NOTES: viewer discretion is advised, heavy topics - this is based on actor portayal and my own portrayal of what i feel could've happen, thank you :) no gif, for seriousness of topic

" It takes courage to stay delicate in a world this cruel."

- Beau Taplin

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Eventually Joe and Hazel were able to pull themselves down and off of the truck. Hazel's feet hit the soil and she took slow trembling steps forward as her knees felt weak at the center. Joe gently wrapped his arm around her shoulders and they began walking away from the camp with heavy hearts. Hazel couldn't even look back.

" Hey, Joe, Hazel," a voice called and they looked up to see Catherine coming towards them with canteens in her hands, a worried expression on her face once she noticed the tears in both of their eyes. Catherine felt her jaw go slack a bit.

" Winters' sent us back." Hazel managed out, as her voice cracked at the end. Catherine looked from Hazel to Joe and Joe nodded.

" I'm sorry, guys." she whispered sadly. She knew Joe was Jewish, he was proud of it. And she knew Hazel was Polish, where a majority of these people in the camp were from. Catherine then stepped away and began heading back inside the camp with an equally heavy heart.

Joe and Hazel remained in silence all the way back to where 2nd platoon had been placed to sleep that night. Joe's hands were gripping onto Hazel tightly and Hazel kept glancing weary glances up towards him. Once they entered the room, Joe clenched onto Hazel's arm tighter.

" I think I'm going to be sick," Joe managed out, before stumbling out past Hazel, towards the bathroom and collapsing by the toilet. Hazel shut her eyes as she heard Joe get sick, his cries mixing with his getting sick.

Hazel immediately hurried forward into the bathroom and slowly sat by his side, as he got sick, rubbing his back softly, her arm drawing up and down the OD top, as she reached forward to brush back the hair that lay gently curled along his forehead.

When Joe finished, he shut his eyes, a quiet sigh escaping his mouth. Hazel turned and grabbed the wash cloth on the sink counter and retracted it before gently bringing it to his mouth. Joe felt a cloth there, a bit of fabric, and a gentle touch.

Joe flinched before looking at her. His eyes were filled with grief, and Hazel's heart ached for him. This truly hurt him more than anything.

Hazel gently wiped at his mouth with the wash cloth, before pulling back her hand, keeping her other hand on the side of his tear streaked face. It broke her heart to see Joe this way, but he had every right to be this way. He was shaking, from what Hazel could tell, and cold sweat had formed along the line against the his forehead. Hazel quickly grabbed the second wash cloth and brushed back his hair to wipe the cloth along his forehead as Joe watched her, his body shaking.

It hurt Hazel to see Joe the way he was, it did.

Hazel loved him.

She loved him, even in his darkest moments.

It hurt.

Joe watched her, his eyes having a few fresh tears in them.

" Hazel..." he whispered, his voice breaking at the last letter as he spoke, " I..." He shook his head.

" Hey," she whispered, gently cupping his face," you don't have to explain one thing okay, you don't have to force yourself to speak okay? You can just sit here okay, I'll sit with you," Joe watched her, his eyes crestfallen and so sullen and so ungodly sad. He nodded.

" C'mere," she whispered, sitting against the sink counter, gently offering her arms as a console.

Joe adored human touch.

Human touch kept him stable, like his mother's touch.

Joe gently leaned away from the toilet and crawled over to Hazel before letting his barriers falter. He crawled into her cocoon, body curled against hers as her arms wrapped around him, holding him close. Her gentle touch was her fingers softly brushing through his chocolate locks, and her body was warm against his shaking one and Joe could hear the soft, persistent beating of her heart in her chest.

It was a soft sound, but as Joe lay against her chest, it was all he could focus on.

The soft, gentle beat of her heart.

Her heart.

Hazel's heart.

A good heart.

Such a good heart.

His heart was cruel and cold and untamed. His heart yearned for hers, more than ever, to control the beast inside his chest.

Now the hearts were nearly touching each other.

His heart felt calm, it felt soft, it felt steady, it felt in sync.

