The Spirit of the Corps » Band of Brothers

117: All the Best Things

Charlie couldn't have been unconscious for more than a few seconds. As such, the chaos she was met with when she roused would have been more appropriate if she'd spontaneously combusted.

She couldn't immediately understand what the shouting voices were saying, but before she even opened her eyes she could tell there were multiple people racing around the kitchen. The arms which held her were Floyd's, this she knew with absolute certainty; there was a specific way he'd always held her, even before they'd been together, as though she was the most precious thing he'd ever come across and more delicate than glass. But everything else was a mystery.

As Floyd lowered her back into the chair she'd been sitting in before, Charlie forced her eyes open. A sound emerged from her throat, somewhere between a groan and a whimper, and when he had her seated he crouched before her, his eyes wide, frightened.

"Freckles," he said, searching her face as his mother appeared behind him. "Are you alright? What happened? Do we need a doctor?"

"No," Charlie replied with a grimace. The last question was the only one which had stuck in her pounding head. "No, I'm okay. This happens sometimes."

"What do you mean it 'happens sometimes'?" Floyd demanded, horrified.

"That's it, I'm calling a doctor!" Janie declared.

Charlie shook her head weakly. The room swam around her. "No, you need to call my parents," she said. "Floyd, you need to call my parents, they - they -"

"Okay, Freckles, okay," Floyd soothed her. "We'll call your parents." He gestured to someone behind her, probably the driver, who she knew had her father's telephone number.

Charlie slumped back in her chair.

"Charlie," Floyd said warily, resting both of his hands on her knees to prompt her eyes back to his, "what's wrong?"

"It's -" Charlie began, and just the thought of it threatened to send her spiralling once more. "It's, um - it's the, um - it's, um -"

"Breathe, Freckles," Floyd said, lifting a hand to cup her cheek. "Same time as me, alright? In and out." He encouraged her to follow the rhythm of his breathing, one deep breath in and then a deep breath out, over and over until the tension in her shoulders relaxed.

"You're safe, Charlie," Floyd assured her quietly, running his thumb across her cheek. "I promise you're safe. I won't let anything bad happen."

Charlie couldn't look away from his eyes. She couldn't believe she'd almost forgotten their particular shade of brown. Even worried as they were, with eyebrows dipping above them in concern, his eyes were still beautiful, still warm and lovely. Still safe. She lifted a hand without thinking and her fingers grazed the exposed skin of his wrist where he was still holding her face. "It's the snow," she confessed quietly, her eyes flitting between both of his.

"Reminds you of Bastogne?" he asked softly, so no one else would hear.

Charlie nodded and shut her eyes; even just the name of the place made shivers wrack her entire body, had images of blood on snow flashing through her mind. There had been so much blood. And that was where Skip and Alex...

"Breathe, Charlie," repeated Floyd.

In and out. In and out. Charlie focused all of her concentration on regulating her breathing again.

Footsteps in the kitchen and then: "Her parents said they usually shut all the curtains and turn the radio on loud to distract her."

"I'll get the living room," a voice which sounded like Robert's announced in reply to Charlie's driver. Then his footsteps on the floor tiles sounded as he left the room.