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You may know me by my fic, Everything Eats and is Eaten, a platonic red dead 2 x reader about the reader’s journey following Arthur’s death in the epilogue.
I have some good news; it hasn’t been abandoned! I left you all on a cliffhanger, and I’m very sorry!
The next chapter does not have a set date, but trust that I am working on it. Sorry to keep you all waiting…!
Summary: It's London in 1940 and tensions are high. Between countries. Between people. ...Even between Eloise's husband and Lora. One thing leads to another, and one thing is certain; something is ending (or maybe it never even started).
Word count: 3.8k
Content: Talk of war durrr, manipulation, hints of domestic abuse, angst and... not really comfort?
a/n: was a bit nervous about posting this one! Eloise and Lora's relationship gets foggy, but everything will be revealed in time. No relation to BofB in this chapter.
DISCLAIMER: None of my works regarding Band of Brothers have anything to do with the actual veterans, and all to do with the actors and their portrayals in the series. I have the utmost respect for the veterans and their families.
TAGLIST:
@lanadelray1989
LONDON, 1940
NOVEMBER 22ND
Before Aldbourne, Eloise lived in a flat in London.
And during that, Edward had yet to be a part of the RAF.
Every Monday, Eloise and Lora would take a walk around the city. Lora lived in a dingy basement apartment and insisted on never taking a wealthy girl like Eloise back to her flat. Instead, Eloise would always drag Lora to hers.
Now, usually; Edward would be out at work. When Lora ever had the displeasure of encountering him at Eloise’s flat, he would say something along the lines of: ‘shouldn’t you be off now? It’s late’.
This time, though, he invited her for dinner.
Dinner! In a fancy flat that had heating, and warm water, and a nice stove, and full pantries and zero roommates of whom she knew practically nothing about!
…and Edward.
Maybe not a dream.
But if Eloise was there, the room felt a little brighter.
Eloise, Edward and Lora currently sat at a fancy mahogany dining table, the chairs a matching set. Everything was of considerably fancy make, accented by bronze and cushioned with comfortable yellow padding. A nice, sparkling light fixture hung above their heads, the corners of the room crowned by light, carved wood boards and the walls wrapped in a floral, yellow wallpaper. Expensive plates sat in front of them accompanied by polished silverware, wine glasses, and a plethora of warm food in contrast to the dry, cold November night outside the walls of the flat.
Edward’s pointy nose was held high, surveying the table from his position at the head. “Is it to your liking?” He asked.
Lora stayed quiet until Eloise’s eyebrows raised at her, signaling a response.
“Uh,” Lora floundered, looking back and forth at them. “Pardon?”
“The food,” he practically hissed, gesturing to the plates splayed out on the tablecloth in front of her and what of it that was on her plate. “Is it to your liking?”
“Oh, um,” she muttered, “yes, it is. …Thank you.” Lora forced the words out of her mouth, her distaste for the man making it known via the bitter urge to ignore him and shut both Edward and Eloise out.
She was telling the truth, the food really wasn’t bad. Because of the war, there had been substantial amounts of rationing. Eloise was thankfully quite wealthy, meaning her and Edward could afford food that was usually very difficult or expensive to get.
“So,” Edward picked up again, “it seems I may soon be conscripted.”
…Alright. Odd thing to discuss over dinner with your wife and her best friend, but… Okay.
“Edward,” Eloise admonished, looking up from her food with furrowed brows and a tense expression. “Must we discuss politics now?”
The tensions in the room grew from simple awkwardness to the kind that made you tense with some kind of anticipation. Edward seethed from his spot at the head of the table, putting down his utensils.
“I will speak about what I wish to,” he replied, his words causing silence to fall over the dining room. He looked at Lora, “modern women. …You’d know.”
Lora was taken aback, facing him with a confused, offended expression. “I… no, I can’t say I do.”
“She goes to university, dear. She’s… she could be considered modern.” Eloise gave a tense smile to the two as Lora looked at her with a similar expression as the one she regarded Edward with. Edward scoffed, rolling his eyes.
“What does that mean?”
Edward narrowed his eyes. “How did you get into a university, anyhow?”
Lora, putting down her utensils, cocked her head incredulously. “...I studied? I did well in school? I remember how you were in secondary school, Edward, I-”
“Lora!” Eloise exclaimed, “that is incredibly offensive!”
“He insulted you, Eloise, that is… it’s… he’s your husband!”
“He did not-” Eloise seethed, pointing an admonishing finger at Lora. Edward said something that neither of the girls processed; it was only them in that present moment.
Lora took a breath, floundering for a moment. “Listen, please. You- you're smart, Eloise. You were supposed to go to school with me. And now, you’re- you’re here,” she motioned to the room. Mostly to Edward. “You could still come with me!”
Edward banged his hands against the table, rattling the plates. “Do not-”
“I was speaking!” Lora shouted, rising from her seat and pointing a finger to Edward. Turning back to Eloise, she took on a pleading tone of voice. “Please, Eloise. You’re smart. You’re so smart, you-”
“Stop,” she interjected, “don’t get upset with me for having a husband. At least I could keep him.” Her words were quick, snippy. She had that expression on her face, the one that gave away how her mouth moved faster than her brain.
“Eloise, what?”
Eloise paused, a hand over her mouth as she sunk into her seat. She looked positively mortified by her own words, her eyes wide and mouth agape. “No, I-”
“Enough!” Edward shouted, rising from his seat and banging the table with his hands. Both women jumped, turning towards the fuming man. He looked down at his plate, biting his lip. “I don’t want to hear your spats, not in my home. Eloise, go.”
She shook her head, standing up. “Edward, my dear, don’t be like that, we weren’t…”
He looked at her pointedly, thin lips twisted in a scowl.
Silence fell over the room. Eloise stayed for a moment, opening and closing her mouth before leaving the room in a flurry of movement. She spared Lora one last glance before she left, a silent ‘I’m sorry’. Lora scoffed, grimacing.
The door leading to the other rooms slammed shut behind Eloise, allowing a tense air to fall over Lora and Edward.
The energy of the room was like a steam bomb. Heating up with every passing moment, on the verge of explosion, just waiting for its confines to weaken and give against its strong resistance to being kept contained.
“I will show you the way down.” Edward said, his voice low and grating through his clenched teeth.
Lora scoffed, “I know my way down.”
“I will,” he seethed, turning his face to glare at her. “Show you the way down.”
—
The elevator brought them to the lobby, dinging at the bottom floor. Lora and Edward didn’t look at each other, facing forward and avoiding eye contact at all costs. Lora felt as though she was walking on eggshells, her tight grip on her purse giving way to the white of her knuckles.
When the metal grating of the gates opened, Edward stepped out first and waited for Lora to get off after him.
“What’s wrong with you?” Lora muttered.
After a moment, Edward scrunched his nose, but did not yet face her. His forehead, made larger by his nearly receding hairline, creased. “Excuse me?” His head snapped to the side,
She rolled her eyes, stepping off the lift. Walking towards the lobby, she didn’t expect him to follow her halfway through the waiting area. “You’re following me now?” She snapped, turning to face him with her hands in her pockets. He paused in his tracks. “Sounds like you haven’t changed since secondary school, you know.”
“What lies did Eloise feed you about me? Repeat what you said,” he retorted, thin eyebrows arched angrily.
“Jesus Christ,” Lora groaned, “I said, ‘what is wrong with you?’. Are you going to go now?”
“I knew Eloise should have never been around you,” he huffed, fists clenched at his side and an angry flush on his pale face. “I knew something was off when she started looking into jobs! It’s your influence, the ‘modern woman’ nonsense you spout! She admitted it!”
Lora scoffed, eyebrows furrowed and mouth hung open. Her shoulders rolled back. “Eloise is a smart woman! Why are you so against her independence!?”
“Since when was this your concern!? She is my wife, and your friend. I won’t be taking instructions from a divorced woman who cannot afford to have a pipe fixed! Get out!”
“What?” She asked incredulously.
“Out! Get out of my apartment!” Edward roared, his face flushed an ugly red and his teeth bared. His chest puffed in anger, a tightly clenched hand pointing to the door of the complex. “I won’t have you making an embarrassment of me; If I see you here again, I will alert the authorities!”