It made him hold her closer, pull her closer to his body, his buoy, his lifeboat, his guardian angel. She was the only thing keeping him stable, keeping him from lashing out, from hysterically sobbing, from losing his fucking mind. She was the only thing keeping him afloat from drowning in the sea of despair that tempted to fill up around him. Joe's eyes were half open, staring forward towards the toilet, but he felt her hand in his hair, he could feel her body, her warm body underneath his, providing warmth to his own, and he could hear the gentle humming that came from her vocal chords, like a sweet song from a little bird. It was calming. The gentle vibration from her chest, echoed against his body, and he felt suddenly so safe.

" Hazel?" Joe whispered, his voice sounding like a small child.

" Hm?" she whispered softly, continuing to run her fingers through his soft hair.

" Thank you," he whispered, " for today." In response, Hazel gently pressed a kiss to his head full of fluffy hair and then pulled back to continue running her hand through his hair, holding him closer to her. He looked so innocent, curled like a little boy, grasping onto the front of her ODs for support, his hands, tightly gripped, his head cuddled and curled against her upper chest. And Hazel held him, she just held him in her arms, so comfortingly, so protectively.

In that moment, two hearts were one, strung together like string, grasping one another, keeping the other steady, keeping them safe; two hearts were one.

" Hey!" Lizzie called over the group of soldiers, looking at them from under the brim of her helmet. The soldiers began to look towards her as she looked at them from where she stood in the bed of the truck. They'd arrived at the women's camp not too long ago, with the enforcement of the Nurses' Corps and Medical Corps on the way.

" These women need your help. But they have a right to fear you as men. They were treated wrongly for years on end by men in uniform, and I hate to break it to you but you are men in uniform." Lizzie said, looking at them.

" I advise you that when you attempt to treat them until Nurses' Corps shows up, that you remove your helmet, show them you are in fact Americans and that you are not the enemy. Trust is hard. And it will take a while if they fully decide to trust you until Nurses' Corps shows up." Lizzie said looking at the massive group of men from all companies of 2nd Battalion, not just Easy. Gene stood beside her, with crossed arms, and a serious expression masking his face.

" Do what you can for them right now, until Medical and Nurses' Corps show up, by providing blankets, sips of water and only the smallest crumbs of food. Their stomachs can not take large amounts of caloric intake yet; they're stomachs can not with stand that since they've lacked nutritional value in their food for years. You have to be gentle with them, and be calm and kind and caring." Lizzie said as she looked at them.

" This is why we are fighting the war we fight." Lizzie said looking at them, " These are human beings, respect them and help them in any way you most certainly can help. Because you would expect the same if you were in their position."

" You're all dismissed." Lizzie called, as the men turned and started off into the camp, with blankets and bits of water and food that they could provide. Lizzie looked to Gene beside her.

" You sounded great." Gene said quietly looking at her with a smile, as she slowly removed the helmet from her head.

" I tried," Lizzie said before looking out from the truck bed, " I just, I can't imagine myself in that position, you know? They're probably terrified, the least I can do is let these guys know what it might be like for them, even if they want help." Gene smiled softly at her, and gently squeezed her arm. Medics endured the worst; they didn't have a clue how late they'd be out, but they helped any person, ally, enemy, or victim. They helped humans. Gene gently jumped off the bed of the truck and offered his hand to Lizzie who took it with ease before her feet touched the ground.

" Thanks, Gene." she said.

" Let's head out," he said and Lizzie nodded, pulling her satchel up on her shoulder. Lizzie rolled up her sleeves and let her helmet hang against her waist as she moved forward towards the camp where the women were, Gene by her side. Lizzie softly crouched beside a young woman who sat curled in a ball.

" Hi," Lizzie whispered softly, her voice light, caring, and filled with kindness. The young woman looked up at Lizzie, at the sound of her voice, even if she couldn't understand her.

" I'm an American." Lizzie said gently, pulling out the American flag patched she kept in her satchel.

The young woman took the patch in her hands and Lizzie watched as tears slowly filled the woman's eyes as she let out a cry and held it towards her heart, her frail hands shaking, clasping, holding the patch like it were the most precious things.

