Half Sick of Shadows » Band of Brothers [2]

46: O That 'Twere Possible

"O that 'twere possible
After long grief and pain
To find the arms of my true love
Round me once again!"
- Alfred, Lord Tennyson, Maud

-

It's daylight by the time we get back and our welcome is rather unceremonious because the Americans are all training. This was to be expected, however, so I take the time to shower and reflect. And then I write. For hours. Because now that we've burned that God forsaken place to the ground I want to finish writing everything that happened to me there. And I also want to write about the fact that we burned it. I want to document the fact that it's gone and that the world is an infinitely better place because of it and that even through that treacherous mission all of us are still alive. I honestly can't believe it.

In my writing marathon I end up making it all the way to my rescue - which is incredibly blurry, so I have to get Tom to help me remember what happened. He also gives me a play-by-play of how he got me out, and I write that too, because even though I was unconscious for it it deserves a place in my story, perhaps more so than anything else.

At some point when I'm writing I decide that I'm going to document everything; instead of finishing with my rescue I'm going to finish with my formal discharge, because it's coming. I know it is. It won't be like this forever and we will be let go. At some point they'll decide we've done enough, given enough, lost enough. And I'm waiting for it. I know it's coming.

Tom pulls me away from writing after a few hours, concerned that I've not slept a wink, and, admittedly, I crash the moment my head hits the pillow. All that adrenaline has caught up with me and I'm out like a light.

I'm not sure how much later it is when I'm shaken gently awake but I still feel like I haven't slept in weeks.

Someone's speaking to me but they may as well be speaking Russian for all I can comprehend what they're saying.

They persevere with, "Jules, wake up," and it's Thomas. Should've guessed.

I take my chances with still pretending to be asleep but he just shakes me again. "Jules, you have to wake up."

"I don't," I reply, burying my face into the pillow.

I can imagine the eye roll he must give me but I'm still yet to open my eyes. "Jules. Open your eyes."

"I'm tired."

"You need to be checked for concussion."

"Go away."

"Regretting your decision yet, Gene? She can be awfully grouchy when she's woken up."

I hear Gene laugh and then feel the mattress dip where he's obviously sat on it. "C'mon, chérie, I just need to check you over."

"I'm tired."

"That's the head trauma talking," Tom puts in helpfully. If my eyes weren't closed I would roll them.

"No, it's the staying up all night running through hallways and trying to get us all out of a shootout talking."

He huffs and plays his ace. "Juliette Chevalier, open your eyes right now or I'll march you to the hospital and you can explain to them what happened."

This has my eyes shooting open. "Fine! They're open."

"Good," he drawls with a smirk. "Over to you, Gene. Godspeed."

As soon as his back is turned I mutter, "Tosser," and he laughs before leaving.

When the door shuts behind him my eyes fall on Gene, who's looking down at me with the softest of smiles. "Ready?"