When Charlie woke up the next morning, for a moment she forgot what had happened. For a moment she wondered why she was sitting curled up in Floyd's lap, her hands gripping tightly onto the front of his fatigues, while the rest of the company slept in tents a little way away. For a moment, she smiled as she watched Floyd sleep, watched the steady rise and fall of his chest and the softness of his face, his head resting back against the trunk of the tree behind him and his hands resting gentle but firm on the small of her back.
And then she remembered.
All at once, her heart plummeted and her stomach flipped. The aching behind her eyes returned with a vengeance, as did the tightness in her throat. And the way she was sitting with Floyd, the way she'd spent the night with him, felt all wrong.
It had been a lapse in judgement to let herself seek comfort from him. He'd been there and he'd been so kind and warm and gentle, his brown eyes so soft, his arms so safe, but she shouldn't have let herself cling to him like that. It would only cause her trouble. What kind of an idea was it to rely on a man who spent every night he could in a different woman's bed? A man who Mabs had already told her was only sweet with his friends and when he wanted something, who treated the women he charmed like they were interchangeable and laughed about it with his friends afterwards.
What kind of an idea was it to fall into that man's arms when the one she'd promised her heart to was gone?
Charlie untangled herself from Floyd and pushed to her feet. She hated how she missed the loss of his warmth instantly.
He stirred, mumbled something sleepily, but she didn't stay to watch him wake. Turning on her heel, Charlie marched herself back to the field hospital and threw herself down in front of the basin of water Autumn had been using to clean bandages the previous night. Abandoned to the tragedy of the loss of PFC Robert Van Klinken, the water had turned murky, a shade of burgundy closer to brown than red, and Charlie set her jaw as she took it outside and tipped it out, then returned it to its original place full of clear, clean water.
It was Autumn who was on shift. The two of them had been paired together for the final shift last night, leaving Boo and Mabs to the early morning one. Boo and Mabs must have been back in the tent already, sleeping. Charlie regretted to think how much of both of her shifts she'd missed in the midst of her turmoil.
But it was quiet, at least. The wounded all slept, even as light began to spill in through the gap in the entryway and birds began to chirp. Even as Charlie scrubbed the bandages left aside from yesterday so hard they might have set alight if they weren't soaking wet.
"Charlie," Autumn called softly from across the tent. She was standing at the foot of one of the men's beds, his file in her hands and the pages flicked back as she searched it for something. Her eyebrows were furrowed as she looked at Charlie, her frown deep set when Charlie met her eyes. "You alright?"
Charlie couldn't tell whether or not she knew what had happened. The thought of having to tell her, of having to say it out loud, sent bile creeping up the back of her throat.
With a tight nod, Charlie turned back to the bandages and kept scrubbing them clean.
"Trucks are coming to pick up the wounded in half an hour," Autumn said. When Charlie looked up at her she found her eyebrows still drawn together in concern and her mouth still pinched in a frown.
Charlie nodded. "That's good."
"We should start getting them ready to leave."
Something to do. That was good. A distraction that wouldn't leave her hands rubbed red raw.
Charlie went from bed to bed, checking wounds and changing bandages where necessary. Robert wasn't here anymore but Charlie didn't ask where he'd been taken. Instead, she kept her mouth shut and avoided looking at his bed as she passed it and went to the next man along.
She saw Floyd push into the tent in her periphery and kept her eyes studiously averted from the general direction of the entryway. Focusing all of her attention on her patient, she cleaned his wound as gently as she could, muttering words of reassurance when he stirred from slumber, then rebandaged it.
Floyd intercepted her when she was moving onto the next man.
"Hey," he said quietly, his fingers brushing her elbow before she moved her arm out of his reach. "You left without saying goodbye," he told her, standing at the side of the bed as she checked the next soldier's wounds.
At the words, Charlie gave a bitter smile. "Yeah," she replied. "There's a lot of that going around."
Floyd sighed. Charlie didn't look at him. She moved onto the next patient.
Floyd followed her, of course. "Are you alright?" he asked quietly.
Was she alright? It seemed an awfully stupid question. At that moment she was so far from alright she wasn't sure she'd ever be able to find her way back to it. She felt empty and lost and hurt, sad and conflicted and confused. Everything was confusing all of a sudden. Things which had made so much sense to her before yesterday were now all scrambled in her mind. She was sure that if she turned to look at Floyd he would even look different to her.
She wasn't, however, sure whether the instinct to fall into his arms and never let go of him would have changed. So she chose not to look.
"I'm working," was what she settled on saying, the only answer she could give. Of all the many words she knew none of them seemed to properly encompass how she was feeling, none of them were big enough or bad enough. And she didn't even want to attempt trying to describe the gaping chasm which had opened up in her stomach, steadily sucking all of the air and all of the life out of her. No, that didn't seem like a good thing to try to say at all.
"Freckles," Floyd said softly, so quietly she almost didn't catch it. It was the hurt in his voice which finally got her to turn around, against all instincts inside of her screaming not to.
Charlie stared at him for a moment, her face deliberately blank but her heart thumping. She could feel her hands starting to shake at her sides so she tucked them behind her back, clasping them tightly together, and tilted her chin up to assume an air of confidence. If she looked fine then maybe he would leave her be.
"What do you need from me?" Floyd asked, taking a step towards her.
Without thinking, Charlie took a step back. Floyd went still. He looked like she'd slapped him. She regretted the movement immediately but didn't say anything to soothe the poorly disguised hurt on his face. It was better this way, with more distance. Being so close to him was only making her confused.
