" I not only have the right to stand up for myself, but I have the responsibility. I can't ask somebody else to stand up for me if I won't stand up for myself. And once you stand up for yourself, you'd be surprised that people say 'Can I be of help?'"

- Maya Angelou

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Lizzie watched Speirs knock on the fragile glass window of where the suspected German brain surgeon was. And Lizzie couldn't keep her narrowed eyes anywhere but from where the surgeon's eyes would soon be. She was revolted, taken in with utter disgust. She thought she'd be more upset, but now, she was purely angry for what had happened to Chuck, especially after the news of someone like Shifty or Janovec. Speirs went to knock again, but suddenly a soft luminous bulb came on in the other side and Speirs hand embarrassingly dropped.

The minute the curtain moved away, Speirs leaned against the window, banging the black pistol in his grasp against the window, his eyes like daggers at the brain surgeon on the other side. Lizzie's eyes narrowed, as she could feel blood continuing to seep through her fingers.

" Open up." Speirs said, as Lizzie heard the engine continue to rumble - she had never seen Speirs jump from the vehicle as fast as he had. The door slowly opened, and before the brain surgeon could open the door fully, Speirs was already in his face, weapon near the man's head.

" Come with me." Speirs said as Lizzie watched him.

" Why?" the brain surgeon asked. Lizzie's eyes narrowed and she swore she saw fire.

" Get in the jeep." Speirs said simply, giving a glance back to where Lizzie and Gene sat with Chuck's limp body. The brain surgeon stared at Speirs for a moment.

Contemplating in the darkness of the night.

There weren't stars out yet tonight.

The brain surgeon slowly pulled his coat from the peg and into his arms to pull it around himself.

" Where are we going?" he asked, as he pulled his coat around himself, Speirs slowly bringing the weapon up again, aimed at the surgeon.

" To the hospital. Get in." Speirs said shortly as Lizzie met the surgeon's eyes. The surgeon turned to look at Speirs and the weapon held up in front of his body.

" If you're going to shoot me, shoot me." the surgeon said, as the two took in an intense staring match between one another, " If you're not, put the gun away." Speirs gritted his teeth and pointed the pistol forward.

" Get in the jeep now." Speirs said, as if it were an angry plea. Lizzie could see the pure pain across the entirety of Speirs' face. This was one of his men, one of his men in the company, now hurt, pain inflicted by another of the same side.

Speirs cared for his men and women more than anything.

This angered him.

The surgeon turned to Gene and Lizzie who both sat stone-cold faced in the back of the jeep.

" What happened to him?" the surgeon asked.

" He was shot in the head." Gene confirmed, holding up the plasma still firmly in his grasp, eyes narrowed in evident exhaustion and pain. The surgeon gently leaned forward and peaked under the bandage securely wrapped by Lizzie around his head.

" A half hour ago." Speirs confirmed. Lizzie watched the surgeon just before Speirs grew impatient and stepped forward.

" Come on," he urged, smacking the gun against the surgeon's arm. The surgeon whipped around to Speirs.

" If you want him to live, you'll help me, first by putting that away." the surgeon said and Lizzie met Gene's eyes, similar expressions across both of their faces, similar to one another. They turned and watched Speirs. Speirs grew evidently disgruntled and then quickly slid the weapon into its sheath. A wave of tension rolled from the CO instead.

" Come on, let's go." Lizzie couldn't get over the pain and agitation in Speirs' voice. This was one of his men, Chuck was now the utmost important. The surgeon stopped him and Lizzie followed his hand with narrowed eyes.

" Let me drive. We'll get there faster." the surgeon said and Speirs watched him. Speirs didn't say a word as he eventually moved away, like a bullet around the truck to the other side.

No one messed with Speirs' men and women, his company.

Lizzie softly lent forward and brushed against Chuck's hair. Her emotions were conflicted. She was angry, angry that a man of the 101st Airborne would do this to another member. But she was also upset, this was Chuck, an NCO of Easy, her brother-in-arm.

Now he was shot.

The minute the surgeon took off forward through Austria, the group bumped along the road towards where ever the hospital would be.

