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softguarnere · 1 month

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For Whatever We Lose

Lewis Nixon x OFC (slow burn, enemies to lovers) Chapter Seven: A Twisted Satisfaction

Summary: Whatever Minerva imagined that Toccoa would be like at night flies out the window the second she experiences the real thing. It is, in a word: madness. A/N: Today's fun fact: the fight mentioned with the man in the 511th actually did happen! The story was told to me by a local when I was working in Toccoa, and it was too good to pass up on sprinkling it into a fic :) Warnings: language, alcohol Taglist: @kujofam @dcyllom

No longer able to punish them for alleged incidents of fraternization, Sobel runs the company with more vengeance than before. Anything and anyone is fair game. He taunts Bianca when she is chosen to become a medic. Instead of congratulating Lori on improving her time up Currahee the way Dick does, he takes to running right behind her, jeering at her the whole time. When Anna tries to lead them in a marching song one day to keep time, he tells her to shut up and that she sounds like a dying cat.

But – no longer able to revoke weekend passes for fraternization, the women of Easy Company finally get their first taste of Toccoa’s night life.

“Last week a man from the 511th got thrown through a window of a department store after he hit another man over the head with a bottle opener,” Minerva relates to Keziah as the girls race around the bunkhouse to get ready.

“Where’d you hear that?” Lori asks over her shoulder as she brushes her red locks. “One of those private sources you’re never able to disclose?”

Minerva ignores her. In actuality, her source had been Webster, who had watched it all happen. He’s a good source; he relays his stories very well. No wonder he wants to be a writer.

“Where are you gonna go?” Keziah asks. “I’m going with Guarnere, Luz, and Toye to some place they like in the middle of town. Gonna kick Luz’s ass in darts.”

“My money is on you.” If the Oklahoman is as good at throwing darts as she is at shooting, all bets placed on Luz are hopeless. “I don’t know. Webster asked if I wanted him to show me around.”

A smile tugs at the edges of Keziah’s lips. “He’s in love with you. You know that, right?”

I could say the same about Guarnere with you, Minerva thinks, biting her lip to stop herself. Keziah is only just at a point of accepting that Guarnere does not, in fact, look at her so often because he hates her. Still, it might be something of a shock if the real reason were revealed. Minerva can’t decide if Keziah genuinely hasn’t picked up on the fact that the Philadelphian has a crush on her, or if she’s just ignoring it for unknown reasons.

“You’re not answering,” Keziah singsongs with a laugh.

“Well, what am I supposed to say?” No really – what is she supposed to say? David is thoughtful and well spoken and kind and he listens to her. He makes her feel funny things in her chest that she hasn’t experienced since she was a teenager and that she hasn’t allowed herself to analyze yet because . . . Well. “He’s handsome. There, are you happy?”

“Very.”

Good, Minerva thinks. Because that is as far as this thing goes.

Whatever Minerva imagined that Toccoa would be like at night flies out the window the second she experiences the real thing. It is, in a word: madness.

Part of it is probably the shock of being from such a small town. But, to be fair, she did go to college in the state’s capital, and she got her fair share of the city. So it’s not crowds, lights, and noise that are new to her – it’s the utter chaos of military men being set loose in a military town. Specifically, the men who are dead set on catching a local girl to write to once they’re off fighting. They’re particularly rowdy. But one thing that most of the men have in common is that they’re drunk – and many of them seem to be looking for a fight.

Minerva holds her head high as she marches through town in her uniform. She’s always been tall, but seeing these men and realizing that she’s one of them makes her feel proud, which makes her feel just as tall as they are. The playing field is not exactly even – it may never really be – but this is something, at least.

Several Easy Company men call out in greeting as Minerva and Webster enter the bar. They call back, smiling, laughing already, as though they’re already part of the good time.

“You might want to stick close to us,” Don Malarkey suggests after Minerva gets a drink and finds a seat.

“Oh? And why is that?”

