Hi, everyone! As a quick introduction, I go by Meggie. I love BoB, MOTA, and TP -- so much so that I legit watch them in rotation (when i finish one show, I move on to the next 2 before coming back full circle!) I also love writing and love getting your feedback and requests! Outside of writing and HBOwar, I love animals and the beach (clearly) and love being outside! I hope you enjoy my writing and feel free to send requests or just say hi! <3
Requests: I take all kinds of requests for many different characters! My tops are Liebgott, Nixon, Roe, and Bucky, but I'm open to writing for whoever you want! Just send me a general idea and your desired character! I try to get to my requests ASAP, but they can take longer depending on my schedule, and I go through them based on when I receive them!
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Band of Brothers
General:
Something Worth Living For -- Easy Co. boys x reader
BOB/MOTA Boys Reacting to You Joining the War Effort
Cooking for the HBOWar Boys for the First Time
Joe Liebgott:
Keep it Down -- Liebgott x F!Reader
The Bet -- Liebgott x F!Reader (smut)
Kept Promises -- Liebgott x Reader
Quiet Confessions -- Liebgott x F!Reader
Not the Jealous Type -- Liebgott X F!reader
Edward Tipper:
Caught Between Laps -- Tipper x Reader (smut)
Lewis Nixon:
Intelligence Officers -- Nixon x F!Reader (smut)
Ships:
Death of a Ladies' Man -- Babenere
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MOTA
General:
BOB/MOTA Boys Reacting to You Joining the War Effort
Request: @flowers-and-fichte Hey! Thanks for the Chuckler headcanons! They're so cute! I've got another request :) it's BoB-related this time. Winters with a reader who is fluent in German and teaches him to speak it. And then one day he surprises her by speaking it (wedding proposal, just starts talking in it out of nowhere, whatever) to her and it's so freaking cute. Thanks! Take your time :)
A/N: i loved this concept!! thanks for the request! hbo owns the rights, and this is about the fictional portrayal of easy company on the show. nothing but love and respect for veterans on this blog!
Word Count: 4k
Warnings: none!
When (y/n) first signed up to be an intelligence translator for the Airborne, she had no idea what was in store for her. Jumping out of planes was expected, but what she couldn’t have expected was a red-headed man named Dick Winters. Nix introduced them in Aldbourne when she joined the company, and something about the Pennsylvanian struck her differently than the other men she’d met. Most eyed her warily, but the man she met that day flashed her a kind smile and a firm handshake, sending an unexpected warmth through her.
“So you’re our new interpreter,” he stated, his polite eyes never leaving hers as he shook her hand.
(Y/n) nodded, her lips quirking into a grin. “Yes, sir. (Y/n) (y/l/n).
“Dick Winters,” he replied, releasing her hand after a few moments. “Welcome to Easy. Please let me know if you need anything.”
Before she could respond, Nix called out to her. “We’ve gotta get to battalion, come on.”
With a final nod to Winters, she saluted and turned on her heel, walking over to Lew who was sitting in the driver's seat of a jeep. “So, you met Dick,” he announced, shifting the jeep into drive. “Whatcha think?”
(Y/n) scoffed lightly as she gazed at the rows and rows of tents that lined the airfield. “I only spoke like two sentences to him, Lew.”
Luckily, Lew and (y/n) grew up in neighboring towns in New Jersey and knew each other through mutual friends. Everyone knew the Nixons for their nitration plant that was in Edison, but (y/n) knew the Nixon boy as the teenager who took her best friend to the prom and got so drunk that he threw up on her beautiful blue dress. Betty still hadn’t gotten over it by the time (y/n) left for basic.
“No sparks flying yet?” he grinned, elbowing her shoulder playfully as he drove. “Give it time. I know it will.”
“What is wrong with you, Lewis?” she asked, her voice tinged with frustration. “I just met the guy! And we’re going off to war for Pete's sake, not some low-crawling pub where men are lined up to dance with me.”
Her job was to decode and translate intercepted German communications, as well as translate in the field and interrogate prisoners if need be. There were times when being the daughter of Austrian immigrants was awful, but other times, it came in handy. Without her parents teaching her their language, she wouldn’t be in her position in the Army.
As the months passed in Aldbourne, (y/n) was swamped with intercepted communications, paperwork, and various intelligence reports. She rarely did anything other than work in her office, growing tiresome of the monotonous click-clack of the typewriter. What little time she did have outside the office was spent either visiting the Blue Boar with the other officers or quietly reading in the fields of wildflowers near her billet.
The sun set perfectly on the lilies and colorful harebells, orchids, and cornflowers that were scattered among the grass. Any chance she got, she’d go lay out a blanket and get lost in the pages of “A Tree Grows in Brooklyn,” escaping the war as the words came to life in her mind. Time seemed to blur as the months stretched on in Aldbourne.
With the follies of the Italian campaign, the Allies knew they had to try a different approach. Nixon and (y/n) had talked about the possible landing locations and tactics, but no plan was in motion quite yet. This did not stop them from preparing for the possibility. Easy’s training got increasingly realistic the further they got into 1944. By early February, Dick, Harry, and the other platoon leaders were brought in on the intelligence officers’ speculations. A few weeks later, (y/n) was working in her office when she heard a knock on the door.
“Come in,” she called, not looking up from her typewriter as she finished a translation.
The door creaked open, and in walked Dick who was wringing his hat between his hands, almost as if he was nervous. “Hi, (y/n). Sorry to disturb you.”
Hearing his voice, (y/n) looked up from the paper, a small smile forming as she took in his timid expression. “Hi, Dick. You’re not disturbing me,” she said, pointing to the large stack of papers on the corner of her desk. “These aren’t going anywhere.”
Dick clasped his hands behind his back and walked closer to the desk. “I wanted to ask you a favor.”
(Y/n) nodded, gesturing for him to sit in the extra chair beside her desk.
Dick sat down and continued. “Would you be able to teach me some basic German? I know that you are fluent in it, so-”
“Of course!” She interrupted, excitement lighting up her features. “I’d love to!”
Dick seemed surprised as he sheepishly smiled at her from across the desk. “It would be useful to know some phrases when we finally get into combat.”
“I think it’s a great idea.”
From that cold February day on, the pair met every Saturday night in (y/n)’s billet. Her host family, the Bennets, insisted on making a big family dinner every time (as large as they could with rationing), treating Dick as one of their own. (Y/n) watched from across the dining room table as he spoke to Mr. Bennet with a polite smile. The golden light from the setting sun filtered through the open blinds, highlighting the soft brown freckles that adorned his face. (Y/n) couldn’t help but admire his handsome features, a thought that she’d kept hidden mainly to keep Nix off her trail about the supposed ‘sparks’ that were supposed to fly between them at some point.
“I was worried about you Yanks, but if they’re all like you lot, I think we’re in good shape,” Mr. Bennet laughed, scooping a forkful of roast into his mouth.
Dick chuckled breathily, his eyes flitting to the (y/h/c) across from him, catching her staring red-handed. “Thank you, sir,” he replied, his face warming under her gaze.
After the dinner table was cleared, they continued their weekly tradition, sitting across from each other once again. “These are pretty basic, but they’re important,” she began, her eyes locking with his. Repeat after me. ‘Guten Abend.’”
Dick listened carefully, his eyes drifting down to her lips before echoing her pronunciation. “Guten Abend.”
“Very good,” (y/n) praised, her smile growing. “Now how about ‘Bitte’ which means ‘please,’ and ‘Danke,’ which means ‘thank you.’
“Next, let’s learn ‘Wie geht es Ihnen?” (y/n) said, her voice taking on a reassuring tone. “It means ‘How are you?’
As they repeated the words together, her beloved language created a unique connection between them that she never thought possible. It felt good to speak the language in situations other than wartime intelligence. As she taught Dick, she fell in love with her family’s native tongue all over again, but that love wasn’t the only thing blossoming in the cozy dining room.
Under the shade of a sturdy tree in the Bennet’s backyard, the late afternoon sun cast a glow over the yard. (Y/n) and Dick sat side by side, leaning against the trunk as they took a short break from their lesson.
(Y/n’s eyes began to droop, fatigue creeping in like a silent intruder. The lines of exhaustion were etched beneath her eyes, and Dick couldn’t help but notice her weariness.
“Are you alright?” he asked gently, leaning closer to her, his brow furrowed in concern.
She sat up straighter, rubbing her eyes with the back of her hand. “Yeah, I’m just tired,” she admitted, her voice a soft murmur.
Dick turned to her with eyes filled with worry. “Up late doing translations?”
(Y/n) nodded, her shoulders sliming slightly. “Yes,” she sighed, leaning her head back against the hard tree bark. “We’re getting more and more communications every day. It’s hard to keep up.”
Seeing her struggle, Dick scooted closer to her and paused before gesturing to his lap. “Here,” he suggested, his tone gentle. “It’s more comfortable than a tree,”
A small, tired smile crossed (y/n)’s face as she responded with a weary, “Yes, sir,” She laid her head on his lap, peering up at him through heavy-lidded eyes.
Dick felt a warm, protective swell of emotion as she nestled into his lap. Her presence, despite her exhaustion, brought a sense of peace and contentment he hadn’t realized he was missing. He could always show up at her door and have dinner like there wasn’t a war going on. Their routine had developed into what he looked forward to the most as the week went on. Any conversations they managed to have during their daily regimens and workload were filled with smiles and talks of the upcoming weekend, Saturday’s dinner menu, and other little things that reminded him of home.
A soft pink tinge rose from Dick’s neck to his cheeks as he brushed a strand of hair away from her face. “Better?” he inquired, his voice a soothing, gentle rumble.
(Y/n) let out a contented sigh, her eyes fluttering closed as she whispered, “Yes, thank you, Dick. I needed this.”
He watched over her with a mix of concern and affection, his fingers absentmindedly tracing circles on her shoulder. “You’ll work yourself to death in that office, (y/n).”
She squinted one eye open, her gaze focused on him. “I know,” she replied quietly, her voice tinged with desperation, “I can’t rest knowing my family is still stuck there, Dick.”
The lieutenant’s eyes saddened, his heart aching at the raw pain in her voice. He moved his hand from her shoulder to rub her hair back gently. “In Austria?”
