Just watched The Green Mile and I think I have an actual allergy towards fancying characters with anything more than 5 minutes of screen time because why is this who I came out of it with a crush on
Heyaaa I saw that you are writing for private Jackson so I’ve come to kindly ask you this 🙏:
Could you write a fic where there is a female reader who is a soldier who joined the squad and she falls in love with private Jackson and he falls in love with her? And omg please include the scene where he is abt to be killed by the tank but she saves him by destroying the tank( she‘s a super badass) with a bazooka and they survive till the end( maybe you could also include a little Timeskip at the end where they‘re married?🥹)
I‘m sorry if this is too long it‘s just that there are not many fics about Jackson and I love that man 😔🫶🏻
A/n: I finally got the motivation (and time) to write this and MAY have gotten a little carried away 😭 Anyways!! Hope you enjoy this! I don't mention them being married, but I'd say it's implied?? Or really, up to interpretation.
Cold soil reached around his boot soles, his rifle hanging heavily off one shoulder.
The other soldiers were conversing amongst each other, making jokes and backhanded comments to the new guy.
What was his name again? Daniel mused. Dunham, or something like that.
Daniel shrugged, he couldn't be bothered to remember his name right away. He'd hardly met the guy.
“Put me anywhere up to a mile near Hitler with a clear shot,” Daniel suddenly chimed in as the conversation shifted to the war, “and we'll be packin’ up because the wars over.”
A few of the men snickered, and you joined them.
The noise caught Daniel's attention, who’d only thrown you a stray glance or two in passing. He turned his gaze just quick enough to see the smile that graced your lips and the crinkle of your eyes.
For a brief moment, you met gazes, everything around Daniel dulled as he allowed himself to finally get a good look at you.
Your uniform was dirty, as was everyone else's. Bits of mud and sand collected on your chest, elbows, and end of your trousers, on your blouse and right at your socks, which barely peeked out. As you walked, your gun was cradled by your fingers casually, the stock resting just hardly on your lower waist to where your arms fully extended. A lot more casually than the other new guy, who held onto his with white-knuckled strength, swinging it and pointing it rather recklessly– something Irwin had snapped at him for already.
Suddenly, his foot hit a patch of particularly uneven and mucky ground, forcing himself from his haze as he was forced to avert his gaze. He glared at his now muddied boot before casting one last look at you and continuing on.
Little did he know, this small, seemingly obscure moment was the first of many.
The squad was resting in a church for the night and you were seated on one of the pews. Miller had made rounds and told everyone to go to sleep. Daniel had been asleep, atleast at first, but he'd woken as the others drifted off.
Only, Daniel wasn't alone. You were sat up slightly, head poking up over the back of a pew. A nearby candle illuminated your soft features. Daniel was laying on his side, supposed to be sleeping but his eyes were glued to you.
He examined the highlights of your cheeks, which were stained with an orange glow of flame, serving to accentuate the contour of your face.
“You're staring.” You spoke up quietly and Daniel nearly jumped out of his skin.
You turned to look at him, the light in your eyes shimmered like precious stones, glistening in the flickering light of the dim candles. Your face had a small, amused smile present and Daniel felt his heart flutter.
Snapping out of his small reverie, a sheepish smile creeped onto Daniel's face, tugging at the corners of his lips. He had been caught red handed. “Sorry,” he murmured, thick southern accent a sincere and apologetic tone. Though, he wasn't really sorry. You were hard not to admire, but he wasn’t about to go about telling you, or himself for that matter, that.
Silence settled back over the two of you. You didn't turn away, and Jackson was thankful for that.
The only sound in the church was the quiet hiss of a candle as it touched its own melted wax and the noises produced by that of the others, a soft murmur- a shuffle of clothes from those asleep and those awake. It was serene, in an odd way. The hellish battlefield outside dulled by the warm and welcoming church.
After a while, Daniel gathered his courage to speak again, “You look tired.”
You simply nodded, confirming his suspicions while Daniel watched the way your hair shifted with the action. Your gaze turned down to your hands, where you picked at your nails. “I am. Just can't sleep.”
Daniel wondered if the sudden nail-picking was a nervous tick. “How come?” He questioned.
Shoulders lifting slightly, you shrugged in reply, “I'm not entirely sure. Might be nerves. Might be my mind.”