Lizzie gently scooted up to the woman's side and placed a hand on her shoulder. The young woman flinched quickly, blood shot eyes shooting up to meet Lizzie's. Lizzie smiled softly, her gentle hand, making a warm spot on the woman's shoulder as Gene watched the scene gently. The young woman let out a cry and didn't hesitate to shoot up into the hug offered by Lizzie's arms, a medic's arms. Lizzie slowly lowered herself to the ground and held her even tighter.

" It's going to be okay," Lizzie whispered, brushing through the woman's matted hair, " It'll all be okay." The trembling woman sat back and looked up at Lizzie, as Lizzie softly brushed the tears from her sunken in cheeks. The woman watched Lizzie who smiled and nodded.

" I'm Lizzie." Lizzie said.

" Danke." the woman whispered, " Danke, danke." Lizzie nodded, smiling softly, holding her hand in her own.

" This is Eugene Roe, or Gene," Lizzie said softly, guiding her eyes to Gene who sat crouched a few feet away, eyes soft, drawn up in worry.

" Come here, Gene," she said softly, as Lizzie held out her hand for Gene. Gene watched Lizzie but she eased him forward gently taking her hand as Lizzie allowed him closer. The woman stared at Gene with horror filled eyes, like he were the enemy.

For the woman, men were her enemy.

" Medic, help." Lizzie said, gentle words to soothe the woman. Gene slowly crouched in front of the woman and watched as the woman stared back at him. Then the woman gently held up the patch that Lizzie had towards Gene, holding it beside his face. Gene watched her as the young woman looked between Gene and the American patch. American.

Gene was an American.

The woman looked hesitantly up towards Lizzie who nodded with a smile.

" Friend," Lizzie whispered, putting her hand on Gene's bent knee and nodding.

" Friend." Lizzie said softly again. The woman watched her. Lizzie gently let go of the woman and shuffled towards Gene wrapping her arms around his neck, to hug him by her side.

" Friend," Lizzie whispered to the woman. She was ill, and had infected wounds. Lizzie and Gene needed to move her together. Lizzie gently crouched back towards the woman and gently put a hand on her shoulder.

" Friend?" the woman said, sounding out the letters looking between Lizzie and Gene. Lizzie nodded. The woman suddenly smiled looking at Gene and scooted forward a bit, before placing a gentle hand on Gene's hand and holding it in her pale and frail fingers.

" Friend." she whispered softly nodding looking up at Gene. He ever so gently placed a hand over the woman's and held it there.

" Friend," Gene whispered back with a nod and the woman smiled, meeting his eye. Eventually Gene and Lizzie managed to get the woman moving and sitting on the truck bed where she sat fascinated by the American flag patch. Lizzie stood at her feet, working on the nasty infected wound that lay on her leg as Gene offered the tiniest sips of water to the woman that he could provide.

" Doc Elliot!' a voice called and Lizzie glanced back over her shoulder to see two medics hauling a woman up whose foot looked rather mangled.

" Can you finish this up, Gene?" Lizzie asked Gene and he nodded. The woman they were working on only trusted Gene, he was the medic with the American patch.

" Yeah, go," Gene said and she hurried towards the two medics with the woman and gently stopped. The woman was unconscious, and Lizzie quickly felt for a pulse. It was low, but it was there.

" There's trucks lined up along the North side heading back towards the men's camp, they should be able to transfer her to a medical facility for her leg and any other issues she might encompass." Lizzie explained softly.

" Yes, ma'am." the one answered.

' Thank you, ma'am." the other answered before they turned and began walking off with the woman, careful to keep her mangled foot lifted from the ground. Lizzie watched the woman go and blew out her cheeks.

A medics job was tough in this certain situation. It was the feel to express emotions and let yourself break to your knees, but you also wanted to help people, it's what you did as a combat medic, no matter the cost or how detrimental it may be. You helped everyone. Lizzie gently turned and treaded back towards where the truck was with the woman and Gene. Gene was gently dabbing at the wound on her leg, speaking quietly to her as she watched intently with big eyes as his gentle touch on her leg brought a comfort she hadn't had in a while.