“Authorities!? Come on, are you mad!? Edward-”
Footsteps were heard from the adjacent hallway, likely the receptionist coming back from some kind of break. Was their yelling really that loud?
“Get out!”
He stepped forward, chest almost touching hers and the expression in his eyes a brand of anger that was teetering on the edge of turning into violence. Lora had seen men get worked up many times, but this was happening to her, not in front of her. She didn’t push. Yes, she hated Edward with great intensity; but she wanted to protect Eloise.
“Alright, Christ, I’m leaving!” She put her hands up, stumbling backwards. Her heart beat fast in her chest, a violent ‘thump-thump’ beating against her ribcage.
Before the ‘employees-only’ door swung open, Lora scampered out of the lobby of the apartment complex.
The streets were mostly empty on account of the biting chill outside, the door swinging shut and trapping in the warm air.
Taking a breath, tears pricked her eyes. She wiped them away, looked to the sky, and blinked away what remained. After a moment, she fixed her old wool coat and began marching down the street. She best not linger.
—
NOVEMBER 23RD
Lora woke up with an intense headache. It was surely afternoon; thank goodness it was a Sunday.
She would’ve stayed in bed under her covers if one of her roommates, a mild Russian girl named Tanya, hadn’t knocked on her door. “The phone is ringing,” she said through the door, “for you.”
She dragged herself out of bed, rubbing her eyes and standing with reluctance. Hobbling towards the door, she left her room with a glance at Tanya. “...Thanks,” she muttered.
Tanya looked her up and down, turning her head just the slightest bit. “You look… awful.” Her accent caught onto her words, making them come out more judgemental than they were meant to be.
“Yeah, I know,” Lora muttered, dragging a hand down her face. “...Family issues.”
The other woman narrowed an eye, giving a slightly-sympathetic expression. “Again?” Tanya hummed, sighing. “Good luck, then.”
“Thanks,” Lora practically whispered, voice quiet and weary. Tanya walked past her with a nod, dry blonde hair flaring behind her as she returned to her room further down the hall. The floorboards creaked and groaned, the old things complaining about any amount of weight.
In the kitchen was where Ernest stood, holding the phone for Lora. Ernest was a shorter man who couldn’t keep a job. In fact, he was searching for one at the moment. He was awfully annoying, and tolerating him during dinner was an act that Lora would deem entirely too gracious.
The kitchen let in the light from the bleak outside. They were fortunate enough not to have a window facing another flat, but the dark, gray outside was just as depressing as staring at the bricks of another apartment, anyways.
Lora could practically feel the bags sagging from her eyes, and she knew Ernest noticed them too; doing a once over of her and and almost scowling.
Lora took the phone from his hands, giving him an equally as disgusted look. Ernest, after giving a scoff, left to go somewhere else in the flat. Lora vaguely heard him mumble “bitch,” as he left.
The line crackled and hummed, quiet before the operator on the other end took a loud exhale.
“Sophie Kramer?” The man’s voice sounded tired and weary.
“Yeah.”
“Call from Camden.”
Lora internally prepared herself, giving herself a quick, silent pep-talk.
“Hi, mum.”
“Hi, Lora,” her mother replied. “Eloise called me.”
Lora put a hand on her hip, bewildered. “Um, Eloise? …What did she say?”
“Well,” the line crackled, “she told me you and Edward fought.”
“Why would she…? Look, we didn’t fight, we… we argued, but nothing happened, mum.”
A sigh was heard on the other side. “Okay. I just wanted to make sure you were alright. I know how much that girl means to you. She’s very sweet. I remember when you two first met; she was so polite and respectful. How’s she doing, anyway?”
“She’s fine. Mum, what do you mean by ‘how much she means to me’?”
“Lora, I’m your mother, I know these things. Even if we… well. You know.”
Lora swallowed, thinking for a moment. “I don’t want you to think that anything was going to happen with… I don’t want you to think that anything was going to happen, though.”
“Did you?”
“...I’m sorry?”
“Do you want something to happen?”
She fell quiet; the line crackled.
“I don’t know, mum.”
“...That’s okay.”
Once again, the two went silent.
Lora cleared her throat, “is that all?”
“Actually,” she muttered, the sound of papers shuffling making its way through her end. “Your uncle Aelbrecht is having a celebration for his birthday. Your father and I were wondering if you’d be coming?”
Lora sighed, leaning against the wall. “Isn’t he in Den Haag?”
“Your aunt is in the Hague, remember? Aelbrecht moved a few blocks away from us right before the war.”
Lora paused. “...Right, yeah.”
“He moved when you… we were distanced. You-”
“Yeah, I know, mum,” she interjected, rolling her eyes.
“But are you?”
“Mum, am I what?”
The floorboards creaked as Lora shifted her weight from one foot to the other. She heard a huff from the other side of the phone.
“Are you going to your uncle Aelbrecht’s birthday?”
A nag made itself known in her chest, a little flame igniting and causing some kind of annoyance. “I- mum, I don’t know. Give me a bit.”
“Well,” the line crackled and cut out for a moment, “Send a letter. Or call. It’s on December the 9th.”
Lora couldn’t think of any plans for the ninth, at least from the top of her head. Dammit. She sighed. “Again, I don’t know.”
“Which is why I’m telling you to mail me a letter later,” her mother reminded. “I try for you, Sophie.”
The feedback from the phone crackled and fizzled. Neither of them spoke.
“Well. I love you, Lora. Goodbye.”
“...Yeah, bye.”
The call ended, but Lora didn’t return the phone into its socket. She took a few deep breaths, closing her eyes.
After a quiet moment, she dialed Eloise’s number into the wall-mounted socket. The operator put her through, and Eloise picked up.
“Eloise Fletcher,” she said. Her voice was weary and quiet.
“Did you call my mother?”
The line went quiet, humming. “...Lora?”
“Yes, Eloise,” Lora pushed herself from the wall. She didn’t care much if her roommates heard; they probably wouldn’t care. They probably wouldn’t have any people to gossip with about what she said, anyways. “Why did you call my mother?”
“I-” she heard shuffling from the other line, “I knew you would be angry, Lo. I didn’t want to… I thought that, if I called you, we’d only get into another fight.”
“You know I care about you! I just didn’t want to make you more upset, is all.”
“You know how I feel about her! You- you hurt me, Eloise, going behind my back and then mentioning-”
“I care about you, Lora,” Eloise interrupted, “we shouldn’t fight like this. I didn’t mean to.”
“You still did,” the other woman murmured, “you could’ve… I don’t know, called one of my roommates. Or- or! Called me!”
“Honestly, I wanted to make sure you were okay!”
"Have you been hiding anything else?" Lora said through gritted teeth, her hands on her hips.
“Of course not. Who do you think I am?” With a calmer tone, she continued. “I am so horribly sorry I went out of my way to show I cared.”
Lora rubbed her face, sighing shakily. This was going nowhere. “You are impossible. ...Look, I know. I’m sorry, I just can’t… you have to understand that I… I’ll…”
“Let us walk tomorrow,” Eloise said, “clear our minds.”
They went quiet. Lora breathed for a moment, glancing outside at the bleak, grey outdoors.
“I’m busy, Eloise.”
Eloise scoffed from the other line. “You’re only in class from eleven until one on Mondays, Lora. We’ll meet at two, yes?”
"No," Lora refuted. "No, we're not."
"Of course we are," her end crackled and broke, returning momentarily. "-it's what's best for you."
Annoyance filled Lora's chest, rising up her throat, making itself home.
“Lo?”
The annoyance doubled, becoming rage. Loud, angry, at herself and Eloise. And Edward. Especially Edward.
“Don’t be so immature, my dear, please…”
Lora breathed heavily, blinking and tearing her eyes from the unpolished wooden planks of the floor. She clenched her teeth. Grinded them together. Flexed her free hand.
And then slammed the phone back into its socket.
—
NOVEMBER 24TH
MONDAY
Eloise found Lora at the usual spot. They were by a river bank, the water flowing slowly. As it was a Monday afternoon, the streets were desolate and empty. The curtains of dull-bricked buildings were drawn shut, the wind sighing and ruffling leaves like wind chimes.
Lora looked up from the pavement, finding Eloise in a cream-coloured blouse and a brown pleated skirt. She wore her loafers and a long, gray wool coat.
