The Spirit of the Corps » Band of Brothers

Epilogue

The door was open at the end of the hall. Charlie wasn't close enough to be able to see who was on the other side. But, though she was curious, she held back and gave Floyd's hand a squeeze. "Are you ready?" she asked, giving him a small smile.

He looked down at her, his eyebrows furrowed, uncertain. Once, she thought, he might have forced a smile. Now, he knew she would have seen right through him. She knew him too well for him to fake anything with her.

"We don't have to go," Charlie told him when he didn't seem to have anything to say. "We can go back upstairs, or we can go for a walk. Whatever you want."

At this, Floyd finally did crack a smile, a real one. With the hand not holding hers he brushed his fingers through a lock of her hair. "You'll stay with me the whole time," he said quietly, "right?"

"The whole time," Charlie confirmed. "You'll be sick of me by the end of the night."

Another smile, this time accompanied by a roll of his eyes. "I could never be sick of you, Freckles." He laughed at the prospect. "I could be locked in a room with you and only you for the rest of my life, with nothing to do but talk to you, and still not get sick of you."

Charlie scrunched her nose up. "You probably would," she argued. "Maybe just a little bit."

"Nope," he declared. He leaned in and kissed her nose so that she would un-scrunch it. "Not even a little bit."

"Well, then you must be some sort of saint," she replied, leaning her head on his bicep. "Either that or you've gotten very, very good at lying in the past five minutes."

Floyd shrugged, smirking. "Guess we'll never know."

"Guess we won't," Charlie sympathised, laughing as she lifted her head back up off of his arm. "So," she said, catching movement out of the corner of her eye from behind the open door, "decision time. What do you want to do, treasure?"

"Let's go in," Floyd decided, searching her eyes for approval.

Charlie gave him a smile and a nod and his shoulders eased a fraction.

"We came all this way, right?" he asked.

"Mh-hm," Charlie confirmed. "But that doesn't matter. If you decide you've changed your mind the second you get in there then we can just come right back out again. It's all very low stakes. Don't feel like you have to put on a brave face for anyone."

Floyd studied her for a beat and then his face broke out into a wide smile, crooked and bright and wonderful. Her favourite smile. The same smile she'd fallen in love with way back when.

"You're an angel, you know that?" he said, leaning down to kiss her cheek.

"So you tell me," she replied.

He made to kiss her lips but she placed a hand on his chest to halt him. "We've played that game before, remember, and it did not end well. Unless you want to walk in there covered in red lipstick, let's keep the kisses to lipstick-free areas."

Floyd grumbled as he kissed her forehead instead. "Hate when you wear lipstick," he complained under his breath.

"But I look so good in it," Charlie answered him with a toothy grin. Before he could say anything else she turned to face him, so that her back was to the door at the end of the hall. "Ready?" she asked, all traces of joking gone from her voice and expression.

Charlie had anticipated a moment of hesitation. Instead, Floyd replied, "Yeah," without a moment's delay. He squeezed her hand. "Let's go."

Their walk down the hallway was short but full of bated breath on both of their parts; Charlie had never actually been to one of these events herself. As her heels sunk into the plush red carpet with every step she tried to keep from fidgeting or fiddling, a nervous habit she knew would give her away; Floyd needed her to be brave, so she would be brave. How many times had he been brave for her, after all, when he'd probably felt anything but that?