(Y/n) nodded, her voice hushed and heavy with emotion. “Yeah,” she murmured, blinking to combat the tears that were filling her eyes. “My grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins…they all stayed. They’re still there, and we haven’t heard from them in almost a year.”
“So you’re doing this for them.”
“For them and all the other innocent people whose lives have been torn apart by Hitler,” she confessed, her voice wavering.
A tear trickled down the side of her cheek, and she felt a warm hand wipe it away gently. “I’m sure they wouldn’t want you to run yourself into the ground, sweetheart,” Dick murmured softly, the term of endearment slipping out before he could stop it. “When we finally do see action, you won’t be a hundred percent if you’re constantly running on fumes.”
She let out a shuddering breath, her emotions overwhelming her. (Y/n) sat up, shifting to bury her face into Dick’s shoulder, finding comfort in his embrace. His arms encircled her, pulling her into his side as he rubbed his hand soothingly along her back.
“Please take care of yourself. If not for them, do it for me. Please,” he whispered into her hair.
As the evening sun bathed them in a warm light, (y/n) pulled back from their embrace, her tear-filled eyes glistening with gratitude and adoration. She gazed into Dick’s calming, emerald-green eyes, vulnerability seeping from her. His eyes mirrored her intensity, and a soft, affectionate smile played on his lips. With her heart pounding in her chest, (y/n) brought her hand up to his cheek, her fingers tracing the contours of his skin with a gentle, trembling touch.
Their eyes met, and in that silent exchange, a powerful connection was forged. Slowly and with a sense of natural ease, she pulled him closer, guiding him toward her. Dick, momentarily taken aback by the unexpected tenderness of her actions, felt the soft, deliberate pressure of (y/n)’s lips against his. Their lips met, and their connection deepened as their mouths moved together, a tender and affectionate expression of their feelings. Their kiss was a gentle exchange of affection, an unspoken testament to the emotions that had quietly grown between them.
As (y/n) and Dick pulled back from their tender kiss, their actions spoke volumes in the quiet of that moment. Their lips slowly parted, the sensation of their kiss still lingering in the air like a sweet, unspoken promise. They looked into each other’s eyes, their gazes locked in a lingering connection that was filled with understanding. (Y/n) inched back slightly, her touch soft and tender as her fingers gently brushed over the freckles on Dick’s cheek as she withdrew from their intimate embrace.
“Thank you,” she whispered, her voice a gentle murmur, sniffling slightly as she rested her forehead against his. Dick’s heart raced, and he could feel her warm breath on his face.
“They’ll be proud of you. I’m sure of it.”
MAY 7, 1944: BERCHTESGADEN, AUSTRIA
(Y/n) reclined on a wooden, sun-soaked deck chair, gazing out at the breathtaking landscape of the Bavarian Alps that stretched before her. The mountains stood tall and majestic, their peaks kissing the cloudless sky. She felt a sense of awe at the natural wonder surrounding her.
Harry sat at the end of her chair, and Ron and Nix were sitting on the one beside them, all three drunk as a skunk. Their voices filled the air with drunken excitement, and their ramblings brought a wide smile to (y/n)’s face.
Nix groaned in good-humored frustration, raising his fingers in a futile attempt to count off the main leaders of the Nazi party. “Hitler, Hitler…no.”
Rolling his eyes, Ron chimed in, his voice louder as they spoke over each other, creating a chaotic atmosphere. “Hitler, Himmler, Goering-”
“And Goebbels,” Harry finished, his grin infectious as he completed the list.
(Y/n) couldn’t help but laugh heartily, tears gathering in her eyes as she watched her friends stumble through their banter. The joy of the moment, the beauty of the scenery, and the relief from no constant action and danger all combined to create a warmth in her heart that was impossible to contain.
“I’m so glad I get to see this,” she wheezed between fits of laughter, her hand clutching her stomach as another wave of cackles escaped her.
The sound of footsteps made her turn, and she saw Dick approaching with Lip. She smiled at him, her heart beating slightly faster when he returned a wink.
“Hey, Adolf! Love your Eagle’s Nest,” Harry yelled, standing up wobbly and grabbing Dick’s shoulders. “I hope you don’t mind. We made ourselves at home. Love what you’ve done with the place here.”
(Y/n) chortled again, earning an amused look from Dick, who found the whole situation hilarious. But he had more important news to share.
Welsh grabbed a bottle of champagne and held it out for the major. “Hey, have a drink. Come on. Just so we can say we saw you do it,” he implored, staring for a moment as Dick didn’t respond.
Smirking, (y/n) rose from her chair and gracefully pushed the bottle back toward Harry as she moved to stand between him and Dick. “You drink it, Welshy.”
Welsh retracted his hand, standing there for a moment like a pouting child, while Dick, who had patiently waited, pulled out a sheet of paper. He cleared his throat and started to speak, his gaze warm as he looked down at (y/n) beside him. “Listen up. From Corps, it just came in. Effective immediately, all troops standing fast on present positions.”
Nix rested his hands behind his head as he lay on the chair with a smirk. “Standing fast.”
Ron, his usually sharp eyes now glazed over from the alcohol, looked up and asked. “What does that mean?”
(Y/n) ran a hand down her face with a giggle. Her laughter was infectious, and the group chuckled, with Dick’s laughter being the loudest. His smile was the widest she’d seen in months, and the sight stirred something within her.
“Do you want to hear it?” he asked the group as he wrapped an arm around (y/n)’s shoulder.
Harry nodded, grunting in reply, and Dick repeated the sound, raising an eyebrow at the man. “Are you ready for it? Listen up, the German Army surrendered.”
The news sent a sudden hush through the group, and the jovial atmosphere vanished, replaced by a solemn and reverent feeling that settled inside each of them. (Y/n) looked up at Dick, her eyes widened in disbelief.
“Really?” she whispered, her voice filled with hope.
Dick nodded and squeezed her shoulder softly. “Yeah, sweetheart. They did.”
In that instant, she couldn’t contain her joy. She flung her arms around his shoulders, squealing happily, and he snaked his arms around her waist, hugging her tightly. The weight of the past years seemed to lift, replaced by a hope of peace in Europe for people like her family who were caught in the crossfire of war. As they pulled back from their hug, the sheer happiness of the moment made (y/n)’s eyes glisten with tears. Around them, the other officers were clapping each other on the back and expressing their own gratitude that victory in Europe had been achieved.
With a soft smile, Dick placed a hand on her lower back and led her to a farther part of the balcony, giving them privacy from prying eyes. He could see the curiosity in her eyes and as they found a quiet corner, he spoke in a hushed tone. “I got word today, (y/n). About your family.”
Her eyes widened in anticipation, and her heart raced. “My family? Where are they? She asked, her voice trembling with a mix of hope and fear.
Dick placed a gentle hand on her shoulder, offering her the support she needed to hear the news. “They’re alive, (y/n). They’re living in Salzburg.”
The emotion she’d swallowed down came flying back, and tears welled up in her eyes again as her voice trembled with relief. “Salzburg? Oh, thank God,” she croaked.
(Y/n) couldn’t hold back her emotions any longer, and the tears streamed down her face as she wrapped her arms around Dick, hugging him tightly once again. It was a cry of pure relief, a release of tension that had gripped her heart for so long.
Dick held her close, his own emotions stirred by the moment. He could feel her relief, his arms wrapped around her as he gently stroked her back. The news also meant that they were one step closer to going home. One step closer to spending the rest of their lives together.
In the midst of the moment, (y/n) looked up at Dick, a radiant smile breaking through her tears. Her soft voice was barely more than a whisper as she spoke. “I love you, Dick.”
Their eyes locked in a tender, unspoken understanding as Dick leaned down to cup her cheek, his thumb gently brushing away a tear. “I love you, too, (y/n).”
The mountains of Berchtesgaden stood as silent witnesses to what was about to transpire. It was the perfect setting for a moment they would cherish forever. As they stood there, Dick took (y/n)’s hand in his, his gaze unwavering as he looked deep into her eyes. With a smile, he began to speak…but it wasn’t English.
“Meine Liebe, du weißt, ich bin nicht der Beste im Umgang mit Worten, aber ich liebe dich mehr als das Leben selbst. Ohne dich hätte ich das nicht überstanden und ich möchte nie wieder ohne dich sein,” he began, his heart pounding in his ribcage.
My love, you know I'm not the best with words, but I love you more than I love life itself. I wouldn't have gotten through this without you, and I don’t want to be without you ever again.
(Y/n) looked at him, her eyes widening in surprise and joy. She blinked in disbelief, her heart skipping a beat.
“Willst du meine Frau werden?” Dick continued.
Will you marry me?
A gasp escaped (y/n)’s lips as tears continued to trickle down her cheeks. She couldn’t believe what was happening, and her heart swelled. Dick got down on one knee, his eyes filled with a softer determination than the one she saw in his eyes on the battlefield. He reached into his OD pocket and pulled out a small, elegant ring.
In a voice filled with emotion, he asked, “Möchtest du mein leben mit mir teilen?”
Will you share your life with me?
Tears streamed down (y/n)’s face as she nodded vigorously, unable to speak through her overwhelming joy. She held out her hand, and Dick slid the ring over her finger. It fit perfectly, just as they did in each other's lives.
With a smile that held all the love in the world, he whispered, “Ich liebe dich.”
I love you.
With the golden rays of the setting sun casting a warm, enchanting glow on the balcony, Dick stood up from one knee and pulled (y/n) into a gentle, affectionate embrace. The light from the setting sun illuminated their features, turning their silhouettes into a work of art against the breathtaking backdrop. Their kiss was tender and sweet, filled with the promise of a future together.
Their actions were delicate and filled with longing. Dick’s arms enveloped (y/n) as he kissed her, his fingers brushing softly against her cheek, and (y/n) responded with more fervor, deepening the kiss. Her hands found their way to his shoulders, fingers clutching his uniform as if grounding herself in the reality of the moment. The hand on her cheek threaded into her hair and pulled her impossibly closer.
With huge smiles on their faces, (y/n) and Dick pulled back from their kiss. The moment was perfect. However, their intimate moment was suddenly interrupted by a chorus of whistles and cheers coming from the adjacent balcony. Ron, Harry, Lip, and Nix watched on as the couple got engaged. They exchanged glances and held hands as they made their way toward the cheering men.
