[MillietheWarrior]

“I’m tellin’ ya, I didn’t take nothin’ from ya!”

“You ain’t nothin’ but a liar! I know you took it from me! Give it back!”

“I didn’t take nothin’!”

The twin shouts of anger were followed by a chorus of cries and encouragements, as a circle of young boys closed in around the two combatants. Their chanting rose to a crescendo as the two circled each other angrily, one accusing, and one defending.

The accuser lunged, but the defendant ducked, catching the other boy off guard and barreling into him. They hit the ground as a cloud of dirt rose up around them, their already torn and tattered clothing taking as much of a beating as the two combatants.

The defendant had the other boy pinned, fists raised back and falling down hard as they struck, defending words and honor and the injustice of being called a liar and a thief. The pinned youth squawked and hollered, shouting his outrage as the ring of boys closed in, intent on some blood-letting and a good old fashioned brawl. But the defendant ignored it all and threw punch after punch, intent on pounding some sense into the accuser.

[MillietheWarrior]

All of a sudden, the circle of boys was shoved back, and a pair of strong hands wrapped around the back of the defendant, yanking them backwards as the boy on the ground squalled like a hurt piglet. The defendant writhed in the grasp of the hand on the back of their shirt, never making more noise than a few grunts and savage snarls in the process.

“-The hell is wrong with you two?!”

Both defendant and accuser stared up into a face twisted with angry rage and annoyance as a man, no older than twenty-five, and both went still immediately. The crowd of boys, with the threat of some form of punishment looming overhead, had long since dispersed and vanished as inconspicuously as a large mob was able.

“He accused me of-” the defendant began, pointing a trembling finger at the boy in front of them.

“I don’t care what he accused you of.” The man turned imperious blue eyes towards the first boy, and growled. “You better get your skinny little ass home before I whoop it for you, boy. I don’t want to catch neither of you two fightin’ again, ya hear? Or by God, I’ll make sure you can’t sit down for a week.”

The accuser went rigid, eyes widening at the threat of punishment, and turned on his heel, taking off as fast as his dignity and his legs would carry him. Once he was out of sight, the man turned his gaze to the remainder of the guilty party. “Well, what do you have to say fer yourself?”

The defendant crossed arms scuffed with mud, dirt and a few fresh scrapes from the tumble. “I won.”

[MillietheWarrior]

“Sam Branigan, you keep gettin’ into fights like that, and your face is going to turn into one big lump of bruises.”

Sam sat studiously on the chair, not so much twitching even as Mrs. Martha Branigan dabbed a cloth over the wounds her child had acquired in the fight. Sam had long ago become accustomed to being pampered by the matriarch of the family after every fight; and there were certainly a lot of them. Head down, eyes bulled up and defiant, Mrs. Branigan was suddenly struck with how much Sam and her husband resembled each other.

“Oh, you stop giving me that look,” she chided, smoothing the cloth over Sam’s face and getting a scowl in response. “I swear, you and your father is just like two peas in a pod. Both got that bulled up look on yer face when you get angry. Do you even know who it was you was fightin‘ with?” A morose face was shook in the negative. “You never do. Always just pickin’ fights. Lucky your pa shook some sense into that boy. He won’t bother you no more.” A chuckle from near the door startled her, and in response, she rubbed the cloth a little too roughly over Sam’s face, eliciting a smothered yelp.

“Gosh darn it, Shane Branigan, don’t you sneak up on me like that when I’m concentrated on gettin’ this rascal of a child of yours all cleaned up.” Sam sniggered, and Martha shot a look so cross, her child instantly shut her mouth.

“Aw, don’t be mad, hon. I gotta say, beyond the first few minutes of bein’ so damn angry I couldn’t see straight, I think Sam won that fight. Or nearly would’ve, if I hadn’t’a come along.”

“You watch your mouth, Shane Branigan !” Martha snapped, scolding him for his use of swears in her presence. “Or you won’t be gettin’ dinner fer a week. I declare.” She huffed, and set the cloth down in the small water basin on the table, before she shooed Sam off the chair. “You two get along and get them cows tended to. I’ll get started on makin’ dinner.”