When the woman in the back of the truck noticed Lizzie, she actually smiled, and waved, bringing up the American patch. Lizzie nodded with a small smile. The woman clutched it to her chest, grinning like a little kid. Lizzie slowly turned and looked back over her shoulder towards the camp where she saw soldiers helping who they could and combat medics treating women as gently as they could, as softly as their hands could without scaring them. Lizzie sighed, sucking in a tiny breath.

They'd be okay, they all would.

Catherine had stayed back to finish things up at the men's camp, working with Tab to make sure all help and care that could've been provided was provided. Lizzie and Gene had left with a group of men from 1st platoon for the women's camp where Medical and Nurses' Corps would soon be. But it was getting darker, as the stars started to show and the moonlight came down upon the unrested soldiers.

Catherine had to take a minute as she stood outside of the camp, trying to make sure she didn't make herself sick from the utter disgust she had for what the Krauts did to human beings.

Live human beings. She stared coldly towards the forest edge, her fingers on her right hand making indents in her palm so much so that it was close to nearly bleeding. These people didn't deserve any of this, none of it. Her helmet was hanging in her hand, by her side, limply at this point.

Catherine knew it was weak to even think, but she felt like crying, like breaking down and falling to her knees, even for just a moment to let the pain that swelled her body out. She needed an outlet, she needed to get it out of her body, all the grief, anguish, pain all the built up suffering from the past year that had been too much to bear.

Catherine put a hand over her eyes and squeezed them shut. Her eyes were burning hot under her sweaty hand and both her hands were shaking; the one over her eyes and the one holding the helmet. Her lips trembled.

Why are you crying?

STOP CRYING! STOP CRYING! CATHERINE MCCOWN STOP CRYING!

Her brain was yelling at her to stop crying, to stop feeling the emotions that settled in her chest like a cough, to stop feeling so numb that her only reaction was to cry. To stop feeling.

STOP CRYING! YOU ARE WEAK! STOP CRYING!

Catherine only felt herself break further, her mind unable to plug away anymore, unable to control herself, unable to control her emotions. Catherine always believed humans deserved every chance they got, so seeing humans like that broke her entirely. Catherine let out a shaky cry, her body heaving.

STOP CRYING! STOP CRYING ALREADY AND GET OVER YOURSELF STOP FEELING SELFISH! STOP FEELING EMOTIONS! STOP CRYING!

But she couldn't stop. She couldn't stop crying for how cruel a world can be for how cruel humans can truly be to other humans, how cruel the world is. Then there was a hand on her shoulder.

It was George, it had to be.

He was always there for her, when she wasn't there for herself.

Catherine's hand over her eyes slowly reached for the hand on her shoulder and as she turned, she could barely see his face through her blurry eyes. As she took the few steps towards him, her hands shaky, knees weak, she pulled her way to him, along his arm, before letting the helmet fall from her shaky hand, and launching herself into his arms, letting out a sob into his arms. His arms wrapped around her quicker than ever before, holding her, just holding her, as she sobbed for humanity.

Why was the world as cruel as it was?

Why did people have to wage war on one another to solve their issues and then kill them to feel better?

Why did war have to be the way it was?

So angry, so grief filled, so rough, so emotional.

Why was war cruel?

Why was the war cruel?

Her heart ached with each sob that escaped her body. There were so many tears as George held her, his hands holding her to him, keeping her as close as he possibly could.

" Why is the world so cruel?" she sobbed out, shuttering sobs falling out of her mouth. George nuzzled his head into her neck, his warmth breath against the nape.

" I don't know," he whispered against her soft skin, " I won't ever know."

STOP CRYING CATHERINE! YOU BETTER STOP CRYING! STOP THE TEARS! STOP THE RACING IN YOUR HEART! STOP ALL OF IT!

The voices in her head were to loud, they were all too loud. She just wished it would be quiet for a moment.