She’s expecting some sort of joke, but Malarkey’s face is more serious than she’s ever seen it.

“There are a lot of men here who don’t like the idea of female paratroopers,” he explains in a low voice. “I don’t think they’ll give you a hard time as long as you’re with men from our company. You know we’ll back you up.”

“Thanks for the tip.”

“Stay safe, Sarge.”

She plans to. She has Webster with her, after all.

Once he gets some alcohol into his system, Webster can wax poetic like never before. He holds himself back though, which is impressive. He only spouts something beautiful whenever someone addresses him directly. And when they call him “Harvard” or “Professor,” he only smiles in response, though his eyes take on a somber, faraway look.

Minerva, for her part, feels more relaxed than she has since arriving in Toccoa months ago. She sings drinking songs with Malarkey and shoots some whiskey with Skinny Sisk. She’s only twenty-two, but the days of doing this sort of thing in college feel like a lifetime ago. So much has happened since then, she realizes. Then she immediately downs another shot to chase the memories away.

She cuts herself off, partially because Lieutenant Speirs arrives and challenges her to a game of darts. She may have beaten him running Currahee, but she needs all her wits about her to beat him in darts – especially because he doesn’t drink, and therefore has more command of his hand-eye coordination.

Minerva lets out a low whistle when he reveals that fact. “With all the temptation around you? You must be a saint.”

Speirs – or Ron, as he assures her that she can call him – only smirks in response. “Far from it.”

It’s at that moment – when she should be having fun and enjoying the game with her friend – that she spots him. A group at a nearby table gets up to leave, and it clears a path of vision to reveal several officers sitting along the wall, chatting with each other while they drink. And there among them, of course, is Lieutenant Nixon. She wouldn’t care too terribly much, if it weren’t for the fact that he’s glaring at her.

Glaring at her like she’s done something wrong. Glaring at her like he dislikes her – although that last part might be true, based on what happened back in the rain.

You backed out of kissing me! Minerva thinks. If anyone should be mad, it should be me.

Then, to her surprise, she realizes that she’s not mad. She hasn’t been mad, anyway. Only hurt, stung by his sudden rejection. Embarrassed, actually, about the fact that she tried to kiss him, which just makes her feel scorned. But now that he’s looking at her like this, so angry and with so much uncalled for hatred, she feels a spark catch in her heart, and it quickly turns into a flame, into a fiery inferno. Hatred is so easy to catch, and it can consume a person so quickly.

Well, fine! If he wants to be mad that he missed his chance, then he can keep on pouting. And he can keep on glaring, too, because she won’t give him the time of day.

Her chest feels light with the satisfaction that spurning someone can bring as she turns back to Ron, smiles, and suggests, “Up for round two?”

She throws herself into the night in a way that she hasn’t allowed herself to since she was a teenager and in college and free for the first time in her life. When she is just Minerva and not an older sister or a teacher or any of her other responsibilities, she can have so much more fun. And when she can feel Lieutenant Nixon’s angry glare on her back every time she laughs or is congratulated by the men of Easy Company for a good shot at the dart board, she feels a twisted sense of satisfaction that adds to the effect of her fun.

Fun – that’s what all this is. It’s what it’s all about. From the very beginning, too, the second that she raced into that recruiter’s office and put her name down for the Airborne. She’s having fun.

They’re just having fun, she tells herself when the night has grown dark and she and Webster have decided to head back to camp, only to grow distracted halfway there and hide behind the town’s movie theater, leaned against the wall, hiding in the shadows as they press their lips together.

“Is this – “ Webster gasps between breaths. “Is this okay?”

“You’re a good kisser,” Minerva assures him as she runs a hand through his hair and pulls him back in for more.

Webster waits until they both surface for air before he tries to clarify what he means. “I mean – Minerva. I don’t want to get you in trouble.”