When they had found the shooter, he was taking advantage of a woman - Catherine turned into a scolding hot flame of pure anger - Hazel was pretty sure she had been the first one to make him really bleed.

Now, Catherine was in there with them, and so was Joe, and just about every member of Easy who was pissed for what happened to Chuck.

Hazel hadn't gone in. After seeing what the man was doing to the woman, she couldn't bear to even lay eyes on him again. Hazel instead sat at the third chair at the ottoman where George and Tab currently sat, simply just playing cards. Hazel didn't participate, her heart torn with anger and her upset feelings.

Instead she stared as if she were in a frozen facade, watching them play, the cards slap against the desk, the smoke mingle between them, the light flicker on the wall like ghosts. Hazel barely blinked, eyes and body drooped and frozen. But she couldn't, she couldn't believe something like this had even happened in the first place. But she was too numb to cry, just like everyone else in this company.

They were all too numb - they all just wanted this to end.

Hazel's gaze was so worn out, so exhausted, so mentally destroyed with all of this. Things had seemed so good, so happy, so upbeat - this was like poison.

Tab's anger was radiating off him in waves, she could feel it through her ODs and George's control that he was maintaining was even higher. It's what held Tab down for the time being.

Hazel could hear each shot the guys and Catherine took at the shooter inside, and each one made her flinch enough for George and Tab to take glances towards Hazel.

But for Hazel, it sounded like when her dad had thrown glass some nights, yelling at her mom, screaming about the bills, plates shattering, vases fragile and in cracks across the ground, him storming out, leaving her tear streaked face mother cleaning it up and refusing to cry in front of the young Hazel.

Her heart was racing with each shot taken and she had to keep clenching and unclenching. She knew George was watching her too, just by the way his cigarette was hanging from his mouth.

" You okay, Tiny?" he asked.

The nickname.

He was the person in the company to give her that.

Hazel slowly looked up to meet his eyes. The adrenaline that had run through her when word broke that the shooter was lose, had now all but disappeared - all she had were horrid flashbacks and emotions she thought she wouldn't have to deal with anymore.

" Yeah," she said her voice shaky, a smile that seemed to not even move her facial features, on her face. Tab watched her before glancing at George. He was angry, then glancing over his shoulder back into the room, his lip bitten back with worry, eyes narrowed. He shook his head. Hazel's leg was jiggling, up and down over and over. She couldn't grasp onto anything to calm her down - nothing.

Hit.

Hit.

Hit.

Over and over, and the cries, the screams, it was too familiar. Hazel put her hands over her ears suddenly, leaned up against the table, her eyes squeezed shut.

Please stop!, she wanted to yell that, over and over, like she should've yelled at her father, watching him come down drunkly over her mother as Hazel sat in the other room, huddled at the door. Hazel hadn't said a word.

Please just stop it!

" Hazel, hey, hey, you okay?" George said watching as she shook her head and squeezed her eyes shut, scrunching up her face.

" It's so loud." she whispered, her voice trembling, her eyes threatening to tear up, " The screaming, the hits, it's too loud." George met Tab's eyes again and Tab clenched his jaw.

Hazel screwed her eyes shut again - she just wished it would all stop. Hazel had to tell herself to stop panicking - it wasn't 13 years ago, it was today, she told herself she wouldn't let the past control her.

" Hazel, hey," George said, putting a hand on her arm," it's okay." Hazel nodded softly.

" Sorry," she whispered, " memories." George and Tab watched the innocent girl as she sighed softly to herself.

Her mind though was caught up in the game of a cat chasing its tail, going in circles, over and over again, not stopping, a constant ongoing cycle, until it spiraled out. She watched George and Tab continue to play, the cards moving in front of them, between one another, tension a thick soup. She could sense Tab's aggravation with the way he kept glancing over his shoulder to where the room was.

" Jesus," she heard George mutter and could barely glance at him, " again-what a hand." George slapped his cards to the table, as he lit up his cigarette on his lip. Tab's evident aggravation rolled off to Hazel herself and soon her own eyes were glancing towards the room, a riled up anxiety spitting into her system. When would it all just stop?

