He had almost been late to his wedding 5 years prior because he couldn’t get out of the meetings that he and Finn had been in.

“We will be.” Olivia’s sleepy voice called. “Thank you Livia!” The older Nixon sibling returned still laughing. The man next to her went to apologize for the rude awakening, but her sleepy giggles stopped it.

“It’s fine, we both knew this was going to happen. Sides used to be woken up at odd hours.” She shuffled around a bit before rolling to her side to look at him, “Steven didn’t want to sleep in his room with Bobby, so he would sneak into my and Marla’s room and if it wasn’t him then it was Bill climbing through the window.”

Lewis’ bushy eyebrows raised surprised, the last he heard was that Bobby hated Bill for hurting his sister and had gone as far as to curse his name and beat him up. “And your brother lets that happen?”

The girl shrugged her shoulders, “He doesn’t know. Normally Bill is gone before we get up anyway.” That unfamiliar feeling of being proud of her rose again, his girl was realizing what she wanted and wasn’t going to let things like her sex or society keep her down anymore.

“Good girl.” He pressed a kiss against her forehead before rolling over and getting out of bed. If Blanche was the first line of defense then Helen would be next and his father and then his mother as the last line of defense. And he really, really didn’t want to have Doris come up to the room and make a scene.

The younger girl lay there for several long moments moving the cross she had on back and forth on the silver chain before sitting up, “Lew come here.”

Lewis paused pulling up his briefs and looked at her, “What?”

“Just come here.” She repeated as she reached around her neck and undid her necklace.

“Liv.’ He started, he knew what that necklace meant to her. Ever since her great-grandfather gave it to her, it had hardly left her neck.

“Hush, it will keep you safer than me, I am not going anywhere except for the VA hospitals. And I think Great Aunt Lydia would agree.” He sat back on the edge of the bed and let her hook the fine silver chain around his neck.

“You know I love you right Liv?”

There was surprise in her eyes as she pulled back to look at him better, she knew that he cared for her, the presents, the letters said it all. The sticky remains of his seed told her that.

“Lewis.” He pressed his lips against hers to stop her from protesting his sudden confession. “I love you too.” She muttered, “But I am not letting you back out of this wedding with Kathy.” He nodded his head before pulling away from her, “If only you were just a little older.”

Shaking her head with a small sad laugh, she got out of bed and started pulling her clothes back to go get dressed for the rehearsal dinner. “Housekeeping Mr. Nixon! Mrs. Stewart sent her niece’s dress up so she didn’t have to leave you.” A voice called from the door causing him to go straight toward the door, “One second.”

“Are you eager to keep me for yourself?” She asked, shaking out her dark red skirt.

“Always.” He returned as he took the dress from the maid and then walked back to where the girl was at, "I am planning on keeping you until I have to get married."

Kathy wasn't happy when she saw Olivia Stewart, her soon to be cousin's niece coming off the elevator on Lewis' arm having a hushed conversation with him. She had been leery of the girl since she had met her and how close she was to Lewis and to the rest of the Nixon

family. She didn't miss how Stanhope exclaimed her name and crossed the room quickly with a champagne flute for her or how Doris and Blanche quickly floated over to them.

"I wouldn't let that little girl take what is yours." Kathy's mom Anne hissed into her ear as she came up behind her, "You worked too hard and loved him too much to let her come swooping in from wherever she was at."

"I know." She returned before squaring her shoulders and walking over to the group.

"Lewis." She extended her hand towards him which he didn't take right away because of his grip on Olivia. The girl offered her a sad smile as she pulled her arm away from Lewis' and then Kathy saw the garnet ring resting on Olivia's middle finger. Something she had found in Lewis' bag and assumed it was for her. "What a pretty ring Olivia, where did you get it?"

"Oh, um."

"I gave it to her." Lewis stepped in, "It goes with the necklace that belonged to Belle."

As Olivia got older her great-grandparents started to pass on items that either belonged to Lydia, Franklin, her great-grandfather's twin sister, or belonged to Belle. The garnet necklace had a long history within the Stewart and Lévesque family, it had been passed on from Belle's great- great grandmother who was gifted it from a member of the French Royal Family, and how Isabella, was a favorite mistress of the king and she along with her husband were smuggled out of Paris just before the French Revolution started.

"It's a birthday present." Lewis stepped in before she could say anything like he knew that the two were going to start fighting.

"My birthday was on the 7th," Olivia said after clearing her throat.

"Did they find out about your brother and uncle?" Stanhope asked as Helen joined them, hooking her arm through her niece's.

"Yes, Nicholas was on the Arizona and didn't get off in time." There were sudden tears in her voice and Lewis pulled her back to him whispering orders of comfort to her.

'And Thomas was killed in the water.' Helen added. "Oh, honey." Doris cooed, embracing both girls causing Kathy to roll her eyes. "Couldn't this have waited until after the wedding?"

"Excuse me?" It was Olivia who spoke, "You wanted Helen to tell me that my brother and uncle died in the attack? That I have been worrying about since we couldn't ahold of them! After the wedding?!"

"Liv." Helen soothed taking hold of her hand tighter, glaring daggers at Kathy who smirked.

"You are a cold-hearted bitch!"

"Olivia Stewart!" Doris exclaimed, covering her heart with her hand like it was going to stop it from racing, she was surprised that Olivia knew those words and used them like a full-grown man would. "You know what, I am not hungry, I am going back upstairs."

"No, Liv, you need to eat," Helen said.

"I am not hungry." She repeatedly pulled her hand away from her aunt only to be caught around her waist by Lewis, 'I agree you need to eat sweets." He turned his head so only she could hear him, 'You need to build

up your energy again." There was an unspoken promise in his voice and she shivered before nodding in agreement.

"Good girl."

"May I have a word?" Kathy asked, following Olivia into the bathroom halfway through dinner, she wanted to teach Olivia a lesson that just because she was sweet and cute didn't mean that she would get anywhere in life. "What do you want?" She asked pushing around her to go to the sink to wash her hands, the woman sitting at the end counter perked up, normally at these events, nothing exciting ever happened.

"Stay away from Lewis."

"There is nothing going between me and Lewis. We are just friends."

"Friends."Kathy spat grabbing a hold of her wrist and spinning her around to face her, her brown eyes studying every inch of Olivia so that she could see the red love bites that littered her neck and collarbone, "Don't sleep together before the other's wedding."

"This is," Olivia motioned to the bites with her free hand. "from Bill, not Lewis." The girl sat up straighter reaching for the hand towels ready to hand it over.

"You think I believe that?" The older girl spat, tightening her grip on the other's wrist painfully hard.

For her part, Olivia didn't flinch at the sudden pressure, her expression staying the same. "Kathy, you will find that I don't give a damn what you think about me or what I say."

"I am going to be Lewis' wife, not you."

"And that's great for you, I am 18 years old, and I am not ready to settle down." She snapped back, "But if he wants to fuck me tonight, tomorrow, or any day after that. I am going to let him."

In pure anger, Kathy backhanded the young girl across the face, her diamond engagement ring cutting her cheek.

"Ma'am!' The attendant cried getting to her feet, she had been okay with a verbal spat between the two especially since it was entraining but as soon as the older woman did that. It crossed the line. "That is enough." There were tears in Olivia's eyes and she twisted her wrist to get out of Kathy's hold, "Let me go. Now."

"What are you going to do Olivia? Cry?" She taunted smugly, she had made the girl hurt and that's what she wanted, she wanted to make sure that she stayed away from her and Lewis, "God you are pathetic. Your mother should have killed you when she had the chance.'

She had overheard Lewis and Helen talking about how Olivia had been put in the hospital by Katherine when she was 15 and visiting her father's family in Charleston and her mother tried to kill her out of spite and anger. Olivia was the favorite of not only Fredrick but Franklin and Belle and it angered the former Mrs. Stewart so much that she took a sharp kitchen knife from the block and tried to kill her but she fought back and started screaming and Katherine was pulled away from her by Edward and James Sr.

Olivia blinked her eyes several times as her hand formed a tight fist.

"You know it's only a matter of time before Lewis gets bored of you and stops all contact with you. You aren't good enough to be a Nixon or Stewart."

"Kathy! What is wrong with you?" Blanche Nixon asked as she stormed into the bathroom and over to the two girls, she had heard the tail end of the comment and was furious. Not any child should be told that or have to live through an attempted murder like Olivia did.

"Let her go now!" Kathy didn't listen to her future sister-in-law and was met with Olivia's fist in her eye. "What the heck is your problem!" She cried, releasing her arm and her hands flying up to her face and Blanche went over to Olivia's side to examine the cut of her face while the attendant went over to Kathy's side to make sure the punch didn't do too much damage to her face.

"It doesn't look too bad," Blanche said as she reached around her for one of the white towels to wet it to clean it up.

"I am fine, I have had worse." Olivia said, taking the towel from her and pressing it against her cheek, "I am going to go upstairs and go to bed."

"I will send Helen up in a few minutes." The older woman commented, knowing that the girl shouldn't be alone, especially with the news about her brother and uncle and now this.

It wasn't Helen who went into the small hotel suite that the Stewart but Lewis who had been informed of the argument and after being forced to check on Kathy went upstairs.

"Livia?" He called pushing the door shut, there was no answer causing a wave of panic to go through him. "Olivia!" The second bedroom door opened and the girl appeared, her hair wrapped in a towel on the top of her head and bundled in one of the bathrobes.

"What?" He crossed the room and reached out tilting her chin back and forth to look at the cut on her cheek.

"It's not the worst I have had. Katherine did worse." She commented pulling back slightly. 'It doesn't matter sweetheart. She should have let it go. And left you alone." Olivia shrugged her shoulders trying to fight her tears back that rose up, she had been sobbing in the shower, and thought she had herself together enough for this but she didn't.

Shaking his head, Lewis took her hand in his and led her into the bedroom, she didn't need the words of comfort at that point, they both needed that physical comfort. The wedding and any leftover emotions be damned, all that mattered was them.

#ash writes #oc: olivia stewart #series: courage under fire #band of brothers #band of brothers fan fiction #band of brothers imagines #lewis nixon x oc #lewis nixon fan fiction #lewis nixon imagines #so close to her meeting mary and joe #i can taste it

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lovememadly92 · 4 months

Text

@emilee1421 @hbowardaily

Mature themes: 18 and up only! Minors DNI!

TW: Implied References to Abuse, Smut, Angst.

Part 2

December 1st,1944- Mourmelon le Grande, France

God I am so fucking stupid, really fucking stupid.

How dare I be so vulnerable?

I promised myself when I joined the Army, my private life would be out of it. Even George, who I consider my best friend, does not know the intimate details of my private life, how my family is, or how little we get along behind closed doors. I am just Charlie Anderson, a broad who was ballsy enough to join the Army.

But I had to be so fucking weak that I opened myself up to the one person that I least get along with.

Then he hugged me, wiped my tears away like a fucking knight in shining armor.

His embrace, his natural musk, the more I think about it, the more I crave…wait what are you thinking Charlotte Marie, you are supposed to hate him, bicker with him. He is nothing but a pompous asshole who thinks he is better than everyone.

“Charlie, sweetheart! You are supposed to be helping me beat Malarkey here,” George complained, and I shook my head, turning to face George who had an annoyed look on his face. I am sitting here with George, Malarkey, Muck, Penkala, and Frank in the mess hall playing poker, well they are playing poker I am just watching. “Goddamn Malark, I swear you are cheating like you always do.”

“I am sorry Luz, but no one can beat me,” Malarkey chuckled and set his cards down, a winning hand I might add. “Guess Charlie was no help here.”

“Remind me to not ask her for help next time,” George huffed playfully. Then he turns to look at me. “What is up your ass today?”

I glare at him playfully. “Watch it you ass, I may be your friend, but I outrank you.”

“No seriously, what is wrong Charlie, you are not your usual self lately,” George mentions, and the fellas agree. “Ever since that night in Holland, you are more serious, you don’t laugh at my jokes.”

I roll my eyes and chuckle. “Georgie, I will always laugh at your jokes, maybe I wasn’t in the mood that day. All this war shit and me not being platoon leader kind of gets to you.”

“Are you sure that it isn’t about a certain, brooding Captain who so happens to be an intelligence officer?” Muck teased.

My cheeks turn hot. “What are you talking about Muck?”

“I mean, we saw you two hugging outside the barn back in Holland,” George mentions and wiggles his eyebrows. “Dare I say there is love in the air for our sweet lieutenant and our dearest Captain?”

A laugh escapes my lips. “Me and Captain Nixon? Ha, nice joke George, you’ll give Charlie Chaplin a run for his money. Well, I got to go back to my cabin, catch on some sleep because training you assholes is like taking care of children.”

Before they can say anything, I scurry outside into the dark, crisp night. I take a cigarette out and light it up, taking drags as I walk back to my cabin. Me and Lewis, so fucking stupid, it’s like putting oil and water together. It does not match, does not mix. All we do is fight like children and disagree on everything.

Speak of the devil, there is Lewis outside his cabin, smoking and drinking the night away. I find myself walking towards his cabin and standing right in front of him. “Why is it every time I see you, that you are alone lately? Is Dick boring you?”

“Well hello to you Charlie, didn’t your family teach you manners?” He asked sarcastically.

I scoff. “You are giving me a lecture about manners? Give me a break.”

“What do you want Charlie?”

I kick the rock on the ground and then look at him. “I just want to make sure that you don’t go around, saying about what I told you back in Holland. The fellas cannot know about my private life.”

He starts to chuckle. “Charlie for god's sake, I am an intelligence officer, I keep secrets in my head and no one can beat them the hell out of me. So do not worry, no one is going to know about your brother or the other life you have.” He looks up to the sky and then at me, feeling swarming in my stomach.

“Stop Lewis,” I whine.

“Stop what?”

“Staring at me.”

He laughs. “You are in front of me, you came here, who else I am going to stare at?”

“Smart ass, I swear to God. Well goodnight, Lewis, enjoy your drink and cigarette.”

I start to walk away, and his voice stops me. “Charlie, I know I may be an ass, but I will listen to you if you need anything. Anything you tell me; I will take to my grave. No one else will ever find out.”

I find myself smiling and feeling my cheeks hot for a moment. “Thank you, Lewis. Have a good night.” When I turn around and walk away, I can feel his eyes piercing through my back, through my soul even. I kind of like the way he stares at me.

But he cannot know that. Not one bit.

December 10th, 1944

“Finally done with these reports.”

I organize the set of papers together and hand them to Dick so he can review them. He takes one good look and nods. “I guess you are all set Charlie, and here is your pass for the weekend, and please stay out of trouble.”

“Okay big brother, I will,” I salute him and get up from my seat, grabbing my pass. “I hope they don’t send us out soon; I would hate to see replacements not come back home. Hell, I want this war to be over.”

He smiles at me. “Don’t we all? Sigh, go ahead and enjoy your days off. You deserve them.”

I thank him and I head out of the office. When I am walking down the hallway, Lewis walks past me, and I can feel him staring at me. “Charlie, may I have a moment with you please?” I turn back around and follow him to his office, closing the door behind me.

“I was wondering Charlie, if you would like to have a drink with me,” he asked.

My eyes widen. “You are talking to me, not some other lady?”

“Charlie, don’t start,” he began and placed his coat on his chair. “Would you like to have a drink with me?”

“Of course, I have nothing better to do anyway,” I said softly and crossed my arms. “I thought you were going to leave for Aldbourne to look for a lady.”

He shrugs and looks at his paperwork. “I just did not feel like it anymore, have more important matters here.” He turns to look at me. “Well, I will pick you up at 8 pm and please do not take forever.”

“I have to dress nice Lewis, being a lady is pretty difficult,” I smiled. “See you later then.”

I walk out of his office, and I start to feel nervous. What is going on? He and I for a drink, when did hell freeze over?

When I walk out of CP, Luz, and Frank catch up with me as I head to the cabin. “Hey Charlie, want to go on a train to Paris with us tonight?”

“No sorry fellas, I have plans this evening, you go and have fun,” I respond and walk ahead of them and head to my cabin.

Once I arrive, I close the door behind me and try not to panic.

“Don’t worry Charlie, it will all be okay, no worries.”

Hours Later

As I put on my lipstick, I hear knocking at my door. I get up from my chair and straighten myself a bit. “Just don’t be sappy and spread truths about your life, it will all be good Charlie don’t you worry.”

I take a deep breath and walk to the door; when I open it, I find Lewis standing there, smiling at me, looking dapper. However, the more I look at him, the more I find him handsome. The ladies must have been all over him before.

Here you go with those thoughts Charlie.

“You look pretty today.”

I felt myself. “Well thank you very much, you look handsome too, like a million dollars.”

“I am worth more than that, Charlie,” he chuckled and held out his arm for me.

“Don’t push it asshole. Let’s go before I change my mind.”

Closing the door behind me, we walked down to the local bar where there were servicemen and nurses alike, mingling with one another and the sound of Glenn Miller echoing throughout the bar. We find a table for us, and a waitress comes and greets us.

Lewis starts to order his drink and then the waitress turns to me.

“A rum with Coke please, don’t go easy on the rum,” I spoke in French, and she smiled before she left.

Lewis looks at me and chuckles. “Oh right, you have been to France before. Did you go to boarding school here?”

I nod. “Oh yes my dear Lewis, I was here in France for a while.” I take out my cigarette and place it between my lips. Before I could light it up, Lewis was already doing it for me. “I was a disaster. My brother did keep good company when he would visit. Like I said before, cabarets and Moulin Rouge were on the itinerary.”

The one thing that you told yourself not to do and yet you are doing it.

“Moulin Rouge,” he said before he blew the smoke in the air along with me. “That place is not for a lady.”

I snort. “Of course, you would know. I wouldn’t be surprised if you visited it before. That’s why you stayed quiet when Bill asked about Lulu’s. You fellas are just a surprise to me every single day.”

The waitress comes with the drinks, and I take a sip while I hold on to my cigarette in the other hand. “And you Charlie, you are the most surprising of them all. Under my nose, you hid yourself well.”