They didn’t talk. Eloise stepped forward, her hand raising. Lora stepped back, not letting the other woman touch her.
“What’s wrong with you?” Lora demanded, voice carrying a high lilt.
Eloise scoffed and gave an exasperated roll of her eyes. “Oh, do not get back to that business again. I said that I was worried.”
Lora nodded slowly, eyebrows drawn together. “...So you called my mother?”
“Yes! Honestly, how many times must I repeat myself? What harm would I do, making sure she knows what's happening in your life? Besides, you check in with her frequently, don't you?”
“Sure, I do, but that’s because she becomes hysterical if I don’t!” Lora shook her hands in front of herself, trying to carry the point across the Eloise. “This makes no sense, Eloise! I don’t know what drove you to call my mother instead of me. There is no possible way I could understand your reasoning behind this!”
Eloise sighed, crossing her arms and regarding Lora with an odd expression and a tilted head.
Lora felt judged, almost shrinking in on herself. “Look,” she began again, her tone considerably calmer. “You’ve been… acting strange. You insulted me with Edward the other day, you called my formerly estranged mother to ‘check up on me’, you’re… I’m confused. And worried.”
The other woman shook her head, inhaling sharply and looking Lora up and down. “Well, I thought you’ve been acting rather odd as well. Fighting my Edward like that. Honestly.”
“This isn’t about him,” Lora moaned, massaging her forehead with her fingers. “Stop bringing him up. This is between us.”
Lora was conflicted. Eloise’s intentions were foggy. She was a smart woman, calculating and witty. She always had an intention, but Lora couldn’t place this one; and she usually could.
Eloise sighed. “You know what?” she muttered, slowly drifting towards the railing of the river. “This war. It’s stressing us out beyond belief, Lora. It is tampering with our thoughts, making us unreasonable. I am not myself, dear, you must understand.”
Dropping her hands into her pockets, Lora followed Eloise to the edge of the water, looking down at the polluted mess that it was. She deflated, not finding it in herself to fight over something she had spent all night and the previous day dwelling on. “I don’t understand,” she whispered. “What happened to us?”
“Like I said; stress,” The other murmured, shaking her head slowly. Her brown hair swayed with the movement. She looked up at Lora, turning her head. This odd look swam in her eyes, but one that was read quickly by Lora; some kind of knowing. But of what?
The woman was infuriating.
“Why must we fight?” Eloise whispered.
Lora shook her head, biting her lip. “I’ve been so anxious, Eloise. I can’t handle this. The war, my bloody finances… You and Edward.”
“... I suppose I do know, to an extent.” Eloise replied, that odd look in her eyes dissolving into something that finally looked genuine. “I am sorry, Lora. I really am.”
“Then why do you keep fighting me on this? Why do you insist on going behind my back, breaking my trust?” The other woman whispered imploringly, meeting Eloise’s eyes. “Why can’t you understand what I'm thinking?”
“Because it’s not that simple, my dear.”
Lora pulled back, pursing her lips. “It is, though. You know it is.”
The other looked at her sadly, tilting her head and inclining it towards Lora. “You know it’s not, silly girl. I would try to understand your perspective if I could.”
“So then why won’t you?”
“Why won’t I do what?”
Lora scoffed, “Why won’t you try to see my side?”
Eloise shook her head. “About Edward? About your mother? About your lifestyle?” She exhaled. “Well, because it’s hardly reasonable, Lora. I’m looking out for you, you know. You would do the same to me in a heartbeat, wouldn’t you?”
Lora could feel her throat ache, tears pricking her eyes.
“What happened, El? Where did you go?”
“I’m still here.”
“It doesn’t feel like it. I mean, after… whatever happened in ‘38.”
Eloise shook her head, “That? Oh, Lora. You knew it wouldn’t last.” The woman stepped toward Lora, humming. “Don’t you worry about me. I’m happy with my Edward, you know. He’s good for me, despite what you think.”
Lora looked away again, sighing shakily. She didn’t talk for a moment. The sound of the water filled the silence, hollow winds humming in their ears.
“Was I not enough for you? Is that it?”
“Oh, Lora,” murmured Eloise, moving closer again. Her other hand gripped Lora’s shoulder, sliding down to her bicep and squeezing. “You were always enough.”
“Then why did you choose Edward over me? Why?”
She sighed. “It was not easy; it still isn’t. I want this. My parents do too. …And besides, there are special things only found in him, Lora.”
Lora huffed bitterly, tucking her curly, unruly blonde hair behind an ear. “You told me I was special, too.”
“You are, my dear. I didn’t lie about that.”
Lora’s eyes darted down to Eloise’s painted lips, her own slightly parted. “...Then prove it.” Puffs of air left them, clouding what little space was between the two women.
They fell still. Eloise’s thumb found the apple of Lora’s cheek, brushing over fading freckles and acne scars.
Summary: Lora shares information and makes plans with Winters and Nixon. It seems rumors have been started, though.
Content: homophobia, talk of nazis and abuse of power (very brief but important), starvation, being closeted in the 1940s
WC: 2.5k
A/N: 😛
DISCLAIMER: None of my works regarding Band of Brothers have anything to do with the actual veterans, and all to do with the actors and their portrayals in the series. I have the utmost respect for the veterans and their families.
MONDAY, 1943
“We couldn’t read the maps, not really. It’s German, we’re Dutch,” Lora said, hands intertwined and perched on a wooden table.
Winters and Nixon sat at the other side, Sobel at the head. They listened intently as Lora rattled on, standing over a map they had scrounged up of the eastern Netherlands, legends showing macro detail of towns and countrysides.
Lora put a pencil to the paper, dragging it along a dike on the countryside. “Here,” she said. “This dike. Troops are apparently being posted here, and they’re set for an operation due in October.”
Nixon nodded, sighing. He was slouched, whereas Winters was upright and poised. Sobel was somewhere in between, his hands intertwined on the table. His large eyes looked around, but the man proved utterly useless in such an important discussion.
Nixon sat up a bit, “was there anything about France or England?”
“Uh,” Lora looked at the map upon the table, drawing her bottom lip between her teeth. She spotted another map that had been pinned to the wall, illustrating Normandy and small snippets of regions nearby.
Getting to her feet and abandoning her pencil, she crossed the room to the map and pointed to an area near Marchésieux. “My father told me he heard of patrols or something similar here, but there was nothing directly shown on the map. …This was about a month ago, but there’s a chance they have some sort of base. If not, there’s at least some small amount of control over the area.”
Sobel had yet to contribute to the conversation, swallowing heavily and glancing over as Winters shifted. Sobel simply watched on, his lack of commentary beginning to frustrate Lora; she was confident she wasn’t alone in this sentiment, though, as Winters began to speak.
“Huh,” Dick muttered, “That’s not too far from where a drop is set for.”
“True, it’s not,” Nixon agreed, standing up to walk towards the map. He inspected the area Lora was referring to. “We can report that using you and your father as witnesses. That’s valuable information,” he nodded at Lora, smiling flatly.
“Well, of course,” she took in a breath, “I just hope it will do something good for you Yanks.”
Lora wanted to help, but she’d be lying if she said it was for the Americans. The thought of her relatives hung in the back of her mind, their living situations haunting her without rest. Still, by helping the American army, she’d be doing something for her family.
Something.
“It will do good.” Nixon said in a reassuring voice, placing his hands on his hips.
“Is there any chance we can get those documents you mentioned, Ms. Kramer?” Asked Winters.
Lora sighed, “I’m afraid not. They’d be with my father; but I’m sure he’s in contact with rebellion groups in Holland, so they’re not being wasted.”
Nixon shrugged, “Maybe we can get our hands on ‘em if we move into Holland.”
“If,” Winters emphasized from the table. “If not, we at least have this information, and they’ll be used in a rebellion group somewhere important.”
“...It’s nearly 1300 hours,” Sobel interrupted, talking in that flat voice of his. “We should wrap up if that’s alright with you, Ms. Kramer.” He stood from his seat for what was the first time that entire meeting. Lora pressed her lips together at his words, annoyance nagging at her and creating a knot in her chest. Winters and Nixon, facing away from Sobel, gave each other a glance.
