All Things Nice » Band of Brothers

07: Grass

He sent another punch to her abdomen which she blocked by the width of a hair and her counterattack had so little energy behind it it missed him anyway. The next time he threw a punch she didn't even bother to move.

"Oh shit!" Popeye exclaimed as the blood began to gush from her nose. "Oh, damn, I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to actually hit ya!"

"It's okay," Posey assured. Her voice emerged muffled where she had both of her hands clasped over her nose as though she was trying to stuff the blood back in. "Doesn't hurt that much."

"That's a lot of blood," Liebgott observed from beside them.

Posey glanced down to find the front of her PT shirt already soaked with crimson. Her hands were doing next to nothing in preventing the spillage. When she lowered them to wipe them on her shorts they were slick with blood. She began to fill dizzy and then she began to feel nervous; if she had to go and see a medic they'd try to change her shirt, and then they'd see the bandages she'd used to flatten her chest under her clothes.

This sudden, dawning realisation had her hands shaking, which had onlookers worried, which had Winters coming over.

"You alright?" he asked kindly, watching Posey with furrowed brows until she looked up at him.

"Yes, sir," she replied.

"Lets get you to the med bay, alright?"

"No, it's okay," she tried to reason, wiping hastily at the blood on her chin and neck. "I'm okay. Sir."

"That's an order, private."

"Yes, sir." Her voice emerged meek and small. She felt like a little girl again. The entire affair had transported her right back to her childhood, to the aftermath of her many experiences playing with her brother - he'd always ended up getting a little bit too rough and she'd always ended up in tears. As Winters asked her another question, one that didn't register, she tried desperately not to cry.

"Wells?" Winters prompted her.

"Sir?"

"Gonna pass out?" he asked, holding out a hand ready to steady her if necessary.

Posey shook her head, then swayed in place from the dizziness. "No, sir."

"Right," Winters replied. He didn't look convinced in the slightest. When Posey set her eyes on the grass in front of her, gazing curiously at the red now dripping from the green, she heard Winters sigh. "Guarnere! Get over here!"

A called out 'yes, sir' accompanied the sound of jogging on grass as the man in question came to stand beside Posey. She felt his eyes on her but didn't look up.

"Accompany Private Wells to the med bay. I'm worried he's gonna pass out so keep an eye on him."

"Yes, sir," Guarnere replied immediately. "Don't worry," he added, his smirk poorly concealed even in his voice, "I'll make sure he gets there alright."

"Alright, Wells?" Winters checked in one final time.

"Yes, sir," she replied, dragging her eyes up from the ground and watching as he swam in her vision. He nodded and turned to carry on moderating the pairs still working on hand to hand.

Guarnere turned to leave the field directly and Posey quickly turned back to Popeye, who still stood looking so guilty and apologetic. "I'm really okay," she assured him with a quick smile. "It wasn't your fault, it was mine."

Popeye offered a smile. "Hope you feel better quick."

She laughed a little bit. "Thanks."

"Wells! You comin' or what?!" Guarnere called out from behind her.