Shadows of the World » Band of Brothers

11: Almost Every Time

"Almost every time somebody gives me a present, it ends up making me sad." - J.D. Salinger, The Catcher in the Rye

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The sunlight was a welcome reminder that all she had done the previous night was in the past. She tried to remind herself that what she had done was what she had had to do, but it was difficult, and she knew Alexis meant well but he really hadn't helped.

Thomas had put Juliette to bed the previous night and sat on the floor at her side until he was certain she was asleep, and there was little commotion beyond that. This morning, however, she had been expected to give a mission report, and all of the boys were obviously intrigued as to what had caused her breakdown; they had been polite and conscientious enough to allow her to cry it out without question the night before.

When she mentioned what had happened with the Oberführer Alexis hadn't been happy. He'd accused her of a great many things in his quest to make them all the best they could be, but a cold-blooded killer had never been one of them.

"I didn't have a choice!" she'd insisted, tears welling in her eyes at his insinuation on the contrary, and he turned eyes on her that were unnervingly cool.

"You always have a choice, Juliette."

Well, it certainly hadn't felt like it.

Juliette left the house shortly after that, having delivered the rest of her report stony faced and indifferent. She didn't need to be accused of anything more by him or anyone else, she was already disgusted with herself.

The brunette girl sat in one of the many fields surrounding Aldbourne in silence, twisting the blades of grass that surrounded her crossed legs. From this angle, the field seemed infinite, and the sun healing. It was a tiny pocket of peace in which she could pretend that the peace was infinite, too. Peace was a concept becoming more arbitrary by the second.

She was lost in thought as she stared mindlessly at the set of trees that lined the left-hand side of the field, ripping out grass by the handful, when a voice from somewhere on her right called out a tentative, "Miss?"

Juliette didn't hear him at first, a frown etched deep into her features and her eyes unblinking in their gaze. The man tried again. "Miss?"

This time, she jolted in her place, head snapping in the direction of the voice. She looked like a deer in headlights, the man thought - or perhaps, rather, a fawn. He pulled on a small smile in the hopes of easing the tension in her shoulders. "Are you alright?"

"Hm?" she replied, though she had heard him perfectly, and then shook her head as if to clear away all previous preoccupations. "Oh. Yes. I'm okay, thank you." The man didn't look convinced so she offered, "I'm waiting for a friend."

"Oh." Yep.

"Are they gonna be long?" he asked. He really didn't mean to bother her but the vacant look in her eyes made him wonder whether she was actually okay. When she looked up at him again he thought that she wasn't, for there was a look of profound sadness on her face. She looked like she had the weight of the world on her shoulders, and was struggling not to collapse under the burden.

When Juliette looked into his eyes for the first time the lie died on her tongue. He was clearly just trying to help. She opened and closed her mouth in the search for words before he offered her a lifeline. "Is there a friend you're waitin' on?"

She sighed, a deep and exhausted sound, before turning doe-like eyes on him. "You could be my friend?" She was tired of closing herself off. Perhaps she needed a friend who didn't share in her knowledge of the terror she had seen, the terror she had done.

Yes, she decided, a friend like that would be rather nice.

The dark-haired man fought a smile and lowered himself into the grass beside her. That hadn't been quite what he was expecting. He looked out over the field with her and was content to simply revel in the quiet; he had never really been one for intense conversation, and he decided that the girl would speak if and when she wanted to.

"What's your name?" she wondered, keeping her eyes trained on the trees. The man decided to do the same when he replied.

"Eugene."

"Eugene," she repeated, trying the name out for size. Then she turned to him. "Are you scared, Eugene?"

"Of fightin'?" She nodded. He mulled the question over in silence for a few moments before speaking again. "Can I be honest with you?"

She smiled. "I should be rather disappointed if you weren't."

At this, he smiled too, even though the words he spoke weren't worthy of one. "I'm terrified."

Again, she didn't look at him, but she nodded, the only indication that she'd heard him at all.

"Well," she spoke up after a few minutes' silence, and turned to look at him again, "I hope the war is kind to you, Eugene." Though the war was never kind to medics. This she knew to be true.

He nodded once at her before looking at the grass beneath him. "What's your name?" he asked.

"Penny," she said simply.

"Penny," he began, and the named sounded rather funny in his deep southern accent, she thought. "I hope the war is kind to you, too."

She smiled at him then, and he gave a small smile back. From then on they just sat in silence, taking in the view together and revelling in the quiet. All the while Juliette thought that this was what friendship had been like before the war, before friendship meant launching yourself in front of bullets for the other or holding one another in moments when the world seemed to be falling apart. A friendship where all they needed to offer one another were kind words and a comforting presence.

In that case, she was glad to have made such a friend.