Minerva stops, pressing her head against the wall behind her as she considers his words. I don’t want to get you in trouble. That’s sweet. They both know that she would probably get into much more trouble for this than he would.

She nods in agreement. “Okay, then. Let’s quit while we’re ahead.”

Webster sags as he exhales. The shadows they hide in cast a mask over his face, but they do not conceal his disappointment. “I wish we didn’t have to.” A quite laugh escapes him. “I haven’t blown off steam like this in a while.”

That makes two of us, Minerva thinks at the same time that an idea springs fully-formed into her mind. “That’s all this is.”

“I didn’t mean it like that!” Webster rushes to explain. “I just meant – “

“I know,” Minerva interrupts. “But you’re right. Secret relationships always get found out in the end; they’re harder to hide. Blowing off steam is more casual. You only do it once in a while.”

Webster tilts his head. “Are you suggesting - ?”

Minerva shrugs. She’s perfectly fine with leaving the ball in his court, letting him be the one who makes or breaks this thing. It’s nice to have a break from responsibility and decision making every now and then – fun, even.

“So we’re not going together. We’re not a couple,” Webster clarifies. “Just blowing off steam every now and then?”

“If you want.”

The Harvard man considers this. He raises an eyebrow. “And we would still be friends? Because I don’t want to lose that.” He sounds almost nervous when he adds, “I like being around you, Minerva.”

“Of course we’d be friends,” she assures him. “Just friends with . . . more, every now and then.”

A beat passes while he considers their situation. Finally, he nods.

“Okay. Yeah, I think this could work.”

“Me, too.” Minerva smiles. She closes her eyes as Webster leans in again, feeling him smiling against her own lips.

Minerva feels like she’s floating on the way back to the bunkhouse. Once they near the camp, she and Webster put a respectful distance between themselves, and they try not to smile or laugh too much at anything the other says.

She feels like she’s seventeen again when she slips into the bunkhouse and makes her way over to her bed, except this time there is no sneaking in, no relying on anyone catching her to keep their mouth shut. In fact, hardly anyone notices when she arrives. Very few of the girls are back, and the ones who are appear to be asleep.

The bed next to hers creaks as Keziah rolls over. She lies on her back, watching Minerva.

“Hey,” she greets quietly.

“Hi,” Minerva replies. “How’d it go?”

Keziah shrugs. “It was fun. How was your night?”

“The same.” She flops down onto her bed and sighs. It had been fun. Now that she’s back, however, some of the magic is wearing off, just like it always does. But instead of crawling under her blankets and then waking up in the morning to take on the world with her friends, she realizes that she will go to sleep on a thin mattress and wake up in the morning to run up a mountain. There will be no morning debrief with Helen where they laugh over things boys said to them the night before. John-Michael won’t ask her questions over breakfast. And Jack won’t –

Still dressed, she lies on her back the way Keziah does, staring up at the ceiling. “Maybe it was more fun when we were teenagers, though, and there wasn’t a war on. There wasn’t much to worry about then.”

Not looking over, she can hear the pillow rustle as Keziah nods. “I don’t think things will ever be the same again,” she muses.

Something surges in Minerva’s chest like a strong tide coming in. Her breath hitches in her throat.

“I guess you’re right,” she realizes aloud. She will never be a teenager again. The world has moved on, has changed. It is changing, all around them, as history is being made every day. There is no going back. The world is a different place now, and by the end of the war, it may be utterly unrecognizable.

The night on the town soon reveals itself to be a reprieve; nothing more than the eye of a hurricane giving them all a false sense of safety before the rest of the storm hits.

“Athena!” A voice behind Minerva barks the next morning as she leads the Women’s Squad to breakfast.

Facing away from him, Minerva rolls her eyes at the harsh tone in Captain Sobel’s voice as he calls her the wrong name . . . again. She has to force a smile onto her face before she turns around to face him, all fake niceties. “Captain?”