The blond haired boy nodded. He understood. It was something he struggled with himself. He was struggling with it now.
“How come you’re still awake?” You inquired.
“Same reason,” Daniel replied simply. “I wasn't before, though.”
A voice somewhere across the church someone hissed out a “Shh!” and you and him stopped talking.
Daniel observed as slowly, you stood from your spot on the pew. Taking a moment to stretch, arms reaching over your head and a yawn falling from your lips. You ambled the few steps it took to reach where he was.
Without warning you sat down next to him, some part if your gear clinking against the ground before you drew your knees to your chest. Daniel sat up with you, blanket he'd used falling to his lap.
Quietly, you began conversing again. Daniel smiled a little at the notion. You talked about anything and everything– where you were from, your family, your school years, your time in basic. Not a thing was spared. And truthfully, Daniel didn't mind. It was nice hearing you talk, your voice drew him in until he was entirely absorbed with what you were saying and clinging onto everything you said.
You asked him questions, too. Asked about his home life. What he did before the war. What he'd planned to do after.
He was mid sentence, answering a question of yours, when he felt something on his shoulder. He stopped mid sentence, glancing down and seeing you passed out.
A small smile lit up his face. He slowly and cautiously opted to lean back to sit against the wall, providing somewhere comfier to be.
The only noise he earned was a small murmur, causing him to freeze while his breath involuntarily ceased. You didn't stir awake, and Daniel sighed in relief. He relaxed, feeling his own drowsiness creeping up through his system, clawing its way up to reach his eyelids.
Together on the floor, thats how sleep greeted the two of you. Daniel eventually dozed off, head resting on top of yours gently.
The squad kneeled around a wounded Irwin. Bullet holes punched through his skin while blood oozed from the gaping holes. Someone grabbed their canteen, pouring water over his blood-stained stomach while wiping their hands along the skin. Their efforts were in vain when in a few seconds his stomach was red again. No matter how many times they wiped, the blood just kept coming. Another soldier poured sulfa powder on the wounds.
Daniel kneels at his head, supporting his neck and cradling his head while he looks at his own wounds.
“Tell us how to fix you,” Upham speaks, standing a little bit away while Irwin squirms in pain.
The young boy stammered that he'd like some morphine, wincing while someone complied, giving him a shot of morphine.
“I don't wanna die,” Irwin whimpers, voice frail and unlike anything he's ever heard from the medic before.
Someone shushes him softly, murmuring comforting words to him, but Daniel's too absorbed to recall who.
“Give him another one,” He whispers, watching Horvath give him another shot of the analgesic.
Daniel swallows thickly, watching helplessly while Irwin bleeds to death slowly, his life leaving him like water from a glacier, ebbing away slowly.
“Mama,” Irwin suddenly whimpers, and he feel the medic start to panick. “I wanna go home. I wanna go home”
Irwin lays his head back, allowing himself to go limp against Daniels palms that cradle the nape of his neck and lower half of his head. “Mama.” he says again, though it gurgles from his throat like a drowned man, and his eyes droop.
Finally, he goes completely quiet and limp, his eyes glazing over. His chest freezes and face goes blank.
He's gone.
Irwin, is dead.
Daniel stands up, Mike following not far behind as they storm up the hill. Reiben, who'd already left the scene earlier, beats on one of the still alive German soldiers. He kicks him before wrestling his collar into his hands and lifting him up to eye level. Daniel and Mike join him, landing blow after blow to his body and face.
He's angry, upset that Irwin died. Everyone is.
“Jackson,” Captain Miller speaks up, having trudged up the hill with the rest of the squad to stand behind them, “You’re hit.”
Daniel panics, eyes meeting a red patch on his bicep. He sighs in relief, realizing it's just a nick. Captain Miller orders him to get it cleaned and dressed.
He fights to pull his uniform off and reach the wound. In his peripheral, Daniel sees you step in front of him.
“Here,” you murmur, eyes meeting his. Daniel notices the teary, near-tears look in your eyes. Slowly, your hands move to help unbutton his wool tunic, “let me help.”
He doesn't say a word, standing still while his hands lower, allowing you to work freely on his arm. Your presence fills him with a strong sense of calm, forcing his anger to melt.
You reach into a bag on your hip. It's Irwins. You must've grabbed it while Daniel was running up the hill to lay his fists on the German.