" I wonder who's taking a bigger beating -- me or him." George said with a slight chuckle, trying to move some light-hearted humor into the situation. Hazel barely felt enough air leave her system for a laugh. Tab was glancing over his shoulder again before looking back at George.

" You want to play a different game?" Tab asked, his voice an overlap of annoyance and exhaustion - a want for it to just end.

" No, the same game, just shuffle them up good, huh?" George said and Hazel could see the worry for Tab in George's own eyes, the want to just keep his friend grounded, away from the door, because he knew Tab was thinking of his duty as First Sergeant to protect the men and women - this bothered Tab.

With another blow echoing in the other room, Hazel flinched as Tab gritted his face and slammed the cards together as he shuffled them together. Hazel's eyes were on him almost immediately. George watched him.

" Are you all right?" George asked, an urgency in his voice. Tab looked like he was about to explode.

" Yeah, I'm all right." Tab said firmly, nodding, like he wasn't about to burst right into that room at any second. Tab started dealing as George didn't move one eye from him.

" You want to go in there and join in?" George asked him, dark brown eyes watching Tab. Tab shakily sighed, slowly rolling his head side to side. Hazel watched him with sad eyes.

" I should go in there and stop this." Tab said looking back over his shoulder towards the room. Tab then looked back at his cards, another sigh leaving his lips.

" Floyd, let's just play cards, all right?" George said gently. Tab nodded, forcing himself to stay in his chair and listen to George's very calming voice. Hazel could barely blink her eyes.

Then all the sudden, the door burst open and the trio looked up to see it was Speirs, wide eyed, murderous gazes streaming from them, with Lizzie right behind him, eyes narrowed, gaze zeroed in on the door already. The trio moved to their feet and Hazel watched Lizzie stand at the door, seething.

" Where is he?" Speirs said gaze on Tab.

" How's Grant?" Tab asked and Hazel's eyes briefly traveled to Speirs' hand. A black, sleak pistol was held tightly in his grasp.

" Where is he?" Speirs asked again.

" Is he okay?" Tab proceeded shakily.

" Where is he?" Speirs yelled, snapping Hazel's eyes right to him. Speirs met Tab's eyes again as Tab looked towards the door where the voices, the beating, the yelling all bubbled from. Hazel watched Speirs move towards the door with about 4 quick authoritative steps and shove it open in a matter of seconds, to the boys parting as if it were the Dead Sea.

" Oh, I'll show him-" Lizzie grunted moving forward but Tab jumped in front of her, stopping her in her tracks as she seethed, eyes narrowed, ready to pounce as Tab froze her with one look. She wasn't about to follow Speirs in there.

As Hazel slowly approached the doorway, she could see the man on the inside, blood pouring from multiple spots on his head, as he seemed to choke in it. She met Catherine's eyes, which were filled with a flame that didn't want to be touched. She met Joe's, his exhausted, yet rage filled ones. Her heart froze for a moment.

" Is this him?" Speirs said, standing in the door, all gazes speared towards the Lieutenant. The man in the chair struggled to breath, to take in oxygen, to stay awake.

" That's him," Bull said firmly, " Replacement I Company."

Hazel felt sick to her stomach, as she leaned briefly against the doorway and tried not to let the sourness in her stomach grow. Hazel's gaze was on Speirs, taking slow, predator like steps towards the man, never once changing his gaze from the one on the replacement. Hazel could see Babe in there, standing beside Joe. Babe's gaze was hardened on Speirs, just like many of the others. Everyone was watching, everyone in the room, outside of the room, everyone was watching the CO stare down at the man who had shot a member of Easy, waiting for what the CO would decide to do.

" Where's the weapon?" Speirs asked quickly, his voice dangerously calm for a split second. The replacement merely stared up at him, his whole body shaking.

" What weapon?" the replacement sputtered out, his lazy gaze on the CO, without any care in the world.

Within a second, Speirs lifted his hand up, bringing the butt of the pistol right across the replacements face. Hazel flinched a bit at the sound, as blood spewed from the man's mouth, his head flopping to the side. Hazel scrunched her face up a bit.

