Shadows of the World » Band of Brothers

37: A Lover's Quarrel With the World

"And were an epitaph to be my story I'd have a short one ready for my own. I would have written of me on my stone: I had a lover's quarrel with the world." - Robert Frost, The Lesson for Today

-

Another wanted poster. This time it was Tom's. They'd been operating out of Paris for three weeks and all they had to show for it were two wanted posters depicting faces eerily similar to two of theirs.

Juliette had already had to cut Alex's hair, his previously floppy mess of dark curls now chopped as close to his head as Jules could get them with a pair of kitchen scissors. It looked a complete mess, but Alex had told her he was happy with it anyway. She appreciated the gesture.

When Will showed them all the poster Tom's eyes immediately shot to her. "You're not coming anywhere near my hair."

"I tried my best!" she exclaimed, a pout forming on her lips before she could stop it.

Alex sent Tom a fierce glare before trying to smile at her. "He's being callous. It looks great."

Martin snorted and Jules giggled once, not being able to help it. Even she had to admit it was rather remarkably terrible.

Then Alex seemed to set eyes on the poster in Will's hands again, for he quickly became serious. "Thomas, you can't go out again. It's too risky. When we get our next set of orders through I'll have Martin give Juliette backup. You'll have to stay behind with William and I."

"How thrilling," Tom commented drily, earning him a shove from Will, which made him grin.

"When are we likely to be getting more orders?" Juliette asked, attempting to discern whether he had received the details for an intel drop yet. Alex looked at her and inhaled deeply.

"Tomorrow."

"Fantastic!" Martin cheered sarcastically. Jules chuckled lightly, though she couldn't say she disagreed with his sentiments. Three weeks of almost constant missions, and five before that of making their way from Bordeaux to La Rochelle - at this point, Aldbourne, the paratroopers, and her temporary civilian lifestyle were all a distant memory. Oh, to be Penny Williams once more.

"You'd think we're the only bloody team in Paris," Will commented. He ran a hand through his hair and looked supremely exhausted, though upon scanning the faces of the others she thought that that was a quality they all shared. Looking at herself in the mirror that morning had revealed dark circles under her eyes she hadn't seen standing out so boldly against her skin since before Aldbourne, which in itself seemed like a lifetime ago. With all the action they had seen since, however, Juliette supposed that perhaps the time they had passed was about the equivalent. She felt as though she'd led four separate, long existences during her time in the war alone. It was a unique kind of lethargy.

Jules shrugged. "Perhaps we are. There seems to be an awful lot of activity in Holland these days, and obviously there will be in Germany as well."

"We've been in the field for eight weeks," Will sighed out. His words were perhaps intended to serve as a protest though his tiredness made sure they never quite hit their mark. It was more of an extended exhale than an objection.

Jules smiled ruefully. "Just like the good old days."

A loaded silence fell over the room, the kind that wasn't entirely unintentional but when it settled, draped over their shoulders like an old, scratchy blanket, it didn't bring the peace they might have hoped it would. With the lack of sufficient distraction each person's mind wandered subconsciously to premature ruminations of what they would be sent out to do next, and whether someone else's identity would end up being sacrificed as a result. None of them said anything, but with the wanted posters a sense of heightened urgency had filled them; if they were caught and recognised beyond a shadow of a doubt, it was all over, in more ways than one.