“Yeah,” Nixon hummed, looking at his watch. “I’ve got a meeting soon. Thank you for your help, Lora,” he smiled, giving a brief nod.
“Of course,” She said flatly, standing to grab her things. Sobel fled almost immediately, muttering curt goodbyes as Nixon bid farewell to Winters and left for his meeting.
The woman was just picking up her purse and coat when Winters approached her. “Lora,” he smiled, “Nix and I were wondering if you’d like to get coffee sometime this week,” he said, large blue eyes searching hers for any kind of unwillingness. “Maybe Wednesday around 12:00?”
Lora was caught a little off guard, swinging her purse onto her shoulder. “Oh,” she breathed. “...Alright. Yes, that should work. I’ll… I’ll let you know tomorrow if something comes up then.”
Winters smiled, his small mouth lifting at the edges. “That sounds good. Have a good day, Lora.”
She gave him a fleeting, small smile. “You too, Dick.”
—
TUESDAY, 1944
Vivienne laughed boisterously, carefree. “You and that lieutenant. You looked like a couple, Lo’.”
Ruth Watts’ head whipped over to Lora, her eyes imploring and wide after they had been ripped from her book. She was followed by Ada Dobson, who hadn’t been looking at a book, but was rattling on about something she’d been writing to Ruth.
“What?” Lora said, bewildered.
“Winters,” Vivienne grinned, “the ginger one!”
Eloise nudged her shoulder, something odd in her eyes. “Is that true?”
“No,” Lora gasped, “no, no of course not. We talked, Vivienne. Goodness sake, we work together.”
Ada giggled, full cheeks urging her eyes into crescents as she smiled. “Oh, Lora,” she called in a sing-song voice, her dazed tone ringing out in the room. “You aren’t married, Lora. He isn’t, either. …Aren’t you getting coffee together?”
Vivienne’s head snapped over, eyes wide with shock. “You are!?”
The woman in question put her novel down, huffing. “No. I’m going with him and Nixon.”
Eloise scoffed, her book still held in her hands. One of them let go of the pages, drifting to Lora’s forearm. “Gosh, he’s military. Why would Lora want to be involved with a man who’d do nothing but give his life for a machine?” Eloise replied, her head tilted.
“Well,” interrupted Ruth, “You’re married to one, El. A ‘military man’.”
Eloise held her head high, looking down the slope of her nose. “Yes. But I married my Edward before the war, you see. He wasn’t in the army yet. It is awfully different, Ruth.”
Ada hummed. “Well, Lora, I rather thought you were… um,” she paused. “A homosexual.” Ada said the word as if it were a taboo, and it seemed as though it was. Her eyebrows were drawn together as she looked Lora up and down.
Ruth’s mouth twisted downwards, lines framing her nose and illustrating her disgust. “Are you?”
Lora didn’t know why, yet something like panic settled in her gut. Her hands wrenched themselves from her head, gripping the gray wool of her skirt. “I’m not,” she replied, suddenly more serious as she feigned a horrified voice that felt as though she betrayed some fragile part of herself. “I’m not.”
Eloise stilled, drawing her hand back much to Lora’s displeasure. She glanced down at her forearm, void of Eloise’s hand.
“Do not accuse someone of that,” Eloise glared at the girls. “Especially not Lora, of all people. Honestly.”
After a brief silence, Ruth snorted. Her face twisted into a grin before Ada followed, letting out a guffaw.
“Oh my god,” Ruth sputtered, giggling. “Oh my god, of course you’re not! We didn’t mean it, Lo!”
Vivienne’s eyebrow cocked ever so slightly, but she didn’t say anything for or against Lora. She just watched.
Eloise looked like she wanted to leave, her hand free of a book gripping the white cotton of her shirt. She looked as though she were to cave in on herself. An amused smile was on her face, though Lora could see through her supposed mirth.
“You know my auntie?” Ada began, “She’s a queer. I know,” she sighed, “we stay away from her.”
That dropped another weight into Lora’s chest.
She didn’t know why.
—
“Lora!”
“Yes?”
“It’s a call,” said Eloise. “For you!”
Lora dropped her book, standing from the armchair and rushing to the kitchen. She thanked Eloise quietly, taking the receiver.
“Is this… Sofieke… uh, Kramer? Call from Avington,” said the operator.
“Hello, Sophie,” a crackly voice said. “Hello. How are you?”
Lora felt like groaning. Oh, god. “Hi, Mrs. Gibson. How’s mum?”
“Oh, awful,” Mrs. Gibson lamented through the phone.
That was a lie; her mother had been sending letters quite frequently. She wasn’t at all awful, just tired of life. She had taken off to a house in the countryside, settling down before Lora’s father left to Holland to live with his parents, Lora’s grandparents.
Mrs. Gibson was merely a close friend of her mother's. She had been 'taking care' of her, though really just seemed as though she was mooching off of the poor woman.
“Awful, Sophie! And you’ve… What, you’ve up and left your mother to live in Albourne with that girl?” Her voice was so loud, it crackled and broke upon reaching Lora’s ears.
“Eloise,” Lora sighed, about to speak before she was cut off.
“Eloise! Eloise Fletcher! She’s rich, yes? And she can’t cut any expenses for your mother!”
The call repeated like that until the operator came on the line again.
“Mrs. Gibson, this call is getting expensive,” Lora said frustratedly. She crossed an arm over her chest, her hand settled in the crook of her elbow as she glanced up at Eloise. Eloise was watching, a worried look in her eyes as she stepped forward. Lora shook her head.
“Do you think I’m unaware? This is my money you’re spending.”
Lora blinked. “I… Look, I’m not going to Avington. Bye, Mrs. Gibson.” She shoved the receiver back into the stand, sighing with a roll of her eyes.
“Mrs. Gibson,” Lora sighed, “She thinks I’m the devil."
Eloise’s eyebrows twisted together as she walked forward, taking Lora by the arm. “The devil? I hope she doesn’t think such a thing.”
“I’m sure she doesn’t.”
“I know,” replied the other girl, “I just don’t think it should be said in the first place. Like when that girl said you were… what was it? The woman at that one café near your flat in 1942.”
Lora bit her lip. “Oh, that was different, Love,” she grinned. “That woman said that I seemed rather ‘cheap’ to be hanging around a ‘wealthy woman like you',” Lora giggled, looking at Eloise with a smile.
Eloise scoffed, looking up at Lora with a similar smile. “A great fool, she was.”
“‘Great’ before ‘fool’ sounds ironic,” Lora hummed.
“You’re right; an awful fool, then.”
Lora smiled, nodding. “Perfect.”
“Well,” Eloise began, crossing her arms. “Tell me what Mrs. Gibson said, then.”
The other woman tilted her head. “It was boring, El.”
“Boring or not, I don’t mind,” Eloise shook her head, “you get passionate when you speak. It’s… Well, I’d just rather like to hear you.”
Lora hummed, a feeling like excitement bubbling in her chest. “Alright,” she muttered, “you can hear me talk whilst I make food.”
Half an hour later, she had quieted down as she lingered over the gas stove. Eloise chopped vegetables at her side.
Silence filled the walls of their home. It created a sad tension.
From the silence settled seeds of upset in Lora’s mind. She felt horribly guilty as she stirred the small pot of stew. Parts of her family were likely living off of tulip bulbs and cruel scraps of food from Nazis occupying their houses whilst she inwardly lamented about her arm, sore from stirring food that’d leave her full.
Eloise looked into her eyes, quiet. “What’s wrong?”
“...I’m only thinking,” Lora murmured.
“Thinking? About what, hm?” Eloise stepped forward, a hand on the counter as her head tilted to look into Lora’s eyes.
The other woman sighed, brushing a piece of light-coloured hair out of her face. Eloise stepped closer still, fetching a hair tie and pulling Lora’s hair back into a bun.
Eloise’s hands, decorated in dainty rings and silver bracelets, dragged through the other’s hair and on her scalp. She almost seemed as though she were savouring the curve of her ear and the flatter side of her head that she’d had since she was young. She slowly looped Lora’s hair around her hand, tying it with the elastic. Eloise’s hands lingered, twirling around the baby hairs of Lora’s hairline and smoothing them to her head. “Lora,” she called, “about what?”
Lora felt horribly hot and was worried Eloise could feel it, too.