“And how did I do Captain Nixon?” I asked and batted my eyelashes at him, causing his cheeks to pink up a bit. “Did I outsmart the intelligence officer?”

“You did, so cheers to that,” he smiled and clinked his glass with mine.

He stares at me for a moment then takes a deep breath. “Why do you keep your life a secret? I know what happened with your brother, is something I wouldn’t even share. But everything else, why?”

I take another sip of my drink and think about it for a moment. I could say that for one, my parents do not care for me, second, they beat the crap out of me and third, my whole being is just ruined but I always try to have a smile on my face.

“I just don’t like to share about myself, it’s not worth talking about home,” I simply answer.

But knowing Lewis, he wasn’t satisfied with the answer. “Is everything okay at home Charlie?”

“Lewis, I don’t want to talk about it,” I began. “I really don’t want to open up like that.”

He sighs frustratingly. “See, this is what I don’t understand, you are only open about a few things, and when others try to get to know you, the real you, you just block yourself. You are not a child Charlotte, grow up.”

“God,” I huffed. “We were having such a good night then you want to ruin it with all this bullshit, and what gets me angrier is that you make it about you. Like the rich, pompous jerk you are.”

I down my rum and drop a tip on the table. Getting out of my seat, I march away from him, from all of this. However, I did not notice until minutes later that he was following me back to my cabin. “Why don’t you just answer me, Charlie, what is going on at home?”

“Go away Lewis! I don’t know why you care so much!”

Once I reach my cabin, I open the door and when I try to close it, he barges in and closes it behind him. “Why don’t you just talk to me, Charlie? I told you; you can tell me anything, anything you want. Talk to me, Charlie!”

Angry, I take off my jacket and throw it on the floor and I start to unbutton my blouse. “You want to know why, you pompous jerk! Here is why I don’t like to talk about my life. Or what I feel.” I throw the blouse on the floor and turn around in circles. So, he can see all the scars I have from home. “You like what you see Lewis, all these fucking scars on my back? Now this is what happens when you break a porcelain teacup and be a fucking nuisance in your parent’s life!”

I didn’t even realize I was in tears. “This is why I don’t talk about home. Imagine your parents writing to you Lewis, after not hearing from them in a long time, telling you that your brother died, yet they preferred for you to be dead instead? Imagine that shit.” I start to walk towards him and shove him. “Imagine that Lewis, imagine that!” I shove him again, angry at this world, at this life. He grabs me and holds me. “Let me go Lewis.”

“No.”

“I said let me go! No one loves me, the only one who loved me is dead.”

I tried to struggle in his arms, but I was too weak to fight him off. “I said let me go, Lewis!”

“I can’t,” he shouted.

“Why not?!”

“Because I care about you Charlotte that is why!!!”

I stop struggling and look at him straight in the eye. He is angry now and lets me go. “You know how hard it is, to care for someone so long, even when you never noticed how much you did care? Really fucking hard.”

He lets me go. “I don’t know what you do to me Charlie, but you are all I think about even when I don’t want to. Hell, I even love fighting with you because I like seeing the way you scrunch your nose and hearing your voice. So yes, I care about you Charlie and I am sorry that you had to go through that.”

I could see his chest rise, out of breath but keeping his stare on me. “You care for me?”

“You have no idea,” he whispers.

I wipe my tears and walk up to him. I stop myself and start to walk back when he grabs me gently by the wrist, turns me around, and plants his lips on me.

Our lips start moving in sync with another and I wrap my arms around his neck. His lips feel rough but soft at the same time. His hands were caressing my small waist, and then he traced his fingers on my back, touching every scar.

He lets me go for a moment and looks at me. “If we continue, I don’t know if we will be able to stop.”

I smile at him. “Then don’t stop.”

He continues kissing me and my fingers slowly start making their way down to unbutton his jacket, then his blouse. My bare hands caress his chest and his shoulders; for someone who didn’t really do physical workouts, he was beautiful in every sense of the way.

His hand reaches for my back and unclips my bra, leaving me bare right in front of him. I try to cover myself, but he stops me. “You look beautiful in every sense of the way Charlie, don’t be ashamed.”

I nod and he continues kissing me, as he backs me on the bed. My bare back hits the bed and he is on top of me, kissing me down my neck, between the crevasse of my breasts. A soft moan escapes my lips when he kisses my stomach. Then his hands pull down my skirt, along with my panties, leaving me bare.

“You are going to be on top of me,” he mumbled. “I want to see how beautiful you are when you come undone.”

He took off the rest of his clothes and lay on the bed right next to me before pulling me on top of him. I grab his cock and gently sink on top of it. A moan escapes both our lips and as soon I adjust myself, I start to move on top of him. He sits up and his lips attack my neck, savoring every inch of my hot skin. Hearing his moans, and his grunts is music to my ears. God, whoever has been with this man, has been a lucky lady.

And for all this time, instead of fighting and admitting we cared for one another, we could have been enjoying each other, savoring every minute we had before we went into war. But now it’s not the time to look at the past, we are here together, right now and nothing exists, just us.

His lips find my own and he plants his feet on the mattress, thrusting upwards. “Come undone for me doll, I want to feel you drain me.” My toes immediately start to curl, and I hold on to him tightly as a scream escapes both our lips, milking everything out of him.

When we feel our body relax, I can feel him pepper kisses on my sweaty neck and holding on to me tightly.

“I am sorry for being such an asshole Charlie.”

“Why are you saying sorry, I was equally a bitch to you. So I am sorry.”

He laid us both down and he gently started tracing his fingers on my back. “You know things are going to change between us now, Lewis. There is no going back anymore.”

Lewis shrugs and looks at me. “That is fine with me, I prefer it that way.” He smiles at me, and I peck his lips before I lay my head on his chest. “We just have to make sure Dick does not notice, he has the damn eyes of a hawk, he notices when things are slightly off.”

I start to chuckle. “Indeed, he does. We got to be careful with that man.”

“Now don’t go running off telling Luz,” he warned me playfully. “That man is a chatterbox.”

I roll my eyes. “I am not stupid Lewis; I know how my best friend is.”

We both laughed and then looked at each other again. “After the war, if we both make this work and out, I want you to come with me. I do not want you to go back to that place ever again.”

“But Lewis, we are just barely starting, and you haven’t said I love you yet.”

“I will one day,” he said as he tucked a hair behind my ear. “I know I will.”

“Okay, whatever you say.”

We enjoyed each other’s company before he had to leave. I walked him to the door and before he left, he leaned in and gave me a good night kiss. “Since you have a couple of days off, we can escape town and have fun.”

“It’s a date.”

“Don’t pack anything, it won’t be necessary.”

I roll my eyes. “Whatever you say, Captain.”

“It’s an order.”

I salute him and start smiling. “Yes sir.”

#band of brothers #hbowarsanta23 #lewis nixon x oc

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sergeant-spoons · 1 year

Text

Secret Santa ‘22 (Pt 2)

@rebeccapearson ~ Secret Santa Pt 2: electric boogaloo. I swear, these just keep getting away from me and getting longer! Your third fic will be published tomorrow (and it’s twice as long as today’s). I hope you like this one! 💕

Your Typical Annual Nixon Christmas Party

Pairing: Lewis Nixon x Female OC

Word count: 5629

Tone: Friends to lovers, mutual pining, only one bed, ballroom dancing, all my homies hate Stanhope Nixon, angst with a happy ending

Warnings: A bit risqué at some parts, nonsexual & nongraphic nudity (taking a shower), brief mentions of body shaming and childhood trauma (I repeat: all my homies hate Stanhope Nixon)

Prompt: “If I ask you to kiss me in front of all these people, will you do it?”

Summary: He needs a date to the annual family Christmas party to stick it to his father, and she’s more than happy to go along with the ploy—until she realizes just how bad his father really is. OR The one where Lewis Nixon loves her too much to ever let her go.

Read it here on AO3!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"My father is hosting the annual Nixon Christmas party and I need a girlfriend ASAP."

Marisa blinks at Lewis. When he told her he had a favor to ask of her, something of this caliber did not cross her mind. They've been friends for so long that she can usually read him like a book.

Usually.

"Uh... why?"

"Because he'll be twice as unbearable if I go alone."

"Ah." Marisa feels a wave of sympathy. "So... you want me to be your-"

At the same time as Marisa says, "-fake girlfriend to get your father off your back?", Lewis agrees, "fake girlfriend to get my father off my back. Yes. Exactly."

"Why do you of all people need a fake girlfriend?"

He starts to answer, then hesitates.

"I'm not sure if I should take that as a compliment or an insult."

"I mean I'm surprised you can't find a real date." Marisa reaches over and dusts a piece of lint off his shoulder, adding, "Charmer that you are."

"I'm flattered," he chuckles, "but I'm not really... in that scene, right now."

She softens. "Right."

"If I don't go with someone," he admits, fiddling with the hem of his sweater, the one she bought him last Christmas, "he'll set me up with some socialite and I'll be married again by the end of the year. And I..." He glances aside. "I can't do that again. Not to me or to her, whoever she would be."

Marisa nods sympathetically, reaching over to smooth down his sleeve. She gets it. He's been divorced twice. No wonder he's not looking for anything right now.

"I understand."

His smile is a little sad.

"I knew you would." A beat. "So?"

They both know she'd go to the ends of the earth for him. It's only a matter of time before she agrees.

"Well," she supposes, having made up her mind, "because you are such a dear friend to me, I'll consider it."

"It's next week," he informs her quickly. "That should give you plenty of time to decide."

"Next week?" She scrunches up her nose as if anything could dissuade her now. "I'm not sure if I can get a dress in time."

"Oh, I took care of that."

Lewis goes over to the Christmas tree in the corner of his apartment and picks up a rather large box adorned with a big green bow. As he brings it over to the sofa, Marisa realizes it is labeled with her name. He comes back to the sofa and deposits it on the table, then slides it her way and gestures for her to take a look.

"Go on. Open it."

Marisa eyes him with playful suspicion; nevertheless, she accepts the box and draws it to her.

"Lewis Nixon, are you trying to bribe me?" she teases as she reaches out and tugs the bow off.

"What can I say?" Lewis shrugs as Marisa lifts the lid to reveal the most beautiful gown she's ever seen. "It reminded me of you."

"Lewis!" she gasps. "It's gorgeous."

"A beautiful dress for a beautiful woman."

She holds the gown to her chest and turns to him with tears of genuine gratitude in her eyes. Lewis shifts uncomfortably and offers her a slightly nervous smile.

"Hey, now, don't look at me like that."

"It's such a lovely gift."

"It's yours," he promises, "whether or not you go with me."

"Oh, Lewis—!"

"Merry Christmas, Risa. But, ah-" He clears his throat. "-you know, you might want somewhere to wear that dress-"

Marisa can't help the soft laugh bubbling up from a chest full of warmth for his kindness.

"Lewis-"

"-and what better place than a party? You'll go with me, of course-"

"Lewis-"

"-and everyone will see just how beautiful you are and be so incredibly jealous of me-"

"Alright, alright," she laughs, gently letting the dress fall back into the box. "You can stop buttering me up now. I'll go."

"You'll go? You'll go!" Lewis wraps his arms around her and plants a wet kiss on her cheek. "See, this is why you're the best."

"Yes, yes, I'll go-" Marisa wriggles out of his arms, laughing. "-but I've got one condition."

"What? Anything!"

"If it gets to be 10 o'clock and they've still got us trapped, we stage an escape."

Lewis sighs fondly, laying his hand over his heart.

"I could never have asked for a more perfect partner in crime."

A week later, they arrive at the house just before midnight, per Lewis' assumption that his father won't be up to 'greet' them. They carry their own luggage, to the tired-looking butler's relief, and follow him upstairs, trying to walk as quietly as they can past Stanhope Nixon's unfriendly quarters. Thankfully, they continue on and cross from the East Wing of the house to the West Wing, which is far more warmly lit and forgiving. They pass a bathroom with the door open and the light from the wired chandelier inside bleeding out into the hall. A woman in a silk dressing gown is sitting on the edge of a lavish bathtub, painting her nails. She waves lazily at Lewis through the open door and eyes Marisa curiously but not unkindly. They both wave back, and as they continue down the hall, Lewis leans toward Marisa's ear and mutters that she just met his sister Blanche.

"She's the good one, right?" Marisa asks, and when Lewis makes a face, she giggles softly. “Other than you.”

“Other than me, yes.”

"So you two get along?"

Lewis smiles, one side of his mouth turned up a little higher than the other.

"We bicker the same as any siblings, but I'll never let anyone say a bad thing about her, and she'll do the same for me." He ducks his head. "Well, anyone except..."

Marisa frowns sympathetically. "Anyone except your father?"

He doesn't respond, just turns his head aside as if he's ashamed of the answer, and Marisa knows she's right. She reaches out and takes his hand, and maybe it's a bold thing to do, but after a moment, he curls his fingers around her and relaxes. She catches him looking at their joined hands with a smile as they come up to the door the butler has indicated and her heart gives an unusual flutter.

What's that all about?

Before she can give it any more than a fleeting consideration, the butler is ushering them inside the bedroom, reaching for the light switch to reveal a handsome spread of maroon and gold. There's a grand old bed with a tall spruce headboard, a sideless bookshelf that Marisa is pretty sure is called an étagère, a Victorian-style chaise lounge, a dozen velvety pillows all across the furniture, and even a miniature Christmas tree draped with tinsel atop the dresser—and that's just at first glance. The butler explains there's a bathroom attached to one end of the room and a walk-in closet to the other, and as Marisa's still reeling, Lewis, who grew up accustomed to this luxury, thanks the man and bids him goodnight. The butler shuts the door behind him and it's only then that Marisa realizes this isn't meant to be just Lewis' space but both of theirs.

"Uh, Lewis?"

He's busy dragging their suitcases over to the dresser as quietly as he can and doesn't hear her, so she repeats his name.

"Lewis."

"Hmm?"

Marisa licks her lips, a nervous habit.

"How in the name of Father Christmas is there, in this enormous house, only one bed left?"

From where he's bent over, laying his suitcase down, Lewis looks up, tossing dark waves out of his eyes.

"Oh."

"Yeah. Oh."

Marisa eyes the chaise lounge. It's pretty big, for a truncated couch with an asymmetrical back. The gold gilding is a nice touch. Lewis sees where she's looking and rises as he shakes his head.

"No, Risa. You're not sleeping on that old thing. There's plenty of room on the bed for the both of us."

Marisa knows he's right, but that little heart flutter has put a sort of nervousness into her that she's not used to feeling, and knowing Lewis has got something to do with it makes her a little wary to share a bed with him.

It's only one night, she reminds herself, and it's not like you haven't been friends for ages.

Lewis looks torn between wanting to apologize and wanting to tease, and it's so like him that Marisa relaxes.

If he didn't trust you, he wouldn't have asked you to come.

"Right," she says aloud, "we'll share the bed," and with that, the matter is settled.

The next morning, they wake up to the cold Winter sun, streaming through the window and illuminating the room. Before Marisa even opens her eyes, she knows it's too early, and from Lewis' soft, wordless grumbling, he feels the same. She snuggles further into him, then realizes what she's doing and freezes. His hand, which has been smoothing down her hair, stills after a moment, and she can feel it against his chest when he sucks in a sharp breath.

Maybe it's not too early to get up, after all.

Marisa tumbles out of bed, yawning, and sleepily flees to the shower. Lewis mumbles a good morning as she goes and she just bobs her head, too shy in the moment to reply with something just as mundane. The bathroom is just as ornate as the bedroom. Marisa starts the water running and turns to the sink to brush her teeth. She looks a little ragged, with her hair all mussed up on one side, her eyes drooping with drowsiness, and one side of her chin redder than the other from how she slept with it smushed into the pillow. She can't imagine how she must have looked to Lewis, creeping away into the bathroom like that. She must have seemed to him shamefaced or sheepish—but he knows better than to tolerate the notion. They both know what their lie is and that it is a lie, and that once this is over, they will still be friends and nothing more.

Marisa's heart gives a pang. She does her best to ignore it.

Once the water is hot enough, she steps into the shower and shuts the glass door behind her. Her whole body relaxes under the stream and she gives a long sigh. She takes a moment just to stand there, stretching her neck and arms, relishing in the water cascading down her frame. The Nixons spared no expense in building this mansion, and the water pressure is no exception.

"Risa?" comes a slightly awkward call from outside the door. Marisa almost misses it with the shower pounding past her ears. She leans out of the stream and acknowledges she heard him, wincing at how scratchy her voice feels and how rough it sounds.

"I'm, uh, I'm going downstairs to get some coffee. You want some?"

She does. When he comes back, she's brushing her hair in front of the mirror. She's opened the bathroom door to let the steam out (blowdrying always makes her dizzy, especially in a hot room), and when he pokes his head in, he's got one hand over his eyes.

"Coffee for the lady."

"Why, thank you, sir."

As Risa takes the mug, she notices the stiffness of his shoulders and the slight downturn of his brow. As soon as she's got the coffee, he tries to leave, but she takes his hand and pulls it down from his face so she can kiss his cheek. He still keeps his eyes closed, but he relaxes, and so does she—they're back on the same page.

"Are you decent?"

"Decently dressed? Yes. Decently caffeinated? I will be soon."

She takes a sip as he finally looks at her, and it scares her, just how much she missed those dark, intelligent eyes of his.

"Ooh, yum." She looks down into the coffee, hiding from this perfectly normal interaction. "Is that peppermint?"

Lewis shrugs, the corner of his mouth tugging up.

"I thought it'd be festive."

"Well, it's good. Thanks."

There's something tender in his eyes when he replies, "Sure," and Marisa has a strange inkling that it's been there all along.

After he's done with his own coffee, they swap, and he showers while she gets dressed. When he emerges, toweling off his hair, shirtless, she pretends she's not allowed to look at him and silently chastises herself for the heat creeping into her cheeks. As she faces away, putting in little earrings by feel, he tells her she looks nice. She thanks him, but then he hesitates, and when she asks what's the matter, he tells her they're going out for the day and she might want something warmer. He turns his back and she swaps her blouse for a sweater, and this time, she can't look away from his smile.