" When you talk to an officer, you say 'sir'." Speirs said his tone demanding at that - it was scary.

The tension rolling from the CO was in waves, over every member, they could all feel the anger the CO withheld in him, for what had happened to one of his men, on of the members from his company. The man coughed, choked, gasping for again on his few breaths he could hold. The faces of the men pained Hazel herself.

With each gasping choke, they flinched, evident pain, or disgust or extreme exhaustion on all of their own. This was the tipping point for them.

Hazel turned her gaze back on the man who choked, over and over again. Then she heard a weapon cock and her gaze was on the only person she knew had a weapon. Speirs. In a second, the weapon was up and aimed right at the face of the replacement and almost automatically people stepped back, moving away from the CO and the replacement, gun pointed right between the eyes.

And with each gasping breath the replacement continued to take, the more and more tension continued to seep further into the room.

Hazel's heart was pounding, her palms were sweaty and it seemed everyone was holding their breath, waiting with baiting breath for what the CO might do, for what action he might decidedly take. The butt of the weapon was shaking, Speirs' hand was shaking, and from his rigid posture, she knew he didn't want to take his life, he didn't want to have to take the life of another man.

But the man had shot an Easy Company man, a Toccoa man, one of Speirs' own men. He'd be willing. But then, the pistol turned to the side, as Speirs glanced at his wrist, and Hazel let out a tiny breath. Speirs leaned forward and wiped the blood on his wrist, onto the replacements shoulder.

And the replacement had the nerve to let out a laugh, breathy laughs.

Hazel's eyes narrowed.

Not in Easy Company.

You didn't do that in Easy, proceeding to laugh once you harmed on of their own.

Hazel slowly unsheathed the knife from D-Day and burst forward, brushing past everyone, pushing even Speirs to the side, pulling up the replacements hair and holding a knife to his throat.

The knife that had killed the German on D-Day, the German with the green eyes.

A collective intake of breath entered the room, as the normally quiet woman, held a very sharp knife up against the throat of the man.

Hazel's eyes were narrowed, as if she were that predator stalking her prey in the night, watching his every move, watching the steps he took and easily predicting the ones he'd make.

The man had green eyes - just like the German's.

The replacement laughed.

" I wouldn't be laughing if I knew my first kill in this war, was by slicing a man's very own throat, watching the life fade from his eyes, as his soul seeped into the soil of the Earth, I would not be laughing." she whispered, her voice a steady stream of adrenaline, pulsing throughout her entire being. She was done with letting her fears sit in her like a boiling pot, stirring and stirring - having the mental image of this German with the green eyes follow her throughout this entire war when he was dead for almost over a year now. She was sick and tired of it all - the dreams, the nightmares, the terrors, all of it. She was sick and tried of it all.

" You're just a girl," the replacement spat, blood from his lips, speckling her facial features. She didn't flinch.

" I may just be," Hazel whispered," but I was a girl. I'm a woman - a strong one. A woman looking you in the eye right now as if it were my own prey. The death I've seen, at my own hands, watching blood like yours fall over my finger tips, I've seen it all. With my own two eyes. I am no girl. The war has changed that, just like it changed everyones' lives, something hard to accept. But I am also a Virago, a woman who holds herself at the highest standards of exemplary and heroic motives. Since Day 1, I've held myself to those morals for simple human decency. What have you held yourself to?" It was so quiet.

" A swine." she whispered maliciously, staring right into his cowering green eyes with her darkening blue ones. The group watched Hazel and no one was stopping her, not Catherine, not Joe, not even Speirs. They all watched her, hitting that boiling point, where she had been so frustrated with war, so ungodly angry at war, that this was what set her off.

" Aren't you tired of it?" snapped Hazel in his face," Aren't you tired of war? Tired of fighting day in and day out? Tired of knowing you have to still go fight a battle in the Pacific when you've just fought the war of Europe? Aren't you tired of it all? Don't you just want it to stop?" Each question was left with the replacement, cowering down in fear, his eyes wide, frantic, a silent plea for an ounce of help.