Nix hugged Dick and slapped him on the back, his expression a mix of humor and satisfaction. “Now if I remember correctly, some wise guy called this the first time you two met…oh wait, that was me.”
Dick’s brows furrowed in confusion, and he turned to his fiance for clarification. “What?”
Rolling her eyes playfully, (y/n) leaned into his side, patting his chest lightly. “Back in Aldbourne, Lew just thought that, and I quote, ‘sparks would fly’ between the two of us.
“Well, I’m so glad they did,” Harry laughed, holding up a wad of cash in front of him. “I’m a rich man now.”
The major blinked at Harry, his amusement evident. “How am I not surprised you bet on us?”
“You think that’s all we bet on?” Ron slurred, sprawled out on a chair with his eyes closed. “We also bet on when-”
Thankfully, Lip stepped in to stop the Captain, who appeared to be thoroughly drunk. “Alright. Let’s get you to bed, sir.”
(Y/n) grinned, admiring Dick’s features above her. “Where did you learn all of that?” she asked. “Because I’ve never taught you anything that complex.”
“A man never tells his secrets,” he replied, kissing her temple lovingly.
“It was Liebgott, wasn’t it,” she chuckled, raising an eyebrow at him. “Cause only Joe knows that much German other than me.”
“Well,” Dick began, “There’s a lot more where that came from.”
“Oh really, Major Winters. Care to enlighten me?”
He sighed, “Nope. I’ve been practicing that for months. It’s all I’ve got.”
“Then it’s a good thing you’ve got the best teacher by your side for the rest of your life, huh?”
Tag List: @liptonsbabe @footprintsinthesxnd @bucky32557038ww2 @flowers-and-fichte @merriell-allesandro-shelton @ronsparky
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Y/N met Joe a few days after she graduated from high school. loosely based off the one direction song.
warnings: none but it gets kinda sad @ the end ig
wc: 4.3k
Graduation was days away and Y/N could feel the air escaping her lungs just thinking about it. She had been dreaming about this day for the past twelve years and it was actually happening. Although, now that it was here, the moment felt bittersweet. She was about to leave all the childhood friends she’d made for a junior college across the country in San Francisco. It was almost too surreal for her to handle. A week from now, she’d be somewhat situated in an apartment she’d only seen once without her parents or really anyone that she knew. She would be starting her life.
The last few days of senior year could not have gone by any slower. Final exams had been the week prior so the classes she was attending were really just excuses for all of her classmates and teachers to get emotional about the time they’d spent together. Y/N counted down the minutes until she could finally get out of there. While some of the girls she’d come to know as her best friends were allowing themselves to shed a tear or two and give close to a million hugs to people they’d shared maybe a conversation with in their time there, Y/N kept finding herself in her daydreams about what her new life was going to be like.
“I cannot believe it’s our last day of high school,” her friend Annabelle said. There were about twelve girls all scrunched up at one lunchroom table in an already overcrowded lunchroom. Thankfully, the number had dwindled slightly over the years and now Y/N at least had enough room to put her elbows on the table when she was eating.
“I know! I’m gonna miss you girls so much,” another girl named Cecile said. Y/N swore she saw the slightest hint of a tear in her eye as she said it. Y/N took a bite of her peanut butter and jelly sandwich without another word.
The amount of nerves surrounding her as she stood on the small auditorium stage astounded her. She attended a small school with her graduating class maxing out around 200 and yet the room felt like it was about to explode. All of the classmates around her were decked out in the signature royal blue of their highschool with bright smiles and hazy eyes from the brightly flashing cameras. Y/N fidgeted with the tassel on her cap as she waited for the ceremony to begin. A few of her friends were sitting a few feet away from her. The deafening heartbeat in her ears stopped her from being able to hear what they were talking about. It wasn’t until one of them nudged her ribs that she realized the lights had dimmed slightly and everything was starting.
The announcer’s speech, thankfully, hadn’t lasted longer than a few minutes and the graduates had started making their way across the stage. Before Y/N knew it, she was walking across the stage and shaking hands with the principal and various other administrators she’d come to know over the years. Her legs were numb and she was surprised--and very grateful--that she made it across the stage without so much as tripping. She even silently thanked her mother beforehand for discouraging her from wearing the three-inch pair of heels in her closet.
“The Class of 1936! Congratulations!” her principal announced as a wave of blue filled the air. There were graduation caps everywhere across the auditorium. It was going to be extremely difficult to tell whose was whose at the end of the day but that didn’t stop a single student from completing the tradition. One student’s cap even managed to land in the rafters for a few seconds before coming down.
It was difficult to locate her parents in the crowd in the moments after. Everything seemed to be simultaneously happening in slow motion and hyper speed since her first step across the stage. She spotted the top of her mother’s head across the room and rushed over to meet them. Both of her parents had been leaning up against the wall near the exit speaking to another couple until they noticed her semi-running towards them. Her father pulled her into a tight hug and made a comment about an eyelash messing with his eye the entire ceremony. She gave her mother a soft smile when he finally let her go. Her parents gave a small goodbye to the couple next to them and joined hands with their daughter on the way out of the highschool for seemingly the last time in their lives.
The sound of her alarm clock buzzing at 6:30 in the morning caused a loud groan to fall from Y/N’s lips as she begrudgingly pulled herself from the warmth of her duvet and into her adjoining bathroom to start her day. It was moving day. Well, technically. Most of her furniture had been shipped out to her apartment a few days prior but today was the official moving date. She had to be at the train station by 8:00 with the last of her belongings. Judging by the fact that Y/N was brushing her teeth with her eyes still very much closed, it was evident that she was very much regretting choosing the earliest departure time to San Francisco available.
Her two suitcases were packed and stacked next to the front door of her parents’ home and she kept glancing at them during the entire duration of breakfast. In her mind, she was going over every item that she needed to bring and checking the mental checklist she’d gone over about twenty times over the past two days. She knew it was overly redundant but she couldn’t bear the thought of forgetting something and not being able to retrieve it until the next major holiday. It was unlikely, though, that she would forget something as her childhood bedroom was practically barren save for the twin bed and the wire coat hangers in her closet.
“Honey, if you look at those suitcases one more time,” her mother lightly scolded. She was glad her daughter was so excited for something but she was still slightly bitter to the thought of her daughter leaving home so soon after graduation.
“I’m sorry! I can’t help it,” she sighed. The plate of eggs and bacon had barely been eaten--mostly just moved around with a fork--and was growing colder by the minute. Y/N knew she wouldn’t be able to eat with the amount of nerves building up in her stomach. She spared a final glance at the luggage
“Your mother’s right,” her father sighed and blew the steam off of his cup of coffee. Y/N was surprised to see the newspaper usually tightly clutched within her father’s fingers nowhere in sight.
“So, what’re your plans for the day?” Y/N asked after a few moments of silence. She had completely given up on her plate of food and had pushed it further towards the center of the table.
“Oh, you know. Mope around the house wishing our baby were still here with us,” her mother said dramatically, pretending to wipe a tear from her face.
“Very funny.”
“She’s not joking,” her father chuckled into his mug. It was odd to see him this way. Both of his hands were tightly wrapped around the white porcelain and he still had his reading glasses on rather than the contacts she was so accustomed to seeing. Come to think of it, her mother looked quite strange, too. She was still in her evening robe and had made no effort to remove the curlers from her hair.
“Are you not accompanying me to the train station?” Y/N asked. She watched her parents share knowing glances before they each turned towards her.
“Your father thinks it’s best if we say our goodbyes here. He knows I’ll cry like a banshee if we do it in public and he wants to spare you the embarrassment,” her mother said.
“Oh,” Y/N mumbled and glanced down at her fingers fiddling with the hem of the tablecloth. “Thanks, Dad.”
“Oh Honey-”
“We can come with you if you want!”
“No, no. Dad’s right. Plus, if you start crying I’m sure to start crying and then where would we be,” Y/N allowed an airy laugh to brush past her lips at the thought of her and her parents all crying and smushed together in a dysfunctional group hug.
Due to the fact that Y/N had taken probably the longest nap in her life on the train, her legs felt as stiff as the concrete beneath her feet as she tried (and failed) to make her way out of the station in a normal looking way. Every step looked more like a waddle combined with the luggage that felt ten times heavier getting off than getting on settled on either one of her shoulders.
“Need some help with that, doll?” One of the various taxi-cab drivers asked. It took her a second to locate which one was addressing her but it was easy enough to identify him when she noticed him quickly approaching her with a hand out.
“Uh,” she mumbled. “Yeah-Yes. That’d be great, thank you.”
“Just doing my job,” he sent her a wink as he helped her load the luggage into the trunk of the bright yellow vehicle. Y/N allowed herself to take in the appearance of the man as she got into the backseat and told him her destination. He was quite skinny but that didn’t take away from the overall build of him. In fact, it seemed to make her more attracted to him. His lips seemed to be plastered in a permanent smirk and his hair was way too perfect for him to just have thrown some gel in it and called it a day. It was good enough to land him a hair modeling gig, in her opinion.
“How long will you be staying?” the driver asked and made eye contact with her through the rear-view. His eyes had a mischievous glint to them.
“I don’t look like a regular to you?” she asked with mock offense.
“With that accent? Not a chance, dollface,” he said. They retained eye contact for a few more seconds before his sight flickered back to the road in front of him. Y/N was thankful for the added background noise of the radio at that point.
“You’re actually taking me to my new place,” Y/N said after a few moments of awkwards silence. She found herself fiddling with a slightly ripped piece of leather on the seat beneath her. She felt his eyes on her but by the time she looked back up at the mirror his eyes were focused on the road once more.
“How do you know I’m not a creepy stalker? Now I know where you live,” he joked as he reached a red light. She was able to get a good look at his eyes in the mirror now. The sunlight coming in from the windshield allowed her to notice the swirl of chocolate in his irises. Multiple car honks behind them startled the driver into pressing on the gas a little too quickly, startling Y/N and almost causing her to faceplant into the back of the seat.
“Sorry about that, doll,” he muttered and adjusted how he was sitting ever so slightly and allowed one of his hands to rest on the center console rather than the wheel.
“So, are you?” she asked.