“And a foine dinner it will be, Mrs. Branigan !” Shane declared dramatically in his rough, Irish brogue. Both he and Sam had to duck out at a run to avoid the water she sloshed their way.

“Yer lucky I’m even makin’ it for you!”

[MillietheWarrior]

“Dad?”

“Yeah Sam?”

“Dad…how come everyone is always pickin’ fights with me, huh? I didn’t do nothin’ to them. I never do nothin’ wrong. How come, huh?”

Sam’s father looked up from the pitch fork he held tightly in hands hard and callused from years of hard labor. Sam was holding out a bag of feed as one of their older cows (Aptly named ‘Bessie,’ as most cows were), munched leisurely from the rare and well-loved treat. A few of their other cows, a Jersey or two, some Holsteins, and a Guernsey, had begun meandering over to get their share of the feed, which Sam had begun to scatter around on the ground.

“Well now, Sam. I can’t rightly say. Could be because they sense the Irish in you.” Here he grinned, clearly making a joke,. Before he sobered up quickly enough, scooping another fork-full of hay and tossing it over his shoulder to mingle with the feed. “I don’t really know, Sam. But you gotta stop this fightin’ business. You can’t go ‘round beating up everyone who throws a cross word yer way. Ya just gotta learn to let it go, kiddo. That’s the way things work.”

Sam pondered this for a moment, and the sudden smile that broke out had Shane wondering if his child had come up with some kind of devious plan. “Shit happens, right dad?”

“Watch yer mouth!….but yeah. Shit happens.”

[MillietheWarrior]

“All right, you. Time to wash up fer bed.”

Sam whined, the type of whine a kid makes when they really don’t want to do anything they’re told. Martha just shook her head, pursing her lips and fixing her child with a stern glare as she cleared the table.

“All right, fine,” Sam muttered, slinking away from the table to do what Martha had instructed. Martha watched with a triumphant eye, as Shane just chuckled faintly.

“Ah, leave it to a lass to get things done, eh? Don’t know how we’d survive without ya, Martha, me dear.”

“Oh shove it,” she said playfully, shooting him an impish smile as she cleared the table, setting the dishes in the wash basin to be cleaned later. “Come along then. We better make sure our little fighter gets into bed all right. Never can trust that one, I tell ya,” she finished with a quirk of her lips, faintly amused.

They followed Sam to the other room, where a small candle flickered cheerily in the cool night air. Sam had already washed, and was currently pulling on an old, worn, but very comfortable set of sleepwear.

“Into bed, you little rascal,” Shane said fondly, lifting the thick duvet and tucking Sam in. He leaned down and pressed a kiss against Sam’s temple, as Martha leaned in to do the same. “Tomorrow,” Shane said sternly. “Yer workin’ on the farm with me. No more of this fightin’ nonsense, ya hear?”

Sam made a small noise that could’ve been agreement or annoyance but snuggled down into the comforter. Shane and Martha smiled softly, snuffing out the candle on the way out as they left their child safely tucked away in bed for a good night’s sleep.

“Good night, Samantha. Sweet dreams, my little angel,” her mother called from the doorway.

Wrapped up in her blankets, Sam could only smile as she drifted off into a dreamless slumber.

[MillietheWarrior]

“…Five minutes away from throwing myself off a bridge, Lizzie, I really am.”

Elizabeth, or Lizzie, as she was called, turned to see a tall, willowy soldier striding through the tent flap, a scowl on his face that could clear a room. It took her another moment to recognize said face and realize that it didn’t belong to a man, but to a woman. “Geeze, Sam,” she replied airily, checking something off on her clipboard. “You get any more manly, and you’re going to have to start shaving.”

“Ha, ha,” Sam replied dryly, though couldn’t deny it was probably true.

In 1941, the United States had officially gone to war. Sam had been no more than seventeen years old, just barely out of high school (if you could count fist fighting her way through the grades ‘school’) and had immediately jumped at the chance to volunteer and fight for her country.