"Better?" she asks a bit meekly, and his smile grows.

"I like that color on you," he says, "it goes nice with your eyes," and before Marisa has time to even consider what he means, he's slipped back into the bathroom, clothes in hand.

They spend most of the day out in the city, avoiding Lewis' family (especially his father). They walk most of the way, but eventually, their feet grow tired and Lewis hails a taxi to take them to his favorite lunch spot. Blanche meets up with them there and stays with them for the rest of the afternoon. She and Marisa hit it off, so much so that Lewis jokes they should be each other's date instead. Marisa, who has taken to walking on his arm, teases him that he's jealous, and although he rolls his eyes, his cheeks have assumed a hint of pink, and he's quick to move on to the next distraction. Blanche shoots Marisa a wink and Marisa giggles despite herself—maybe there's something in the air today that's making her flutter her lashes just a little more every time Lewis looks her way.

They head back mid-afternoon to get ready for the party. Marisa and Lewis confine themselves to their room and play cards to pass the time, betting on promises that might make the inevitable event more bearable.

"If I win, you have to dance with me tonight."

"If I win, you have to dance with me tonight and let me dip you."

Marisa's winning streak is not to be broken. Lewis groans, tossing down his hand, and she reaches over to pat his knee in mock sympathy.

"It's okay," she says around a mouthful of chocolate, "I'll still let you dip me."

Blanche has warned them not to be late, but even then, they stall until they really can't put it off any longer. He takes his tux into the walk-in closet and shut the door, and just for kicks, she yells after him:

"No peeking!"

She hears a muffled laugh. "I wouldn't dare."

"That's right," she replies, getting a goofy grin on her face, and at the same time as she says "I'd kick your ass," he choruses, "You'd kick my ass."

Marisa prepares to wiggle her way into the gown, but to her surprise, when she steps into it, it slips right up her body like silk. She straightens everything out and feels a hint of pride when she manages to zip up the back all by herself. She hasn't looked properly in the mirror yet, but when she does, tugging at her hair, she just about freezes. Her hands drop down to her sides and she stares at herself for almost too long to be sensible. Lewis starts humming an old song from inside the closet and Marisa remembers she's not alone. Coming back to herself, she gives a slight turn to the left and then the right, just to test the flow of the gown. It twinkles in the light, and she gives a squeak, covering her mouth with her hands. Electrified, she bounces all around, watching the fabric ebb and flow, growing giddier by the minute. It's the most expensive piece of cloth Marisa's ever put on her body, and though a part of her feels like a fish out of water, she can't help but admire herself in the gown. When Lewis reappears, adjusting his tie, neither can he.

"Wow." He dares to whistle, and she blushes. "Risa, you look..."

"Good?" she suggests, shimmying to show him how the gown shimmers, and she thinks his jaw might drop.

"Stunning."

"Oh, you charmer, you," she refutes, feeling warm with affection, and comes over to help Lewis. "Here. Let me."

This has been a ritual of theirs for years, ever since they met at Officer Candidate School way back in '41. Marisa teased Lewis for being incapable of tying his own tie despite his wealthy upbringing, and Lewis shot right back, why don't you do it, then? She did, flawlessly, on the first try, and since that day, they've been inseparable. OCS led to the 101st Airborne and Easy Company, and they rode that train all the way to Europe and back. Somehow, throughout all of that, only rarely did they part. About a year after the war ended, Marisa made a quip at a party that the only reason Lewis still kept her around was to manage his ties for him. To her surprise, he drew her aside, gravely concerned that she truly believed what she'd said—for the first time in years, one of her jokes had gone right over his head.

I was only kidding. I know you love me too much to ever let me go, you big sap.

...

Lewis?

Look, Buck Compton's here. Let's go say hello.

It was a strange moment that Marisa still doesn't understand. Even stranger, they've never spoken of it since.

"Really, Risa," Lewis says, breaking the gentle silence and bringing her back to the moment, "you look exquisite."

Marisa chuckles despite the slight churning in her stomach. "You're not so bad yourself, Lew."

He softens. Though she's not expecting his arm to wrap around her waist, she's not startled by it. She's done with the tie, but she keeps ahold of it as he inches toward her and she reciprocates. She can feel his breath on her lips. He's never looked at her this way before—or maybe she's never noticed. His eyes keep darting between hers as if looking for a sign she doesn't know how to give. They're still drifting closer, and Lewis looks like he wants to do something about it—but then he steps back, smooths down his suit jacket, and offers her his arm.

"Shall we?"

Marisa hopes her sigh comes across as one of teasing chagrin and not of disappointment.

"If we must."

Lewis leads the way through the West Wing. He doesn't say a word and neither does she. They pass by Blanche's door—upon which she has pinned a sprig of mistletoe—and head for the main staircase. It isn't long before they can hear the music wafting up from downstairs. They're almost at the upstairs balcony when Lewis abruptly stops. In the shadows of the hall, he is able to hide his fear. For his sake, Marisa pretends she doesn't see it, but she can't help feeling twice as nervous. The butler from last night is standing at the top of the steps, introducing members of the Nixon family as they appear from their rooms and quarters throughout the house. God bless him, he's pretending he hasn't noticed them yet. Marisa is getting more and more anxious about making their grand entrance, and then Lewis turns to her and says he's got a better idea. She squeezes his arm and steps a little closer to his side, wordlessly communicating her relief, and he turns them back down the hall, explaining as they go. Half-hidden around the corner from his mother's old bedroom, there is a far plainer staircase that will take them around to the dining room, a smaller space adjacent to the ballroom. Someone will find them eventually, but this way, their arrival will be far less dramatic and might go mostly unnoticed.

"Ten o'clock," Marisa says quietly, pointing to the large grandfather clock adjacent to the landing.

"Ten o'clock," Lewis affirms with a nod, and just like that, they enter the lion's den.

Unfortunately, their arrival is one of note, and they are announced almost immediately. Standing awkwardly in the lofty arch between the dining room and the ballroom, they watch as the attention of all is redirected their way. Fury flashes in the icy eyes of a tall, hard-faced man who can be no other than Stanhope Nixon. He marches over and directs them to the center of the ballroom, loudly and sternly announcing that his son, the Nixon heir, must have the first dance with his date. The party began fifteen minutes ago, and dancing is already in full force; still, the host forces everyone to step to the side. Marisa's face feels hot. If this is how Stanhope treats his guests, she can't imagine what Lewis has had to deal with over the last twenty-eight years. All eyes are on them. Lewis looks like he wants to throw something—or throw up. They've been through a war and he's still frightened by his father. Marisa's afraid, too. When he sees her hand trembling on his arm, he takes it, squeezes, and draws her to him in the first position for a waltz.

"Ready?" he mouths as the music starts, and she's not sure how she finds it in herself to nod, but she does, and they begin.

Everyone is watching them. Marisa knows if she looks away from Lewis, she'll lose her footing, so she keeps her gaze trained on his, and that does the trick. For several months now, Lewis has been teaching her assorted ballroom dances. She told him once, several years ago, that she'd like to learn if she ever got the chance. Then the war ended and she became his neighbor in New Brunswick, and he, who seems to remember everything she's ever told him, offered to teach her. Tonight, his hand on the small of her back is soothing, and she admires him openly. His hair is neatly combed and coiffed. She wants to run her hands through it, knowing it will soothe him, but she can't. He's holding a great deal of tension in his handsome jaw, but she can see it slacken as they go through the motions without faltering. They make it through the dance, and as their undesirable audience politely applauds, they bow and wish to disappear.

The first hour isn't too awful, after that. Lewis walks Marisa around, introducing her to various family and family friends, some of which are actually quite agreeable. A very old woman with one pair of spectacles on her nose and another perched atop her feathery hair tells them point-blank that it's all her husband's fault for her son's wretched behavior. Lewis chuckles awkwardly and tries to placate her, but as soon as Marisa realizes the woman is Stanhope's mother, she interrupts Lewis and thanks the old matriarch for her sympathy. She brightens up (as much as she can for how slowly she moves) and pulls Marisa over to an excessively long sofa to tell her an equally lengthy story. In the half-hour that Marisa sits with Lewis' grandmother, no one bothers them except for one servant who's obligated to offer them hors d'oeuvres. Marisa is so grateful for the company that she almost blesses the old woman aloud. Then Lewis reappears and tells her they're wanted in the parlor, and her little bubble bursts. Once they have both bestowed his grandmother with a kiss on the cheek, he leads her away, whispering an apology in advance.

"What for?" she whispers back, but then they turn into the parlor, and Marisa understands.

Stanhope, Blanche, and Lewis' mother Doris are all gathered by the fireplace, talking stiffly and eyeing the doorway. Marisa only has time to recall that Stanhope and Doris are divorced before Stanhope spots them and drags them over, commanding that they join the conversation. The next twenty minutes are painful, to say the least, and Marisa does her best to maintain composure while answering every question under the sun as to her personal and professional life. Doris, with her upturned nose and wounded eyes, is clearly displeased to learn her son's date is a woman of literature. When Blanche starts to congratulate Marisa on her recent book deal, Doris interrupts and asks about Marisa's social life and what circles she runs in. Lewis is starting to look like he wants to jump out the window. At one point, Marisa mentions that she served in the Airborne too, and while Doris and Stanhope are practically appalled, she finds some relief in the gleam of admiration in Blanche's eye.

When she's finally unable to stomach Marisa any longer, Doris hauls Blanche off to meet a potential suitor. Marisa is confused why Blanche is looking at her pityingly until Stanhope tells Lewis to fetch him a glass of whiskey and she realizes she is the one in the mire. Lewis tries to take Marisa with him, but Stanhope won't permit it, and he leaves with a muttered promise to be back as soon as he can. Stanhope is neutral enough for a moment or two as they exchange a few words on the evening's décor, but then he eyes her up and down and she feels a shiver of disgust run up her spine. He's off like a shot, then, going on about how her dress doesn't fit her figure right, how unwomanly she is for still being unmarried at twenty-five (how he knew her age, Marisa doesn't know, but it makes her stomach churn to think), and how she ought to find someone more handsome than his son or else the babies will turn out hideous. She's half a second away from slapping him when Lewis returns and exchanges the whiskey glass for Marisa. Stanhope, peeved, saunters off to find ice (which Lewis purposefully left out of the drink), and Marisa falls into Lewis' arms, on the brink of tears.

"Wicked old bastard," she mumbles into his shoulder, and he hisses a breath through his teeth.

"Shit. You okay?"

"Ugh," she groans, huddling closer to him, her lifeline. "What a creep."

She has the feeling he'd hold her for as long as she needed, but people are starting to stare, and she knows she should step back. So she does, and when he asks her again if she's alright, she almost laughs, broken-hearted.

"I'll be fine."

His worried frown persists; she knows he can see right through her.

"Risa-"

"Not here." She shakes her head, touching her hand to her forehead. "How much longer do we have to stay?"

He considers for only a moment before he takes her hand and starts to lead her out of the parlor and back into the ballroom. Stanhope is at the bar against the far wall, drinking his whiskey. Doris and Blanche are a few yards away from him, talking to a suave-looking fellow that Blanche is trying desperately not to roll her eyes at.

"Lewis?"

"Not much longer, if you go along with this."

"With what?"

He wraps his arm around her waist, draws her to him, and asks in that low voice of his, scanning her face with a serious sort of hope, “If I ask you to kiss me in front of all these people—really kiss me—will you do it?”

She grabs his tie and falls back against the wall, smashing her lips into his. He lets out a shuddering breath, his eyes fluttering closed. Marisa feels hot all over as he runs his hands up and down her sides. When he pokes his tongue against her bottom lip, asking permission, she lets him in with a hum of desire. As his lips fall from hers and latch onto her neck, somebody whistles, and then Stanhope bellows. As light-headed as Marisa is, she knows in an instant that this is their cue to run. She grabs Lewis' hand and they take off, darting into the dining room and then up the side stairs. The grandfather clock chimes right as they turn the corner and Lewis, spooked, takes a tumble. Marisa helps him to his feet, and they take off again, still hand in hand, laughing to know it is ten o'clock on the dot.

"Where to?" Marisa asks, trusting him to lead the way.

"Not our room," Lewis replies, turning down a narrow hallway Marisa hadn't noticed before. "We've got to hide for a bit."

Footsteps come running up behind them, fast enough to catch them, and as they whirl around, Lewis jumps in front of Marisa—but it is only Blanche. She skids to a stop and almost falls forward as she bends over her knees, wheezing.

"Father sent me after you," she half-laughs, half-gasps. "That was quite the show you put on. I thought Mother was going to faint."

"You won't actually...?"

"Oh, God, no," she says in earnest, lifting her head to look at her brother and his date. "I just came to say my thanks. I would never have escaped if it weren't for you."

To both Blanche and Lewis' surprise, Marisa goes and hugs her.

"You'll get out of here someday, Blanche," she says softly. "You're so much more than these people."

"Well, shit," Blanche replies as they part, sounding a little choked up. "Don't make me cry. My makeup's going to run."

"Sorry," Marisa chuckles, and Blanche squeezes her hand, stepping back.

"I've held you up too long," she says. "Go hide yourselves in Grandmama's old room. She hasn't been able to make it up the stairs for a decade but they still haven't redone it."

"On our way," Lewis agrees, sharing a nod with his sister. "Happy holidays, Blanche."

"The same to you, Lewis."

The door they seek is in the corner of the West Wing, tucked away between a laundry room and the back of the house. Inside, the room is just as hot and stuffy as the rest of the house but not nearly as dusty as Marisa expects. When she finds the light switch and flicks it, she sees it's actually pretty nice. The furniture is more modest in here, something closer to what Lewis has in his apartment back in New Brunswick. For a moment, she wishes they were there, slow dancing to the Christmas music on the radio, him in his tux and her in her gown. She watches him as he crosses to the window and throws it open, and though it's freezing outside, the cold breeze is a welcome change to the stifling hot house. Marisa goes over to feel it and Lewis steps aside, allowing her the window space. She leans back on it, her elbows propped up on the sill and her low-cut dress exposing her back to the elements. Her chest feels sore from the cold and the running, but she feels doubly alive from that surreal, searing kiss.

"Did you ask me to do that just to piss them off?" she asks, still trying to catch her breath. "I wouldn't blame you if you did."

Terrified of his rejection, she starts laughing, but as soon as she does, Lewis takes her face in his hands and kisses her, hard.

"I love you," he whispers when they part, tenderly smoothing his thumb over her cheek. "I've loved you since that first time you fixed my tie and called me a lazy rich boy for not knowing how to do it myself."

Marisa's eyes are wet, and she blinks desperately, allowing the tears to fall so she can see Lewis clearly again.

"All the way back at OCS?" she asks hoarsely, and he leans closer, taking a deep, shaky breath.

"All the way back at OCS."

She can feel his lips brushing hers, and she wants to kiss him, but there's something more that needs to be said, so she lets him say it.

"I'm sorry for dragging you into this mess," he whispers, his gaze dropping to her lips. "It wasn't fair of me to-"

She silences him with a kiss, trembling when he sighs into her mouth, eagerly giving up his apology.

"If you hadn't," she says, reluctantly parting from his lips, "you wouldn't have asked me to kiss you. And I wouldn't have had the courage to tell you..."

She walks her fingers up his chest to his chin and pulls him in for a slow, deep, breathtaking kiss.

"That you love me, too?" he guesses when they separate for want of air, his eyes sparkling with hope and longing and joy and a million other things that make her heart go wild in her chest.

"That I love you, too," she affirms, and he smiles, leaning his forehead against hers.

"So you liked that kiss, huh?"

Marisa laughs, swatting at his chest in retribution for ruining the moment, but he just grins and leans in.

"About that kiss..."

He crowds her against the window, careful not to let her lean too far back, and she hums happily, running her hands through his hair like she's wanted to all night.

"Where were we?"

He kisses her neck and she inhales sharply, tilting her head back to see the night sky up and behind her.

"Ah."

He smiles and she can feel it, his lips hot against her cool skin.

"Right here."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Taglist: @tvserie-s-world @thoughpoppiesblow @victoryrollsandredlips @now-im-a-belieber @50svibes @mgdln97 @tina1938 @drinkwhiskeyandsmile @ask-you-what-sir @indecisiveimpatience @whovian45810 @brokennerdalert @holdingforgeneralhugs @onlyyouexisthere

#band of brothers #hbowardaily's secret santa '22 #secret santa #lewis nixon #lewis nixon x oc #rebeccapearson #fanfiction #gift fic #band of brothers fanfiction #hbo war show #hbo war show fanfiction #band of brothers one shot #hbo war show one shot

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holdingforgeneralhugs · 2 years

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Ooohhhhh I've been working away at my upcoming Nix story and I just wrote this one lot of dialogue that's got me like 😩😩😩 because I'm dying to share this story with you guys but I CAN'T because it's not READY and this story is the biggest, most complex thing I've ever worked on and I want it to be just right when I start posting it. I've just been writing sections as the ideas come to me so I need to make sure everything links up smoothly before I post any of it.

#worth it every time #lewis nixon x oc #i wish i could post it like.....yesterday #but ive got so much work to go on it #i promise (i hope) it'll be good!#writer struggles

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softspeirs · 2 years

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Inside Source (6/6)

Pairing: Lewis Nixon/OFC Summary: A war correspondent with an ulterior motive. That’s one move the intelligence officer didn’t see coming. He also didn’t expect the correspondent to be a woman. In this part: Easy is on occupation duty, and a familiar face returns to cover the surrender of German troops. Author’s Note: This is the final part! Thanks so much to everyone who’s reblogged, replied, and enjoyed this. More notes at the end!

Previous part here.

Elizabeth Parks was let go from the Times shortly after her disastrous experience in Bastogne. Her editor deemed her “reckless” and her behavior “a detriment to the industry”... or something to that effect. In truth, Ellie barely read the rest of the letter. All that was echoing in her ears was the fact that she no longer had a job, and really no other reason to remain in Europe.