Swallowing hard, Charlie shook her head. "Nothing."
"Charlie."
He no longer looked hurt, now that he'd gotten his face back under control. Now he just looked frustrated.
"I need you to let me work, Floyd." She wasn't lying. She could tell that standing still and talking about her deteriorating mental state wasn't doing her any good.
"Charlie," Floyd said again, sterner this time.
"Do you talk to your squad like that too?"
The words had slipped out, and she regretted them even before she'd finished speaking them. She wanted to continue to be petulant, wanted to stamp her foot into the ground and demand he leave and stay away from her and stop being so goddamn nice to her all the time.
But she didn't. Because he didn't deserve that. And just because she was hurting didn't mean he had to, too.
Charlie sighed and dropped her head. "Can you tell Autumn for me?" she asked eventually, her voice small and quiet. "I don't know if she knows about..."
Floyd released a breath. "Sure, Freckles."
"Can you ask her to tell the others, too?" She shook her head and kept her eyes on the damp grass beneath her boots, wrapped her arms around herself. "I don't want to have to say it." Her voice cracked but she swallowed her tears, breathed heavily through her nose to push through it. She was working. She wouldn't cry now. She wouldn't let herself cry again until she'd been dismissed for the day and was sitting alone in a tent or a foxhole or a backroom of a bombed out building, wherever the war took her next.
Floyd nodded. "Of course."
Charlie mumbled her thanks and didn't lift her head again. After a moment, Floyd turned to approach Autumn. Charlie continued with her work.
By the time the trucks arrived to transport the wounded to the evac hospital, Floyd was back with his men and Charlie was silent, helping to load men up and ensuring they were comfortable and had everything they needed with them. Mabs and Boo were working now, too, though no one spoke. Mabs had squeezed Charlie's shoulder gently when she'd first walked past her, but that was the only acknowledgement anyone gave that they knew.
Charlie was sure Floyd had told Autumn something of how fragile she was. Probably, he had advised her to tell them all not to bring it up. For that, she was grateful.
Eventually, the trucks drove away and a new set of tanks and troop transports arrived to transport the company to its next destination. Charlie remained silent as she helped to pack up the field hospital and load it up into their truck at the back of the line.
She was aware of the looks and whispers from the men she passed each time she carried a crate of supplies to the truck. They stood around in groups as they waited for the order to load up themselves, and they'd all been smiling before they'd seen her. Mabs had mumbled an explanation about Bull and Duckie coming back or something to that effect, but Charlie had barely been listening. All she knew now was that their smiles were gone as they looked at her and tried to be discreet as they mumbled the words 'Miller' and 'boyfriend' to each other when she walked past them. She knew, but she didn't care.
"Here," Skip said, appearing out of nowhere and taking the crate she was carrying off of her. "I'll take this, you go get the next one."
When she got the next one, Malarkey came to take that from her, too.
Wordlessly, Alex and Alton followed her into the field hospital and each picked up two of the remaining crates, then deposited them on the truck. Afterwards, Charlie tried to thank them and they all brushed her aside.
"You just let us know what we can do, alright, Charlie?" Skip said, patting her on the shoulder.
"Yeah, we got tons of free time recently," Alex added, which made her crack a smile.
"There's that gorgeous smile," Alton said, nudging her gently with his elbow.
Malarkey playfully groaned. "Damn it, Lancaster, now I owe Penky ten bucks!"
Charlie smiled slightly, knowing he was only joking, and shook her head. "Sorry, Malark," she said quietly. She smiled again when he threw an arm around her shoulders and pulled her into his side.
"Nah, that's alright. Just don't do it again, huh?"
"Shut up, Mal," Alex said and gave him a light shove.
First Sergeant Lipton interrupted the imminent bickering by calling for the men to begin loading onto the tanks and trucks, and a collective sigh went up through the group.
"Chin up, boys," Alton drawled, lighting up a cigarette. "One of these days we'll find ourselves in Germany."
"Oh yeah?" Malarkey asked sarcastically. "When? They told us Market Garden would end the war by Christmas but it ain't looking so hot right now."
Alton rolled his eyes. "Just you watch," he said around his cigarette. "Any day now Winters'll tell us we're jumping into Berlin."
"Will he also tell us that I'm the long lost prince of England?" Skip asked in a deadpan. "Or do I have to wait a little longer for that?"
Charlie bid the four of them goodbye in the midst of their bantering and climbed onto the truck at the back of the line with a heart just slightly lighter. When she sat down beside Mabs, Mabs linked their arms together, and Charlie even managed to give her a tiny smile.
The trucks didn't travel for very long. Charlie spent the journey in silence. Autumn and Boo quietly discussed what had happened to Bull and Duckie last night when the former had been declared missing in action and the latter killed - according to George, they'd been cornered and hadn't been able to retreat with everyone else - while Mabs watched the countryside pass behind them. Henry spoke just once to update them on what the protocol was while they still had no surgeons. Charlie kept her eyes down, staring at the cover of the book in her hands.
Crime and Punishment had been James' favourite book. She'd been reading it at his request, and she'd almost reached the end. Now, she didn't know whether she'd ever finish it. Finishing it would be like losing the final part of him she had left.
So she simply stared down at it, thoughts racing with memories of his face and his voice and his smile, wondering if it would get easier to remember him as the days passed, or harder as she fought not to forget.