“There’s been a change of plans today,” Captain Sobel informs her. “The women’s work on the rifle range a few days ago was sloppy at best.” He enunciates the p with an annoying pop that grates on her nerves. “I simply cannot report these scores to Colonel Sink in good conscious.”

During the holdup, Diana has followed Minerva’s lead and stepped away from the rest of the Women’s Squad. A wrinkle of confusion appears between her eyebrows when she catches the captain’s words. “What would you have us do about it, sir?” she asks.

You would have to be quick to catch it, and luckily, Minerva is – she sees the way that Sobel blinks in surprise when Diana speaks, as if he hadn’t bothered to notice her before she did so. He looks at her now like she’s utterly inconsequential.

“Well, Sergeant, I would have you fix it. Take all day if you have to. In fact, do just that. After breakfast, report to the range and run drills until I come to get you for lunch.” As if he expects either of them to protest, he barely pauses for breath before rushing to add, “Practice makes perfect, after all. And I expect each and every one of you to be flawless by this afternoon.”

He turns on his heel, ready to leave, but Minerva stops him.

“What about Private Mancini, Captain?”

Sobel spins around, dark brow quirked, his mouth a hard line, every syllable tight when he questions, “What about her?”

“She’s a medic,” Minerva reminds him. “Should she come with us? Or go with the male medics to their training?”

For a second, Sobel flounders. He must make up his mind, though, because he seems pleased with himself when he gives Minerva an answer. “Let her go with the male medics.” He laughs to himself and says in a voice that was clearly not supposed to be heard by the sergeants in front of him, “There’s no helping that girl’s aim anyways.”

Incised on Bianca’s behalf, Minerva and Diana lead the women to the rifle range after breakfast with a newfound sense of purpose. Bianca is still sent off with the male medics, but the other women do nothing but train, train, train. Anita, already the best shot of them all, is bored out of her mind within an hour, and Minerva has to send her to help those having trouble in order to keep her occupied so that she stops showing off.

“Goddamn.” Katherine whistles when the girl from New Mexico manages to hit Lucinda’s target from three spaces over. “She’ll be a sniper by the end of the day!”

The end of the day in question seems to be fast approaching. There’s been no sign of Captain Sobel since he sent them here this morning, and judging by the angle of the sun overhead, that’s been ages ago.

“Funny,” Diana mutters, as if she can read Minerva’s mind. “If he wanted us to improve so badly, you would think that he would be here to oversee this.”

But their captain doesn’t appear. Women start to mutter about being hungry as lunch time comes and goes. They’ve been on the range so long that even Lori, the weakest shot of the group, has vastly improved. Still, no sign of Captain Sobel.

It has to be some sort of test, but Minerva can’t make out his angle. When he finally comes to collect them, will he try to turn the other women against her by claiming that they could have left at any time instead of waiting for him? Somehow or other, he’s going to make this her fault. She can feel it in her gut, the same way that she can sense a storm coming across the ocean while out shrimping with her father and grandfather back home.

Around the time that Minerva starts to wonder if the purpose of this whole thing is actually to make her doubt if she heard him correctly, a figure appears in the distance. Tall, dark haired, and wearing PT clothes, he’s approaching quickly.

“Finally,” Anna mutters, slinging her rifle across her back in relief.

Minerva is about to agree when she realizes that the figure coming towards the range isn’t Captain Sobel – it’s Lieutenant Nixon. She mutters a choice word under her breath before he comes into earshot, and it makes innocent Diana’s cheeks go scarlet.

Nixon is one of the last people she wants to see right now. She may have gotten some satisfaction out of annoying him at the bar a few nights before when she ignored him, but that doesn’t mean that she’s willing to interact with him. Especially not with that expression on his face – the one that clearly says he would rather not be interacting with her, either.

We have that in common, at least, she thinks to herself as the lieutenant comes to a stop in front of her.

The first thing she notices is that his shirt is soaked through with sweat. His hair, too. Has he just come back from PT?

