79 | Rage Against the Dying of the Light

555 31 4
                                    

Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright, their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay, rage, rage against the dying of the light

Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.

Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright, their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay, rage, rage against the dying of the light.

- Do Not Go Gentle into That Good Night, Dylan Thomas

。↷ ✧*̥₊˚‧☆ミ

Train en route to Paris, France

March 10th, 1945

1100

The countryside seemed to pass by in a disfigured, water color like blur outside the window. The sun shone brightly down upon the farms sprinkled along the sides of the railroad tracks and the distant tree lines seemed to disappear and grow all at once. The last time she'd been en route to Paris had been before Bastogne, before a good portion of the company had been lost or wounded to war. Last time she'd been in Paris, Sergeant Toye had been there. Sergeant Toye wasn't here though. He was in a hospital, God knows where, and she still hadn't managed to muster up what courage she could've possibly had, to finish his letter. She could feel the pain striking up her cheek at her clenched jaw and she couldn't help but feel the soft clench of her fist in her lap, hidden by her opposite hand and freshly strapped on bandages. She'd become better in the past few weeks at hiding it from the others; she never wanted someone to have to notice and worry.

" Agent." Natia snapped her head to the side and upwards towards the smirking face of Captain Nixon, stood with a clear glass filled with brandy in his hand and a map withheld in the other," Bon voyage to Mourmelon and bonjour to Paris, France. About time I'd say." Natia let a small 'pfft' escape her lips as she crossed her arms.

" You can't blame the conductor when it was someone who made the train depart late." Natia said, a small chuckle escaping her lips," Then again, Mapkeeper, surprised to see the brandy in your cup at 1100."

" Hey, I said it was a train ride to Paris, not some sorta honeymoon." he said with a chuckle as he sat down across from her, sliding into the seat comfortably, before adjusting his collar and the Captain's bars pinned to it," Not like it would've been enjoyable." Natia laughed quietly to herself and sighed.

" Sounds like you don't have the best experience with honeymoons, Captain." Natia said, glancing up towards him as the train continued to roll throughout the open landscape of rural France, the quiet hum of the train on the tracks clicking with each strum. The Captain shrugged and sat back, tapping his fingers against the glass - he shook his head with one swift quiver and then met her gaze.

" Kathy wasn't exactly too excited for the whole honeymoon thing," he muttered," at least as much as I was." Natia raised a brow in his direction.

" Kathy?" she asked him, her voice soft for once," Who's Kathy?" Captain Nixon took another sip of his brandy and clenched her jaw.

Landslide - Band of BrothersWhere stories live. Discover now