March 1945

The dreams were the worst.

Edith would jolt awake, face cold with sweat, heart palpitating. It would be an hour or so till she drifted back into an uneasy doze. Sometimes she would merely stay awake, waiting for the yellowed curtains to brighten with dawn. It was a mercy that she had been quartered with Samantha. The girl's even breathing in the trundle bed by the door kept Edith from going mad on those nights.

The same image always brought her back to consciousness. The snow soaking up blood like a piece of bread in soup. The thick, warm liquid burned trails along the white expanse of her mind till she could almost taste it.

Then there were the nights she could still feel his arms around her.

Turning to catch a glimpse of his face, the grey image blurred. Though she'd never admit it, she couldn't tell if it was Winters or Nixon holding her. Strangely enough, it was as if they both were at the same time. Whoever it was that kept her in their embrace, those were the nights she slept through the terror like a ship passing unscathed through a storm.

Edith stared numbly at the supply list on the truck bed. Wordlessly, Samantha took one of her bare hands and wrapped her fingers around a fresh cup of coffee.

"So what's the word?"

"Sturzelberg."

"Gesundheit."

Edith shook her head as Samantha grinned coyly. She honestly didn't know if she could have made it the past two months without the girl. Their friendship had developed so gradually, Edith hadn't realized how dependent she had become upon her. They were overseeing another shipment into German territory and one of them was going to have to go with the convoy. The other would stay behind.

"You sure you are up for this?" Samantha asked, reading over her shoulder.

Edith swallowed hard. "Of course."

"You know, I have no problem going."

"Samantha, I'll be fine," Edith repeated evenly, meeting the sergeant's concerned gaze.

Edith hadn't needed to expose any details of her experience in the Bastogne area to Samantha. The girl innately knew that something had happened to her stoic boss. The sleepless mess of a woman that cried quietly into her pillow was enough for Samantha to guess the worst.

It was only recently, as the weather grew warmer and spring seemed as close as victory, that Edith was feeling whole again. Until the day earlier, when the order to venture deep into enemy territory arrived.

Her dreams that night had been particularly brutal.

"You know, there is no enemy activity on the route you are taking-"

"I'll be fine." Edith sipped her coffee, burning her tongue.

"Lieutenant Sink?" A familiar voice chirped behind them.

Edith and Samantha turned. A young man, thin but well-built with divorced front teeth, grinned at them. Edith smiled widely in return.

"Private Grable." She held out her hand.

"It's actually Sergeant now." He grasped her fingers firmly. "It's good to see you. How have you been?"

"Good." Edith's smile felt painted on. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm accompanying the supply convoy to Sturzelberg." His gaze drifted towards Samantha and lingered.

"Then we will be travel companions for the time."

"I'm looking forward to it." He glanced back at Samantha.

"This is my orderly, Sergeant Samantha Quincey." Edith motioned to the girl, sensing he was itching for an introduction.

The young man nodded eagerly. "Sergeant Edward Grable. But my friends call me Eddie."

"I'm sure they do." Samantha smirked. "I'll be fetching those folders. Do you need anything else, ma'am?"

Edith shook her head. As Samantha walked away, Grable followed her with his grey eyed gaze.

"I hate to break it to you, sergeant, but she has a sweetheart."

Grable glanced back and gave a breathy chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck. "Of course she does."

"I will see you at 10:00 hours?"

"Yes ma'am," he replied firmly. "I'm glad to be working with you again, Lieutenant Sink."

"As am I. And sergeant, please call me Edith."

"Only if you'll call me Eddie. See you in a couple hours."

After securing the last few items to be sent into Germany, Edith made her way through the quiet village. They weren't far from the border, though remote from any hint of action. Edith knew that had been on her father's part. She hadn't argued.

Trudging up the stairs to her temporary office space, she found Samantha facing the open window. Her arms were wrapped around her middle, a piece of stationary fluttering lightly in her hand.

"There is a telegram for you on the desk."

Edith walked over and picked up the neatly typed square. Reading silently, she sighed.

"I am being called over to Regiment in Germany. There have been some discrepancies with shipments lately. Apparently, the boys on the line are barely receiving even D-Rations because the supplies are so badly stripped by the time they get to them." Edith snorted, shaking her head. "They need me over there by this afternoon. I hate to ask you this, but can you go to Sturzelberg in my stead?"

"I already said I was willing."

Samantha's voice was soggy. Edith paused, setting down the telegram. On the desk corner, there was a torn envelope postmarked from England. She took a tentative step forward.

"Samantha?"

