Only a Paper Moon [ Band of Brothers ] 3

[12] More than a Nickname

Summary: "You know it's been a long time since any of the guys thought of you as a Nazi. Right?"

Prompt given by @jamie506101, from @wecomrades fabulous BoB prompt list. Number 28, Skip Muck + "Oi, I'm not that insensitive, you know" + friendship

[ 12 ]

MORE THAN A NICKNAME

June 1944

Carentan, Normandy, France

As much as Alice loved Bill Guarnere, he had a mouth on him that managed to piss her off more than once. Of course, he wasn't the only American to use Kraut. She even caught George using it. Alice couldn't do it.

But then, she couldn't call them Germans either. She wasn't fighting Germans, she was fighting Nazis. When she peered down the barrel of the K98k, she wasn't killing her countrymen; Alice was killing the men who had stolen it.

With a sigh, she settled in a doorway while the sun sank towards the horizon. Second had been given the day off, stationed in reserve in Carentan while First and Third went out with Dick on an errand for Strayer.

Nixon had disappeared somewhere. She'd tried to find him around noon, thinking maybe they could grab lunch together with Dick, Harry, and Buck all out in the field. But he'd been somewhere with Battalion. Maybe it was better that way; she needed to squash these feelings into nothingness. Nixon was married. That was the end of that.

As the only officer of Easy left with Second Platoon, she was technically in charge. She probably could've ordered Guarnere to stop his loud, angry ranting about the enemy. But that would've achieved nothing. So instead she'd stayed to herself, mostly. Gene had been catching up on sleep, the mortar squad kept themselves busy, and the others either disappeared into houses or played cards with Guarnere.

Alice slapped the back of her left hand. A dead mosquito stuck to her skin, and she muttered to herself in frustration. The bugs had been getting worse, though she supposed sitting in a town was better than still traipsing through a marsh.

"Think fast."

Turning right, she looked just in time to see Skip throw something. Alice threw her hands in front of her face. While Skip just laughed, she rolled her eyes and grabbed the tube of Kraut cheese off the broken cobbles nearby.

"Please give me a reason not to sit with those idiots for dinner," Skip said. He turned around and pointed to where Malarkey had started cooking in his ammo tin again. "Seriously, Malark's like, the worst cook in all of France."

She smirked. "My doorway is your doorway."

"Thank God." It took no time for him to almost fall against the wall beside her. "You like being back?" When she cocked her head, he tried to explain. "France."

"Oh." Alice paused. She glanced around her. Carentan must've been beautiful in its prime. She'd never been there, but it reminded her of some of the towns she had been in. She smiled. "Yes."

Skip nodded, pulling out a K Ration. He pointed over to the cooking spot set up by his squad. "I swear, if Alex doesn't die from food poisoning, though, he's gonna murder More for being a pain in the ass."

Alton More was hovering over Malarkey, criticizing his every move by the looks of it. Next to them, Alex Penkala just sat glaring. His fingers drummed his knee. Alice laughed. "Tell me when to look away. I need deniability."

"That's a deal."

Alice let her head fall back against the wall, hitting the brick lightly. Her eyes closed. The coolness of evening washed over Normandy.

"You ever tasted Kraut cheese?" Skip asked her. When she opened her eyes, he gestured to the tube she'd put next to her. "It's disgusting. Don't eat it."

"German."

"What?"

"German cheese," she countered. Straightening up further, she shook her head. "I hate it when you all say Kraut. My people are more than fucking sauerkraut. Did you know we were part of the Renaissance! Albrecht Durer was German. Caspar David Friedrich. Bach. Brahms, Beethoven." She grabbed a rock and threw it as far as she could. "We're not Krauts. I'm not a fuckin' Kraut. I'm a German!"

Skip didn't respond at first. In the silence, Alice just watched the men meandering about, oblivious to their words carrying as much meaning as they did. Finally, she looked over. "Never mind."

"Damn, I never knew you cared," Skip muttered. He turned away, also looking back over the men. "Shit, if I'd know... I'm not that insensitive, you know."

Alice shook her head. She grabbed a small bit of the weeds that had started to push up between broken stones. "Not your fault, Skip. You just caught me at a bad time."

"No shit," he joked. But he shook his head. After a pause, he turned back to her. "So you think of yourself as German? Not French?"

She sighed. Alice looked at him. He watched her carefully, so she just shrugged. "I'm both. I'm French and I'm German. I grew up knowing I was a part of both. But Skip, I'm from Germany. I was born in Hamburg. You know that," she added. "Of course I think of myself as one of them."

"Yeah. Sorry," he said.

Alice shook her head. "It's not your fault. The Germans, the Nazis, are the enemy. It's just a little more complicated for me, is all."

"Yeah, I'll bet. Never thought I'd be friends with a damn German," he added. When she looked at him in confusion, he just laughed. "Ah, come on Alice. Laugh a little. Never know when Malark may poison us next."

Alice chuckled. "Think Faye would be okay with you being friends with a damn German?"

"Oh, yeah. Faye'd love you," he said, not wasting a beat. "You kidding? Goddamn, you two together is something I never wanna see. You'd destroy half the hearts in Tonawanda."

The image made her laugh. She shook her head and turned from the darkening town around them back to Skip. He had that small smile that always appeared when he spoke about his girl back home. Even though he didn't meet her gaze, instead, watching where Malarkey handed out his concoction to his waiting audience, she could see it.

"Alice," he started. "You know it's been a long time since any of the guys thought of you as a Nazi. Right?"

She straightened up. Alice met his gaze. "Yeah. Yeah, I know."

"Good."