At the mental mention of the man, a burst of fury ignites deep in his chest. His eyes leave your figure to glare daggers at the man.
He is only brought back to the moment when you pour some water from your canteen onto his wound, wiping your hands around the cut before opening a pack of sulfa powder on the open gash.
Unwinding a ribbon of thin bandage, you begin wrapping his arm. Your movements are delicate and precise.
Once you've finished with the wound on his arm you reach down and grab his hands. They're stained red, evidence of Irwin's death clinging to him. You bring your canteen up again, dumping some water into his palms. “Rub,” You instruct him, and he does. He keeps rubbing while you add the appropriate amount of water until most of the blood is gone.
“Thank you,” Daniel says after you've finished. He notices the way your hands linger on his, perhaps for a moment too long. There's a gushy feeling in his stomach and he wonders if it was intentional.
He doesn't get a chance to contemplate any further before you're pulling away, hands falling away (which Daniel feels the action force a frown to his features) and sauntering off without another word.
What had started out as a quirked eyebrow because ‘they had a new squad member.. and she was a woman’ had somehow, in some way, shifted into the strongest rush of adoration he'd ever felt for someone.
And you were seemingly clueless. That was the thing– you just kept on doing what you were doing and Daniel couldn't help but become absolutely enamoured by you. Drawn to you like a moth to a flame. He couldn't resist, even if he tried.
Like now. There's some singer playing over a gramophone, and Daniel can faintly hear it from his high up perch in the clock tower.
He watched you from afar. It wasn't impossible to spot you, even if he was where he was.
However, the moment didn't last long. He, from his high perch, noticed the large German group rolling into town. Quickly, he signalled down to captain Miller, watching as everyone on the ground dispersed.
Screeching filled the streets. The side of a track came into view and you realized it to be one of the tank.
“Shit,” you muttered, ducking into cover as it rolled into town.
You looked sideways, finding the rocket launcher the team had bestowed you lying on its side.
The tank screeched to a halt, swaying where it stood. It fired off a few shots, the sound of them crackling like lightning in rapid succession.
You peeked over the top of your cover, watching as the tank slowly began pointing to the sky. Following its angle, you found the only thing it could be shooting at. The bell tower.
Picking up the heavy weapon you aimed it carefully towards the tank. You only had one shot at this. The side of the track, which was fully exposed to you, would be your best bet.
You pulled the trigger. The explosive round shot from the barrel with a whoosh, leaving you no time to react as you were met with an explosion of fiery orange and red. Shrapnel flew past in chunks, ranging from big to small.
The explosion drew attention to yourself and before you knew it, gunshots were raining down on your position. You dived to the floor as the pile of rubble you hid behind were pelted with shots, dust flying up.
A few cracks– one at a time, but quick in succession – filled your ears. You recognized it to be sniper fire, turning your head to watch as a handful of the firing soldiers fell. Taking advantage of the covering fire, you bolted behind one of the buildings. You hugged the rocket launcher to your heaving chest with your rifle slung over your shoulder.
You set the large tube down, grabbing your rifle and firing off a few shots.
The battle raged on around you, until you were eventually forced to retreat to the bridge.
Mike Horvath was shot, and soon after so was Captain Miller. Mellish and Upham was nowhere to be seen, Daniel was still in the bell tower, Reiben dived for cover, and Ryan was crying, rocking in fear as the world exploded around him.
You leaped to your feet, standing from your cover because you'd be damned if James Ryan were to die now after all the sacrifice. You quickly grabbed hold of him when everyone began to fall back. He didn't protest, only followed you as you gripped his sleeve and dashed.
There was a sharp sting in your calf and it caused you to stumble in your step. You glanced back to see red coating the back of your leg. You'd been shot? Thankfully, when you stumbled, James wasn't completely incompetent and was able to keep you standing. Together, you ran for cover.
Suddenly, there was a roar overhead. A glint of silver in the sky followed by the thunderous shots of cannons. The tank that was crossing the bridge blown to smithereens.
Someone cried out of joy while the P-51’s did a few laps on the German foot soldiers. The battle was coming to an end.
But your mind wasn't on the battle anymore. It was on Daniel. Where was he? How was he?
You scanned through the growing mass. Was he here? Was he alive?
The thought that maybe he wasn't still alive– that he was another casualty like Caparzo, Irwin, and now Mellish, Horvath, and Miller, sent a chill up your spine.
