𝐛𝐫𝐨𝐤𝐞𝐧 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬; band of brothers ✔

PART TWENTY SIX

Word count; 2,387

Frances

The field hospital was attached to a small countryside town, filled with attached houses that towered over the streets. Eugene had led me to the building assigned to 1st Platoon, another tall structure, each floor almost dedicated to a squad. Except, with the sky already darkening - despite it being 5 o'clock - only the middle floor displayed any signs of life, a dim glow dawing from the windows.

The medic pivoted, hearing me halt as we reached the front step.

"It's just..." I explained. "It's been a while."

He smiled warmly, "What could go wrong?"

"It's..."

Fists tucked in his sleeves, he crossed his arms over his torso, "You can tell me."

"I know." I simpered. "Just struggling to find the words, that is all, hon."

He bobbed his head, "Take your time."

"Well..." I swallowed a lump. "I'm just... I've been okay with you. And with... him... but earlier, back there, Lewis tried to hug me, and I was almost scared. I could never be scared of Lewis, but I was. I don't know what of."

Nearly proudly, Eugene smiled, "That's all right. You need to know that it is."

"I know, just... I don't know."

"Your mind, your body, it just doesn't know who to trust yet. Give it time."

"But what if... what if they want to hug me, or they accidentally brush my shoulder, or-"

"Kennedy." He chuckled softly. "They know to give you space. And I'll be there, right by your side."

"Thank you." I sighed. "I'm very lucky to have you."

"Wouldn't change it for the world."

And like that, we headed inside. Surprisingly enough, the building appeared to be untouched by the war, free from artillery, fire, rot. Everything still had a bareness to it, though, all furniture and lights long gone, leaving the soldiers that resided inside to use candles or gas lamps to ignite their way.

A roar of laughter welcomed us as we climbed the stairs to the middle floor. Perhaps a row of apartments at one time, three or so doors lined the wall beside the stairwell, one having been ripped off its hinges and probably used as firewood. Shadows moved against the threshold, more chuckles and screams and accusations drifting into the atmosphere, alongside the cheap scent of ratpack burns. Eugene, still leading the way, glanced back at me. After all, this was his platoon - at this point, he hovered between all three, but 1st was the platoon he was assigned to at the beginning; he'd watched the way it had changed since then. He knew the veterans off by heart.

The medic stood in the doorway, the men within instantly spewing out an ecstatic uproar. He let them have their moment, offer him to join their game of cards, waiting for silence.

"Oh, god, what has happened?"

"Yeah, what the shit, Gene, acting all conspicuous?"

"Yeah, something's wrong-"

"You're right, something's gotta be wrong-"

"He only looks at us like that when something's wrong-"

"Hey, quit it, fellas." A more authoritative voice ordered; Martin's voice. "What's up, Doc?"

Eugene looked at me briefly, "Well..."