The Spirit of the Corps » Band of Brothers

62: Stuff Like That

"Hey, Charlie," Frank said as he threw himself down beside Floyd on the bed facing Charlie's. The words were less a greeting than a gathering of her attention, and when she looked over he demanded, "What you been readin' lately?"

Charlie folded her lips into her mouth as she considered the question. Eventually, she settled on just telling the truth, even though the reaction she got from it probably wouldn't be ideal. "I, uh, haven't really."

"You ain't been readin'?" Frank asked, looking personally affronted at the fact. As Charlie shook her head he went on, "Why?"

She shrugged and pulled her hands up into her sleeves, trying to appear casual even as her mind raced for a way out of the conversation. "I just haven't felt like it."

"Ain't you always readin'?" Frank quizzed further.

"Well," Charlie hedged, "Not always always. I don't force myself if I don't feel like it."

Frank stared at her for a beat and then huffed. "Damn," he said, throwing his hands up in his frustration. "I ain't got nothin' to read, Lancaster. Was hopin' you could sort me out."

"I can loan you A Tale of Two Cities?" she offered hopefully. "It's my favourite, so it comes highly recommended."

Frank's thick eyebrows lowered suspiciously over his eyes. "What's it about?"

"It's set around the time of the French Revolution and it follows a French man who was imprisoned for eighteen years, and when he gets released he goes to London to live with the daughter he's never met."

Frank hummed as he considered this synopsis. Eventually, he nodded. "Alright, I'll try it."

"Okay," Charlie agreed. "I can give it to you tomorrow, but you have to take good care of it because it's the copy I brought from home."

"You got my word," Frank vowed, and Charlie believed him.

As the hours wore on Charlie was only getting more and more tired. At some point she started accepting the bottles offered to her, a last ditch attempt to get some energy back into her body, but all it served to do was make her body feel even heavier than it already had been.

Unfortunately, the 'secret' part of a secret party meant there wasn't a lot of loud talking or excessive moving around involved in the event, so as time wore on she was toeing the line between consciousness and unconsciousness more and more unsteadily. After attempting to circle the room and mingle with some other people to work against her drooping eyelids, Charlie finally gave in and made her way to Floyd.

He turned immediately when she said his name, and furrowed his eyebrows as he looked down at her. "You alright?"

"Which one is your bed?" she asked in place of giving a concrete answer. "And can I sit there for a while?"

"It's that one," Floyd replied, pointing to the bed he'd been sitting on when she'd first come in. Mercifully, it was currently vacant, ready and waiting for her to collapse onto. "You alright?" he asked again, drawing her eyes back to him.

"Yeah," Charlie assured him with a lazy nod. "I'm just really tired." She plastered on a breezy smile to reassure him it was nothing to worry about and then walked over to his bunk. She managed to get her boots off and tuck her feet up under her before she fell asleep with her head resting against the wall above his pillow, not having thought to lie down.

When Charlie woke she had a blanket draped over her and she was most certainly not resting against the wall anymore. Still upright though she was, the surface beneath her temple was a different sort of hard to the wall, softer but still firm. It rose and fell rhythmically and there was a pulsing beneath her ear, and she knew without having to look up whose lap she'd been sleeping in. How she had managed to get there, however, when she was certain she'd fallen asleep all by herself - well, that remained a mystery and probably would forever, because there was no way she was going to ask.

The party must still have been going on around her, for voices went from muffled to clear as the fog in her mind cleared. Floyd's chest rumbled beneath her as he laughed at what Johnny, somewhere nearby, had said.

"She's waking up," Johnny said as Charlie smacked her lips and peeled open her eyes. The next thing she knew Floyd had shifted her in his lap and she was looking up into his face.

"Hi," he greeted her with a small smile. "Feel better?"

"Mh-hm," Charlie hummed in reply, pushing herself to sit up straight and letting the blanket pool in her lap. Now safely out of his lap, Charlie rubbed at her eyes and stifled a yawn, then let her head rest in her hands for a moment. A moment later she looked back at Floyd and said sheepishly, "Sorry for sleeping on you."

Floyd waved a hand to brush her aside. "You're fine. The wall didn't look very comfortable."

"No," Charlie agreed with a quiet smile. "I probably would've had an awful crick in my neck if I'd slept there much longer."

"Probably," answered Floyd, nodding his head sombrely, as though even the thought of such a thing was sobering.

"What time is it?"

"2330, or thereabouts."

Charlie nodded. She shifted where she sat and tugged the blanket up higher on her lap. Then her eyes caught on something peeking out from under Floyd's pillow. "Is that your D-Day present book?"

Floyd hesitated. "Uh..."

"What were you writing in it, back in Aldbourne?" Charlie went on, already reaching for it.

"Oh, nothing." Floyd took it from her before she could open it. "Just, y'know..."

"Just..?"

"Just, stuff."

"Stuff," Charlie echoed, quirking a brow.

Floyd nodded. "Yeah. Stuff I had to remember. Like which of the replacements in my squad needed extra help with his M1 or what time the NCOs had a meeting or whatever."

"Stuff," Charlie agreed, nodding. "Names of girls and times of dates and when you'd next have to stock up on your supply of... protection." She had no idea why she'd said it, but her cheeks flamed when she realised what word she was going to have to use. Instantly she regretted saying anything - she'd known she would before the words had even emerged, and she hadn't even wanted to say them, but saying them had been like picking at a scab; she just hadn't been able to help it.

Floyd looked away. "Yeah," he said, then turned his eyes to the book in his hands. "Stuff like that."

Yeah. Stuff like that. Why did her heart ache every time he reminded her he was a philanderer? She knew it better by now than she knew what her own face looked like, with all its new marks and spots and wrinkles. And yet every time he told her so she felt like she'd been stabbed in the gut.

Why does it have to be you, she thought, who can't be satisfied by one woman? And why does it have to be you that I...

No. She wouldn't even think it. She was exaggerating, anyway, because of the ache. Feeling sorry for herself. Being melodramatic. Making something of the situation that it wasn't.

Tired, that was it. She was just so tired.

"Charlie, we're headin' back," Mabs called suddenly, rising from the game of cards she'd been playing with Bull, Skinny, Alton, and Babe.

"Okay," Charlie replied.

Feeling empty of the energy it took to even muster a smile, Charlie gave Floyd just a nod as she got to her feet, then waved at Skip, Alex, and Malarkey in the midst of their own little card game before leaving the room.