Quivering, you fought to calm yourself.
‘Maybe he was still in the clock tower and hadn't climbed down yet’ you told yourself.
But that only worked so long. The battle had been over for a while now. 15 minutes, you figured.
You scanned the area again, feeling an uneasiness building in the pit of your stomach.
But there– through the small crowd, there he stood. His face had a small splatter of blood, but besides that and a little grime from the previous journey he was unscathed.
A sigh of relief tumbled from your lips and you found your feet stumbling to him. The pain in your calf seared up your leg, causing you pain, discomfort, and a limp as you walked.
Panic crosses Daniel's face, his usual observant self not failing to notice your injury. A sheepish smile creeps across your face as he meets you halfway.
“I got it saving private Ryan,” you said, feeling oddly guilty under his gaze.
He just stares, not saying a word in reply, but you notice the way his eyes glide across your face. Eventually, his gaze stops at your own. You notice the concern first, being that it's as evident as a red flower in a green field. There's a sense of relief that swims in his gaze and lingers in his features, however. It's the way his muscles relax, even if it's just in the slightest. How his shoulder drops and a deep exhale leaves his lips.
With the lack of respondence, you're starting to feel nervous. “It's not bad, I promise. I'll get a medic to check on it–”
You've barely finished what you've said before suddenly he's there. Planting his lips against yours, smoothing They're slightly cracked and dry, but you don't care. It sends a rush straight to your stomach, fireworks explode like grenades. The touch of one of his hands to gently cup your cheek has you subconsciously leaning into the pads of his calloused fingers. His other hand holds your waist gently while he–
The moment is shattered instantly. You shift your weight, accidentally placing the weight of your body onto your injured foot. Wincing, you withdraw with a hiss. “My leg,” you offer when his eyes ignite with fear, hoping to explain yourself.
Daniel sighs, leaning his forehead against yours. He closes his eyes momentarily.
“When the war is over, come home with me,” he suggests after a minute. He opens his eyes, gazing into yours. “Please,” he pleads, “come to Tennessee with me. I want to do this with you. I want to be with you and do these kinds of things. I wouldn't rather it be anyone else.”
You smile. It's like a dream come true, actually. “As long as it's with you, I'll go anywhere,” you murmur, moving to place another kiss on his lips.
The radio hums quietly, filling your home with music. You're in the kitchen, washing dishes.
The first song ends, and you hardly notice the next song that comes on.
‘Nous nous aimions bien tendrement,’ the radio belts, and you vaguely recognize the tune as familiar. But from where?
You stop what you're doing and listen, withdrawing your hands from the sink while trying to remember where you'd heard this before.
‘Tu es partout car tu es dans mon coeur’
‘Tu es partout car tu es mon bonheur,’
It instantly snaps once you've heard half the chorus.
It's the french song from Ramelle. The song transports you three years back. A time when you're back there in the ruined town. Sitting on the stairs near the gramophone, sun on your face, while the french music fills your ears. The calm before the storm. And it's just as vivid in your mind as the day it occurred.
Daniel comes into the kitchen, his face looking curious. “What's this?” He asks upon hearing the french music.
You've lit up, crossing the floor to him. “It's the song from Ramelle,” you murmur, a soft smile on your face.
For a few more moments the song carries on, and Daniel pauses to listen and identify the music, too.
“Dance with me?” You ask. It's impossible for Daniel to resist when you've already intertwined your hands with his.
He nods and slowly you begin swaying around the kitchen.
Daniel's arms lower to circle your waist. Your own arms reach up to rest on his shoulders.
The world around you doesn't matter anymore. Not when you're like this. When he's looking at you like that. With such a fondness present in his wonderful blue eyes while he takes you in. How his eyes draw you in, committing you to memory. The contour of your face. The way your eyes crinkle slightly. He stares down at you with something you wouldn't ever doubt was love.
And you stared back into his eyes with just the equal amount of love, for you were absolutely smitten for the blond haired boy. Perhaps you had been since you'd locked eyes over a joke and a laugh in a field
Edward Norton walks his dog between Barry Pepper and Philip Seymour Hoffman on the streets of New York City in The 25th Hour (2002). It was filmed in Manhattan and Brooklyn, El Paso, Austin, and other Texas locations.