“What?” his eyebrows scrunched together and his grip on the wheel tightened.
“Are you a stalker?” Y/N allowed herself to relax into the seats more. She didn’t really care if he was a stalker. She just never wanted him to stop talking.
“You’ll be glad to know that I am not, Miss…” he voice trailed off, obviously asking for her name.
“Y/N Y/L/N.”
“Joe Liebgott. Nice to make your acquaintance, dollface,” he sent her another wink through the mirror. Y/N felt her heart sink slightly when she noticed her apartment building only a few feet away.
By the time Joe had found a parking spot in front of the building, Y/N could feel her heart all the way in the souls of her feet. She had no idea why she was reacting this way. She had only known this man for, what, twenty minutes? And their one striking conversation had been about whether or not he was a stalker. She had no right to get this attached to him.
“You know,” he started. “I could give you a tour of the city if you’d like. You know, since you’re new and all.” He flashed her a million-dollar smile as he handed her the two pieces of luggage from the trunk.
“I think I would really enjoy that, Joe.” Her heart was beating so fast it could have jumped right out of her chest and made it back to her parents’ house before she was able to get inside her new apartment.
“Great,” he said. He opened up the passenger side of the cab so that he could reach into the glove box. He pulled a pen out of his shirt pocket and began scribbling on the blank side of the receipt he had just pulled out of the compartment before handing the small piece of paper to her. In very messy handwriting, she noticed he had written Joe (not a stalker, he promises) followed by a phone number and a smiley face below all of it.
“I’ll make sure to call you, Not-a-stalker-Joe.” Y/N’s face had heated up an extreme amount and she hoped that Joe wouldn’t think anything of it.
A few days passed before Y/N worked up the courage to actually call Joe. Maybe it was the fact that it was eleven o’clock at night. She always had been braver when she was tired. Maybe it was the fact that she hadn’t been able to get the cab driver out of her mind since he dropped her off at her place. Especially at night when she was alone with her thoughts. He got her head spinning and her heart racing without even being in the same room as her. She could only imagine what it would be like when she took him up on that tour offer.
“Hi, is this Joe?” she asked as politely as she could. She regretted calling the second he picked up.
“Depends…” his voice was raspier than it had been a few days ago. There was a possibility that Y/N had woken him up. “Who is this?”
“Y/N,” she said. Her nerves were skyrocketing at this point. The past week or so had not been easy on her heart.
“Who’s the stalker now?” he chuckled lightly into the phone. She heard rustling from the other side and assumed he was moving around on his bed. Having the phone by the bed seemed like a smart idea to her and she wondered why she hadn’t thought of moving hers there.
“You gave me your number, you know,” she said, twirling the cord around her finger.
“For a tour of the city. Not a late night rendezvous,” he said.
“I’m sorry. I can call again in the morning.” Her face was burning with embarrassment; the pressure managed to trail all the way down her spine, it seemed.
“No, doll, don’t worry about it. It had been a pretty boring night anyway,” Joe sighed. Y/N could imagine him running his hand through his hair. Then the image of running her hands through his hair popped into her mind.
“So, about that tour?” she asked. She really hoped she wasn’t being too forward. He was the one that offered.
“You up for it? Tomorrow’s my off day so you called just in time,” he said.
Y/N was barely able to sleep an hour that night. She didn’t know if it was the nerves (it was) or if it was the seemingly endless downpour of rain outside. After her fifth wake up, she decided trying to sleep was a lost cause. She slipped out of bed and out of her bedroom into the open concept of the rest of her apartment. The clock on the wall beside her stove let her know that it was edging on 4:15. Somehow, she managed to turn on her coffee pot and actually make herself some in her zombie-like state. She felt the liquid warm her right down to the tips of her toes.
Around 7am Y/N was beginning to regret skipping out on anymore sleep. Her eyes were droopy and she could barely keep them open long enough to read more than a paragraph on the morning paper. She figured this would be as good a time as any to start getting ready. She probably should’ve worked out a better plan with Joe before hanging up last night; she had zero percent of a clue as to when he would be picking her up that morning.
Y/N’s shower lasted longer than usual due to her starting the whole ordeal by just standing under the hot water with her eyes closed for about ten minutes. She’d even let her mind wander to thinking about Joe being in said shower with her but quickly shook the thought away as she began applying her coconut scented body wash. By the time she was finished, the originally scalding water was beginning to grow cold and Y/N was practically shivering trying to push the hot-water knob past its limit.
She decided to fix herself a third cup of coffee after getting dressed to aid her in doing her makeup in a way that wouldn’t make her look like a raccoon. A few years ago she had tried to do a Smokey eye after about three hours of sleep and she was not going for a recreation of that this morning.
9am was beginning to roll around when she heard a knock on her door.
“Morning, doll,” Joe said when she opened the door. He had his hair slicked back and a collared shirt left unbuttoned about three buttons.
“How’d you know which apartment was mine?” She chuckled lightly. She could have sworn he hadn’t followed her up to her door the previous day but she could’ve been wrong.
“I watched from my car to make sure you got in okay. I was really hoping I remembered which door it was and didn’t go knocking on some old lady’s door,” he said and ran one of his hands through the gelled hair. Y/n glanced over the balcony of the complex to see the bright yellow taxi parked in the exact spot it was in yesterday.
“That was very sweet of you, Joe,” both of them had a slight red tint to their faces as they made their way down the stairs and to the taxi. He opened the door for her before jogging around the front of the car to get in himself.
“The best tour of your life begins now,” he said before starting the car up.
“So how old did you say you were?” Joe asked after about twenty minutes of awkward silence.
“18. You?” Y/N said. She really hoped he wasn’t 37 or something or this whole ordeal would have gotten really awkward really fast.
“21,” he said and turned down the radio knob ever so slightly. She couldn’t stop herself from thinking about how nice his fingers looked. “Now our first stop…”
It had been months since Y/N had first met Joe but she swore it felt like the pair had known each other forever. She felt more comfortable around him than anyone else she had ever met. They went on one or two more dates after their tour before Joe asked her to be his girlfriend. Everything between them was moving incredibly fast for Y/N’s usual tastes but she couldn’t be happier at the given moment. Joe made her feel alive. Her fingertips burned with every touch and her insides were practically doing backflips any time he complimented her or so much as held eye contact with her.
“Good morning doll face,” Joe said with his raspy morning voice that Y/N adored more than anything. She groaned with displeasure at being roused from her sleep but she gave him a soft smile when she finally opened her eyes. Joe was running his fingertips lightly across Y/N’s bare back as the thin sheets of his bed covered their lower halves. Her hand moved from being placed at the top of his abdomen to gently stroking his jaw. There was the faintest of stubble growing in and she would never tell him how much she really loved it.
“Morning, handsome,” she mumbled into his chest. She began trailing kisses from his chest up to his collarbone and back down again. Joe used his free hand to stop her antics and pull her face up to kiss his lips this time. In a few short moments, Joe was able to flip the pair of them to where he was resting over Y/N with one of his hands beside Y/N’s shoulder to support his weight and the other securely positioned on her jaw.
“That was a very good way to wake up,” she said and ran her thumb across his slightly swollen lips. He let out a soft laugh before poking her in the side and laying down on the bed beside her.
“I think I’m going to go get a shower. Care to join me?” He asked with a smirk. They had showered together before but it had never ended with them cleaner than when they entered.
“Not today, baby,” she said, which earned a very over exaggerated groan from Joe as he forced himself out of bed and into the connected bathroom.
She, too, pulled herself out of the bed and grabbed Joe’s button up off of the floor and buttoned it up just enough to cover all the necessities. She heard the creak of the hot water knob as she exited the bedroom to make herself some much needed coffee. Neither had gotten the recommended 8 hours of sleep and she was wondering how Joe was able to be so animated about everything already.
Their one-year anniversary came around faster than anything that Y/N had ever experienced. One day she was living in her parents home desperate to graduate from high school and now she was living in her boyfriend’s apartment (unbeknownst to her parents) and celebrating a whole year of dating. And it had been the most magical year of Y/N’s life.
“More wine?” Joe asked her as he pulled himself off of the couch. Y/N whined slightly as her side was hit with a gust of cold wind.
“Yes, please,” she said and handed up her empty wine glass.
“You got it, doll,” he sent her a wink and went into the kitchen to fill both their glasses. Y/N couldn’t help but watch him the whole time. She never thought that she’d be this head over heels for a man— especially this far along in a relationship. Before Joe, the longest she’d had a boyfriend had been about two months and they barely even talked during that time.
Joe glanced over at her from the kitchen just barely making eye contact with her before Y/N shifted her gaze to the record player in the corner of the room near the small television. It had been playing static for about an hour now but the both of them were too comfortable to care enough about flipping it.
“I love you, Joe,” Y/N said after a few more moments of silence. There was a loud crash in the kitchen that caused her to surge up from her seat and rush over. Before she was able to bend down to clean up any of the broken glass, though, Joe pulled her in by the hips to smash his lips against hers.
“Say it again,” he said when he pulled away with the biggest grin Y/N had ever seen.
“I love you, Joe.”
“I love you, Y/N/N. So much,” he pulled her in for another kiss, sidestepping around the broken wine glass to set her on the kitchen counter and placing himself between her thighs. His hands trailed from her hips to rest on the sides of her knees.
Almost four years had passed since then. Joe was set to leave for boot camp this afternoon and Y/N was barely functioning at this point. He had become such an integral part of her life since she arrived in San Francisco. She had no idea what she would do if he didn’t come back to her. Hell, she barely had a clue what she would do if he did come back to her. She knew nothing would be the same after all of this.
“I’ll write to you whenever I get the chance, baby doll. I promise,” he mumbled into her hair. Y/N had not left his side once in the past week and she didn’t plan on leaving it until he was on that train.
“I’m going to miss you so much, Joey,” she said.
“I know. I’m gonna miss you too.”
“I’ve loved you since I was 18 years old, Joe. I’m 22 now and somehow I love you more and more each day. Promise me you’ll come home to me,” she said. There were tears beginning to leak out of the corners of her eyes. He wiped one away with the pad of his thumb.