She’d been recalled to London, and promptly told to hand in her credentials.

She had been fuming at the time, though she knew she had made her bed and now had to lie in it. While she had authorization to report from the rear at the time of her arrival with the 101st, she did not have the authority to go to the front. She had embellished the truth to Colonel Sink, and, well... look where it got her.

She can’t find it in herself to regret any of it though. She saw the war up close. She was able to send back copy that was making her a household name. She found her brother. She was alive, and that was enough.

Now, in a bleak waiting room, she fidgets with her skirt. After weeks of dressing in what was essentially a safari getup, she felt out of place. It didn’t help that the only store she was able to afford anything at was a secondhand shop, and normally wouldn’t be anything she’d wear for a job interview. She just hopes her work speaks louder than her appearance.

“Miss Parks.” The voice behind her is quiet, but firm, and she shuts her eyes briefly before standing.

“Sir. Thank you for seeing me.”

He gestures for her to sit, and does the same behind a large, mahogany desk. “It’s my pleasure, Miss Parks. I have to say, your reputation precedes you.”

Elizabeth struggles not to wince. “Sir, I’ll be blunt. I made some mistakes. But truthfully, I don’t regret it.” Her throat feels tight. “The world needed to know what’s happening in Europe. Not just the numbers and the casualties, but the people. I know I can write some great pieces if I’m given the chance, for however long the war goes, and you won’t regret it.”

The editor of the New York Herald-Tribune looks back at her, face blank. She hasn’t a clue what he’s thinking.

“You come highly recommended, however unorthodox your methods are.” He says finally. “I’ll take you on.” He says, with a stern addition, “The First Army press corps are scooping everyone in Germany. They’ve got higher clearance, but I’ve got intel that says the real story is in Austria.”

Ellie feels like crying at being given a second chance.

“I understand you have some familiarity with the 101st Airborne.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Then I see no problem with you using that to your advantage.”

For the first time in days, she smiles. “Yes, sir.”

Lewis Nixon has the worst headache he’s ever had. He thinks champagne is still flowing somewhere, but he’s content to sit here in the sun, cherishing a real, true cup of coffee.

It feels like both years ago and just yesterday that they were freezing their asses off in the woods.

He can hear Dick and Lip having a quiet conversation off to his right, and he closes his eyes, leaning back until his head meets the wall behind him. He hasn’t let himself think about after until this moment - he didn’t want to dream of something that might never happen.

Now, though... afterwards. What is he going to do afterwards? The thought of Dick going on to Japan without him seems like the dumbest thing he’s ever heard, so he applied for the transfer too.

He has a hope that they’ll keep them together, hopes that Dick can use that fancy new pin on his lapel to pull some strings. He doesn’t know if any other officer would put up with the idea that Nixon is well and truly sick of the Army.

“Nix, time to go.” Dick says, interrupting his thoughts.

They’re on their way to witness a surrender, something he’s done here and there over the course of occupation. It’s typically Dick who handles it, but when he’s busy, the German Generals are content with a Captain witnessing their surrender; much less content with having to do it to a First Lieutenant or Sergeant.

Today is a massive move - after these Germans are processed and discharged, the town will be almost entirely comprised of Americans.

In the jeep ride over, he fidgets with his jacket and tie. He feels uncomfortable in his own skin, wondering if it’s due to all the idle time on his hands now that they’re not fighting for their lives every second of the day.

He’s tired of the ceremony of it all. After Landsburg, after everything they’ve seen... it all feels so pointless.

He finds his mind and his gaze wandering during it, half listening to the General as he addresses his troops. His finds his eyes landing on a figure on the other side of the parade ground, perched on the edge of another jeep, bent over a notebook.

They turn slightly, and with a jolt, he realizes it’s a woman.

A reporter.

His heart rate kicks up, and he finds himself elbowing Dick. “Look over there,” he says quietly, and for a brief second tells himself not to get his hopes up.

“Is that...?”

Lewis Nixon has never been an emotional man. But when the woman looks up, and he sees her familiar eyes, he feels his throat tighten the way it does right before he’s about to start crying.

He knew she was alive. He knew that, and yet seeing her now, he feels like it’s the confirmation he needed.

“Go.” Dick’s voice is almost solemn, but he has a smile on his face. “Go, or I’m going to start calling her over here.”

“Anyone ever tell you that you’re the big brother they never wanted?” Nixon asks, smiling and shaking his head. Before Dick can reply, he’s hopping over the edge of the jeep and moving his feet before he can talk himself out of it.

She doesn’t seem him coming.

He gets within earshot, and then clears his throat. “Miss Parks.”

Her head snaps up, eyes widening. “Oh, you ruined it!” She says. Out of everything he pictured her saying, this was not one of the sentences his imagination cooked up.

“Sorry?”

“It was supposed to be a surprise!” She hops down from the jeep. “I was going to come to the CP, and--”

Nixon takes three strides forward and pulls her into his arms. He holds her tight, only briefly terrified that she’s going to slap him until he feels her arms going around him, too.

“I’m so sorry.” He whispers. “I sent you there, I told you to go--”

“Stop.” Her voice is firm, though a little watery. “I’m here, aren’t I?”

“Your brother wrote to me. Told me you were alive. I just couldn’t bring myself to speak to you, knowing I was the reason you were in the hospital--”

“That’s not fair, Lewis Nixon, and you know it.”

Again, he’s taken aback by her ferocity.

“This was not your fault. Sure, I have a scar and a little bit of a limp now. But it’s a conversation piece, thank you very much.”

He can’t help but let out a shaky laugh. “Well, you did it. You found your brother, even if you had to nearly get blown up to do it.”

She rolls her eyes. “Got fired for my troubles, too.”

“Thought that uniform looked fresh. No one could accuse you of being green, though. You’ve got more experience than some of our Privates.”

“Captain Nixon. What are we going to do with you?”

A burst of something tears through him. “We?” He asks.

“I didn’t schlep all the way to Austria to be separated from Easy yet again,” she says, though he can feel the undercurrent there, the sense that when she says Easy, she means him. “Who knows how long this story is going to take me to write? I have to track down sources, get the inside scoop...”

“Good thing you know someone in Intelligence.”

“Good thing indeed.”

THE END

First: thank you so much to everyone who sent me messages, comments, and reblogged this story! I had so so much fun writing it.

Notes: This story was hugely inspired by my reading “The Correspondents” by Judith Mackrell, which covers 6 women who reported in various ways on the front lines during WWII. This part in particular references the ways in which reporters were given authorization to cover particular war zones. From the book: “The newly formed U.S. Department of Public Relations had come into the war with a far more positive attitude towards the press. While the British War Office chose to tolerate front-line journalists as a necessary evil, the Americans actively welcomed them, believing they could play a significant role in disseminating information from the front and in boosting morale - most soldiers had a morbid terror of dying anonymously in war, and they welcomed any reporter who could send news of them back home.” (p. 217)

“In November 1942, when the U.S. Expeditionary Force first landed in North Africa, it had brought a small but significant cadre of drivers, secretaries, and signallers from the Women’s Army Auxiliary Corps. To much of conservative America, however, the very notion of this “skirted army” was an abhorrence, so decisions were made to accredit the few female journalists, who, in writing about the WAAC and the essential service they performed, could help convince the U.S. public that women had a necessary role in this war.” (p 217-218)

Additionally, Ellie getting her official accreditation revoked is taken from a description of the same being done to several women reporters who defied SHAED (Supreme Headquarters Allied Expeditionary Force) regulations with regards to protocol for getting day trips approved + they were extremely limited as to who they were allowed to speak to. “It wasn’t until late 1944 that some regulations were limited, and my idea for this story came from this passage describing the Battle of the Bulge: “[Earlier that day] Iris Carpenter was being driven in a military jeep along a steeply winding road that her escort feared might be “lousy with parachutists.” Just a month earlier, [Iris and Lee Carson] could have been court-martialed for being so close to the fighting; now, they were reporting from the front as officially designated members of the U.S. First Army press corps.” (p. 293)

Finally - The New York Herald-Tribune was one of the biggest papers in New York at the time and was always battling with the Times for stories and advertising. They had several Pulitzer Prize journalists on staff, though the paper struggled after 1945.

#inside source fic #lewis nixon x oc #elizabeth parks #lewis x elizabeth #band of brothers fanfiction

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bobparkhurst · 1 year

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festive ficlets: dec 1

Look, just gimme a day or so and then we'll make time work right again. Prompts from @almost-a-class-act

Pairing: Lewis Nixon x Frank Mayhew (what me, debuting a canon-era OC in a modern AU Christmas ficlet? it's more likely than you think).

Prompt: "I promise I'll still act surprised when I open it!" - Character A tells Character B exactly what to buy them because they're choosy about gifts.

Notes: I wrote this and the next ficlet hopped up on Lemsip, in about five minutes while watching one of two utterly dreadful Eion Bailey Christmas movies and thus can't be held accountable for any of it.

Burnt sugar and vanilla wafts from behind the glass counter in the small, packed coffee-shop, curling through swathes of red ribbon and glittering garlands of gold and silver. It’s difficult to tell what is more cloying, the over-sweetened drinks or the exhausting demand of holiday spirit. Lewis' new cashmere scarf itches around his neck and he plucks at it with irritation; the price tag that had been up till very recently attached to it was far too high for this reddened skin beneath his scratching nails. His phone buzzes with a message from Dick and despite it all, he smiles at the corny thumbs up emoji and taps a quick reply, before returning his attention to the festive house of horrors he finds himself in now.

Christmas shopping has never been one of his strengths, if he’s honest. He hates the crowd, hates the noise, hates the lights, the forced festivity, the tinny carols blaring through every goddamn speaker in every goddamn sho-

“Nix.”

“Frank.”

His partner shoves the coat on the opposite chair to one side, barely giving Lewis enough time to catch it before it hits the well-trampled floor, and slumps down, covering their face with their hands and letting out a muffled scream. Lewis watches them and takes another sip of his coffee. Ok. He hates it slightly less than Frank does.

“Not having fun?”

Frank lifts their head and stares at them with such misery on their face that Lewis almost chokes. Their wide, beautiful mouth is twisted in a dramatically unhappy line, and somehow he feels like falling in love all over again. Of course, he’s not about to say that out loud.

“This was your idea,” he says instead, fixing his most blithe, and most calculatedly infuriating smile to his lips. “‘We’ll make a day of it, Nix. We’ll have some lunch, buy some gifts, try the glühwein’…”

“Next time I have a good idea like this,” Frank tells him, “just shoot me instead.”

They lean forward, reaching out their hand towards his where it rests on the table, then at the last moment curls their fingers quickly around the half-drunk coffee cup, waving away Nix’s protest as they take a gulp.

“Fuck, that’s awful,” they say.

“You’re telling me,” Lewis replies. “Now give it back.”

Frank looks pointedly at the queue at the counter, then back at Lewis, who concedes with a shrug. They take another swig and grimace again.

“I got Mom and Blanche.” A large paper bag is kicked lightly against Lewis' foot. “And your mom’s too.”

“You’ll be pleased to know,” Lewis replies, “that I covered the cousins. Turns out divide and conquer works.” He quirks an eyebrow. “But I do need to get rid of you again later. I have found the perfect thing and I don’t need you around to cramp my style when I pick it up.”

Frank narrows their eyes with suspicion. Lewis takes the opportunity to steal back his own coffee. He’s not sure why he’s bothering. There’s already enough sugar in his bloodstream that he’s sure his feet aren’t going to hit the floor for days.

“What is it?”

Lewis tuts. “Despite all evidence to the contrary,” he indicates the glitter that’s all but floating in clouds around them, “it isn’t Christmas yet. Have patience, my beloved.”

“Oh come on. I promise I’ll still act surprised when I open it.”

“You know, this is why people shouldn’t date investigative journalists. You can leave some mysteries alone.”

“Last year you got me windsurfing lessons,” Frank says, not unreasonably.

“You said you wanted to learn.”

“Can’t swim though, can I?”

Lewis tilts his head. “I mean, I don’t know if I knew that at the time. Besides. Dick’s the one who’s actually going in to get it; I’m picking it up from him. He agrees that it’s perfect and we both know he is infinitely the more trustworthy one.”

Frank stares at him for just a beat more, before their face softens and they resume looking out of the window with a muttered, “fine”. The throng of people are almost pressed against the glass, the streets filled with bodies and bags and exhortations to watch where you’re going, god damn. On the café soundsystem, somebody starts singing a very warbling version of Baby It’s Cold Outside.

“I can’t do it, Nix,” they say, sadly. “I can’t go back out there. But we can't stay here either.”

Lewis claps a hand on their shoulder and decides to take pity. “Fifteen minutes,” he promises. “Twenty at the outside. We’ll meet Dick, say hello, swap bags and then go straight home.”

Frank brightens a little; with their nose still red from the cold outside and their red hair peeking out haphazard from beneath a grey beanie, they look like a hopeful twelve year old on Christmas morning. “With mulled wine?”

“Who do you think you’re talking to? Yes, with mulled wine.”

“All right. Ok.” Frank’s shoulders square. “We can do this.” They stand, loop one arm through a multitude of brightly coloured bags, and the other through Lewis’, pulling him close. Lewis kisses their cheek.

“We can do this. Let’s go.”

In his pocket, his phone buzzes again and he takes a surreptitious glance. It’s another message from Dick, and the one he’s been waiting for, just a picture of a small, square box nestled in a truly incredible amount of cellophane and ribbon.

Thanks, hide it, he texts back.

Dick replies with a clover emoji, praying hands and bells. Lewis isn’t sure quite what he means, but it’s undoubtedly something supportive.

He tucks the phone away and follows his partner outside.

#lewis nixon x oc #band of brothers #fluffy seasonal prompts #lewis nixon #bob: festive ficlets #hbo war barely coherent christmas chaos #band of brothers oc #oc: frank mayhew

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1waveshortofashipwreck · 4 months

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Should've Been Born Later, Nix - Chapter 1: The Fall

Easy Company x Fem!OCs

Synopsis: What will happen when some of Easy Company's finest soldiers fall through a foxhole and into another time?

Words: 1,314

Find the fic's navigation page here !!

Author's Note: HERE WE GO LADS!! The first chapter of my self-serving BoB time travel fic!! If you want to be added to the taglist please let me know !!

Luz was the last one to arrive on the ground, immediately crashing into Malarkey with a resounding thud… Well, resounding for someone as small as Luz. He was the last to drop onto the pile of Easy Company men - a giant pile of limbs, helmets, and olive drab was groaning in pain, bewildered eyes darting in every direction. One minute they were dropping into a foxhole in Bastogne. The next?

Winters was the first to jump to his feet, helping his men find their footing. Up came Nixon, Liebgott, Roe, Guarnere, and Bull Randleman. Speirs and Toye had gotten themselves up and situated, looking to make sure they had all their gear. Luz was still on the ground, trying to get his bearings, while poor Malarkey was doubled over underneath him. “FUCK, LUZ!” Cried Malarkey, his hands shooting to his ribs as his body folded in pain. “I think you broke something!” Malarkey’s feet rammed themselves into Luz’s back, flinging the soldier off of Malarkey and onto his stomach with an “oof!”

“You say that like I did it on purpose!” Luz cried, wincing from the boots in his back. By the time George finally got his feet beneath him, Roe was already looking at Malarkey’s side, inspecting his injury.

The Cajun grimaced and shook his head. “It might be broke, Malark. We should get you to the aid station,” Roe spoke thoughtfully. "Which way sho-" Before the medic could finish his thought, all the boys realized something. They had no idea where they were.

The boys all looked around and took in their surroundings. “Where the fuck are we?” each soldier thought to himself, attempting to find a single scrap of familiarity in the landscape around them. The higher they looked, the taller the walls on either side of the group grew - not tall enough to be skyscrapers, but tall enough to tell the ten men that they were not in Bastogne anymore. What was once a frigid warzone, one step away from death, now became… warm? Sunny? Well, it seemed sunny at the ends of the alleyway.

“...are we in an alley?” Bull mused to no one in particular. He absentmindedly chewed on his Emotional Support Cigar, using this to contain his anxious thoughts and energy.

"It appears so Bull…" Winters replied. He had intended for the sentence to be more assuring, but the men's leader was just as confused as the rest of them. The captain exchanged a glance with Nixon beside him, the only man he was comfortable sharing his worry with. The two looked at each other, their eyes conveying confusion mixed with anxiety - how could this happen? What exactly happened?

"Captain Nixon, you're an intelligence officer right? Do you know where we are sir?" Guarnere asked as he slung his rifle over his shoulder, still taking in the alley around them. The brick buildings on either side of the men provided shade from the sun shining down on the pavement. The alley appeared to be barren, save for a Hershey bar wrapper beside Luz's feet. Bending down to get a closer look, the radioman saw a piece of text on the wrapper that morphed his confusion into panic - "expires January 2023." Before Nixon could answer Guarnere, Luz's shaky voice spoke up.

"Um, Captain Winters? You might wanna see this sir," Luz said as he handed the wrapper to his CO, his mind going a mile a minute. Dick took the wrapper from George and saw the text, scrunching his face as he read the expiration date.

"Nix, how long does it take chocolate to expire?" Winters asked, looking up at his captain.

"Why the hell do you think I'd know that?" Nixon replied, one eyebrow halfway up his forehead. Only after Lewis posed his question did he see the infamous date on the wrapper. Nixon paused for a second before he spoke up, "well surely it would expire way before 2023…"

Upon hearing the year, every man's eyes became the size of dinner plates. "Excuse me, sir? I think I heard you wrong, sounded like you said 2023," Liebgott questioned, a nervous chuckle following his words. He couldn't have heard Nixon right…right? Winters simply handed the wrapper over to Liebgott, the poor man's stomach dropping down below his feet.

"That's not possible, this isn't possible…" Toye muttered under his breath, trying to shake the idea from his head. While all the men were trying to process what Nixon said, Speirs had already made his way to the end of the alley.