Well, maybe ‘fight’ was a bit of an overstatement.

She’d been labeled a ‘nurse,’ shoved into a dress, and thrown into a haphazard battlefield nursing school. Whereupon completing, she had immediately rebelled, literally burned her dress, and begged, borrowed or stole a uniform that consisted of regular army fatigues, no dress involved.

With heavy boots, shapeless clothing, and hair so short it could almost be called ‘shorn,’ Sam was probably the least nurse-iest nurse in the entire army.

Almost a two years later, Sam found herself in Europe, working alongside her fellow nurses and aiding the British army in the fight against the Germans. She’d been stationed in England, and in France, and, along with her friend, Elizabeth, was now back in England, in Aldbourne, moving supplies in and out of the makeshift base.

Sam had only one friend in the nursing corps, and that was Elizabeth Nixon, who, like herself, had volunteered to serve their country in 1941. They’d trained together, lived together, and had become the best of friends; Lizzie easily put up with Sam’s ‘quirks’ and her apparent ‘oddness.’ It was the only reason Sam put up with Lizzie, despite the fact that she was a woman.

[MillietheWarrior]

I’m serious!” Sam continued, side-stepping Lizzie and grabbing one of the large boxes with ease. Lizzie lifted a brow.

“Serious about what? And by the way, how the hell do you lift those so easily?”

“Watch your mouth, young lady,” Sam chastised, unwilling to curse since her mother had taught her that it was a terrible, and very rude habit. Sam was full of contradictions, but being around so many soldiers for so long made it difficult to stick to her guns. “Years of getting the snot beat out of you and vice versa really helps a gal work out the muscles, ya know?” She snorted, hefting the box higher in her arms.

“Anyway, the girls here, Lizzie! I mean, you’re all right, Liz, but the rest? If I don’t strangle, smack, or kick one of them, I’m going to just throw myself off a bridge. It’s always ‘Oh, they’re so dreamy!’ ‘Oh, just look at those uniforms!’ ‘Oh, I can’t wait to see him again!’ If I have to hear one more thing from some lovesick, doe-eyed, air-headed idiot, I’m going to just…” She ended her rant in an inarticulate growl as Lizzie giggled.

“Oh come on. They aren’t all that bad, right?”

“One of them asked me on a date.”

“Okay, never mind.”

Lizzie giggled again as Sam toted the box outside to the back of a waiting truck. “You have to admit,” she began as Sam reappeared to grab another. “You do make an awfully appealing target. You’re such a pretty man.”

“Don’t make me smack you, Liz.”

Sam scowled as she grabbed the next box. “Boy, will I be glad when our boys get back over here. Give me a break for once.” She grunted as she hefted the box up into the air. “They’re always making calf-eyes at me, and it’s disturbing. Gives me the willies.”

“Well, you’re in luck, Sammy-girl.” Lizzie ignored the look Sam shot her as she stepped back outside. “’Cuz word around town is that the boys are headed back here.”

[MillietheWarrior]

“Really? So I take it they’ll be coming in straight from Normandy, eh?”

“Yep. Soon enough.”

“Thank God.”

Lizzie giggled again, setting her clipboard down as Sam reappeared and swiped her hands together. “All right!” she crowed happily. “What say you and I go get a drink, huh? I’m parched. And if you come with me, maybe the girls will stop trying to get me to have dinner with them. I swear, one more time and…” She marched out the tent door, a laughing Lizzie in tow as the two of them strolled down the street.

Sam shoved her hands into her pockets, trying very hard to ignore the pointed looks some of the women shot her as she walked along. “Do I really look like a man? Is it that bad, Liz?” she asked, suddenly feeling an unfamiliar surge of self-consciousness as a group of girls flounced by, tittering and flashing her coy smiles as they passed. “I mean, yeah, my hair is short and I don’t wear those dam- uh, dang dresses, but I can’t be that manly, right?”

“Hon,” Lizzie began, smiling earnestly. “You’re the prettiest man I ever seen, remember?” She giggled as Sam scowled. “But in all honesty, Sam, you do look…a lot like a guy. But that‘s just you. If you were in a dress…by God, I doubt I‘d even know who you were if we hadn‘t already trained together back home. Those dresses never suited you. I remember that sour look on your face almost everyday!”