“I promise to try as hard as I can to come home to you, baby doll,” he said and pressed another kiss to her hair.
hi everyone! welcome to my band of brothers & the pacific side-blog! my messages and ask box are always open, so shoot me a message anytime you feel like it. also, requests are now CLOSED for the pacific and bob!! you can find the request guidelines below!
request guidelines | gifsets/icons
xoxo,
mads :)
Band of Brothers
italics - wips
Eugene “Doc” Roe
- At Last
- Break the Distance
- C'est Toi (Soulmate!AU)
Joe Liebgott
- Of Course It’s You
- Liebling
Floyd Talbert
- “The Night of the Bayonet”
- I’m Here (oc)
George Luz
- Home
- Old Friends
Dick Winters
- Winter at the Winters'
- Meine Liebe
Ron Speirs
- Keeping You Safe
- For Me
- Knight in Dirty ODs
Lewis Nixon
- Here With You
- The Vow
- Timeless
- Epiphany Series Masterlist
Johnny Martin
- Follow You Anywhere
Headcannons
- Nix When He's Sick
- Dating Eugene Roe
- Post-War Harry Welsh
The Pacific
Robert Leckie
- Crazy
Bill "Hoosier" Smith
- You Before Me
Eugene Sledge
- See the Good
Headcanons
- Hoosier Dating an Extrovert
- Chuckler Dating an Artist
- Chuckler Dating a Medic
Masters of the Air:
You can find things from gifs to fics, and posts about the flyers and ground crews in Masters of the Air on my sideblog, @major-mads!!
comment or message me if you want to be tagged in anything!!
Song Inspo: Castles Crumbling (feat. Hayley Williams): Taylor Swift
A/N: Sorry in advance for breaking hearts with this one, guys. Be prepared for some angst...sorry Jess! (@footprintsinthesxnd) Remember, this is all according to the master plan. this is about the fictional portrayal of easy company on the show. nothing but love and respect for veterans on this blog!
Word Count: 3.5k
Summary: Unexpected events threaten to send members of Easy past their breaking point.
JANUARY 11, 1945: BOIS JACQUES, BELGIUM: 2200HRS
The cold seemed to seep into Lewis’ ODs as he sat in his freezing foxhole. The only semblance of warmth that clung to him came from (y/n)‘s shaking figure in his arms. Earlier that day, Nix finally reached (y/n), and her pure anguish broke his heart more than he thought possible. Each cry was like a stake being driven further and further into his chest.
The couple spent most of the day relaxing in (y/n)‘s hole in silence, just taking in each other’s company. She sometimes spoke of Skip and Alex if a certain memory came into her mind, and tears often accompanied such stories. Nix held her close and listened intently, hating the helpless feeling that filled him. There was nothing he could do to ease her pain other than be there with her, and it was hard for him to bear.
If there was one thing Lewis Nixon was not, it was someone who sat back and did nothing. Was he a borderline alcoholic? Maybe. But would he ever sit back and watch those he loved struggle alone? Never.
The January day had ticked by slowly, and by late afternoon, Lew convinced (y/n) to move to his foxhole for a little bit of space from the line, hoping it would help distance herself from the shelling that had stolen two of her best friends. With her head slouched against Lew’s shoulder, she slept soundly, her mouth open as soft snores left her lips in small icy clouds.
Ice crunched nearby, and Nix looked up to see Dick crouching beside their foxhole. “Hey,” he whispered, looking down at the (y/h/c) with a concerned frown. “How’s she doing?”
Lew quietly sighed and pulled the blanket up to her chin. “Better. Not great…but better. She agreed to go back to the hospital tomorrow.”
Dick nodded softly, “Good. I talked to Doc today while you were gone. He said it might take up to a month for her arm to fully heal.”
Eyes flicking up to the redhead’s, Nixon’s heart dropped into his stomach. Of course, he was more than happy that (y/n) was finally getting the help she needed, but a lot could happen in a month.
“I know.”
“She’ll be okay, Nix,” Winters urged, his voice slightly shaking as a harsh gust of wind swept through his thin coat. “And she’ll be back in no time.”
Lew shook his head and leaned it back against the frozen dirt wall of his hole. “I don’t know if she’ll make it in a hospital by herself after losing Skip and Alex. She won’t know anyone or-”
“Lew,” Dick interrupted softly. “She can’t stay here and we both know that. The best thing for her is to go tomorrow.”
“I know that. It doesn’t stop me from worrying, though.”
Before Dick could respond, a voice called out from behind him. “Captain Winters.”
Lieutenant Dike.
Nix and Dick shared a loaded glance, and both Captains had to refrain from rolling their eyes. Dike hadn’t reported to them in almost four days, and in those four days, the Company had lost two of its most important members. As the lieutenant approached the trio, his eyes drifted down to the woman in Lewis’s arms. He seemed to be momentarily confused as he stared with narrowed eyes.
Catching his glare, Dick stood and ushered him toward the tent with a hand on his shoulder. “What can I help you with, Lieutenant?”
Nix’s eyes followed them as they disappeared into the makeshift shelter, and anger swirled in his stomach. A good leader should respect their men, lead by example, and try to keep up with how each one is doing. Dike did none of this. In fact, he did the opposite. Men in his company had been killed, and their deaths greatly affected company morale, but he couldn’t care less. The lieutenant was away more than he was around, and when he was, he didn’t do much. It was a well-known fact that the NCOs were the ones holding the company together.
In the silence, (y/n) stirred, a low groan escaping her lips.
“Hey,” he murmured, his fingers gently tracing soothing circles on her back. “You okay?”
She winced, her eyes fluttering open with a hint of discomfort. “My head’s pounding and my throat feels like sandpaper,” she rasped. “It’s probably from all the crying.”
Lew reached for his canteen, unscrewing the cap. “Take a sip and then try to go back to sleep. It might help.”
He held the canteen up to (y/n)‘s lips, guiding it gently as she took a few sips. Leaning back against his shoulder with a sigh, she nuzzled into his warmth. “What time is it?”
“10:30. Dike just showed up to talk to Dick,” Nix replied, checking his watch.
(Y/n) rolled her eyes with a scoff. “Now he shows up. After all that’s happened? What a joke.”
“Yeah, I know,” Lew sighed. “I’m glad you won’t have to deal with him during the assault.”
Her swollen eyes peered up at him. “I’m worried for the guys,” she said softly. “He’s gonna lead them to their deaths, Lew, and I know don’t think I could take it after…”
“Dick will take care of them the best he can,” he replied, rubbing her upper arm gently. “They’ll be alright.”
“I hope so,” she yawned, laying her head back on Nix’s shoulder. “I’m gonna go back to sleep now.”
He chuckled lowly and leaned down to place a kiss on her hairline. “Goodnight. Wake me up if you feel any worse, alright?”
(Y/n)‘s eyes were already drifting closed as she mumbled, “Yes, captain. Love you.”
“I love you, too. Now go to sleep.”
JANUARY 12, 1945: BOIS JACQUES, BELGIUM: 0300HRS
When Lew woke up, the air surrounding the foxhole was silent, and the covering atop the hole kept any unwanted snow from falling on the couple as they slept. He rubbed his eyes with his free hand and looked around blearily. Everything seemed to be alright, but he was surprisingly warm.
He had not been warm in almost a month.
As soon as the thought circled in his brain, he realized with a start that the intense heat was coming from beside him. Looking down at (y/n) curled into his chest, Lew cursed, noticing the way she seemed to be radiating so much heat that he was sweaty just from being pressed against her. (Y/n), however, was drenched in sweat. Her (y/h/c) hair was plastered to her forehead and neck, and uncontrollable shivers wracked her body, causing her to tremble even in the unusual warmth of the hole.
“(Y/n)?” Lew mumbled, wiping the sweaty hair off her forehead. Her skin was hot to the touch, and it was then that he knew something was very wrong.
“Sweetheart? Wake up,” he said more urgently, shaking her shoulder gently. Panic gripped him when her only response was a weak groan and rapid eye movement under her closed lids.
Lew’s heart clenched in his chest as he tapped her cheeks lightly. “(Y/n/n), come on, wake up,” he begged, his mind racing. “Please wake up.”
No response.
The night air was pierced by Lew’s urgent call, “Dick!” His voice carried the weight of his panic as he threw the cover off their foxhole. Within seconds, Winters ran into view and dropped down into their hole with a thud.
“What’s wrong, Lew?” Dick asked, concern etched across his face.
“I don’t know, Dick! She’s burning up and completely out of it. Something’s wrong,” Lew exclaimed hoarsely as he sat (y/n) up against the side of the foxhole.
Dick swiftly assessed the situation, and a sudden realization flashed across his face as he reached for her arm. He removed (y/n)‘s sock glove, revealing a swollen and red hand adorned with a speckled rash that extended from her cast down to her fingertips.
Lew’s reaction was immediate, a string of curses escaping his lips as he almost pushed Dick out of the hole. “Go get Roe, Dick, now! And hurry!”
As he hurried away, Lew continued to try and wake her up. He cupped her face softly, his thumb running over her cheekbone. “We’re gonna get you help, alright. You’re gonna be fine.”
(Y/n)‘s eyes fluttered open for a moment and Lew could see the cloud of fever in her usually lively (y/e/c) irises. “Hey, (y/n/n). Can you hear me?”
“Lew?” she muttered shakily as her teeth chattered together from the chills racking through her body. Her mind was in a state of delirium as she called out for him, and even in her feverish state, she longed for his comforting presence.
“Yeah, it’s me, sweetheart,” he whispered, his throat closing up with emotion. “Dick’s getting Doc. They’ll be here soon.”
The sweat beading from her forehead was a stark contrast to the frigid temperatures around them, and Lew noticed her trembling getting even worse. Without a second thought, he began to take off his coat and wrap it around (y/n), along with his beanie and anything else he could find to keep her warm.
The cold bit at Lew’s skin as he stripped off his winter clothing, but he didn’t seem to feel it. His only concern was the woman before him in dire need of help. His mind involuntarily flashed back to the last time they were in this position…
“You’re gonna be okay, you hear me?” Nix’s voice quivered, but he fought to keep it steady. “You’re gonna be fine, sweetheart.”
Roe skidded next to her and shoved Lew aside as he began to assess and treat (y/n). Her trembling hand shot out, desperately grabbing onto Nix’s.