"Captain Winters!" He called out, twisting his body to call out behind where he was standing. Winters nodded to Nixon, a silent request to keep an eye on his men, before making his way down to Speirs. The warm sun at the end of the alley was a welcomed surprise to Dick - it felt like forever since he felt mild, comfortable weather. Bastogne was the literal manifestation of hell frozen over, and the sun kissing Dick's skin was its absolute anathema. "Sir, I don't think this is Bastogne," Speirs' comment shook Winters from his mind, reminding the captain of the problem at hand. The two took in the scene around them. Winters thought he was seeing cars - they had four wheels, and they were driving on the street, but they were far beyond any car anyone in the company has ever seen before. The soldiers seem to have landed in a city of some kind. All the street signs were in English, giving Winters a small amount of relief - wherever they were, they spoke the language. Something different stood out to Speirs, though… the noise. It was not bombs exploding and trees breaking like in Bastogne. It was just as loud, but more…lively? The sounds, whatever they were, seemed to celebrate life rather than take it - honking horns, vehicles driving by, music Speirs had never heard before blaring from their windows - he would never admit to it, but Speirs felt a pang of relief knowing he was not in a war zone.

"I'm inclined to agree with you, Ron," Dick replied before hearing their medic call out.

"Sir! We need to get Malarkey to the ai- uh… I guess a hospital," Eugene called out as he made his way towards Winters and Speirs, supporting Easy's other redhead on his shoulder. Malarkey's face twisted in pain as he held his side with the arm that was not slung over Roe's shoulders. Dick nodded in understanding at his medic and stepped a foot out of the alley, getting a better look at the buildings around him. To his right, Winters spotted the red cross universally associated with medicine displayed prominently on a tall, light-colored building riddled with mirrored windows. Beneath the cross were the words "Emergency Room."

"You think they can help Malarkey?" Speirs asked, hopeful but confused at the words. Seeing Roe holding up Malarkey, the officer quickly made his way to Malarkey's other side, taking his arm over his shoulder to help the soldier.

"It's worth a shot, wait here," Winters replied, heading back to the rest of the men to tell them the plan. "Alright men, there's a place that looks like a hospital a short walk from here. Keep your guard up. Just because it doesn't look like Bastogne, doesn't mean we're in friendly territory," he instructed the six men before him, "Keep Speirs, Malarkey, and Roe in the center, I'll lead the way to the hospital." A chorus of "yes sirs" was heard from Luz, Liebgott, Guarnere, Toye, and Bull, while Nixon nodded in understanding and walked up beside Winters.

"Are you sure about this?" Nixon asked under his breath, ensuring only Winters heard his question.