“My family,” the woman said, pausing in her stirring. “They’re eating tulip bulbs. They’re abused by Nazis. We… We’re eating food. They’re people, my family. What makes us more worthy of food than them?”
Eloise pulled back, and Lora felt rather cold without her breath grazing her ear. “We are incredibly fortunate, Lora. We have all of this. We have a safe life. Value it; don’t let your guilt, no matter how true, distract you from what’s in front of you.”
—
That night, while Lora slept, she dreamt of delicate, ring-covered and bracelet-decorated hands on her scalp. Of those hands lingering lower. She felt like a teenage girl.
She woke up in the early hours of the morning and didn’t rest after that.
—
Lora couldn’t look Eloise in the eyes that morning, writing a note and leaving it on the kitchen dining table. She left quickly afterward, though it was still morning.
The details of the plan for coffee were finalized the other day, and they were expected to meet at the shop by 12:30. It was currently 09:00, meaning she had plenty of time to waste doing whatever.
Her plans to maybe sit by the fields and contemplate everything were thrown off track when she bumped into a familiar soldier; that Malarkey from the other day.
“Oh, sorry Miss,” he said, backing up. Next to him was another soldier with tanned skin and larger eyes, ‘TOYE’ printed on the white scrap of cotton they all had stitched to their uniforms.
Catching up to this Toye was another man, the name ‘GUARNERE’ on the same patch. He had a slight underbite, his strong jaw jutting slightly from the top half of his skull, dark eyes and a straight nose placed confidently upon his face.
“Hey,” Guarnere called, looking at Lora. “You’re the informant girl, yeah? Yeah, we’ve seen you around base. Come on, what’s the deal witchya’?”
She almost grimaced; his accent sounded quite brash, his voice loud and boisterous, even amongst the near-constant stream of American soldiers.
“Come on, she’s probably busy,” Malarkey replied, looking at him.
Guarnere huffed. “Are ya busy, doll?”
Lora furrowed her eyebrows. When she was in college, these kinds of men were everywhere. Young men never change, Lora thought with annoyance.
“Not particularly, but I still have places to be.” Lora’s tone was stern, carrying a feel of no nonsense.
“See?” Toye spoke up, his voice raspy. “Let’s just go. Sobel’ll have our asses if we stay too long.”
“Exactly,” Malarkey sighed. “We’re sorry, Miss. We’ll be on our way.”
“Hey, what!?” Guarnere exclaimed before the other two bid farewell and apologized, leaving Guarnere to catch up.
Lora huffed as she watched them walk away, crossing the street when a jeep stopped and gestured for her to go.
She was now left to find the field, her purse in hand and an annoyed twinge in her chest. She continued on her walk with one thing in mind.
"Somebody need me too much, Somebody know me too well, Somebody pull me up short and put me through hell, And give me support for being alive" — Being Alive, Company, Stephen Sondheim.
Summary: Young, fresh-faced, Josephine Novák signs up to a Combat Medic for the United States Army. Imbued with nothing but good intentions and sweet words, she immediately gains the attention of Joseph Liebgott, hardened by life and closed off to those he doesn't trust.
Pairing: Joseph Liebgott x Medic!OC (Josephine Novák)
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Drama, all the things that come with Band of Brothers
Taglist: None!
Warnings: Time-period typical misogyny, Sobel, my terrible writing.
WC: 1.2k
A/N: All Czech and German are google translated, PLEASE feel free to correct me. Liebgott is in this for like... .8 secs, but dw, he'll be there more later.
West, Texas, 1942
"Vater! Musím jít! Zpozdíš mě!" Josephine plead, trying to pry her father's iron grip off of her arms, desperately trying to escape his fervent cheek kisses. (Father! I have to go! You're going to make me late!)
"Zlatíčko, musí stihnout letadlo. Vím, že ti bude naše drahá holčička chybět, ale musí jít." Her mother reasoned, finally loosening his grip and pulling her into a quick, but bone crushing hug. (Darling, she has to catch the plane. I know you'll miss our dear girl, but she has to go.)
After another round of cheek kisses from and to everyone, Josephine Novák rushed out the door of her small West, Texas home and down the street. Catching the bus at the last minute, she quickly paid the fare and gave directions for the newly constructed Waco Airport, which would be sending out just 1 plane for the nurses and medics-in-training to Camp Toccoa in blazing hot Georgia.
---
Camp Toccoa, Georgia, 1942
The plan ride was uneventful, besides the fact that the runway was barely completed and the plan shook like nothing she'd ever experienced. Touching down in Georgia, Josephine had never been so happy to see land again.
---
Colonel Sink's office was a room of beige. Beige walls, beige furniture, beige newspaper cutouts. The man in question sat behind his desk, squinting down at the paper Josephine had just handed him, her resumé, of sorts, with all her medical qualifications and previous experience.
"Well! This is wonderful, now we have 3 translators for Easy Company!"
"Easy Company, sir?"
"Yes. By far the finest company the army has to offer, paratroopers with the most efficient trainer at camp. Lieutenant Sobel will be leading you through physical training before you begin your jumps to earn your wings." Colonel Sink explained, a smile on his wrinkled face. "As you know, a woman in the force, although not unheard of in the case of nurses, is a rarity for Combat Medics. I suggest you keep your chin up, dear, and don't let anyone tell you you don't belong here. You're going to be a paratrooper and I trust you'll make me proud."
The words shot a pang through her heart, deeply reminding her of own father, who she was already beginning to miss. Saluting the man in front of her, she turned to the man who had greet her at the gate, a tall red-head with ice-blue eyes, aptly named Lieutenant Winters.
Winters led her out to the barracks, pointing out the various parts of the camp. As she followed behind his long strides, Josephine openly stared at her surroundings, noting quickly a group of men being screamed at by a man who reminded her of an asparagus.
"Now, since you're our only woman, you'll be showering at a later time than the men, alone." Winters explained, pointing to the showers. Josephine nodded, opening her mouth to ask a question before a barked command cut her off,
"WINTERS! We're running Curahee in 10! Get into your PT uniform!" The asparagus man shouted, stopping short in front of them as he gave her a short glance before doubling back, "Who's this?"
Saluting quickly, Josephine gave a quick introduction, "Josephine Novák, sir! I'm the new Combat Medic for Easy Company, sir!"
Lieutenant Sobel stared at her for a small moment, "Private Novák, get into your PT outfit, now! Just because you're a woman, you will recieve no special treatment!"
"Sir!"
Josephine took off running to the barracks, quickly depositing her stuff onto the emptied cot and pulling on the white t-shirt and black shorts that were just a little too small on her before running to catch up with boys that were walking towards a very intimidating hill. A few men turned to look behind them as her footsteps reached their ears,
"Alright. Who's broad followed them onto base?"
A few laughs tittered out of the men, but Josephine just smiled,
"Not a broad, your new Combat Medic, Josephine Novák, nice to meet ya!" She let those words settle over the men before she piped up again, "So, how far up is Currahee?"
"3 miles up, 3 miles down." They all said in unison, as if trained to do so. Josephine nodded, not too bothered. She loved running, although the track team at her school didn't have a girls section yet and they didn't allow her to join the boys, she always found time to run a couple of miles each day.
A young man fell back to walk next to her, his hand out, "Eugene Roe. Combat Medic. I was told we were gettin' anotha one, 'tho I can't say I was expectin' a girl."
Josephine just smiled, shaking his hand.
---
Josephine hated running.
When the men had said earlier that it was 3 miles up, she wasn't expecting the angle she'd be forced to essentially hike.
"NOVÁK! What kind of pace is this? Do you really think a woman can keep up in the Army at the rate you're going? You'd be better off shacking up with some 4F man and staying in the kitchen!" Sobel shouted as he fell into step just ahead of her. Josephine merely pursed her lips and continued running, not even bothering to glance at him.
It was his 4th time coming to yell at her, specifically. Each one had something to do with her being a woman or to do with her being useless.
"I shouldn't even have let you run the mountain! All women do is cry and complain! Are you going to cry, Private Novák?" Sobel taunted once more, this time garnering some quick glances from the men around her, each wondering the same, apparently. Josephine tilted her head, chin up, like Sink advised, a smile growing on her lips,
"No, sir."