“Lew,” she croaked through her tears, her voice filled with fear. “I’m scared.”
He cupped her cheek gently, his touch tender. “I know,” he whispered, his eyes locked on hers. “I’m here.”
The similarities were eerie, and Lew found himself doing something he didn’t do. He began to pray.
“Please, God…” he whispered into her neck as he tugged (y/n) close to his body. “My mother says that you listen, and I’m depending on that right now. Get her through this. I love her…please. ”
It was a raw, emotional plea that came from the depths of his heart. If there was one thing he cared about in this stupid war, it was her. If she was taken from him, he didn’t know how long he would last.
She would be his breaking point.
He didn’t get to finish the thought because Dick returned with Roe. Eugene’s eyes widened as he took in the scene: Nixon, clad in only his thin ODs, shivering alongside (y/n), who was covered in his clothes. Gene exchanged a glance with the Captain, his expression a blend of worry and disapproval.
“I woke up to her shaking and burning up. She complained of her throat and head hurting earlier, but I didn’t think anything of it,” Lewis interjected quickly, his words rushing out in a mix of frustration and worry.
Without hesitation, Roe hopped down into the foxhole, swiftly gathering all the extra clothes that were attempting to warm (y/n), and tossed them back on Nix.
“Put these back on. The last thing we need is you getting hypothermia,” Gene urged, his breath coming out in rapid puffs, winded from the sprint to the couple.
As Lew quickly complied and layered himself once again, Gene set to work. He first started his examination by gently lifting (y/n)‘s eyelids. The pale moonlight revealed the redness of her cheeks, the pallor of her skin contrasting sharply with the usual warmth that marked her complexion.
Lew anxiously watched every move Gene made, his eyes fixed on the scene unfolding before him. Gene pressed his fingers to (y/n)‘s uncasted wrist, checking her pulse, and then moved on to feeling her forehead once more.
Gene muttered to himself as he worked, “Fever is high, and her pupils are reactive but sluggish. She’s probably dehydrated, too.”
Dick and Lew shared a helpless glance, and the redhead placed a steadying hand on Nix’s shoulder in an attempt to calm him.
Roe looked visibly frustrated as he carefully examined (y/n)‘s hand. “Damn it, I knew this would happen!”
“What, Doc?” Lew questioned anxiously.
“She’s got an infection, and it looks like a pretty nasty one, too. We need to get her back to the hospital and get some penicillin in her system. I don’t have any here,” Gene explained, his diagnosis sending a pang of guilt through Nix.
He shouldn’t have let it get that bad. He should have made her go back sooner.
“I wish I could take this thing off, but I don’t think my scissas' will do it,” Doc grimaced, gently prodding the skin around the end of the cast. “The infection’s probably from moisture stuck under the cast. With this fever…”
The Cajun looked up at Winters with wary eyes that said everything the Captain needed to know. “We need a jeep…now,” Gene called out, and Dick jumped up and ran for the nearby radio. “Without antibiotics, she could go into septic shock, and there’s no recovering from that.”
Lew’s hand instinctively reached for her good one, wrapping his gloved hands around hers. He rubbed his thumb soothingly over the back of her hand. He didn’t know whether it was for himself or for (y/n), but what he did know was that his insides were twisting with guilt, the pang growing into a constant ache. The fears he had quelled the previous day came raging back, and all he could see was the worst-case scenario in his mind. The vivid images almost stole his breath.
They were the same ones he’d had since she was first shot: Nix standing above a blanketed figure lying on a cot in a dark and bloody aid station, feeling like his heart was being ripped out of his chest. He closed his eyes and brought her frail hand up to his lips, the same way she’d done the day before as he reminded himself that she was alive…for now.
“This is Captain Winters. I need a jeep to 2nd Battalion CP for casevac, now!” Dick yelled into the receiver. A few moments passed, and then he was beside them again. “They’re on their way.”
During the whole interaction, Lew was frozen. The voices around him faded into background noise, and his gaze was stuck on (y/n). The situation weighed heavily on him, and he couldn’t shake the feeling that he should have acted sooner. A hand on his shoulder brought the voices back into focus.
“Help me get her out of here,” Doc said quickly, breaking Nixon from his trance.
Taking a deep breath, he nodded, his eyes not leaving (y/n). “Yeah.”
His hands trembled slightly as he reached down to carefully lift her from the foxhole. Gently cradling her in his arms, he could still feel the heat radiating from her fevered body like he did when he first awoke. He quickly carried her past the shelter to the area where the jeep would arrive.
“Fight, sweetheart,” he whispered down to her. “Fight for me, alright? I love you.”
The trio heard the jeep before they saw it. There was the hum of an engine, followed by headlights in the distance that cut through the darkness. Nix rushed to the jeep as Roe ran past him and hopped into the back of the jeep beside the awaiting stretcher. Lew’s jaw tightened as he carefully placed her on the stretcher.
The engine hummed to life as the jeep prepared to depart, and Nix reluctantly stepped back, his eyes never straying from (y/n)‘s prone figure. Gene’s eyes briefly met his, and the Doc nodded, sharing a silent agreement that she would be taken care of.
Nix stood there, numb and motionless, staring at the fading lights of the departing jeep. The crunch of the ice beneath its tires was the only sound filling the night air. The bitter cold gnawed at his exposed skin, but it was the icy grip of guilt that truly chilled him to the core. Dick approached cautiously, trying to offer comfort, but Lew’s anger erupted before he could utter a word.
“I should have made her go. If I did she wouldn’t ha-” his voice cracked with regret, the weight of guilt pressing down on him.
“Nix,” Dick attempted to intervene, but Nix cut him off.
“No, it’s my job to keep her safe, Dick,” he yelled, pointing at himself. “And I can’t even do that.”
“You can’t control everything-”
“But I could control this,” he interrupted. “I could have ordered her to go back and we’d have avoided all this. She’d probably be back in a few weeks, but now I-,” Lew cut himself off as he placed his hands on his hips, trying to keep his composure. His eyes lowered to his boots, and the fury disappeared in his voice. “I don’t even know if she’s coming back. If she doesn’t, Dick-”
Winters placed a comforting hand on Nix’s shoulder as he interrupted him. “She will.”
Eyes rising to meet Dick’s, Lew found more worry than he’d ever seen reflected in the stark blues. Although he was a master at disguising his true emotions, especially in front of the men, Lewis could see right through it.
Would Dick put on a show for the men?
Sure.
But he never put one on for Nix.
For once, the redhead’s words were not as strong and resolute as normal. Doubt flickered in his pale irises, and the sight made Nix question everything. The two things he could always count on were (y/n) being by his side, and Dick being the reliable word of advice and honesty. At that moment, both the pillars of Lewis Nixon’s steadfast support system began crumbling around him.
Contrary to Dick, Lew was accustomed to shielding his every thought from others…a side effect of his affluent but rocky upbringing. It was mainly a result of his father’s constant anger and need to lash out at his family, which Lew often took the brunt of for his mother and sister as he got older.
“Yes, sir,” became a hollow phrase in the Nixon household, and the young Nixon children became masters of masking their expressions with whatever was needed to get through the situation. It was a skill that Lew used daily as an intelligence officer, but this time, he hated the fact that he had to use it on his best friend.
“Yeah,” Lew nodded slowly, his emotional exterior hardening slightly. “She’s tough. She’ll be alright. Thanks, Dick.”
Slapping him on the shoulder lightly, Nix took a deep breath and made his way to his hole, regret filling him for more than one reason. He plopped down into the hole roughly, throwing the cover over it a moment later. Once out of view, he dropped his face into his hands, trying to calm his racing heart. Every time he closed his eyes, his fears made themselves known, and he longed for the one thing that could numb the growing storm inside of him. Eyeing (y/n)‘s discarded helmet in the corner of the hole, he grabbed it and held the cold metal in his lap. He stared at it for a moment as he contemplated his decision.
“I’m sorry,” he muttered under his breath, placing the helmet back in its place in the corner. Nix removed the cover and went toward the radio. He brought the receiver up to his mouth and ear, ignoring a few confused looks from Dick.
“This is Captain Nixon,” he began. “I need a jeep to Regiment at the 2nd Battalion HQ.”
That night, Lewis Nixon found himself in the lonely officer’s mess, his only company the empty whiskey bottles scattered on the old, beat-up table in front of him. The familiar burn momentarily took away the pain, and the numbness welcomed him back like an old friend finally coming home from a long absence.
A/N: thank you to everyone who has been so supportive during the time between updates. y'all keep me going. this is about the fictional portrayal of easy company on the show. nothing but love and respect for veterans on this blog!
Word Count: 4.4k
Summary: (Y/n) and the men of Easy are forced to deal with the aftermath of the shelling that killed Muck and Penkala.
Warnings: major character death, grief, emotionally heavy
JANUARY 10, 1945: BOIS JACQUES, BELGIUM: 2000HRS
The wind and snow whipped through their dimly lit tent as Lew and Dick sat bundled up. Their breath hung in the frigid air as they discussed Easy’s situation and planned for the impending assault on Foy.
“Have you heard anything from the line?” Lew asked Dick quietly, his voice barely audible over the howl of the wind.
Dick’s expression fell as he shook his head, his eyes reflecting his concern. “No, but I have a bad feeling about it.”
The echoes of the recent shelling reverberated in Lew’s mind, and he couldn't help but think of (y/n) out there in harm’s way. Hours had ticked by, and an eerie silence had descended over the forest, leaving them with no updates.
Winters sipped his lukewarm coffee, the dim light casting dancing shadows across his weary face. “Dike should be reporting in soon.”
“Should be,” Nix scoffed, his voice heavy with skepticism. “We’ll see if he actually does.”
Another hour crept by, marked by only the distant cries of winter winds. As they waited, the faint crunching of snow reached their ears from outside, a sound that sent a shiver down their spines. The voice calling out was not Dike’s, and the tension in the tent thickened.
Dick, with a weary look, exchanged a silent glance with Nix before nodding to the approaching figure. “Come in, Shames.”
The lieutenant entered, his face wearing a somber expression. He removed his helmet and ran a gloved hand through his disheveled hair. His behavior told them all they needed to know: they’d lost someone.
Winters’ voice trembled in the cold and unease as he asked, “Ed, what’s the word?”