" They won't help you," Hazel whispered softly," you don't just go around swinging that weapon, taking aim at a man from Easy, thinking you can get away with it. You don't go around taking advantage of a woman, dehumanizing her and ripping from her everything that makes her a woman. That's not how life works, Private. And life, even if that is in it, should never have to work like that, a cruel distasteful manner of the horrid world we live in."

" Stop adding your cruelness to the world, stop adding hate, and anger and disgust. Start adding your own light, your own path, your own joy and happiness. Stop taking it out on others. We're all sick of war. We're all tired of it! But you know what, we're all still here, training, ready to jump into Japan to continue to fight. Because we're paratroopers, Private, you understand? It's a occupational hazard. We will fight until we drop dead, but if we fall we do not take it out on another, getting drunk, losing our minds, we're family, Private. This is my family. And if you hurt my family, then I will have no fear in threatening you." Hazel whispered coldly. Her gaze was answered with the one of a coward, a man who would not face his actions and the result of them.

" Is that understood?" Hazel whispered, her voice like ice, her eyes the fire and the flame.

" Yes, ma'am." the replacement managed out. Hazel stared at him for a moment, before leaning back. Her gaze didn't move from him as she then finally threw that knife to the floor, throwing it hard, down onto the ground as it stuck straight into the wood.

That part of her life was over, the part that had controlled her for the past year, with all the pairs of watching eyes, from the German, to the innocent boy, the German through the scope, the men in the camps, her father, that was behind her.

That knife represented that.

Hazel wouldn't touch that knife again.

And with that, Hazel turned and hurriedly left the room, a fury in each and every step she took leaving that room, then the building.

Hazel refused to let her past define her.

Chuck would be okay, after Hazel had left, Speirs told the group that he would be. But Hazel had darted out quicker than lightning, anger in her each and every step.

Hazel sat outside the building, eyes narrowed, as the soft Austrian breeze blew down onto her from the Alps, her knees brought up into her chest. The darkness of night that had fallen over her encased her entire being, as the stars suddenly began to show again for the first time that night.

Speirs slowly made his way out of the building, noticing the woman sitting on the step, back filled with tension and rigid. Speirs softly sighed to himself before walking forward, taking it down a few steps to slowly lower himself beside her. Hazel didn't even register him beside her.

" I heard you liked the stars, kid." Speirs said and Hazel's eyes softened from their narrowed gaze.

" Yes," she answered. Speirs glanced over at her.

" They always are watching, sir, and I can tell them anything, too. Anything. They always listen and watch." she said. She slowly turned and met his eyes.

" The German I killed on D-Day - the stars watched me do that too." she whispered," But they still show themselves each night."

" I think it's because the stars don't care what's thought of them, ya know, like someone I know." Speirs said, turning to smile over at Hazel. Hazel smiled a bit.

" They're just, you know, there every night, whether there's a storm, clouds, any of it, they still shine." Speirs said with a nod, " They don't care that there's this massive, scary, dark looking thing covering them. They still shine." Hazel smiled softly looking at her hands, where a few bits of blood were. Chances were there was still some blood on her face. She slowly reached up to wipe at her face.

" Here, " Speirs said, handing her the hanker chef he always had. Hazel met his gaze and he nodded. Softly taking it, she brushed it across her face, the blood gently coming from her features.

" I don't regret what I did back there, sir. A year ago I would've, but now I don't. At all." she said. And she meant it. She had seen what the war could do to people and what war was capable of making humans do to one another. She didn't regret that threat to a man who hurt these men, these men who were like her family. She would never.

" I don't regret it either." Speirs said and Hazel turned to smile at him. The stars smiled that night.

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hey! can i just how MUCH i loved this chapter especially for hazel?! this was one of her most pivotal turning points, simply because we saw how much that german on d-day with the green eyes followed her around all the time in her memories and by throwing the knife down it represented finally letting go of that part in her life and i LOVE that, truly!

thank you all so much for the love and support on this story, we are so close to the end of episode 10, and by the time postwar hits, we'll be even closer <3