She leaned in close and whispered conspiratorially. “I can’t see no curves or anything in any of the obvious places; you’re just one big unshapely lump in that thing. Even out of it, Sam, you don’t have the most…curvaceous body out there. You kinda look like a slightly rounded boy in PT gear too. But rest assured, you’ve got a lovely feminine face, and pretty eyes. I think it’s the hair that does it. It’s just…you ain‘t got nothing up top.”

Lizzie reached up and battled at one of the tiny curls peeking out from beneath Sam’s cap. He hair was so short, it was almost difficult to find a piece of it to tug on playfully to make a point. “I do so! You just can’t see it ‘cuz I keep it all under wraps, so to speak. Geeze,” Sam huffed, batting her hand away in mock annoyance when Lizzie shot her a look. “All right. You’ve made your point, Miss Nixon. Now shut up and walk faster; I really need that drink.”

[MillietheWarrior]

“Ugh, God, sunlight!”

Sam dove back under the covers as Lizzie threw the curtains in their room open, drinking in the bright sunlight and early morning air. “Stop being such a baby, Sam, and get the hel- er, heck up! Didn’t you hear the trucks? They’ve been rumbling in all night! The boys are finally back!”

“Whoop-dee-friggin’-do,” Sam grumbled. “Wake me when the war’s over.” She proceeded to bury herself back under the covers, when her center of gravity suddenly shifted dramatically.

“I said get up!”

“What the fuck?!”

Sam screamed as the mattress she was lying on was flipped all the way over, sending her sprawling beneath it on the floor. Lizzie held her hands against her stomach, having a difficult time breathing over her laughter. She leaned against the door frame as Sam wiggled her way out from beneath the comforter and blanket, coming up spluttering mad and red-faced in nothing but a white shirt and PT shorts.

“Oh my God, I got you to curse! That was the best moment of my life!”

“I hope you can run fast, Lizzie!” Sam shouted, lunging suddenly for the dark-haired brunette in the doorway. “Because when I catch you, you’re dead!”

[MillietheWarrior]

“Who’s dead?”

Sam froze mid-leap, and Lizzie all but fell out of the doorway as she stumbled forward, both women turning their gaze to the man standing in the doorway with wide-eyes and raised brows. “What the hell is going on in here?”

“Lewis!”

Sam was overturned and flew backwards into the pile of blankets and mattress as Lizzie rushed away from her and straight into the startled man’s arms. “What the-?!” she spluttered, trying and failing to untangle herself from the sheets.

“Lewis, oh my God! How did you find me? What are you doing here? How have you been? I’m so glad you’re okay! I’ve missed you so much! Oh my God!” Lizzie babbled, clinging to the man with a bear-like vice-grip.

“Little help here!?” Sam growled, but neither of the other occupants of the room noticed.

“Liz! You’re pretty easy to find; I’m an intelligence officer, I asked questions, I got answers. Simple enough. I’m here with my company. I’ve been good. And you can call me ‘Lew.’ ‘God’ seems a little lofty, don’t you think?” His smile turned affectionate as he easily answered each of her rushed questions. “…But I‘ve missed you too, sis.” He peered over Lizzie’s shoulder where Sam was grumbling up a storm. “Uh, Liz…Why is there a man in your room? What the hell have you been up to here? And why is the room destroyed?”

[MillietheWarrior]

“Oh!” Lizzie colored slightly, cheeks turning red as she quickly leapt to her friend’s aid and helped Sam untangle herself from the blankets. “Uh, Lew, this is…Sam Branigan. Sam, this is my brother, Captain Lewis Nixon.”

Sam stuck out her hand, regarding the man before her with cool disinterest. “Heard a lot about you. Nice to meet you, sir.”

Lewis took the hand with a bit more caution, eyeing Sam up and down before his eyes narrowed slightly. “Not to sound rude, but there’s something off about you, Sam Branigan.”