The young woman sniffed, cupping the arc of her neck with her palm as she held up the letter. She glanced back at Edith. Her cheeks were damp and fair skin blotchy. She tried to smile though her eyes were awash.

"I had a feeling it was coming." She folded the letter.

"Oh no." Edith's heart sunk. "Is Smokey... Walter, is he-"

"He's alive. Don't worry. Still encased like a mummy in that cast with holes bored into his head and such. He has regained some movement, but it looks like a long road till he is healed up. And he doesn't want me to travel it with him anymore."

Edith bit her lip. Since hearing the news of the corporal's serious injury at Bastogne, Samantha had been optimistic. Their letters were few and far between, but it had seemed like he was going to make it and they would be eventually reunited.

"What reason did he give?"

"He doesn't feel its right to expect me to take care of him if he remains paralyzed."

"He has pride."

Samantha wiped her nose with her monogrammed handkerchief. "He's got something alright."

"Are you sure you can make this trip? I can contact my father and tell him I'm unable to make it."

"No, of course not." She exhaled heavily, shaking out her hands. "Anyway, wasn't it you who said personal feelings and professional atmosphere don't mix? You were so right. I should never have gone down this road. You were smart to stay unattached, Edith."

A pang of guilt hit her in the gut. Dick's muted shock as her palm had connected with his face flashed into her mind. She still couldn't explain why she had reacted so fiercely. It had been stupid and impulsive. And had most likely cost her so much more than she could fathom. Edith could only hope she never saw him again.

"My ride for Regiment leaves in an hour. You sure you are up for Sturzelberg?"

"Positive."

***

Lewis Nixon ran his worn fingertips over the stitching of his hat. With a sigh, he sat back from resting his elbows on his knees. Digging into his pants pocket, he rolled his eyes as he felt the empty packet of cigarettes. He had forgotten that he was out.

It had been a half hour since he had arrived at Regiment for a briefing with Colonel Sink. Whatever was going on in the large drawing room used for meetings was taking longer than expected. Hurry up and wait as usual.

He shifted his weight on the creaking wooden bench and peered across the hallway. Colonel Sink's secretary was busy typing in the open room across from him. She paused. Giving a sigh, she'd check the tape in her typewriter and then peck away at the keys once more. It was maddeningly predictable.

Nixon tried to imagine what the secretary look like without glasses and her hair loose. He concluded it wouldn't be much of an improvement.

The door to the briefing room opened. A flood of uniforms strutting in all their ranked glory filled the hallway. He stood at attention and saluted. Most of them didn't acknowledge him. Rolling his eyes, he sank onto the bench. Nixon glanced down at his watch. He was in desperate need of a drink.

As his gaze drifted upwards, he glimpsed a sculpted pair of ankles at the secretary's desk. His eyes lifted and he couldn't help the smile tugging at his lips. He'd have known those legs anywhere. Edith Sink turned, a folder tucked under her arm and reading a sheet of paper as she walked into the hallway. Lewis straightened in his seat. He was about to say something when she looked up into his eyes.

Her expression was blank as she studied him. As though she was trying to place him. As though she didn't remember him holding her as they drove back from the line at Bastogne.

He had every moment of that evening stamped in his mind. Nixon couldn't recall the last time a woman had needed him like that.  The next day, her father sent her away as fast as the paperwork could go through. Seeing her again almost made him forget the heaviness of the flask in his pocket. Almost.

"Captain Nixon," she stated.

Lewis stood. "Good to see you. How have you been?"

"Well." She nodded curtly. "And you?"

Nixon had a searing thought of what it would be like to kiss that Cupid's bow mouth of hers. He coughed and fought for focus.

"Still in one piece."

"I see. And still lacking a razor."

He chuckled. "I told you already. I do the best I can in that department."

Edith managed a half smile as her hazel eyes flitted towards the staircase behind him. Her face was thinner then when he had last seen her. Grey shadows of exhaustion painted the hollows of her cheeks. It seemed that the war was finally taking its toll on the Ice Queen of the 101st. Lew absently stepped towards her. She drew back.

"You here to see the colonel?"

"Yes. Something about a combat jump."

Edith wrapped an arm around her middle, her gaze returning to the stairs.

"Good luck then. It was nice to see you, Captain Nixon."

Nix chuckled as he ambled forward till he stood abreast of her. He was close enough to catch the clean scent of soap in her hair.

"Come on, Edith. Call me Lew now, would yah?"

Her expression cooled. "Captain Nixon works just fine for me."

Edith strode to the stairwell. Nixon watched her every step.