"Got any better ideas?" Dick replied, cautiously emerging onto the sidewalk. The men left the safe haven of their alley and began the trek to save their friend.

~~~~~

Chapter Two

Thank you so much for reading! Please tell me what you think and be on the lookout for Chapter 2: the Hospital!!

Taglist: @love--persevering , @panzershrike-pretz , @executethyself35 , @stolen94 , @dontirrigateme

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footprintsinthesxnd · 3 months

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Young Love and Old Money

Summary: this series follows the story of Lewis Nixon and Josephine Wills and their trials, tribulation and love throughout WW2, including stories of their friends in between. Warnings: sexual images at the start, swearing, minor mentions of wounds, Julian and George being adorable.

Masterlist

Welcome to Hell - December 1944

His lips trailed feather-like kisses down her neck, trailing between the valley of her breast and down her stomach. Hot breath mingled between their lips as he kissed her passionately, his fingers digging into her hip bones.

“Lewis…please,” Josie's voice was hoarse and came out barely above a whisper but Lewis heard every word.

“Use your words my Darling. Tell me what you want,” Lewis growled, he could feel himself growing impatient and the urge to ravage his wife grew stronger by the minute. It had been months since they lay together and despite Lewis enjoying Josie’s company in the daytime, he couldn’t help the jealousy growing within him as he watched her laughing with Webster and Luz. As soon as he managed to drag her away from them and back to his own room, well the room he shared with Dick but Dick knew better than to come back to his room tonight.

“You’ve been teasing me all day Darlin’, how do you expect me to control myself,” he’d whined when he finally kissed his wife, tugging her lip between his teeth teasingly.

“Well Lewis, I’m sure you’ll find a way to reward yourself for such restraint,” Josie laughed, trailing her fingers across his shoulders, tugging at the lapel of his jacket.

“Oh, I’m sure I will.”

“Lew? Lew, come on. You’ve got to get up. Elements of the first and sixth Panzer Divisions have broken through in the Ardennes forest. We’re moving out in an hour. Come on Nix, get up!” Dick demanded, shoving Lewis causing him to nearly topple out of the bed.

“Jesus Christ Dick! What’s a man gotta do to get some sleep around here?”

“Not be in the 101st Airborne apparently,” Dick joked, throwing Lewis’ ODs at him. “Hurry up Lew.”

Lewis stomped out of his room, trailing after Dick at an increasingly slow pace, his jump boots scuffing at the tarmac as he dragged his way towards the jeep.

“This is bullshit. Why does everything seem to become the issue of the 101st? You’d think we were the only damn battalion in the whole ETO,” Lewis grumbled, glaring at Dick who sat with an amused smile on his lips.

“I don’t know what you’re so chirpy about. It’s not like we’re going on vacation.”

“No. I just find it humorous watching you complain.” Dick groaned slightly as Lewis thrust his elbow into his friend's stomach.

“You just keep laughing, Winters.”

“Nixon, may I have a word?” The matron's stern voice caused Josie to turn hastily, hurrying over in her direction.

“Yes Matron,” Josie resisted the urge to salute her, despite neither of them being in the army the Mateon ruled with an iron fist and reminded Josie of how Lewis had described Captain Sobel.

“I need to send some nurses to help at a field hospital in Bastogne, Belgium. Unfortunately, I can’t spare any nurses so I thought I could send some VADs instead. Would you be interested?”

Josie nodded and accepted the Matron's offer, not that the Matron showed any kind of enthusiasm towards the situation.

“Good, you’ll be leaving the hospital tomorrow morning. Be ready to leave at 0700 sharp.”

“George, do ya think you could keep it down? Some of us are trying to get some Goddamn sleep,” Bill's voice squawked from his foxhole causing George to laugh louder.

“For fuck sake!” Bill continued to grumble but George couldn’t contain his laughter, burying his head into Julian’s neck who was spluttering, trying to contain his own giggle.

The loud crouching of boots approaching from behind them caused the pair to pull away, Julian frantically trying to straighten his jacket where George had shimmied his hands inside to keep warm.

“Captain Nixon, Sir,” they both saluted the captain but Lewis just watched them with a bemused grin. The pair sorely saluted him, managing to get away with it as Josie’s close friends so this behaviour was unusual for them.

“Why do I get the feeling that you two are up to something?” Lewis asked, sliding down opposite them in the foxhole. “You look suspicious.”

“What? Us?”

“No!”

“We’re not..”

“I mean..”

“Guys, relax. I’m just messing with you. It’s okay I know about you anyway.” Lewis relaxed, leaning his head back against the cold, icy ground.

The pair opposite him looked confused, George’s chin chattered as he went to speak. “What do you know?”

Julian’s eyes were wide and he resembled Lewis’ dog when she thought she was in trouble for something. Although most of the time Lewis never punished her for anything, he had been besotted with that dog.

“You know? I know… about you two. Josie told me everything. It’s fine,” Lewis smiled at them reassuringly but his confession did nothing to lessen their nerves.

“You know everything? But you know it’s illegal right?” George asked, leaning forward as if Lewis couldn’t hear what they were trying to tell him. “We could be shot!”

Lewis had never seen George Luz so serious and it broke his heart to realise just how worried the pair were about him finding out the truth.

“Hey, don’t worry about it. Alright. I swear I won’t say a word. I’m happy for you both, I really am. You mean a lot to Josie, which means you also mean a lot to me too.” Lewis looked at the pair sincerely, reaching his hand forward to shake both their hands, cold fingers brushing against each other in a shaky handshake.

“She did what?” Julian’s face was panicked, he looked at George worriedly, resisting the urge to grab his hand.

“It’s alright. My lips are sealed,” Lewis assured them and felt as much relief as they did when the pair visibly relaxed against each other once more.

“Thank you, Captain Nixon,” Julian spoke up, his pink nose peeking out from beneath the scratchy, brown blanket he was wrapped in.

“Call me Lewis, you’re family after all.”

“I can’t believe she told him,” Julian sighed, tears bubbling in the corners of his eyes ready to overflow. “I trusted her.”

“Hey. Hey. Hey. Don’t cry, okay? We’ll be alright. Captain Nixon is a friend after all. I’m sure it will be okay,” George tried to comfort him, pulling Julian close into his chest and wrapping them both up in the blanket.

“But what if it’s not?” Julian whimpered, his face buried further into George’s neck.

“Well, I’m not going anywhere. Okay? You’re stuck with me.”

Lewis’ numb feet ached as his feet connected with the frozen ground, his legs swinging in long strides as he hurried towards the aid station. Ever since he’d received Josie’s letter informing him of her move to Bastogne he’d been desperate to see her, desperate to hold her, to kiss her.

He passed two wounded soldiers by the front door, one had his arm wrapped in some dirty, grey cloth while the other had an aid kit bandage wrapped around his head. Lewis' feet echoed on the cobbled, stone floor as he marched through the church, his eyes scanning the sea of bodies for any sign of his wife.

“Lewis?” A voice called from behind him. “Lewis, are you hurt? What are you doing here?”

Josie hurried towards him, flinging her arms around his neck. “Josie,” he whispered into her hair, his arms finding their home around her waist, pulling her body flush to his. “God, I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you too. What are you doing here, Lew?” Josie asked, running her fingers through her husband's dishevelled brown locks as she looked up at him worriedly.

“I came to see you. As soon as I got your letter I had to know you were okay.” Lewis admitted, feeling a little pathetic but also no longer caring, as long as his wife was safe that’s all that mattered.

Shouts from behind them caused the couples to pull apart and Josie hurried towards Eugene who was bringing in another wounded soldier.

“Lewis, I have to go but if you’re still here later then we can talk some more.”

Lewis felt lost as his wife slipped from his arms and ran over to the medic who was already reeling off the man’s condition. Lewis felt out of place here, he was of no use in a hospital but watching as his wife hurriedly applied a bandage he knew that Josie was where she belonged

Tags: @georgieluz @iceman-kazansky @yeahcurrahhe-e @msmercury84 @blvestxr @dustyjumpwjngs @theflyingfin @jump-wings @kafka-ohdear @kmc1989 @mads-weasley @docroesmorphine @liptonsbabe @sweetxvanixlla @hesbuckcompton-baby @ronsparky @allthingsimagines @whollyjoly @bucky32557038ww2 @malarkgirlypop @hanniewinnix @inglourious-imagines @l13bg0tt

#young love and old money #Lewis Nixon x oc #band of brothers #band of brothers oc #Lewis Nixon

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malarkgirlypop · 7 months

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MEDIC! - 2nd Part (Donald Malarkey x Fem!OC)

I have absolutely no patience... so here is the next part because I'm not a tease and I won't make you wait hehe. I have a lot more I might post everyday until I run out! Because like I said, no patience in my body! Also the main love is Malarkey but I have a problem and make everyone all love the OC. I'M SORRY I CAN'T NOT!! Warning is a slow burn I'm sorry I have ideas in my head and so things can't happen in the timeline without the ideas. I have to have everything ahhhhh. Anyway enjoy!

People step out of the way as the tall man pushes us through the crowd, we reach another soldier dressed in the same uniform.

“Captain Winters, Sir!” The man's low voice carries over the commotion of the crowd, Captain Winters who is talking to another soldier turns his attention towards us.

“Yes?” Winters replies.

“Sir, we have a field nurse who is here somehow by herself?” The man says from behind me. I watch Winters glance over to me then back to the man.

“Sergeant Randleman there are no field nurses here and there are none meant to arrive.” Winters appears just as confused as the man, who’s name apparently is Randleman, was when I spoke to him first. Winters steps closer to me. Reading my name badge that is pinned to my top.

“Emily Lane?” He looks at me for confirmation.

“Yes,” I pause looking up at Winters, “Sir?” I feel compelled to also call him Sir since everyone is saying it.

“How did you get here?” Winters asks. I let out a chuckle. I have been wondering the same thing. I sober myself when Winters gives me a confused look. I probably look crazy standing here laughing to myself. I go to open my mouth to say, oh I don’t know I was pulled through a portal of some sorts, but that coming out of my mouth in this situation might not be the best idea. My mind races. How the hell do I explain this? I open and close my mouth, Winters frowns at me squinting his eyes as if daring me to speak.

“I, uh…” I start to say. Think! Think of something to say, these men are looking at me like I’m crazy.

“Emily, how did you get to Holland?” Winters asks again, pushing me for an answer.

“HOLLAND?!” I blurt before my brain can catch up. The two men seem shocked by my outburst. I cover my mouth with my hand before anything else can come out of my mouth.

The two men share a look, I glance from one to the other. “Bull, why don’t you take Emily here to see Doc, she seems to be in shock.” Winters takes my shoulder turning me back to the care of Randleman aka Bull apparently.

I am once again being pushed through the crowd by Bull. People are still dancing and cheering, a man approaches with his eyes closed and lips puckered out steering straight for me, I flinch back, my arms coming up to deflect the incoming kiss, a nervous laugh bubbles from my lips. I look back at Bull trying to gauge if he just saw that as well. He leans close to me, “They’re celebrating.”

“I can see that.” I watch other soldiers move through the crowd; they are swarmed, being hugged and kissed as they walk.

“What are they celebrating?” I ask.

“The Germans have left, they are liberated.” he answers, still moving us through the crowd.

The Germans?

We stop at a commotion in the road, a woman next to us is grabbed by two men. They violently rip off her dress, I gasp moving forward to try and help her but Bull’s grip remains firm. I turn to face him showing my distress, “It’s not our business darlin’.”

I continue to watch, spotting other women stripped of their clothes and their hair has been cut. The woman that was next to me cries out as a man with scissors hacks her hair. A lady is dragged by us with a symbol painted on her forehead, I step back into Bull realising what that symbol is. My hands shake and my chest heaves, the world spins. A swash sticker is painted onto the foreheads of other ladies.

Where am I? What is going on?

“You alright there lil’ lady?” Bull notices my panic, holding me up as my legs almost give way.

“What is the date today Bull?” I pant, my eyes darting around. I’m wrong, this is a reenactment of some sorts. This isn’t happening.

“Well today is the 16th of September.” Bull replies looking confused, his cigar hanging from his teeth as he speaks. My breath leaves me in a short huff as the answer did not comfort me at all.

“The year, Bull?” I ask, my words holding an ounce of hope that was soon to be extinguished as he opened his mouth to speak once more.

“Why 1944, of course.” He says matter-of-factly, his eyebrows pulled down over his eyes even more, his expression mimicking a mix of confusion and concern as he looks at my face, trying to gauge my thoughts.

“1944?” I choke out. NO NO NO NO. I try to catch my breath, steady my heart rate but it’s no use. Black dots dance around my vision. Panic rises in my chest, my stomach twists. I spin around looking for the portal I came from. Where was it?

“Emily take a breath.” Bull’s muffled voice says in my ear. I shake my head pushing away from him. I stagger backwards hitting people as I go. Bull follows closely, holding out his hands to catch me. This has to be some sick dream? That's right, this is a dream! I raise my hand striking it to my cheek, it stings but I am still here. Bull looks at me shocked by my actions, I raise my hand again readying myself for another blow, harder this time. My hand is caught mid-air, my other hand also captured by a very concerned Bull.

“Bull,” I say very seriously, “I need you to hit me.”

“Hit you?” Bull questions. “I’m not going to hit you darlin’.” He keeps my hands in his, I’m sure he’s worried what I will do next if I have free reign of my hands again.

“Bull, Emily.” Winters appears next to Bull, he glances at the position that Bull and I are in. “As you were.” He says bewildered, moving forward with the rest of the soldiers. Bull pulls me towards him, tucking me under his arm and following Winters through the crowd. I don’t struggle, I march forward like a zombie, my brain has officially shut off leaving me detached from reality. In my mind I am back in my apartment, making dinner and then sitting down to watch a show then crawling into bed to get up and do the same thing the next day.

After some walking we leave the crowd behind moving away from the town, Bull continues to follow the rest of the soldiers still having me tucked under his arm like an injured bird. I don’t talk, I listen as the soldiers banter, most of what they say makes no sense to me. Dusk falls quickly, the group makes camp on the side of the road we have been walking for the day. I get given food and water, I slowly sip my water but I give my food to Bull, my stomach is still twisted in knots. I know none of it will stay down. Bull asks if I am sure to which I nod, he takes the food from me and quickly eats. None of the other soldiers seem to pay much attention to me, I guess since I have been so quiet and mostly hidden behind Bull for most of the day they didn’t see me. My white uniform top is now dirty and sweaty, my feet hurt from the constant walking. I'm sure I have blisters on the backs of my heels. A hand taps my shoulder, I jump swinging around to see Winters standing over me. “Emily, I need you to come with me. You too Bull.” Bull stands quickly following orders, I stand slowly and trail behind the two. We make our way through the makeshift camp, only one tent is pitched, the rest of the men are sprawled out on the grass under the stars, quietly chatting to each other. We make our way to the tent, Bull and Winters disappear inside. A thought crosses my mind, run, while no one is looking, run back to the town, find the portal and forget what you saw. I freeze glancing around the dark land that seems to sprawl for miles. No, something in my gut tells me I need to stay with these men, if I run I could find much worse. I shuffle my feet following the men into the tent. As I enter Bull and Winters sit at a table that has a map pinned to it.

“Emily, we radioed command and there is no record of a field nurse by your name.” Winters looks up at me, I still stand wringing my hands in front of me. I wrack my brain for an explanation.

“I’m independent, Sir.” I state.

“Independent?” Winters hums. “And how did you get to Holland?”

“I was signing up to be a field nurse in England, when I heard whispers of Paratroopers making their next jump into Holland. I also heard they had only a few medics, so I figured I would meet you in Holland and join you and your men, Sir.” I lie through my teeth. I keep my stare steady, and my body language relaxed to make my lies more believable.

“Why were you so frantic in the town then?” Winters asks.

“I got turned around in the crowd, Sir. I was worried I had missed my opportunity to join you. I was trying to tell Sergeant Randleman but I seemed to have confused him.” I glance at Bull, he watches me closely.

“Why did you ask for the date? Specifically the year?” Winters continues with his interrogation.

“Well I was tired from all my travels, I had fallen asleep at the place I was staying, when I awoke I was unsure of how much time had passed, since I didn’t want to miss your arrival. I felt like I had slept for years.” I internally cringe at how easily the lies roll off my tongue but I need to ensure I stay with this group.

Winters pauses thinking about my explanation. He looks towards Bull as if trying to read his mind, they share a glance as I watch them. I catch my bottom lip between my teeth chewing on it nervously.

“Well Emily we do need more medics. Have you been trained?” Winters turns back to me raising his eyebrows as he speaks.

“Yes, well no technically. I am in my last semester of training, I only have a couple of months left.” I say.

Winters brows draw together. “I guess that’s good enough, we are desperate.” he sighs, leaning back in his chair.

“But you haven’t been trained in combat?” He continues.

“No, Sir. I am medically trained but have not been on the frontline. I understand not all medics carry a firearm, and are just there to help the wounded.” I answer.

“That’s correct. Well I cannot prepare you for what you are going to see on the frontline, and you understand Emily that you could also die on the front. There is no guarantee for your survival.” His strong stare pins me to the ground, I gulp. I have seen war movies, most of which I had to watch through my hands. I hated seeing the men being blown to pieces and shot down.

But this wasn’t a movie. I couldn’t watch through my hands, I was here on the front fighting against the Nazis. The thought hadn’t sunk in. How much danger my life was currently in, like Winters said there is no guarantee for my life. But what is my life? Is this it? Stuck here in 1944? Or when the war is over, if I make it through, do I find another portal? Is there another portal? It’s strange to think how quickly it all got turned upside down, this isn’t a dream, I’m stuck in a time where I do not belong.

I pull myself from my spiralling mind. “I understand Sir.” I say firmly, holding my ground, making my words as believable as I can.

Winters stands a small smile spread across his face, he reaches his hand out to me, “Welcome to Easy Company Emily Lane.” I take his hand gripping firmly with a single shake he releases me.

“Bull, get Miss Lane here some proper attire and supplies.” Winters turns to look at Bull who is already nodding and making his way out of the tent. I follow Bull as he holds the tent flap up for me to walk under. I follow him from behind, having to take double steps for his every one, he grabs things from piles, rummaging through bags, he turns holding up a shirt measuring it to my body.

“Seems you’ll fit the small.” He says, a new cigar is hanging from his teeth. I follow him as he grabs things and passes them back to me, by the time we are done I can hardly see where I am going. “Oof” I grunt walking into something hard.

“Hey, watch it tiny.” A man says in a thick philly accent.

“Oh I’m sorry.” I say peeking out from behind the mountain of gear in my arms.

“Aye, who are you?” he squints trying to get a better look at me in the dark.

The group of men that stand around with him also pique interest, five pairs of eyes land on me.

“Are you lost?” The man I bumped into speaks again.

“No, not lost.” I say, staring back at him.

“She’s our new medic.” Bull speaks from behind me. “Are these boys hassling you Lane?” He leans forward but says it loud enough for the group to hear.

I look over my shoulder at him and smile. “No, they aren’t giving me any trouble, but I think I could take them if I wanted.” Bull lets out a laugh, patting me on my back.

“You’re going to be trouble Lane, I can already tell.” He chuckles. “How about I introduce you to these men before you try and fight them all?” I smile up at him.

“This right here is Bill Guarnere,” he points to the man I walked into. “And that is John Martin, but everyone calls him Johnny.” Martin raises his hand giving a small wave, I smile back politely. “And that there is Joseph Liebgott, George Luz, Webster and Donald Malarkey.” Small hello’s and hi are said as they are introduced. They all look basically the same in the dark in the same uniforms, and I have no hope I am going to remember anyone's names.

“Hi I’m Emily Lane, but everyone calls me Emmy.” I say semi waving my hand from under the pile of clothes I am holding.

“Emmy, what on earth are you doing here?” the man who I believe to be George Luz says smiling.

“Well I heard you needed medics so, here I am.” I let out an awkward laugh. “I better go get changed, but I guess I will see you around?” I cringe, when was it hard to talk to a group of men?

Luz chuckles, “I’m sure we will Emmy.” a cheeky grin forms on his face. I don’t know what that smile means but I move quickly to find somewhere to get changed. I feel the men watch me as I go, I hear them fall back into conversation once I am out of view.

I turn around looking for a place to change, in front of me a field spans out with trees in the distance, behind me the men have made camp and are lying in the grass, huddling around in groups talking. I turn in a circle, trying to find the best spot. There are trucks parked on the grass but men sit in them as well.

“Emily.” Someone calls from behind me, I whip around to see a tall man standing in the shadows, I glance down at his arm a white band on his sleeve shows the red cross, the sign for medic.

“You must be Doc?” I say moving closer to him.

“I am indeed, I have your medic pack here. Bull told me to give it to you.” He hands over the army green bag with the red cross mark on the front. I take it trying not to drop the clothes I am holding.

“Thank you, Doc.” I say.

“Call me Gene.” I nod at his response, “Do you know what is in this bag?” he asks.

“I think so? A powder that stops infections, gauze, scissors, Tourniquet, medical tags, safety pins, tweezers?” I say off the top of my head, I actually have no idea what could be used in the 40's. I am so used to modern medicine, they would have no gloves, no alcohol swabs to disinfect gear.

“That’s about right, but I will let you have a look through by yourself if you have any questions come ask me.” he says turning to leave.

“Ok, thank you Doc. Sorry Gene.” I say loudly as he walks away.

“Miss Lane.” I hear from the other side, OMG now what. I turn to see Winters poking his head from the tent. I straighten, this man seems to be in charge here. I can't piss him off.

“Yes, Sir.” I make my way over to the tent.

“Emily, are you wanting to change?” he motions his head to the armful of clothing I am carrying.

“Yes please Sir, I couldn’t find anywhere private.” I shuffle forward and into the tent. Winters steps out, closing the flap behind him. I move quickly putting the clothes down on the table, I start by taking off my shoes and socks. Then shimmy my pants down, kicking them to the side. I empty the pocket of my uniform top, my hand grips something cold. I pull it out to inspect it. My mouth drops. No goddamn way! I clutch my phone in my hand, letting out a strangled gasp.

“Everything ok Emily?” Winters asks from outside the tent. Oh fuck! I thought he left, he’s probably making sure that no one comes in while I change.

I clear my throat, “fine.” my voice cracks, “I’m fine.” I say in a clearer voice. OMG, OMG, OMG I mouth. How the hell did I not lose this. I tap the screen and almost shriek, it lights up. The time and date have not changed from when I was back in my own time. I open the screen, no bars. Well I would be more surprised if I did get reception. 87% battery, I need to keep this on me, I mean if I go back to my own time I don’t want to have to buy another phone. I power down my phone and place it on the table. I search through my pockets, pairs of medical gloves, I place them down next to the phone. I pull more from my pockets: pens, pencil, a mask, hand sanitiser, omg I could kiss myself for always having the most full pockets. The last thing I pull out is a small black case, I open my earphones to find them sitting in their charging ports, the green light flashes. God I am good, they’re fully charged. But unfortunately I am unsure how long they will last as I can’t power them down like my phone. I place them down on the table as well. I take my name badge and pin on watch off my top as well.

I quickly get changed into the uniform given to me, leaving on my bra and underwear I slip into the pants doing the belt on the tightest loop so they don’t fall down and a white cotton t-shirt, I pull on my black thick socks and combat boots. The boots are a bit big but if I wear a couple pairs of socks they should be fine. I button up the long sleeve shirt, pulling on my jacket. I tuck the helmet under my arm and the medic kit is slung across my body. I gather the items from my pockets and slip them into my kit for safe keeping.