---
Dinner that evening was disappointing but also not surprising. Some unknown meat slapped onto a sad piece of bread doused in a discrace to the name of gravy. Josephine, also unsurprisingly, found herself sitting alone.
All of the other Easy Company men sat at their own tables, sparing her only the occasional glance and look away, as low mutterings that she couldn't make out were broken only by barking laughter. It felt like highschool all over again. When the popular people would make it obvious they were talking about you, but not giving you enough to be upset about, so when you are, you look nuts.
Josephine payed no mind to them, however, simply pushing around her meal on her plate, staring at the table. The table jostled as a weight settled itself across from her, making her look up in hope of seeing a friendly face. Luckily for her, it was.
"You're a good runna, Novák." Was all Roe said as he sat down, commencing with eating his 'food' as the table he had just left stared over at him. Josephine smiled, seeing that was all he had to say, the quiet man he was.
Chancing a quick look at the table nearest her, a pair of harsh brown eyes met hers. Smiling shortly at him, she returned to her food.
---
A broad, huh.
She was pretty, Joseph Liebgott supposed, what with her big doe eyes and too-bright smile. God, what was she even doing here? She seemed too... nice.
Looking over Luz's shoulder at her table, he accidentally caught her eyes, the deep amber hue glowing in the lights of the mess hall. She smiled at him, forcing Liebgott's eyes away.
Too nice, he decided. She'd be out of here by the end of the month.
Summary: Lora finally gets to know some of those that she'll be working with, and to say she was pleasantly surprised wouldn't be the whole truth. However, in the mess, she finds herself acquainted with Lieutenant Winters, who isn't all that bad.
Word count: 1.8k
Content: talk of war duh, obligation to family and country, disagreements, we got some 1st degree yearners over here, lemme know if more!
a/n: does anyone still read oc fics? who knows. anyways, enjoy!
Lora sat at a wooden table with an intelligence officer, who had introduced himself as Lieutenant Nixon, and Winters.
They were exchanging unbearable smallchat, wasting time until the door opened. Lora felt her heart jump out of her chest. It was, however, much too late to back out at this point. Gosh, was she really doing this?
Getting involved in a war such as this felt like a leap into the void. All-consuming and much too large for her to make a difference, surely. But she had an obligation to both her family and country, and that was enough.
The stomp of boots and the screech of chairs resounded throughout the small, dull blue-walled room as both lieutenants rose to their feet with haste. Their hands were strained at their sides, faces angled towards the man who entered.
Turning her head to face him, she was very disappointed at first glance, and even felt a little bad. The man had large, close-together eyes and a long, narrow face. His mouth was stretched into an awkward line as he blinked, taking a quick breath and glancing at Lora.
Looking back at the two men, he straightened his shoulders ever so slightly. “As you were,” this captain - Sobel, as his nametag suggested - said. His voice was, in a way, wide. It was like someone’s voice when on the verge of a yawn.
He approached Lora, who rose to her feet without her bag and accepted the hand he outstretched. “I assume you met the other men?” he asked.
Lora could put together who ‘the other men’ were, and nodded. “Lieutenant Winters introduced himself yesterday, and I met Lieutenant Nixon today, sir.”
He nodded, a flash of something like pride or haughtiness appearing on his face at the formality used in her sentence. Sobel looked to the lieutenants, who seemed as though they just shared a look that’d get them some kind of reprimand or claim for insubordination. Their spines were straight, though, and they appeared to be model soldiers.
Sobel brushed it off - was this the norm? - and retracted his hand, returning it to his side. “Is your father here?”
Lora’s eyebrows drew together, a crease appearing on her temple. “My father?” she repeated, “...Captain Sobel, my father’s in Holland.”
Sobel sputtered, turning to Winters. “You told me they were both informants,” he hissed through clenched teeth.
“Sir, I said only Ms. Kramer would be in correspondence with us for the time being,” Winters corrected, his demeanor more proper and relaxed than that of his superior’s.
He floundered, thick eyebrows drawn tight. He remembered that they were in the presence of a woman and composed himself, though the tension in his face and rapid rise and fall of his chest betrayed him. “So your father won’t be here?”
“Uh,” Lora murmured, “no… no, he won’t. I have the same information as he does, however.”
He huffed, glancing away briefly, almost as if restraining himself. “...We’ll carry on with the meeting, then.”
Lora felt bad for judging Sobel mere minutes ago.
That sentiment was now erased entirely.
—
The discussion ended around one, and it went… fine. It wasn’t anything note-worthy, consisting of introductions and a quick debrief of what her job was, as if she didn’t know the details already.
Sobel was huffy for a little while, but regained his composure for the most part in a feeble attempt to remain civil. However, Lora soon learned that he seemed to thrive off of power trips and constantly worked to make someone feel less. She found it odd, but not entirely uncommon to see a man likely only five years her senior who thought it right to act like such a child. In front of important company, no less.
In spite of a captain who seemed to wield his title like a police would a baton, Lora found Winters and Nixon to be quite pleasant people. Both of the men were close to her in age and seemed like reasonable company.
“I’m home,” she called, closing the door to her and Eloise’s house.
Footsteps came from somewhere upstairs, a faint echo of ‘coming!’ accompanying the noise.
Eloise emerged from the landing, dressed in a more comfortable, lounge-wear dress with an easy-going smile on her face. This dress was one of Lora’s unspoken favourites; a blue that shimmered and danced like silk.
Eloise descended the steps and approached Lora, helping her to hang up her bag in a friendly, yet slightly unnecessary, gesture of kindness.
“How did the meeting go?” Eloise asked, hanging the blonde haired woman’s coat onto the rack. There was a sadness to her, as if there was something she wasn’t telling Lora; a sadness that wasn’t unlike her wrath the other day.
Lora sighed, slipping off her heels. “Alright, I suppose,” she muttered, “though that captain of theirs is a… well, something like a fool.”
“A fool in place of a captain?” Eloise smiled, already drifting towards the kettle that was placed on the stove.
Lora huffed, “I can put the kettle on, I’m not too knackered,” she said, but was dismissed by a flippant wave of Eloise’s hand.
“Anywho, as I was saying,” Eloise continued, dragging on a topic Lora would much rather leave behind, if yesterday was any example. “They’re Yanks, Lora, of course he’s a fool.”
“...There are good ones, you know. Two lieutenants; one of them is an intelligence officer. You’d like them, El.”
Eloise’s movements slowed as she placed down two cups, sighing. “Edward wouldn’t exactly like it if I were to be speaking with other men,” she muttered, “especially other military men.”
“One of them is married, Eloise. The other is simply kind, it’s not scandalous.”
“I know, I just…” Eloise trailed off, kneeling down to start the fire in the hearth of the stove. “You know, Lora.”
Unfortunately, she did.
—
SATURDAY, 1944
Lora sipped a cup of tea from the only café still operating. She leaned against a wall, looking at the soldiers passing by with boredom when a familiar face appeared to her left.
“Ms. Kramer?” Richard Winters said, crossing his arms and stopping beside her. She looked up, eyebrows raised.
“Call me Lora, Dick, it’s alright,” she replied plainly, turning her head away to look at the empty streets. “What are you doing here?”
“It’s a weekend, Lora,” he answered, leaning against the wall in a similar fashion that she had. “I don’t leave the base.”
“‘Don’t leave the base,’” she repeated, “why not? These soldiers are, are you not gonna join your men?”
He huffed, one corner of his small mouth twitching upwards. “I don’t want to be in a position where I can take from them or get too close. I’m their superior.”
She nodded, tilting her head to the side as she took another sip of her tea. Her free arm was crossed over the one holding the cup, the sleeves of her fraying wool jumper rubbing against each other. “...That makes sense.”
Silence lapsed; Lora wasn’t very good at smalltalk.
“...Does Captain Sobel always act the way he did in our meeting?”
Winters huffed a laughed, glancing at her. “What, ill-equipped to lead?”
She smiled a little, “I suppose that’s an apt description. …Are you going to answer the question, or…?”
“Oh,” he laughed quietly, “Yeah, he is. Everyone’s aware of it.”
“Everyone? Oh boy,” she sipped her tea, “any stories you can share?”
Dick smiled, though it seemed to be hesitant and unsure. “Ah, I’m not sure if I should.”