Shames sighed deeply, his gaze falling to the snow-dusted floor. “We lost two men to a direct hit.”
Lew’s heart sank as he asked, “Who?”
His response was a heavy blow, laden with sorrow. “Muck and Penkala.”
The room fell silent as the news struck them like a physical blow. Alex and Skip, two beloved Toccoa men who had been a part of Easy from the very beginning, were gone.
Lew knew she was suffering, and he knew she needed him.
Dick sent a despondent glance at Nix, whose hands sat on his hips with his brow furrowed in thought, eyes drifting to the floor. He knew exactly what was going through his friend’s head, and he thanked Shames quietly before dismissing him.
“Go,” Winters whispered, breaking the torrent of thoughts racing through Lew’s mind. He nodded and exited the tent, grabbing his helmet from a nearby table.
Pausing at the entrance, he turned back toward Dick. “I don’t know when I’ll be back. It just depends…” His words trailed off, unwilling to verbalize the fears haunting his thoughts. If the horrors stayed in his head, they were somehow a secret, but once spoken, it was as if they would magically appear before him.
“I know,” Dick replied quietly.
With a slow nod, Nix tried to push down his anxiety and stepped out into the snowfall. Ice crunched beneath his boots as he walked a few steps, the distant rumble of a jeep and a voice filling the air.
“Captain Nixon, sir!”
The interruption drew an exasperated groan from Lew as he spun to face a short figure bundled in winter gear, hopping out of the jeep.
“What?” Lew griped, wanting to reach (y/n) as soon as possible. The only way he knew the man was even the slightest bit cold was from the tinge of red on the tip of his nose. The only people dressed like that came from Regimental HQ. Lew looked at his sleeve.
Private.
The boy cleared his throat quietly and seemed to shrink under Nix’s scrutinizing gaze. “You’re needed at Regiment, sir.”
“Okay thanks,” Lew retorted, resuming his walk toward the line. “I’ll come when I get the chance.”
Undeterred, the private pursued him through the snow. “Sir! The General said he needed you immediately…it’s about the attack on Foy. ”
Lew froze mid-step, his heart conflicted between the woman he loved and his responsibilities. Knowing (y/n), he knew she was probably drowning in her grief, and he wanted nothing more than to be there with her, holding her and telling her everything would be okay. The reality, however, was that they were in a warzone where hundreds of men relied on their clearheadedness and decision-making.
Lew quickly turned back to the tent. “Dick!”
The redhead came running out, his rifle up and heart pounding. “What?” he said breathlessly, scanning the forest around them.
“I’ve been called up to Regiment. Apparently, it can’t wait, so would you-,” Nix paused, his voice soft, heavy with emotion. “Dick, can you please check on her?”
Winters nodded solemnly, placing a reassuring hand on Nixon’s shoulder. “Of course. When should I tell her you’ll be back?”
“I don’t know,” Lew sighed. “I’ll be back as soon as I can. Thank you, Dick.”
Storming toward the waiting jeep, Lew tried to supress the rising tide of emotions. He cursed under his breath and jumped in the jeep, throwing his belongings in the back seat and slamming the passenger door shut.
“Let’s go, Private!” He called out, his voice heavy with annoyance as he motioned for the boy to get into the Jeep. “We haven’t got all day!”
Snapping out of it, he quickly climbed in and held his hand to his helmet, keeping it from flying off in his frantic movements. “Yes sir.”
As they sped away, Lew’s gaze lingered in the direction of the line, his heart heavy at the thought of leaving (y/n). He didn’t know how long it would be until he returned, but he did know the first place he would go once he did.
Lip had already been on his way to see Captain Winters when his runner reached the Sergeant. He was concerned for the men, especially (y/n) and Malarkey, and it seemed Dick shared the thought.
“How are they doing?” Winters asked, ushering Lip into the tent.
“Well, if I’m honest, sir…not good.” Car shook his head gently with a sigh. “Malark is somewhat alright, but (y/n)...she’s struggling. She’s telling everyone she’s fine, but she’s barely eating and we all hear her crying at night, sir. Luz has been sitting with her, but her arm combined with Muck and Penkala…I don’t know how much more she can take.”
“That’s what I was afraid of,” Dick whispered, running a hand over his tired face. He couldn’t bear seeing another one of his men break like Buck had, and if it was (y/n), the Captain knew Lewis wouldn’t be far behind. “How’s everyone else holding up?”
“Hurting, sir, but we’re tough. We’ll get through it.”
Winters nodded, “Thank you, Carwood. Keep an eye on (y/l/n) and Malarkey. We can’t afford to lose them. If (y/n) doesn’t get better within the next day or so…”
“I understand. Have you seen Captain Nixon, sir?” Lip asked, his eyes checking the nearby area for eavesdroppers.
“Nix is at Regiment,” Winters began, “But he’ll be back as soon as he can. Have someone to stay with (y/n) until he can get out there.”
“Yes, sir,” Lip saluted, exiting the tent into the frigid air. On his walk back to the line, he lit up a cigarette, its heat seeming to warm him up slightly.
Everyone was concerned for Don and (y/n); if each man was honest, they didn’t know how much they could stand. The cold, the death, the total desolation…it weighed on each of them, pulling them underwater until nothing could be seen but darkness. Some hit their breaking point sooner than others, and it seemed that (y/n) was on the brink of hitting hers. When even George couldn’t get through to the corporal, Lip knew that there was only one other person who had a chance: Captain Lewis Nixon, who happened to be away at Regiment at the time (y/n) needed him the most. Carwood had a feeling Nix didn’t leave by choice, but it didn’t change the fact that he was there, and she was stuck on the line.
Arriving back at the front, Lip sighed, seeing (y/n) in the same position as when he’d left. George sat beside her, a comforting arm over her shoulder as he talked to her. As Lip neared them, he caught the conversation.
“My ma always had her hands full with us kids. I have 9 siblings, ya know, so we were always causin’ problems around the house,” George chuckled, peering down at (y/n)’s solemn face. “My little sisters…they are something else. Victoria is five years older than Marion, but you wouldn’t know that if you heard them fight. Mary thinks she’s just as big as Vic, and it’s the funniest thing. Sometimes my ma would have me break them up and I’d get a kick to the nuts or my hair pulled out.”
He expected at least a breathy sigh from the woman, but he got nothing but a nod in response. (Y/n)’s gaze stayed unmoving on the no man’s land between their line and the Germans. George’s heart sank, feeling like he had lost three friends instead of two that day. (Y/n) had become a shadow of herself, only speaking when necessary, never smiling, laughing, or showing any emotion.
Luz saw Lip in the corner of his eye and his brows furrowed, noticing the absence of the Captain they were looking for. He whispered a quick, “I’ll be back,” before hopping out of the hole and walking over to Lip.
“Where is he, sir?” George asked, his face falling.
Carwood shook his head sadly, “Regiment. Winters said he doesn’t know when he’ll be back.”
“Well, what do we do until then?”
Looking over George’s shoulder at (y/n)’s silhouette, Lip quietly sighed. “I’ll keep an eye on Malarkey. I may have an idea of how to help Don, but until Captain Nixon gets back, stay with (y/n).”
(Y/n) could hear them speaking in the distance, but she couldn’t bring herself to care. Skip and Alex’s faces haunted her thoughts, but her mind refused to fully process the reality of their absence. Instead, it replayed the moment the world shattered around them…the moment their calls for her stopped.
The memory was etched in painful detail. The explosion, the smoke, and their frantic cries all played on a loop in her mind. She could almost feel the shockwaves reverberating through her body as she shell struck, the ground shaking beneath her. Skip and Alex, forever frozen in her mind, screamed her name in desperate unison.
Now in the aftermath, (y/n) moved through the camp like a ghost. The condolences from fellow soldiers and sympathetic glances seemed distant, unable to penetrate the barrier she had erected around her shattered heart. Her eyes, once vibrant, were dull and haunted, reflecting the pain she refused to articulate.
Others offered words of solace, but they fell on deaf ears. She mechanically responded, nodding or offering a vacant smile, but her thoughts remained ensnared in that moment of destruction. She traced the lines of Skip’s teasing smile and Alex’s infectious laughter in the recesses of her memory, clinging to the echoes of their friendship.
Deep down, the pain threatened to engulf her, a tempest that raged within. Yet, for now, she chose the numbness, a fragile sanctuary protecting her from the brutal truth that her world had irrevocably changed.
In the midst of her self-imposed solitude, there was one figure who remained immune to the barricades she had built: Lew. The mere thought of him had the power to unravel the carefully crafted walls, and the prospect of seeing him on the line left her with conflicting emotions.
If (y/n) were to catch even a glimpse of Nix in her periphery, she knew the world she had shut out would rush back in a torrent. His presence had an uncanny ability to cut through the numbness and stir the dormant ache within her. The idea of facing Lewis meant confronting the vulnerability she had skillfully concealed from the prying eyes of sympathy and condolences. She knew the moment their eyes met, the floodgates would open, and the pain she’d been holding at bay would surge forth, drowning her in a sea of sorrow.
In her heart, she longed for his presence, for the peace and comfort she found in his arms. Yet, the fear of crumbling under the weight of grief in front of him held her back. (Y/n) grappled silently with the paradox of seeking refuge in the one person who could unravel her defenses, torn between the need for solace and the instinct to shield herself from further heartache.
George slipped back into the foxhole, assuming his previous position as (y/n) quickly wiped a single tear that had leaked from her eye. Thankfully, he seemed to miss the subtle movement, throwing his arm over her shoulders once again.
“Hey, (y/n/n),” Luz began, squeezing her shoulder gently. “Have I ever told you about the disaster that was Victoria’s Festa de 15 años?”
To his surprise, she looked up at him and spoke softly. “No.”
A wide smile broke out on George’s face as he began telling the beloved story. Little did he know that she only responded to ease his worries for her. She’d faked a brave face before, and she’d do it again.
In a dimly lit room at Regimental Headquarters, the atmosphere was tense with the weight of the impending attack. Nixon, though physically present, was mentally miles away, lost in thoughts of (y/n) and the frontline.
As Colonel Sink led the briefing, Lew found it difficult to focus. The maps and strategies seemed distant echoes compared to the vivid images of the person he needed to see. His watch became a constant companion, each tick amplifying his yearning to return.