“Almost done in there?” Winters asks from outside.

“Yes Sir.” I reply, the tent flap opens as he walks back in. Winters scans me from head to toe, a small smirk forms on his lips.

“You forgot one thing.” Winters reaches into his pocket pulling out the red cross band. He gestures for my arm. I reach out my right arm, he steps forward and slides the band up, I look down at him watching him intently. Winters eyes meet mine, I look away quickly embarrassed I was caught staring. Winters laughs softly pulling safety pins from his pocket pinning the band to my sleeve, as he pins the last one I gasp. He looks up worried, scanning my face, “Got you.” I smile, his face cracks into a smile. “Indeed you did.”

He finishes pinning the band taking a step back to admire his work, I feel my face flush shy from being scrutinised by him.

“Well now you look the part.” He steps forward again, taking my helmet from under my arm. He gently places it on my head. “You always wear this, you got it?” I nod the helmet falling in front of my eyes from the movement. He chuckles, pushing it back up.

“Well I think you should show me how good your skills are.” Winters crosses his arms in front of him.

“My skills?” I am confused.

“I have a wound on my left leg, ricochet bullet. Gene was going to come dress it but you’re here now.” He sits as he talks, pulling up his pant leg for me to see the wound. I kneel down in front of him to better look at the wound, the lighting in the tent is poor but it will have to do. I pull gear from my medic bag, gauze and a fresh bandage. I pull down his sock to see the affected area better. The bandage on his leg is dirty, blood has seeped through the previous dressing. I look up at him as he watches me.

“You should be keeping off this, no?” I ask, wondering what the other medic had told him.

“I mean I can’t really, these men rely on me.” he sighs, he looks tired. I cannot imagine what this man has seen, his face looks young but his eyes hold scarring memories that he will never be able to unsee.

I remove the bandage on his leg, the wound appears small, and the wound bed appears to be granulating and no slough seems to be present. There appears to be no sign of infection, I press the back of my hand over the area to feel if it is hot to the touch, which it isn’t. There is no sign of erythema around it and the edges are actively healing; they pucker up due to the trauma of the ricocheted bullet entering the skin.

I feel Winters’ eyes on me as I assess the injury. “Do you have water?” I ask looking around.

Winters pulls a canteen from his belt, handing it to me. I tip the water from the canteen onto a couple of pieces of gauze. Then pouring the water onto the open wound, “ah.” Winters gasps flinching.

“Sorry.” I say continuing with my task, I clean the injury itself and around it, to help stop bacteria from entering the wound. I pat the skin dry, I apply the new clean dressing tying it around his leg to secure it. I sit back on my haunches looking up at Winters, he smiles seemingly impressed with my work.

“So what’s the verdict nurse?” he tilts his head as he asks the question.

“No sign of infection, which is good. Should be healed soon. It would heal faster if you didn’t walk on it so often but I can compromise with you on that. How about when you have time, you elevate your legs, to help reduce the swelling.” I say gathering my supplies and tighten the lid back onto the canteen before handing it back to him.

“Well I guess I can do that for you.” he says, taking the canteen from my hands. I stand making my way to the exit.

“Goodnight Captain Winters.” I say.

“Dick.” he replies.

“Where?” I exclaim.

The man looks confused, I stare at him eyes wide. My hand lifts to point at him.

“Yo..” I mumble.

“Me.” He says pointing at himself.

My eyes are big as saucers at this point, what is this man asking me?

“Right now?” I ramble.

“What?” his face scrunches in confusion. I mean he’s cute, but like I just met him. I reach my hands up to my top button undoing one.

“I mean I guess.” I say slowly unbuttoning my top, unsure if this is the request he just made.

“Emily what are you doing?” He seems genuinely concerned.

“What am I doing? What are you doing?” I stop unbuttoning, I think I have read this situation very wrong.

“My name is Dick, Richard Winters.” He states.

My mouth falls open and my cheeks become hot, I’m sure my whole face has turned the darkest shade of red.

“Dick short for Richard.” I gape, the cogs in my brain finally turning.

“Your name is Dick.” I half shout, covering my mouth. I hastily do up my buttons. I am so dumb what is wrong with me, I could hit myself.

“Well… ah… goodnight Dick” I mumble hurrying out the tent. The cool breeze brings relief to my hot face, I fan myself trying to catch my breath. I need to find somewhere to sleep or hide, I need the ground to swallow me whole, that's what I need.

I rush back to the group of men most of which are sleeping, I see Bull’s larger figure sitting quietly talking to others. I make my way to him, carefully stepping over the men sprawled on the floor. I sit next to Bull. He appears to be my comfort, not that I know him well but from the interactions I have had with him he seems to be a kind person. He smiles down at me when I seat myself next to him.

“Saw you in Winters’ tent, everything ok?” he asks, leaning closer for me to hear him.

“Yeah, yup, oh yeah, fine I’m fine, so good, grand even, yup everything is a-ok” I ramble quickly looking back at the tent I just ran from, cringing at how the interaction ended. I wanted to curl up and die.

“Ahh, are you ok?” Bull frowns in confusion, tilting his head to get a better look at my face that I ducked down out of view.

“Yes, yup.” I reply, popping the p at the end of my sentence.

“Alright, get some rest.” Bull says, lending me the blanket from his legs, I slip under it next to him relishing his heat. Exhaustion pulls at my eyes, even on the cold hard ground my body yearns to rest. Bull moves next to me coming closer so our bodies are almost pressed together, I rest my head on my medic bag, as the world around me fades.

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softguarnere · 3 months

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For Whatever We Lose

Lewis Nixon x OFC (slow burn, enemies to lovers) Chapter Three: The Goddess of War

Summary: Easy Company's newest member is thankful for the distraction provided by the new Women's Squad A/N: No points for guessing why this chapter was one of my favorites to write so far Warnings: period typical sexism Taglist: @dcyllom @kujofam

If anyone at Camp Toccoa is grateful for all the commotion caused by the female paratroopers, it’s Private David Webster.

Being transferred out of his company and into Easy is . . . an embarrassment, to say the least. Thankfully, all the fanfare and fuss over the women being placed into an offshoot of E Company is such a distraction that no one seems to notice David as he quietly slips in and joins their ranks. Satisfaction settles into his chest as he claims a bunk in the barracks for himself, unobtrusively arranging his footlocker and his belongings in amongst everyone else’s, just as if he's always been there. The lack of attention for his arrival is a strange sort of triumph, like an undercover journalist establishing the perfect alibi and new identity as their cover.

David allows himself a small smile at his success. So far, so good.

None of the other men even get the chance to think about noticing him. Even before David’s arrival, the bunkhouse had been full of conversation – almost all to do with the addition of the female paratroopers to their company, although he did hear one man complaining about the meatloaf that had been served for dinner the night before, which was a nice change of pace. And now, too, another distraction presents itself as a tall, ginger-haired man opens the bunkhouse door and allows himself in.

The effect is instantaneous. Men stop talking when they catch sight of him, instantly sitting up a bit straighter. Not, David realizes, in the way that you would for a headmaster or a dean who expects you to simply exist in a way that is automatically prim and proper, but in the way that you conduct yourself around someone that you hope to impress in the best possible way – someone that you admire.

The Lieutenant nods as a greeting. He stays standing near the door, which has shut behind him. He observes them, not waiting or expecting them to stop their idle chatter; he seems happy just to be around them in this casual environment.

Nevertheless, the talking dies out as the other men look to him. A man with a thick accent leans forward a bit on his bunk, calling out from the middle of the bunk house, “Lieutenant Winters, sir?”

“Yes, Perconte?”

The man on the bunk, Perconte, sits up a little straighter as everyone’s attention turns to him. “Sir, we were just wondering about the girls.”

“What about them?”

“We all know what you were thinking, Perco!” Someone calls, eliciting several laughs from around the room.

Perconte shakes his head, smiling. “Well, sir, we just wondered – what happens now? I mean, why us, anyway?”

“Why Easy Company?” Lieutenant Winters repeats. For a pause, he considers the question. Then, hands on hips, he takes a step forward, and begins a gentle pace down the aisle between the bunks as he works out the answer. “Have any of you heard why Colonel Sink chose E Company specifically for the new Women’s Squad?”

The question is addressed to everyone, to anyone, and they all shake their heads. Even David, although he’s been part of the company for all of two minutes.

“Well,” Lieutenant Winters continues. “I’ll be honest – I had to wonder the same thing myself. But Colonel Sink made it clear: paratroopers might be the best of the best already, but he thinks that Easy Company has gone above and beyond, and we haven’t even left the US yet.”

Smiles scatter themselves across the room. Best of the best of the best. Not so bad.

“As such, who better to help pioneer this new idea? Our track record is excellent. Supreme. The idea – the experiment – of female paratroopers is one that Colonel Sink wants to see succeed. Any other company might shunt them to the side or set them up for failure. But as men known for succeeding, the colonel knows that we don’t want any blemishes on our record.”

Someone interrupts. “You mean – uh, he doesn’t want any blemishes, sir?”

He carries a lot of weight in the way it’s said. Yet the word is tarnished, somehow, like old silver that no longer holds its shine quite the way it used to. Lieutenant Winters has already said that Colonel Sink wishes for them to succeed. David gets the feeling that the “he” being referred to is someone else entirely – someone who inspires the feeling of disdain, or maybe a faint fear.

The Lieutenant is inscrutable, but he doesn’t protest when a few of the men release breathy laughs that might be scoffs or snickers.

“It would be safe to assume that,” he says nonchalantly. “Now, as some of the best, Colonel Sink has entrusted us with a great responsibility.” Winters, now at the end of the aisle, at the door opposite from the one he started at, turns to face with men with one quirked brow. “Easy Company, are you up to the challenge?”

Put like this, it all seems so simple. Of course Colonel Sink would pick Easy Company to pioneer the Women’s Division! Who else would be so welcoming? So ready to set aside their differences for the sake of upholding their company’s stellar reputation? These men have already been learning how to put aside the differences between themselves and their fellow men – doing the same with the women should be easy, after that. This is a company that will not let the colonel and his grand experiment down, David realizes. They would hate to disappoint not only him, but the lieutenant standing before them, tasking them with helping to usher in a new age of military history.

The effect is instantaneous. Any of the men who harbored doubts about their company’s new squad seem to have been converted – and those who still aren’t convinced see enough people change their mind to know that they ought to keep their mouths shut on the threat of marring Easy Company’s status as a first-rate company. Either way, most of the men nod in agreement. A few even smile, never one to back down from a challenge – especially not one issued by someone who they so admire.

“Good.” Lieutenant Winters allows himself a smile now. He begins pacing back down the aisle, back to where he started. “We’ve got to show the other companies that these women are a part of our company and that they are treated as equals. I expect that every single one of you treat them with dignity and civility. Help them and get to know them the way that you have the other men in this bunkhouse. The standing order is: respect.” He stops pacing again to look around at everyone. “Can we do this, Easy Company?”

“Yes, sir!” Almost everyone exclaims at once.

Lieutenant Winters’ expression is firm, proud. “Well then, I’ll hold you all to that. Don’t let the colonel down.”

The unspoken agreement that seems to pass between the men is: don’t let the lieutenant down. And, as David looks around, he has a feeling that disappointing this man is the last thing that any of them want to do.

“Is this coming from Captain Sobel, too, sir?” Someone asks.

There it is – that same feeling that the earlier he caused passes through the bunkhouse again. David has only ever heard Sobel’s name in passing, but he’s got quite the reputation of his own, to say the least. This is someone who would never allow a tarnish on the E Company name.

“These are my thoughts,” Lieutenant Winters admits. “Captain Sobel will be along shortly to make an announcement before you formally meet the women. I don’t know what he plans to say, but I do know that he wants, more than anything, for Easy Company to continue going above and beyond – and to help its new members do the same.”

Oh, he’s brilliant, David thinks. This impromptu speech wasn’t really so improvised to begin with. It couldn’t have been. It had to be Lieutenant Winters who issued the challenge if they want this experiment to succeed. If it had been Captain Sobel, some might have been tempted to throw the proverbial wrench into the plans, as it were, just to watch him flounder. Lieutenant Winters is not someone who you intentionally fail. Genius.

As if on cue, the door opens and a dark-haired man steps in. Another lieutenant, from the bar on his collar.

“He’s on his way,” he tells Lieutenant Winters.

The door opens once again, and the men all stand as another dark-haired man bursts into the room, making a grand entrance. His face is stern and he looks down on them, his eyes roving over every one of them in turn, just to make sure he has their attention.

“Easy Company!” he begins in a booming voice, much more formidable than the tone the previous speech was delivered in. “Today, the female paratroopers are being absorbed into our company as the brand new Women’s Squad. There will be no funny business – no fraternization – under the threat of having your weekend passes revoked. My company will not be subject to rumors and scandal – it will continue to uphold its excellent record. Am I clear?”

“Yes, sir,” everyone mutters, much more subdued than when Lieutenant Winters had asked for their understanding.

Captain Sobel nods firmly. “Good.” Then, just the way he came, he blusters from the room, slamming the door behind him.

All the men instantly relax at his departure.

“There’s a guy that makes you almost want to fail him,” the man next to David mumbles, glancing his way. He does a double take, giving him a onceover with scrunched brows. “Say, who the hell are you?”

David blinks, discovered all at once for his newness. “David Webster.”

The man looks him over again. “I don’t think I’ve seen you before.” He tilts his head. “No, I haven’t. Where’d you come from?”

“I just transferred into Easy, from Fox Company,” David admits, proud that his face only heats a little from embarrassment. “It’s my first morning here.”

The other man shrugs. “Guess you picked the right day to join. Everyone’ll be so busy with the gals that they probably won’t notice a new guy enough to pick on him.” He pauses. “Probably.”

My thoughts exactly, David thinks, although he gets the feeling that this man might just have some thoughts of a few jabs to throw his way.

He sticks out his hand. “Don Hoobler. Nice to meet you.”

“You, too.”

It was a nice six minutes or so of being unnoticed as the new guy.

It’s still early in the morning, yet the humidity is thick, and made thicker by the cicadas in the trees all around the camp. No longer are their cries simply scattered ambient noise throughout the day, but the unrelenting screeches that drone on and on in a sound that blankets the air above their heads. If the men can’t complain about the heat and the layer of sweat that perpetually exists no matter what they do, the bugs will do the crying for them. From the sound of it, they’re just as miserable as the men doing PT are. The Dog Days in Georgia are nothing to sneeze at.

The women are already gathered on the parade grounds when Lieutenant Winters leads them to PT. Captain Sobel has stormed off ahead. Everyone is at least a little eager to meet these women. Even the men who claim not to care, to have no interest, perk up a little bit as they approach the small group.

Winters gives them a look over his shoulder. Not demanding, not a warning. Just expectant. He’s given them his thoughts. The rest is up to them.

Two women stand in front of the others, leading them in stretches. They stop as the men approach. Behind their crisp salutes to Sobel, their eyes wander to the men, questioning; how is this going to go?

“At ease.” From behind, it’s not hard to notice that Sobel is looking the women up and down, hands on his hips while he surveys them. After a moment, he nods to himself. He points to one of the two women that stand apart from the others. “Aphrodite, introduce your women to Easy Company.”

The woman who is slightly taller blinks, her dark eyebrows shooting up one second before descending into a furrowed position in the next. She purses her lips, throws a quick glance at the woman standing next to her, who looks less angry and more confused.

“Come on,” Sobel urges, clapping his hands. “We’ve got a schedule to keep.”

“Sergeant Minerva Revels,” the woman, Minerva, stresses in an accent unlike anything that Webster has ever heard before. Slightly Irish, maybe? Australian?

The woman next to her sounds off next. “Sergeant Diana Bradham.”

It doesn’t take long to get through the other eight of them. There’s Privates Keziah Crowe, Bianca Mancini, Juanita Valdez, Anna Wallis, Anita Houston, Lucinda McNair, Katherine Scott, and, to Webster’s ultimate surprise, Lori Sinclair.

Lori?! He can’t help but be taken aback. She’s the last person that he would have expected to find here, although her red hair should have given her away instantly. Then again, maybe it makes sense, what with her family being so well connected, and all. Probably good publicity for both the Sinclairs and the Army. Last he heard, Lori was off getting a degree in journalism. Huh. Well, hell of a story that she’s going to have. Like him. Who knows? He remembers her as being a promising writer. Perhaps they could co-author a book when all this is over.

Before his mind can wander to close to the New York Times Best Seller’s List, Sobel speaks up again.

“Easy Company, you can take the time to introduce yourselves later. But now, we’re running Currahee.” No one dares let their groans escape them. Sobel whirls back to the women before anyone can think to complain. “Sergeant Bradham, who is the weakest runner in the Women’s Squad?”

The shorter of the two sergeants hesitates. Everyone freezes, waiting to see if her lack of an answer is because she doesn’t know, or because she doesn’t want to embarrass anyone.

“Quickly!” The captain urges.

“I – uh, I don’t know, sir.”

“You don’t know? You are a sergeant, Bradham. Why don’t you know?”

“Well . . .” She bites her lip, glances at the other sergeant. “It’s our first day of organized PT, sir. I’ve never seen any of them run.”

Snickers run through the men as they realize Sobel’s misstep. Glancing around, several men look elated by his mistake, while others just look downright done. It gives Webster the feeling that this sort of occurrence is more common than anyone would like to think.

Sobel whirls around. “Lieutenant Winters!” He barks. “Take everyone up the mountain. I’ll be recording their times. Anyone under forty-five minutes will have their weekend pass revoked. Go.”

In the short time that he’s been a member of Easy Company, Webster has heard Sobel threaten to revoke their weekend passes twice now. This must be commonplace, and he must be serious, because a mad dash up the mountain begins immediately. In the heat of the morning, clouds of dust kick up from the dirt, clogging the air on the trail as they run.

Of course, Webster has run Currahee before. But never like this. Rumors about Easy Company’s running abilities have floated around the camp, and it seems as if this is one of the rare occasions that the rumors are true.

The amazing thing is, hardly anyone falls behind. Some runners are stronger than others. The dark-haired sergeant – Minerva, he remembers – charges straight ahead, easily keeping time with Lieutenant Winters up at the front of the group. Her glossy ponytail swings in time with her steps.

How ironic, Webster thinks, that the woman named after a goddess of war can do this with such ease. As if it’s been predetermined that she can lead people into battle, charging ahead like this.

After the switchback that plummets straight down, the trail dramatically reaches upward, stretching for the sky. Breaths come in pants and white shirts are sweated through, becoming a second skin as they stick to men’s backs with the water from their bodies and the moisture of the air.

But before anyone can truly come to appreciate how miserable this exercise is, something unexpected happens. Above all the heavy breathing and the crunching of boots hitting the ground, a voice rings out over the din.

“He was just a rookie trooper and he surely shook with fright,” a voice sings, clear as a bell and sweet as honey. Whoever the voice belongs to, she must have quite the set of lungs on her, because she doesn’t sound nearly as exhausted as she should while simultaneously singing and running.

The next thing that anyone knows, everyone is joining in on the chorus. A siren song and the dark-humored lyrics carrying them up the mountain, and before they can consider being miserable again, another song is started up to carry them down. It goes on like this, with everyone being so distracted by the music, that when they reach the camp again, it doesn’t feel like the worst run of their lives after all.

Clouds of dust kick up as the company slows to a stop in front of Sobel. The captain’s lips are pressed into a thin line. His eyes betray nothing. He could be pleased with them or absolutely pissed, it’s anyone's guess.

“Forty-eight minutes,” he finally announces. “All weekend passes are revoked. Spend that time working on your running. Now go change and report to the firing range. Move with a purpose!”

Once again, the company manages to hold in the groans and eyerolls that they all so desperately want to let out. Good soldiers, all of them, they hold in their complaints and head off for the barracks to change out of their PT clothes. As they walk, several of the men give the women a wide berth, occasionally throwing glares their way, like the revoking of weekend passes is all their fault. Have they already forgotten who started the singing that buoyed their spirits to get them up and down the damn thing in the first place?

The women are hustling back with such purpose that Webster has to enter a slight jog to catch up with them. He ends up next to the sergeant with the unusual accent.

“Hello,” he says, suddenly remembering what it was like to approach other children on the playground as a child at school and introduce himself in the hopes of befriending them. “I’m David Webster.”

Sergeant Revels quirks an eyebrow. She has green eyes, he realizes now that he’s looking at her up close. Like the ocean. And a spattering of freckles across her nose. “Minerva.”

“The Roman goddess of war.”

She nods. “That’s right. Not Aphrodite, like some people seem to think.”

“Well, some people have no appreciation for the classics,” Webster quips, which makes the corner of her mouth pull slightly in the faintest of smiles. Before he can lose her attention, he adds, “Welcome to Easy Company.”

Minerva does smile this time, as something like relief washes over her, relaxing her shoulders. “Thank you.”

“Minerva!” Someone calls from up ahead. “You better come quick!”

It’s quick, but Minerva’s fingers ghost over his arm in the lightest touch. “See you around, Webster.”

And then she’s gone. The goddess of war, off to fight another battle.

#lewis nixon x ofc #band of brothers fanfic #lewis nixon #lewis nixon x oc #band of brothers oc #band of brothers x oc #for whatever we lose #my writing #oc minerva revels

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roadtogracelandx45 · 2 months

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Courage Under Fire| Pre War Part 5| BoB

@marycorleone | @prettyinpayne | @ohnoitsthebat

Five

December 18th, 1941

Phoenix Arizona

"You know you two should run off to Mexico," Stanhope said the next morning, his eyes fixed on both his son and Olivia who coughed on her coffee.

"Pardon me?"

"Go to Mexico and get married." He repeated, his dark eyes dancing in amusement, they had both wanted Lewis to be happy and the happiness that he had was when the pretty Southern Belle was with them. And he wanted to make Kathy more furious, to see if the woman that was going to be his daughter-in-law would act like she had the night before and slap Olivia again. If she did, he was going to put an end to it right then and there.

"Dad." Lewis warned, "Don't start. She isn't even out of high school yet."

"Don't remind me." Olivia pulled a face, the one-half day she had attended school was horrible. All anyone could talk about was the fact that the Japanese bombed Pearl Harbor and that the boys in their class could be drafted. "I already had a couple of friends get married."

"What? Who?" Helen sputtered, she had heard all about Olivia's friends in South Philly and knew that it wasn't uncommon for girls to drop out due to being pregnant.

"Hannah and David." The younger girl answered placing the coffee mug down on the saucer. "Her daddy threatened to throw David in jail.' The news of the shotgun wedding had been dropped at mass 4 days prior and Hannah's father who was the police chief was livid, he had even gotten as far as pulling his service arm out when James Sr and Edward, Olivia's father and brother pulled him away. "Was she with child?" Doris asked, thankful that Lewis and Blanche had been sent to private schools where this was extremely uncommon and these stories that Olivia would include in her letters to her would send her to her smelling salts. "No, Hannah swore up and down that she wasn't. Even went to the doctor to get examined."