Lora shrugged, “I’m an informant, for Pete’s sake. I divulge information that’s incredibly sensitive; I deserve to get a good story back, no?”
He shifted, his arms uncrossed. “Well, then you have to make sure this doesn’t leave our conversation.”
“You’ve got my word, Dick.” Nora replied, voice flat.
Winters sighed through his nose, his voice lowering in volume significantly. “We went out on a training mission to ‘capture an enemy’. Now, I was leading my own squad, meaning I wasn’t there. This is all alleged.”
“Alleged or not; I’m intrigued, Yank.” Lora tilted her head a bit and sipped her tea.
He smiled, ever-present lines around his mouth deepening ever so slightly. “Sobel read his map wrong, and ran into a cow pen. One of my - his - men imitated one of the Majors from behind a bush and ordered him to cut the fence. He did,” Dick huffed, “and was later confronted with the news that the Major who was imitated was on leave… in London.”
Lora laughed under her breath, nodding. “Really?”
“So I’ve heard,” he nodded.
“Gosh. I can’t say I’m surprised,” she said mirthfully, sighing. “How do you lot tolerate him?”
“Uh,” he crossed his arms again, “some complain. There’s not much anyone can do.”
She nodded in quiet understanding. Sobel was exhausting, and she’d only known him for a day. She couldn’t imagine having to follow a buffoon who couldn’t read a map during a training exercise (for new soldiers, no less!) into a battle. “Some of the men are surely thinking of staging something, right?”
“It’s likely,” Dick nodded. “But I haven't heard of anything. Though, I’m sure Nix… Lieutenant Nixon,” He clarified the nickname, “would tell me if something were to happen if I hadn’t already picked up any whispers.”
“Whispers, huh? Do the men gossip?” Her tea was momentarily forgotten, intrigued by the thought of soldiers sharing the latest talk behind each other's backs.
“Well, I’d say it’s not so much ‘gossip’ as it is bad-mouthing, but you can’t blame the men most of the time.”
“Military life, yeah?”
“Yeah,” he muttered, “I-”
“Lora!”
A voice came from the right, high and drawn out. Lora looked over, making eye contact with Vivienne who came rushing to her side. She gave a lasviscious grin to Winters. “I’ll just steal her, yeah? Is that alright with you?”
Vivienne didn’t wait for a reply, whisking a flustered and confused Lora away. She placed her tea onto a table outside the shop, her tea having gone cold anyways.
“Lora, it’s book club time, silly! You haven’t forgotten, huh? Has it already left that pretty head of yours?” Vivienne’s head tilted up, her bottom lip jutted out.
“Really? I’m sorry, the time slipped away,” the woman in question answered, skimming past the compliment. Vivienne was one to shower her friends in fluffy words and sweet nicknames.
“Slipped away, hm? Talking to that handsome tree over there?” Vivienne grinned, lips stretching across slightly crooked teeth.
Lora rolled her eyes, catching up with Vivienne. “It’s nothing like that. I’m hardly interested. We simply work together.”
“That’s how all romances start, my love. You’ll see,” Vivienne let go of Lora’s elbow, walking ahead of her on the cobbled street.
“‘You’ll see’? What does that mean?”
Vivienne didn’t reply, simply walking a little faster. Her long, brown pleated skirt flared up a bit behind her.
Summary: Sofieke Lora Kramer, an informant for the American army, is now in cahoots with Easy Company's lieutenant. However, it seems that a friend she holds close isn't so willing to support this endeavor.
Content: war (obviously), implications of death, mention of domestic abuse, fighting, out of character characters??? idk, gay..... idk... it might be a little gay.... just a little.... hehe........., 40’s slang!!! (chum=friends basically, ‘bod’=body, though i think these are obvious)
Word count: 2k
A/N: I introduce you to MORE ocs!!!!!!!!! should this be a series??? who knowssssss............... (you guys know pls tell me)
Aldbourne, England, 1943
“If it’s violence they want, then the politicians can duel each other!” Eloise shouted, pacing in the kitchen of their home. The look of anger upon her face did not suit her delicately sculpted features.
“You think so?” Questioned Lora, an eyebrow raised and a divot appearing on her forehead. She sat at the dining table, looking up at the woman. Eloise was a passionate girl. She knew her ideals and adhered to them, a manual written from the early days of her childhood to the new years of her adulthood.
Hearing a question in place of an agreement only served to shovel coal on the fire within the cavity of her chest. Eloise’s fists were clenched at her side, chest heaving as her feet made an abrupt stop, the sound lingering in the flat with a stark finality. She looked down at Lora from the slope of her nose, almost as if thinking that she was to be perceived as superior at that moment. “Yes. Why are you looking at me like that?”
The other woman sighed, her elbows resting on the table. Bare, dry fingers laced together as she cocked her head. “It’s romantic, it is.”
“Romantic!” Eloise sputtered, her eyes wide. “You think an absence of war is romantic!? I’m not silly, Lora!”
“I know you’re not!” Lora’s head snapped up, her eyes taking on that wide, snappy gaze and her voice gaining a whiny lilt. “But it’s simply- it’s not realistic. No one wants a war, but-”
“But what, Lora? Hm? At first the Americans, the Yanks, were being rowdy in America. Now they’re here, in our town,” she hit the counter with her fist, “in our houses! You and your father have all of these dreams of being these… these clever informants- honestly, you- you’re contributing to a machine!”
“Can we please not get into a tiff over this?” Lora muttered, a hand rubbing from her forehead to her cheek.
Eloise scoffed, looking away. “A tiff. You don’t care about anything, Lora.”
Lora leaned forward, her jaw dropped. “Eloise-”
Before she could even begin her thought, a knock rang out against the front door of the house. From outside it, they could hear the telltale jingle of bracelets and a soft call of ‘girls?’. Lora looked at a red cheeked, flustered Eloise with what could perhaps be described as disappointment; though the look was, in Lora’s nature, mostly inscrutable.
Eloise huffed through her nose, looking to the door briefly. “You get it.” She said, a hand on her forehead as she turned away from both Lora and the door.
The other woman, rolling her eyes, stood and carried herself in long, confident strides to the entryway. Turning the knob, she was met with the familiar face of Mrs. Jones and a tall man behind her.
Lora raised a brow, tilting her head to get a view of the man and noticing the American uniform he wore. Eloise’s husband, Edward, was a navigator for the RAF. (He seemed practically useless in most reports, bless his soul, but she really had no empathy for the man.) After seeing the other British infantry men in their brimmed helmets and pocket-ridden khaki as they left town, the uniform became embedded behind her eyes. This man was clearly American.
“Mrs. Jones,” Lora muttered. “Afternoon.”
The older woman smiled, “good afternoon, Lo. This man was looking for you. He’s a lieutenant.” She raised her brows, head angled so that the soldier couldn’t see her cheeky smile. Her full cheeks raised, brightening like apples.
Lora nodded, lips twitching upwards ever so slightly. It was wiped away as she glanced back into the house where Eloise was now tidying up. She always did so when she felt upset or lost. Guilt wormed its way into Lora’s ribcage, settling there and pulling against her diaphragm.
Shaking off the feeling, she steadied herself. Looking back to the lieutenant, Lora nodded. “Good afternoon,” she inhaled carefully. “I’m Lora Kramer. My father and I are informants.”
The lieutenants, a ginger man, nodded. “We heard from Mrs. Jones,” he said. “I’m First Lieutenant Richard Winters.” he smiled, thin lines framing his small mouth and bright blue eyes staring back at Lora’s brown ones.
Mrs. Jones huffed, stepping away. “Well, I’ll be off. I’ll see you later for tea, Lo.”
“Goodbye, Mrs. Jones,” Lora replied, nodding at the woman in confirmation. This Richard WInters exchanged brief words with Mrs. Jones, thanking her and wishing her goodbye, before returning his attention to the informant. His hands were tucked behind his back, spine poised carefully and upright.
Winters stuck out a callused hand for Lora to shake. She accepted the gesture, shaking his hand firmly. After they pulled away, the man spoke up. “We’ll be running training exercises within the hour, so I’m afraid we can’t have any sort of formal meeting today, Mrs.-”
“I’m sorry,” Lora interrupted, a hand on the doorframe. “I’m not married.”