Colonel Sink, observant of Nix’s restlessness, interrupted the meeting. “Captain Nixon, is everything alright? You seemed preoccupied.”
Lew, brought back to the reality of the briefing, nodded. “Yes, sir. Just eager to get back to the company.”
The various Generals, Majors, and Colonels shared glances, recognizing the internal struggle in the officer. General McAuliffe spoke up, “Captain, we need your full attention here. The assault on Foy is a critical operation.”
Nixon straightened in his chair. “Of course, sir. My apologies.”
However, his thoughts lingered on (y/n), and he couldn't shake the nagging worry about how she was doing in the aftermath of the last shelling. The room, filled with strategic discussions, felt worlds apart from where he needed to be.
As the briefing continued, Lew’s mind raced between tactical plans and vivid fears of what (y/n) could be going through without him. Hours dragged on, and he couldn’t help but feel a growing sense of urgency. The generals noticed his frequent glances at the door and they exchanged concerned looks.
As General McAuliffe took over from Sink, the Colonel approached Lewis discreetly. “Lewis, take a moment. I know it’s not easy, son, but we need you here, not out on the line.”
Nodding, Nix allowed Sink to lead him to the door and open it for him. “Take a few minutes and focus.”
The heavy door closed behind Lew, leaving him in the hallway outside the briefing room. He took a deep breath, attempting to shake off the weight of his worries. He glanced at his watch and sighed, realizing it was almost midnight, meaning he wouldn’t get back to the line before the next morning at the earliest.
The assault on Foy demanded his undivided attention, and he understood the gravity of the responsibility on his shoulders. Running a hand through his hair, he mentally scolded himself for losing focus during the briefing.
As he stood in the hall, Lew made a conscious effort to compartmentalize. He reminded himself that he was not just a man in love, but a captain entrusted with the lives of countless men. Regardless of how much it pained him, his worries for (y/n) needed to be set aside momentarily for the sake of the mission.
Taking another breath, Nixon steadied himself and adjusted his uniform. With a determined step, he entered the room, his mind now focused on the tactical details of the assault. The maps and strategies once again took center stage, and he engaged in the conversation with his gathered intelligence on the krauts in the village. Colonel Sink was satisfied with the captain’s renewed concentration and continued with the briefing.
The meeting dragged on far into the early hours of the morning. Nix finally emerged from the dimly lit room, weariness etched across his face, and the anxiety he’d been pushing down rose to the surface. The need to return to the line and finally see the woman he loved gnawed at him. He approached Colonel Sink, intent on making his case.
“Sir, I need to get back to the line and relay the plans to the companies,” Lew asserted, hoping the Colonel couldn’t see through his lie. Luckily, the older man could only see a mixture of exhaustion and concern in Lew’s brown eyes.
Sink shook his head regretfully. “Nixon, it’s too late now. You’ll head back at first light.”
Although he wanted to argue, Lew could see there was no room for disagreement in Sink’s eyes. Nodding, he reluctantly accepted the order. Nix saluted and pivoted away from the Colonel and started trudging through the snow-covered town toward the officers’ mess. He soon found himself in a quiet corner of the hall, the aroma of damp wood and the lingering cold permeating the air.
His eyes scanned the room until they settled on a makeshift bar. A dim light hung over the bottles, casting long shadows on the wooden surface. It had been nearly a month since he’d last had the luxury of a drink due to their sudden deployment into the Ardennes. Approaching the bar, he ran his fingers along the dusty bottles, his mind screaming at him to withstand the temptation.
‘You promised her.’
Pushing the thought away, he continued to search for something to ease the weight on his shoulders. His hand finally closed around a bottle of scotch whiskey. It wasn’t VAT-69, but it was the closest he could get to his precious liquor.
The first sip brought a familiar warmth, the burn traveling down his throat and settling in his stomach. The taste, though bitter, held a comfort, like an old friend greeting him after a long absence and offered a momentary escape from the weight on his shoulders.
As the alcohol took effect, Lew found himself caught between the numbing embrace of intoxication and the persistent anxiety for (y/n). Each sip brought a fleeting sense of detachment, a temporary relief from the fears that cycled through his mind.
JANUARY 11, 1945: 506th REGIMENT HQ, BELGIUM: 0700HRS
Persistent shaking of his shoulder roused Lewis Nixon from his restless slumber. Opening his eyes, he squinted against the light and found the jeep driver from before standing before him.
“Colonel Sink said to take you back to the line, Captain,” the private mumbled, his words slightly annoyed as he rubbed his eyes tiredly.
Lew groaned, closing his eyes tightly. He’d drank too much the night prior, and he could feel the effects of a slight hangover. It took a moment for the private to coax him to his feet, and with a heavy sigh, Lew gathered his belongings and walked towards the waiting jeep.
The drive back to the front was a silent one. Nix’s mind was clouded with guilt, the events of the night replaying in his head. Back in Holland, he’d promised (y/n) that he would better handle his emotions and not use drinking as a coping mechanism. At the first opportunity, he’d done exactly that.
As the jeep rumbled up to Dick’s makeshift shelter, Lew grabbed his things and hopped out, thanking the driver with a quick wave of a hand. The second he entered the tent, Dick perked up from his seat across the room where he was writing a letter. He got up and approached Lew with a look of disappointment when he saw the familiar look of a hangover on his friend.
“What about your promise to (y/n)?” Dick asked, his tone laced with disappointment.
Lew ignored the question, stress driving him to the heart of the matter. “How is she?”
Dick sighed, the weariness evident in his eyes. “She’s shutting down, Nix. Lip said-”
Without waiting for Dick to finish, Lew hurried out of the tent, anxiety gripping his chest. The weight of his guilt and the fear of what he might find pushed him forward, each step heavier than the last. The cold wind cut through Lew’s uniform as he approached the foxhole. As he neared, he heard hushed voices, and George glanced back at him, relief in his eyes.
“Someone’s here to see you,” Luz whispered to (y/n), gesturing behind them with his head.
She followed his gaze to Nix’s bundled figure, and her eyes drifted up his frame to meet his own soft browns, tears instantly filling her eyes. She turned away, moving her attention back to the line as she tried her best to hold herself together in front of him.
(Y/n) heard the footsteps, but her gaze remained fixed on the distant line, avoiding the approaching figure. George left the foxhole, leaving her alone with the man who threatened to break her hastily built walls. Lew took George’s place beside her, studying her carefully. Her lack of response, trembling lip, and the faint tear lines on her face were testament to the pain she was holding back.
“Please look at me,” Lew whispered softly, his voice barely audible over the whipping of the wind.
She shook her head. “I can’t.”
“Why not?” Nix pressed gently.
“Because I-” (y/n) began, her voice breaking. “Because I can’t pretend with you.”
Lewis reached out, his touch gentle as he turned her face toward him. “You don’t have to.”
The moment their eyes met, a flood of tears spilled from her eyes, and she collapsed into his chest as a sob ripped its way up her throat. As her tears fell, Lew held her close, his hand moving gently along her back in a soothing caress that whispered reassurance. Her sorrow echoed in shuddering sobs, and he tightened his hold.
“I’m here,” he murmured, his voice a comforting presence. “I’m so sorry I took so long.”
Listening to her cry, he realized that even his mind couldn’t conjure something as heartbreaking as the sound of her pain and that he would do anything to keep from hearing them ever again.
When (y/n) pulled back, her face told a story of grief. Red and puffy eyes, tear-streaked cheeks, and a runny nose painted a picture of her emotional turmoil. The weight of sorrow was evident in every detail, and Lew could see the toll of loss etched across her face.
“I was in their hole, Lew,” she whispered, her voice shaky. “I had just jumped out when-”
The words caught in her throat as emotions overwhelmed her, and she shook her head as tears continued to fall.
“I’m so sorry, sweetheart,” Nix said, pulling her into his arms again. “I’m sorry you had to see that.”
(Y/n) buried her face into his shoulder as her body continued to shake with sobs. “A-at least it was quick.”
He pulled her onto his lap and continued rubbing her back softly. “Yeah. They didn’t suffer.“
A few moments passed, and then she laid her head on Lew’s shoulder. “I really miss them,” she mumbled, wiping at a tear streaking down her cheek.
“I know,” he comforted, rubbing her arm. “But know they loved you…Skip especially. He’s actually the one who told me to get my act together and apologize.”
“Really?” she asked, a tiny smile quirking the corner of her lips. “Skip said that?”
Lew shrugged and smiled bashfully at her own minuscule grin. “Basically.”
Shaking her head softly, (y/n) sighed and reached for Lew’s hand, tenderly intertwining their fingers. She brought them to her lips, holding them there as she kissed his gloved hand.
“I love you, Lew. So much,” she confessed weakly, peering up at his concerned face. “I can’t lose anyone else to this-”
“Hey,” Nix interrupted, taking her face in his hands. “You’re not going to lose me. Not now, not ever. You’re stuck with me for the long haul, remember?”
Nodding slightly, she leaned forward and connected their lips. Lew could taste the salty tears on her lips, and he pulled back after a moment. “I can’t lose you, either. I need you healthy, sweetheart…mentally and physically. Please go to the hospital.”
“That was the last thing he said to me,” she choked out, her throat closing up. “Skip said that it would be the best birthday gift if I finally went. I was going to, Lew. And then not even a minute later, they…”
(Y/n)’s weak voice trailed off as Nix wiped another tear from her cheek. “(Y/n). Please go. If not for me, for Skip.”
Her eyes drifted downward. “I know. For Skip.”
“So you’ll go?” He asked quietly, hope rising within him.
“Yeah, I’ll go,” (y/n) replied, leaning against his chest once more. Lewis’ steady heartbeat calmed her racing mind. “But it can wait until tomorrow. Can you just hold me for tonight?”
Nix sighed softly, cradling her head against his chest. “Of course.”
Lew would never admit it out loud, but if she refused to go, he wouldn’t have hesitated to order her to. He didn’t want it to come to that, but he would do whatever it took to get her the help she needed, even if it meant her being furious with him or at the worst, losing her. When she reluctantly agreed to go, a weight in his heart lifted, and he thanked God that he wouldn’t have to go through with his backup plan.