Hannah had come over to her house afterward and sobbed into her lap, with how upset she was. She and David hadn't even consummated the marriage, it was more out of fear that they got married. "Sent Katherine into a tizzy."

"What in the world was that woman doing there?" Blanche asked as she lit a cigarette and passed it over to her. "She was there for mine and Robert's 18th birthday and she stayed until Andie kicked her out." Olivia said around a billow of smoke, "Bobby and Bill were more than happy to kick her out, Mama G, threw her suitcase out into the street. Katherine thought I was going to disappear into the night with Bill.'

"I thought he was with that slut." Stanhope commented the story had been relayed to him several times including by Olivia herself.

She shrugged her shoulders, "I try not to think about it honestly Mr. Nixon." "Olivia, I told you to call me Stanhope many times, Mr. Nixon was my father."

"Yes sir." The rest of her reply was cut off by Kathy's parents Anne and Timothy joining them causing the girl to go quiet and pick at the scrambled eggs that sat in front of her.

"Olivia, tell us is your family being called back into service?" Timothy asked.

"Lee has been recalled to Coronado, I think they said something about the Pacific. They stopped talking when I walked into the dining room." She answered, her expecting sister-in-law and young nephews had moved into their already cramped house. "Edward and Daniel, I am not sure on. They won't discuss it around me, Marla, and Ma. They don't want to upset us."

"Andera, isn't your mother correct?' Anne asked with a smirk, she like the Nixons had heard about the fight the night before and wanted to get her shots in on her.

'No ma'am, she is my stepmother. My father has been with her since I was 10." Olivia answered as Lewis dropped his hand to her knee and squeezed it, his thumb rubbing a circle, causally going under the material of her skirt.

Her free hand dropped down and covered it knowing if she didn't, he would have slipped his hand under it completely and touched her. She wasn't good at masking those emotions just yet. And the last thing they needed was for them to realize what was going on between the two of them. Then Stanhope would really insist on them going to Mexico.

“Andrea is Liv’s mother in all the ways that count.” Helen threw in, the first time she had met the Stewart family was at James and Andera's wedding and it had amazed her how quickly Andrea took to being a stepmom and having more kids to handle. And how much Olivia loved her and her step-siblings.

“Well, we heard that your actual mother hates you and that is the opinion that should matter.”

Lewis’s hand tightened painfully on her thigh.

“That is your opinion, Mrs.Page but it is wrong.” The girl said, “Katherine never wanted daughters and she ended up having me then my younger sister Marla. I learned a long time ago not to sneak out her approval. I don't need her approval or do I need yours. I believe the correct statement you are looking for, Mrs.Page, is I am so sorry for the loss of not only your older brother, and uncle but of your great great grandfather Olivia.”

Lewis choked on his sip of coffee, and that unfamiliar sense of pride rose up again. This side of her made him think that she was going to be just fine if she stayed behind in the States or took his advice and joined the Army Nursing Corp. “Are you planning on going to college? I mean that’s something your father can afford right?” Anne asked like she hadn’t spoken.

“It’s rather silly going to college when our boys are joining the war isn’t it?” Olivia picked up her coffee cup again and took a sip of it, “My place isn’t attending school, “It’s doing what I can to help. Whether it be working at the recruiting office, going to work at the warehouses like my brother and Bill, or going back to Charleston and working at my grandfather’s doctor’s office. I am sure he is going to be swamped.”

“Or she could join the Army Nursing Corp.” Helen threw in, just looking at her cousin, she knew that he had already planted the seed of her going to the Nursing Corp and her husband had insisted when she talked to him earlier that morning that she joined too mostly so she didn’t end up marrying Bill or ending up like most of the young girls.

‘Not you too Aunt Helen.” The girl took another sip of her coffee, “Do you really think my father is going to let me go running off to join the Army after he just got me back?”

“I would be more worried about you becoming a slut like your step mother.” Anne commented with a smirked.

The delicate coffee cup shattered when she slammed it down onto the saucer, “You have no idea what you are talking about Mrs. Page, Andrea, is nothing sort of a saint. If anyone is a slut, it’s your daughter.”

“Livia, go upstairs.” Lewis finally said squeezing her thigh, “And start getting ready, Helen and I will be up in a moment.” Shaking her trembling fingers out, Olivia nodded her head and stood up, “Excuse me. I am sorry Stanhope, Mrs. Nixon.’

Both of Lewis’ parents waved her off, “We will see you before the ceremony.” Stanhope commented shooting a glare at the Pages.

***

It hadn’t been long from the time Olivia got upstairs that her aunt and Lewis appeared, the latter carrying a napkin-covered plate which he held out to the girl.

“Thank you,” she started as she tucked her leg underneath her, “I am sorry for reacting like that.”

“You have nothing to apologize for.’ Helen said, “I am surprised you didn’t throw a punch.”

“I know better than that.” She stressed as she picked apart a piece of bacon, “I was raised better than that.”

“Do you think Grammy and Gigi would have stood to talk like that?” Helen asked, referring to Olivia’s grandmother and great-great-great-grandmother.

Olivia shook her head quickly, a small smirk pulling on her lips, “Gigi would have slugged her.”

“Exactly. You are doing exactly what you need to. Screw the social norms.’ She blinked at her aunt surprised.

“Helen, you do realize that is going against everything we raised to be.” The older picked up the whiskey bottle and took a swig off of it before she poured some into the teacup that was sitting in front of her niece.

“Maybe it’s time for a change Olivia, for all of us.” She had been thinking a lot of things were changing and how much danger was out there. And how her nieces and nephews or even the little one growing in her belly.

A little one that no one knew about.

“Aunt Helen?” Olivia’s voice was soft and concerned, much like her grandmother Sarah’s, when she was tending to the little kids’ injuries. “I am fine Liv.” She laughed unconvicing not wanting to meet Olivia or Lewis’s eyes.

“Bullshit.” Her niece sang as she picked at the breakfast that he brought up for her. “Later.’ She returned, flicking her a look which she returned. “Don't start Liv. Not your place.” The girl held up her hands in innocence, a knowing smirk forming on her face. “Sorry. Not another word.”

***

Olivia had wandered down to the lobby before her aunt to clear her head before the wedding, the part of her wanted to listen to Stanhope and sneak off with Lewis to Mexico just to escape everything. But the other part of her, the responsible part said differently.

It said to let him marry that awful woman and let him make that mistake, just like he was going to let her. and there were her feelings for Bill or lack thereof. Don't get her wrong, she cared for him but not in that maddening way that she had seen with her father and stepmother or her grandparents.

She wasn't so sure she could get past the fact that he slept with Evie behind her back multiple times. And maybe her aunt and Lewis were right maybe she deserved a lot better than this. Better than being a stay-at-home wife while her husband struggled to keep food on the table and a roof over their heads. It was no way to live.

Her eyes locked on a couple across the lobby, the girl dressed in her Sunday best dress and the boy in a pressed Army uniform close to the one that Lewis had hanging up in his suite upstairs and her heart clenched with fear, the memory of her smiling happy go lucky older brother Nicholas who was quick to laugh and teach her out to throw a punch and sneak out of the house flashed in her head, the brief phone call he was able to make on the 5th to her and Bobby rang through her head, he had gotten several of the other boys on his ship to join in on singing happy birthday and there had been a promise of a present being mailed out to them.

Which had arrived the day before she left and it still sat on the hope chest that was at the end of her bed. Either she or Bobby could bring themselves to open up, she didn’t know if it was out of fear or what but now she knew as soon as she got home she was going to open the box and see what he had sent them.

"Olivia, sweetheart.' Doris' voice came as she and Stanhope came into the lobby, "Why don't you come with us to the church." She took a final glance at the couple before nodding her head and standing up to join Lewis' parents.

"Last chance to say yes and we'll sneak out of here." Lewis commented as she fixed his tie moments before he had to walk down the aisle with Doris, his sister Blanche had handed over the boutonniere to Olivia before going back to be with the bridesmaids.

Stanhope was waiting in the hallway to escort both his niece and Olivia into the chapel. Something that when Kathy found out was happening pitched another fit. Yes, Helen was family and was okay but Olivia wasn't and she shouldn't be getting special treatment.

"You know why we can't Lew." She returned running her hands over his shoulders smoothing out the black material on his shoulders, "My father and brothers would kill us. I promised, I wouldn't run away with you." Lewis sighed and grasped her hips in his hands to pull her to him.

"How about this?" She suggested, "If it doesn't work out between you and Kathy and I am still single when I turn 21, we will run away." He looked thoughtful for several long seconds before nodding his head, "Deal." Either one of them wanted to bring up the fact that he could be shipping out to war and could die. And maybe he wanted to.

She smoothed her hands over his shoulders again and studied the tie to make sure it was straight, "I am going to say goodbye now, Aunt Helen and I are going to leave during the reception to get Charleston for the funerals. Uncle Michael got us on a plane.'

"You? Are flying?" He asked surprised, Olivia was terrified of flying, she would rather take the trains.

"Yeah, supposedly he has one of Uncle Finn's staff members meeting us and he has a sedative for me." She answered, "My heart has been in my throat since she told me."

"It will all be fine." Lewis assured her brushing his lips over hers, "Helen and Michael wouldn't do anything that would put you in danger."

"Lew? It's almost time." Stanhope commented as he eased the door open. "Okay." He dropped his voice so only she would hear him, "I love you."

"I love you too." She returned just as softly before raising her voice so Stanhope didn't get any ideas. "You better write to me while you are at boot camp, okay?" "Always, I want to know all the gossip from school."

"Like I would keep that from you." She squeezed his neck and let him hold her tightly for a few moments and pressed kisses to her cheeks, mouth, and jaw, before pulling away and taking hold of Stanhope's proffered hand.

"You are a good girl Olivia." The older Nixon commented as he tucked her hand into his elbow, "Letting him do this. I would have stopped it." "It's the right thing to do.' She paused licking her lips, "I already caused enough problems with Kathy and I know he loves her, he just doesn't realize it yet." "And you don't want to give up your freedom yet." She shook her head no, "Not with the possibility of it not being there anymore."

It was a refreshing change being around his niece and Olivia, they both understood the consequences of what was going on and how drastically their lives were changing again. Half the country was finally starting to pull themselves up from the Great Depression.

Helen didn't quite understand like Olivia did.

She understood what it was like to live with next to nothing, James Sr, had refused to take his father's offer to move back to Charleston with his whole family, which included his stepchildren.

They didn't quite get why but it was his choice and it made his kids better than they were.

The words, I object were on the tip of her tongue once the priest asked if there was anyone who object, her fingers clenched into the material of her blue skirt. She promised herself, that she wasn't going to do this but it just felt wrong, the more she sat there and thought about it, the more it felt wrong.

"It's now or never kid," Stanhope muttered from her other side, he and Doris had been holding out hope that she would say something.

'I am so sorry," Her voice broke through the quiet chapel, "I can't let him do this. I object."

#ash writes #oc: olivia stewart #series: courage under fire #band of brothers #band of brother fan fiction #band of brothers imagines #lewis nixon #lewis nixon x oc #lewis nixon imagines

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lovememadly92 · 4 months

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Hello everyone! This is for @emilee1421, hope you enjoy your Secret Santa gift dear, and that you are having a wonderful day! I wrote two parts, hopefully they don't disappoint! No disrespect to the real veterans, only pure actor portrayal from the show. Happy Holidays everyone, enjoy your weekend!

@hbowardaily

Part 1

October 1944 – Schoonderlogt, Holland

“Lew.”

I groan and don’t even bother looking at the time on my watch. All I want is some sleep but Dick being Dick, he is up and ready as usual. Sometimes I don’t know why he and I are friends, he is an on-time person, while, I personally don’t give a fuck if I am late or not. But for some odd reason, he and I understand each other.

“Wake up, they want us back at the regiment.”

God, the one damn time I find a comfortable place to sleep that isn’t a foxhole, I get woken up.

“Come on Nix get up.” He claps his hands and that irritates me even more. This man can go on little to no sleep. “Let’s go.” He opens the curtains next to the bed and I can feel him leaning over, looking at me.

Probably thinks I am hungover. Then again, cannot blame everyone, everyone thinks I am a damn drunk.

“Come on, something is up, Strayer’s orders.”

This damn regiment, it wants and wants yet does it let me sleep? No.

“Okay go ahead, I’ll be right down.” Hopefully, he goes away. “Let’s go come on, you have ten minutes.”

I groan for the millionth time this morning. “Go away.” I hold on to the pillow for dear life. I don’t want to leave; I need this sleep. The job of an intelligence officer is not easy; calculating the risks of every tactic we want to use, and making sure it does not blow into our faces, is damn difficult.

“Come on big guy, let’s go.”

“Ah, leave me alone,” I mumbled.

He sighs frustratingly. “Okay.” Then I feel something wet and cold spill all over me, causing me to jolt up.

“God damnit,” I complained and took a whiff of my hand and it infuriated me, causing me to sit up on the bed. “Oh, that’s my own piss for Christ's sake!” Grabbing the pillow, I wipe myself with it before throwing it at Dick’s face.

“Son of a bitch,” I muttered and got up from the bed, pushing him while he was laughing at me.

I am going to get him later, that is for sure.

“Dick, are you guys ready, they need us at headquarters!” I hear a female voice call from downstairs and I groan internally. Of course, he had to bring his little sidekick with him just to torment me and rush me.

That is so Dick and Charlie.

When she walked inside the room, Charlie scrunched up her little nose and started to take a whiff around the room, until she was right in front of me, then proceeded to glare at me. Not without her pinching her nose.

“Oh, poor Lewis. Did he literally piss the night away or what?” She teased and chuckled. “God Dick.” She turned to look at him. “I told you many times to watch over our dear intelligence officer. Don’t want him to fall in a pool of piss again.” She backed away and crossed her arms, keeping her stare on me.

I smile forcefully and wave at her. “Always the damn charmer Charlie, can you go somewhere with your insults and let the adults do the work?” Dick shook his head. “We don’t need children interrupting.”

She scoffed. “Hey, fuck you rich boy. At least I am not falling into piss or into things like you always do. Besides I am close to the same age as you, asshole, only off by three years. So, I am an adult as much as you both are.”

I groaned. “Can you just get out Charlie?! I want to shower right away.”

“Pssh well good luck with that, this house has nothing but cold water anyway,” she huffed and then proceeded to walk downstairs.

It is always like this between Charlie and me. If she wasn’t attractive, I would find her even more annoying than…wait, what the fuck are you saying Lew?

Dick turns to look at me and rolls his eyes. “You two need to get along for God's sake, your bickering is going to get a lot of us killed. Plus, you know as much as everyone else, she is one of the best lieutenants this company has ever had. Hell, even the men like her, she is lenient but hardworking when it comes to training them.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know, Charlotte is the best, blah, blah. Can I go shower now?”

Dick rolls his eyes once more before he walks out. “No one is stopping you, Lew.”

*****

After finishing my shower, which was fucking cold, we all headed back to headquarters. As I was ranting to Dick, I could see Charlie mocking me along the way and shaking her head. I wonder sometimes how in the hell she became a lieutenant, better yet getting promoted to 1st lieutenant.

When we got off the Jeep, Charlie stood there with her arms crossed. “Do you fellas want me to pick up your mail?” I smirk at her.

“You can get me a cup of coffee while you are it.”

She scoffed and proceeded to flip me off. “I am not your fucking maid, get your own damn coffee.” Charlie marched away and I could see Dick smirking while shaking his head.

“What? She offered if she could get us anything.”

We walked into battalion headquarters and got to talking with Strayer, Moose, Colonel Sink, and Colonel Dobie, who was part of the 1st British Airborne. Turns out, Dobie needs help with the rescue of 140 of his men who are trapped across the Rhine River. So now we are sitting in his office, trying to coordinate an operation.

We are discussing the tactics, when suddenly, Charlie walks in with a coffee and sets it right in front of me. But she doesn’t say anything, she is quiet. When she sat right across from me, her eyes were red-shot, puffy. Like she was crying. She was happy and chipper this morning, teasing me but now she is quiet and somber.

That oddly had me worried. I even felt my heart sink a little. God Lewis, you are stupid, you and this girl are supposed to have out for each other and now you care about her feelings and how she feels. You are stupid. Besides, she is probably on her period, and she is being a negative Nancy right now.

“So tonight then,” Colonel Dobie asked.

I nodded. “Yes, the sooner the better it will be. You do not want to waste any more time.” Then I turned to Charlie and Moose. “Moose, would you mind if Charlie goes along with you and Harry to help with the rescue operation?”

“I have no problem. Charlie, would you like to help with the operation?”

Quietly, she got up and walked out of the room. Of course, she would throw her tantrum here. I excused myself momentarily and followed her outside headquarters.

“Damnit Charlie, this operation is important for you to be acting like a child. If something is asked of you, I expect you to follow fucking orders.” I turn her around for a moment and she is in tears. Her once, light green eyes, turned into an emerald color.

“Look Charlie,” I sighed. “You cannot be acting like a child and if you are on your period…”

Her tiny nose flares up and she shoves me away. For a small lady, she is damn strong. “Oooo nice one, rich boy. What other insult can you come up with besides me being on my period and being a child?” She sniffles. “I don’t know how the fuck you became an intelligence officer, so damn out of touch with fucking people. If you must know everything, I just got a letter, my older brother is dead. As for me following orders, of course, I will go, Captain.” She salutes me sarcastically and walks away.

Charlie did not even give me a chance to say anything, she was gone. Aside from her extroverted demeanor, she never really talked about family to anyone, not even Luz who is her best buddy.

“What was that about?”

I turn to Dick and shrug. It’s best not to say, no one needs to know.

“Nothing Dick.”

Hours Later

When the 140 men were rescued across the Rhine, Dobie decided to celebrate and invited Easy Company to celebrate along with his men. As the men are competing amongst themselves, climbing rope and whatnot, I look to my right and Luz is trying to convince Charlie to come and join the rest of the group.

She gave him a smile, a beautiful smile I might add, and she shook her head. “You fellas have fun, don’t let the party pooper ruin a good time.” Luz gave her a smile and then joined his friends while Charlie made her way outside.

I decide to follow her outside the barn, and I find her leaning against the wall, looking at the beautiful, starry night.

“Come to bug Lewis, I don’t need your pity,” she sneered and turns to look at me. “As you can see, I am not in the mood to talk at all.”

Reaching for my pocket, I grab the pack of cigarettes and try to hand them to her. “I come in peace dear Charlie of mine.” She tries to reach for them, but I pull them back towards me. “But first, you tell what is going on then I will hand you the pack of cigarettes.”

She scoffed and rolled her eyes. “I already told you, my brother died, there is nothing more to it.”

“There is if it has you riled up like that,” I retorted, and she sighed. “And walking you out of a meeting like that. I know you act like a child, but you are the one to listen to superiors when told something to do.”

Charlie huffs and backs herself against the wall again. “For someone who calls me a child sure pays attention to what I do half the damn time. Do not tell me our dear, old intelligence officer has gotten soft.”

I huff and lean against the wall with her. “Me, get soft, you have to be shitting me, Charlie. I am not a soft guy, now if you want someone that is in touch with his emotions, go talk to Dick or Harry, hell go talk to Luz if you want.”

Then it got quiet, except for the noise inside the barn and the occasional crickets chirping. She turns to look at me and shrugs. That somber look appears on her face again. “My older brother, Anthony, was with the 4th Marine Division in the Pacific. A fucking radioman like Luz, hell even happy and cheery like Luz. You wouldn’t shut him up even if you wanted to.” She sighs and looks at me with tears in her eyes. Out of nowhere, I find myself wiping the tears from her cheeks, ever so gently. Charlie is taken aback but continues her story.

“They killed him during a night raid assault back in Saipan; they found him along with his radio right next to him. My parents, being the assholes that they are, did not let me know until August and I just received the letter this morning.”

She shook her head, and I could not help but feel an ache in my chest. “He was always so happy, so loving and caring. Tony would sing along and dance to Fred Astaire, Billie Holiday. I remember one time when we went to Paris, he managed to sneak me into a cabaret to watch Josephine Baker dance the night away. We got in so much trouble, but we laughed about it after.”

“Wait a minute, Paris, cabaret…” Now it dawns on me, oh Charlie is a sneaky one. I should have known from the start. “Whose family do you belong to rich girl?”

She chuckled softly and looked at me with a gleam in her eye. “I am not Charlotte Anderson, I am Charlotte Rossi, from the Rossi family back in New York City. You never met me because I was in boarding school half the time along with the rest of my siblings. Anderson is my mother’s maiden name. I am surprised that it took you this damn long, especially being an intelligence officer.”

“I did look up your family, I did not find anything on you,” I admitted. “Anderson was a really good cover-up.” She shook her head and started laughing. I look at her in shock, for one minute she is sad and the next, just laughing the night away like nothing.

“You are a strange creature, Charlie,” I snorted and started laughing along with her. She really does have a contagious laugh. Why did it take me so long to see it?

Things got quiet between us, then I decided to speak up. “I am sorry about your brother Charlie, I really am. He sure did sound like a good fella. But him taking you to a cabaret? Really Charlie?”

Charlie nods and looks at me, with a sad smile on her face. Even then she looks beautiful as hell.

God Lewis, again?

“That was Tony for you, fun, loving, smart, and overall, a great man,” she sighed and little tears sprinkled on the ground. “We were supposed to survive this, you know, have a drink when this was over. Sigh, I am going to miss him.”

Slowly, I turn around pull her into an embrace, and let her cry on my shoulder. I hold her tightly, closing my eyes. Even though she hasn’t showered, she still smells like roses. A scent that just does not fit with anyone but with her, it just did. Why did it take so long to notice these things?

“Am I interrupting anything?”

We both let go of one another to only find Dick starting at both of us, with a cheeky smile on his face.

“No, no interruptions whatsoever, touch me like that again Lewis and I will beat your ass,” she huffed and walks away back to the barn with the rest of the fellas.

Then Dick crosses his arms and just stares at me. “Is there something you want to tell me, Lew?”

I groan and take a swig of my decanter. “About Charlie? Nothing is going on and please wipe that smile off your face before I do.”

Dick lifts his hands up in defeat and gives me a smile. “There is nothing wrong with liking Charlie, I like her the men like her…”

“Okay enough, don’t you have paperwork to be done or what?”

Dick just chuckles and then walks away back to the command post and leaves me outside here with my thoughts.

I place the cigarette between my lips and light it up.

“What the hell are you doing to me, Charlie Rossi?”

#band of brothers #hbowarsanta23 #lewis nixon x oc

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