“Right. My apologies, Ms. Kramer. Colonel Sink would like for us to ideally start discussing information tomorrow,” he continued, his tone almost robotic.
Lora looked him up and down, taking a deep inhale. “That’s alright. That…” she glanced back briefly. “That works.”
They bid farewell, and Lora shut the door again.
The conversation itself was awkward and short lived, and Lora found herself slightly dreading the amount of smalltalk she’d have to endure the next day.
Silence fell over the house, teeming with something tense and on the verge of explosion.
“Eloise,” Lora said softly, walking over as if stepping on eggshells. The old hardwood of the floor seemed to groan louder than it usually did.
Eloise stopped her quick, measured movements as she scrubbed the counter with a damp washcloth. She put the rag aside, taking a breath that reached Lora as a shaky, stiff thing.
“Oh, Eloise.” the woman sighed, walking forward with a little more urgency. She ended up behind the brown-haired woman, a hand hovering over her covered bicep.
A blue dress covered Eloise’s figure, one that would usually be accompanied by some kind of tweed cardigan and pretty necklace. Eloise dressed in exuberant colours, even during the war; the girl had enough clothing in her wardrobe. Seeing her was like a breath of fresh air, but the brittle nature of her microscopic quivering and hidden face felt suffocating. “Look at me, dear.”
Eloise turned slowly, the corners of her eyes red in the dim light and her lips sucked in against her teeth. Her throat bobbed as she saw Lora, the taller woman shielding her from the windows facing the street outside. “I don’t mean to… I…”
“I know,” Lora muttered meekly, searching her eyes for something that wasn’t raw fear. She grasped her shoulders, a hand wrapping around the top of her back and another coming to rest on the dip in her spine.
Eloise stepped closer, resting her forehead against the hard surface of Lora’s clavicle as her shoulders shook more freely. Her own hands rested on the sides of Lora’s figure, ghosting over her ribs. “I don’t want to fight with you. Edward, is- my… my husband is away, and you…” she choked on a breath. “Not you too. Please, God, not you too.” Her voice grew hoarse, depserate, the words tearing her throat as they came out.
Lora felt as though someone had dug a knife into her chest and twisted it, the sentences she spoke sending whispers of guilt down her spine. Every word felt like watching someone scratch at a scab, unbearable but uncontrollable.
“Nothing will happen,” she muttered. Her head rested on top of Eloise’s, blonde hair mixing with brown. “I promise. I’ll stay out of the war, the fighting, as much as I can.” Her words were as much of the truth as she was willing to bear, but they also came out as a reassurance for herself, too; her own hand comforting the raging beat of her heart.
“You will,” Eloise said firmly, without room for protest.
“...I will, Eloise. For you. Always for you.”
The brown haired woman sniffled, nodding. “Good. I… I don’t know what I’d do if I lost you. You’ve found a place in my heart and I can’t rid you of it.” Eloise whispered, as if afraid the words would escape the confines of the house and be heard by a passer by. As if it could be interpreted as something it was not.
They remained in a forgiving embrace, held together until Eloise pulled away.
“Thank you, chum.” She smiled, eyes still watery. “I trust you, Lora. …But I’m afraid.”
Lora’s hands drifted to the other girl’s upper arms, grounding her. “I’m giving information. I promise, I’d never insert myself somewhere dangerous; somewhere that threatens either of us. …If I did, you’d pull me out by the collar of my shirt.”
Eloise’s smile widened, endearing, lovely lines appearing at the edges of her lips. “Of course I would, woman.”
Lora snickered, sniffling as they hugged one last time before reluctantly separating. “I’ll put the kettle on.”
—
The next day, the clouds covered the blue skies and filtered, murky sunlight passed through them.
“Look at all the new bods,” Vivienne snickered, a hand covering her mouth painted in red lipstick. She dressed up today, her dark brown hair let down from rollers and pinned up neatly. She painted her skin with what little makeup she had left and wore clothing made of materials which were now under strict rationing.
“Viv!” Eloise admonished the girl, laughing. Eloise was dressed in a mild green tweed coat with a joyfully yellow dress beneath it. Her stockings were the ones you’d see in a magazine of before in-place rations, not on a real girl, and her shoes were black flats. They would usually be polished to perfection, but now had a little hint of dullness on the tips. “You’re awfully noisy.”
Vivienne laughed, pulling the girl by her elbow. “And you’re too uptight, live a little!”
Lora tagged behind Eloise as the three girls walked along, watching American soldiers walk about the town. Paratroopers, they’re called.
“I’m a married woman, miss. Besides… I don’t like military boys.”
“Your bloody husband is a ‘military boy’; besides, you hardly like your husband, ‘El! Does it truly matter that much?”
Vivienne let go of Eloise and turned around, accidentally bumping into a soldier who was jogging behind someone else. They stumbled, sending Vivienne forward and the other man back.
She straightened and turned around, facing an American soldier with downturned eyes and brown hair. The name ‘Malarkey’ was printed on a cheap piece of white fabric in blocky letters, the nametage sewn on the front of his uniform. “I’m so sorry, ma’am, I’m in a- a bit of a rush here,” he apologised.
She shrugged with one shoulder, grinning after she caught her bearings and giving him a slow once-over. “That’s alright,” Vivenne said cheekily, brushing off her dark blue skirt.
“Sorry again, miss. Goodbye,” He ran off, returning to whatever task he had set out for him.
“Malarkey,” Vivienne said in a faux-seductive voice, earning a smile from Eloise and a raised brow from Lora. “Does that not mean bullshit?”
Eloise’s jaw dropped and Lora’s eyes widened. Neither of the girls expected that.
“Vivienne!” Eloise admonished for a second time, slapping her shoulder.
As the two girls bantered, Lora checked her small, silver watch; fourty past eleven. She had later agreed to meet at twelve with an intelligence officer she hadn’t yet met as well as the Lieutenant from the other day and the Captain of this E company.
“Girls,” Lora called, looking up. “I have a meeting at twelve . You can keep going along,” she said, giving a small smile. “I’ll likely be done around one.”
Eloise looked almost upset, a flash of something disappointed filling her eyes like a shooting star; fleeting, but noticeable if you know where to look.
“I won’t be long,” Lora added softly.
Vivienne grinned. “Go be the intelligent girl you are, Lo. Us sophisticated ladies will continue our stroll,” she replied, looping her arm around Eloise’s as she gave Lora a final wink.
Lora nodded, smiling with a final little goodbye before she turned around and crossed the busy, soldier-filled street, her purse clutched to her side.
She was told to arrive at a large building that’d been transformed to be somewhat of a headquarters. Yanks walking in and out of the building, discussing things with papers or going for a cigarette.
Lora spotted a familiar, tall redhead standing next to the pillared entrance, his hand behind his back. They met up, exchanged quick words, and entered the building.
Tomorrow Never Knows - Band of Brothers x ocs ⛅☀️❤️🪲
Sofieke Lora Kramer, an informant for the American armies, is now in cahoots with Easy Company's lieutenant. However, it seems that a friend she holds close isn't so willing to support this endeavor.
You'll See - chapter 2 of 'Tomorrow Never Knows'
Lora finally gets to know some of those that she'll be working with, and to say she was pleasantly surprised wouldn't be the whole truth. However, in the mess, she finds herself acquainted with Lieutenant Winters, who isn't all that bad.
Reader slips up on a robbery and is understandably upset; father-figure Hosea comes to the rescue.
Everything Eats and is Eaten (Time is Fed) - series ☁️, ⛅
After the falling out of the gang, you're left wondering many things, but a big one is "what next"? Well, this is what. Follow YOU as you discover secrets about the gang in times past, your own family, and more!!
Red Dead Redemption 2 & teen!fem!reader
Chapter 1
Chapter 2 - Runaway
Chapter 2.5 (unnecessary/a little side-fic) - She’s Leaving Home
Chapter 3 - Time and Place
Chapter 4 - I Still Miss Someone
Chapter 5 - I'll Never Get Out of This World Alive
Chapter 6 - Sunday Morning Coming Down
Chapter 7 - :)
Chapter 8 - I Walk the Line
Chapter 9 - Five Brothers
Chapter 10 - I Think of You
Chapter 11 - Keep On the Sunny Side
*****Chapters without a link are being written/going to be written!*****