Before she can get answers, he offers both her and Diana a curt nod. “Sobel sent me to find you. Easy Company is meeting outside the barracks, now.”

Something about the way he says the last word sends them all into action. One second the Women’s Squad is on the rifle range, and the next they’re falling into attention beside the barracks.

Their order and timeliness goes unappreciated. Several men glare daggers at them as they approach. Others look confused. Bianca, having been off with the male medics all day, glances between her sergeants and captain with raised brows. Captain Sobel himself whips around the second they appear, and the next thing Minerva knows, he’s in her and Diana’s faces, demanding to know where they’ve been.

Diana opens her mouth, but no sound comes out. Instead of watching her struggle, Minerva steps in.

“Sir,” she says in her best teacher voice, which is pleasant and steady – the exact opposite of how she feels right now. “You sent us to the rifle range this morning and gave orders that we were not to leave until you came to collect us for lunch.”

“You must have taken a break for lunch,” Captain Sobel insists. “The runner I sent at noon said he couldn’t find you.”

“What runner?” One of the girls behind her mutters. It’s said quietly enough that Minerva thought only she could hear it, but Captain Sobel is practically omnipotent when he wants to be.

The words are hardly spoken before he demands, “Who said that?!”

Lucinda, Minerva’s mind supplies the answer, because there’s only one person that Southern drawl could belong to.

When no one fesses up, it only enrages their Captain more. His face is scarlet as he flies into a lecture about the importance of following orders, of not disobeying your superior officer. What’s more, some of the men are snickering at them as they observe the lecture.

How dare they! Minerva tries to silence them with a cool glare – and that’s the first time she notices that several men’s white PT shirts are stained down the front with something orange.

She’s so caught up in attempting to figure out what happened to the men while they were on the rifle range that she misses the last part of Captain Sobel’s lecture, and her only real cue that the Women’s Squad’s embarrassment is finally over is that Diana bumps her arm into hers before turning to lead the girls back to their bunkhouse.

The men must have been dismissed, too, because they start towards the barracks as well. But as soon as their captain is out of sight, many of the men pick up the pace, glaring at the women as they pass them.

“So much for being a team,” someone spits.

“Went missing during the worst day of our lives – how goddamn convenient.”

Obviously, something has happened. It’s becoming clear that it must have been awful, but Minerva can’t for the life of her connect the dots to make out the picture. She needs more information, and from someone she trusts. Trying not to get trampled by the rest of the company, she searches the crowd, looking for a friendly face.

Keziah beats her to it.

“Hey, Luz.” She grabs George’s arm to catch his attention, to pull him a bit closer when she quietly asks, “What the hell’s going on?”

Luz lets out a noise that’s somewhere between a sigh and a bitter laugh. “We were told we had the morning off and were given a nice spaghetti lunch. We were in the middle of enjoying it when, out of nowhere, Sobel showed up and made us run Currahee.”

Minerva winces in sympathy. That explains the orange stains on the fronts of their shirts – spaghetti sauce.

“Quite a show. Sorry you missed it when you were . . .” He cocks a brow, waiting for someone to fill in the blanks.

“On the range, just like Sergeant Revels said!” Even though she’s rushing to her defense in the heat of the moment, it’s strange to hear her friend call her by her rank instead of her name. “Sobel abandoned us there all day and told us we weren’t allowed to leave until he came to get us.”

Understanding dawns on Luz’s face. “He wanted to make it look like you all played hooky to get out of running with us. He’s trying to drive a wedge between the men and the Women’s Squad.”

“Well.” Minerva bites her lip, looking at the angry faces all around them. “Mission accomplished.”

All the hard work of Winter’s scavenger hunt – undone in an instant. Sure, there are those who will understand, like George. But certain others, who didn’t care for the women to begin with, are so blinded by the rage of what they have just experienced that they aren’t seeing clearly.

At this rate, the Women’s Squad may never be fully accepted by the men of Easy Company as equals.

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

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