Shadows of the World » Band of Brothers

41: Secrets Weary

"Secrets, silent, stony sit in the dark palaces of both our hearts: secrets weary of their tyranny: tyrants willing to be dethroned." - James Joyce, Ulysses

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For Juliette, missing Alex was like the English weather; there were good days and there were bad days. Whereas her usual coping mechanism was to try to ignore what had happened as much as she could until she could mostly forget about it, that was impossible this time. After how long he had been around and how long they had spent together in that house in Aldbourne, he was everywhere.

There were times she could have sworn she heard him laugh quietly from what had once been his bedroom - that small, brief chuckle he did only when he couldn't help it. A few times she had even opened the door to check, though she had come up short every time. And every time she berated herself for believing something that she actively knew to be impossible; she had watched him die, felt his body go limp under her hands, and, regardless, they had left his body behind in Paris. And yet, each time, some small flicker of hope ignited itself in her chest and wouldn't leave her alone until she saw that the room was empty with her own two eyes.

It was difficult seeing everything still set up exactly as he'd left it; the bed was made with the special precision he had always used, his clothes still in the wardrobe. None of them dared to touch anything, although the thought that the bed sheets might still smell like him haunted her. It was a curiosity she wouldn't satisfy, however. Because if she was wrong, it would feel like he'd never been there at all, and that would be more painful than anything else.

This time, it wasn't just that she couldn't forget, it was that she didn't want to. She needed to remember him. There were no two ways about it.

Each of the four friends Alex had left behind coped with his absence differently, which was cause for many of the arguments which now plagued them. Where Alex had often been the keeper of peace, things now were very obviously more volatile. It was incredibly easy for them to get on each other's nerves, especially with their inability to leave the house.

Tom tried to keep the peace as best he could, but even he was irritable with the desire to get out of doors. They had been cooped up for what seemed like months, even though it was merely a few weeks, and he took his one outing per week for reconnaissance very seriously. He was out for hours at a time.

To his credit, however, Tom did a brilliant job of checking in on the others. He was a steady, reassuring presence in a time of such uncertainty. Jules just worried that he was trying to keep such a brave face for them all that sooner or later he would crash. She tried to let him know that she was there for him as much as possible, and checked in regularly to make sure he was sleeping okay and eating enough. He never really wanted to speak about Alex, but he was always enthusiastic to talk about mundane things and crack jokes. They were all mere shells of who they'd been the last time they were in England, but at least Tom still had his sense of humour.

One afternoon, just after Tom had gotten back from his reconnaissance trip, Jules knocked on his open bedroom door and smiled softly when he looked up.

"Anything interesting?" she asked of his trip. She took a seat on the small chair in the corner of his room and tucked her legs up underneath her.

Tom laughed a little bit. "The yanks are doing lots of hand-to-hand combat these days. They're training them for survival on the ground."

Jules chuckled. "They any good?"

"Could use some work, but they've got the enthusiasm alright." Jules laughed along with him and when the laughter faded he sighed. "They still haven't been told about the invasion, but there are whispers. I'm pretty sure they know by now that they'll be helping to invade France. My guess is they won't be told until a couple of days before."