But suddenly, her breathing rate slowed, and the loud yelling that echoed in her head, slowly turned down a few notches, until it all but disappeared entirely.

And suddenly she was back, clinging onto George, with all her might, arms wrapped around one another, holding each other tightly.

And his hair smelled good, such a gentle scent that was like home, with the bubble baths her mother would always put on, letting Catherine splash around with a little rubber ducky she called Annie - a little faded, a little worn. It was still a little ducky.

And suddenly Catherine melted into his embrace, as memories of home overwhelmed her mind, her entire being. She felt calmer and her mind concluded. She had panicked, freaked out, gone into overdrive - it was a horrible feeling. George eventually helped Catherine sit down and was slowly helping her drink water, as her fatigued body, struggled to hold up the canteen in her hands as she took long sips from it.

Crying.

She had full-on sobbed and now she had never felt worse about it all. She had cried so many times in this war, too many times.

How were you supposed to not cry in war?

How were you supposed to stay strong in each and every area the entire time you fought?

Some people couldn't - most people couldn't.

Catherine couldn't, and now she would have to accept that. And she was a Lieutenant for Christsake, she couldn't keep her emotions at bay? She couldn't contain them. She felt weak, she felt so horribly weak - and she hated it with a passion. She clenched her hands into fists, where the indents left bloody marks across her palm.

" Hey, no, it's okay, Lieutenant..." George whispered softly, as he pulled her hands open and unclenched. Catherine looked at him on the ground as the sun brushed through his hair a bit. She went to open up her mouth, but instead shut it again.

" I'm sorry for crying," she whispered, her voice shaking, " I've cried in front of you too many times." Catherine sat with her hands in George's staring forward, eyes sad. She shouldn't have cried or even let herself get to that point.

" I'm so so sorr-"

" Hey, Catherine," George said and Catherine looked over to meet his eye, " I get to have the prettiest girl crying in my arms, I wouldn't say no to that." And there was a little smile on his face, even with the war, even with the camp they found, even with all of this. And she smiled.

" You always say that when I cry," she said with a slight laugh, running her hand under her eye with a small smile.

" It's true ya know?" George said knocking her shoulder lightly, with a small smile. Catherine shook her head with a smile.

" I should tell you thank you more often," she said, " for putting up with me."

" Ah, Lieutenant, I've told you before, it's okay, as long as I see a smile at the end of it." George said and Catherine smiled softly, a light laugh escaping her mouth.

Sitting with George, just sitting beside him, made her heart feel so warm, and she always felt happy around him, happier than when she were alone. And he had this way of instantly making her feel better when she was upset, which was only when she saw George it seemed.

" You know," George whispered, holding her hands in his," when my little sister, Maria? When she would get upset, I'd hold her little hands and I'd give them kisses and she always giggled because she said it tickled them. She called them the Tickles." Catherine giggled.

" Maria sounds adorable." Catherine said and George met her eyes.

" Cutest kid I've ever seen," George said as his fingers gently tapped against her palm. Catherine softly smiled.

" You know what her favorite color is?" George asked her. Catherine looked towards him with a smile.

" Blue," George said, chuckling lightly, " she would draw me these cute little blue dogs, with big eyes, and call her Little Blue. We called the dog Blue because of it. Blue like your eyes." Catherine softly felt her heart rate speed up just a bit faster. She sighed softly to herself and smiled.

" You have nice eyes too," she said, glancing his way as George chuckled to himself.

" These are mama's eyes," George said and Catherine could tell. He always had so much joy and love in his eyes and never failed to appear to be looking at someone so deeply. Catherine wanted to hold the joy that George held in his eyes in her own.

When would she feel happy again?

She didn't know.

But sitting here with George, she felt that maybe she would soon enough - find that bit of happiness.

The two sat side by side for a while, as the soft sun beat down upon their weary bodies.

Sometimes you have to keep breaking, over and over again until you were built back up again.

Catherine didn't know how many more times she might have to break, to build up again.

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thank you for reading <3 this was a very pivotal and serious chapter that i felt was important to really break down, i hope i treated it in the right way possible, thank you :)