“Not to sound rude, but you can mind your own fucking business.”

“Sam!” Lizzie screeched. Sam glanced at her friend, then back at Lew as she folded her arms over her almost flat chest.

“Sorry. My mistake. I meant to say, ‘you can mind your own dang business.’ Better?”

Lizzie growled, shaking her head. “Hardly. Can’t you be civil for two seconds?”

He started it.”

“I don’t care who started it, I’m going to finish it!” Lizzie turned to her brother, who was watching the interaction with a mixture of confusion, disgust, and anger, and huffed. “Lew, Sam is ‘off,’ as you put it. She’s a girl. But don’t spread it around. I imagine she doesn’t want a lot of people knowing that. If they did, they’d take away her beloved trousers and stuff her in a dress-”

“God forbid!” Sam exclaimed.

“-Anyway, she’s kinda keeping it on the low down, you know? Making sure not many people know. It’s pretty friggin’ hilarious watching her fend off the advances of the love-starved women around here, but it does have it’s perks…like getting into the pub unchallenged, and getting whatever rations and supplies we need without hassle from the men. Huh…” She looked thoughtful for a moment. “Come to think of it, Sam, your trousers are pretty handy.”

“Yeah, thanks. Glad I could be of service,” Sam replied dryly, before she turned an imperious gaze on Lewis. “Now that you practically know my whole friggin’ life story, can I trust you to keep your mouth shut, intelligence officer?”

[MillietheWarrior]

“You’re a girl?” Lewis’s mouth was hanging open incredulously, and Sam was sure that if he didn’t close it soon, he’d start catching flies. “Really? I never would’ve guessed. You don’t look like a girl, what with the…” He trailed off when he caught the look Lizzie was shooting him, making cutting motions across her neck as she stood behind Sam. “Anyways, your secret’s safe with me. And might I just say, thank God.”

Sam snorted. “God ain’t got nothin’ to do with it.”

“Well, regardless…I was worried my little sister was running around with some wayward soldier. Mother and father would’ve had a field day with that. I’m just curious…uh, why do you really run around looking like a man? It can’t be just because of the perks…right?”

“Perks,” Sam snorted, and rolled her eyes as she heaved the mattress back onto the bed springs. “Yeah, perks. I just met you, Lewis Nixon. And now you’re asking to explain to you why I am the way I am. Funny guy.”

“Sam,” Lizzie muttered warningly, folding her arms.

“Yeah, yeah, play nice. I get it,” Sam chuckled, spreading the sheets back out on the mattress. “If you must know, Lewis, it was, in a way, part of my upbringing. I’m an only child, and I worked on a farm from the time I could walk. My daddy raised me like he would’ve raised a son, I guess. And because of that…Well, I wasn’t so much a little girl as a little boy. I got into fist fights at school every other week over stupid, petty arguments. I refused to wear dresses, even on Sundays, and I just kind of grew up  being more comfortable in trousers and a little bit of mud than dresses and a lot of make-up. And if I’m gonna do my job, then I’m going to do it to the best of my abilities, no holds bar. Being a woman, I can’t get as much done as I’d like to.”

She scratched her head, straightening up and looking faintly confused. “Does any of this make sense to you?”

[MillietheWarrior]

Lew nodded slowly, looking amused and impressed at the same time. “I think so. Long story short, your dad raised you like a son, you’re more comfortable in trousers than dresses, and you think that if people think you’re a man, you’ll be able to work and perform your duties more effectively and efficiently. Did I hit the nail on the head?”

“Bingo. Guess you’re an intelligence officer for a reason, eh?”

Lewis laughed, and Lizzie looked between the two. “God, you really are a man, Sam. You get along  so well with them. Don’t miss a beat, do you?” She huffed, folding her arms. “Now get lost, Lew. Sam needs to get dressed. She’s not that much of a man, you know. We’ll come find you later.”

“Some welcome,” Lewis muttered, but smiled playfully at his sister. “All right. We’ll be just up the road, Liz.” He leaned forward and gently placed a brotherly kiss on her cheek. “See you later, Liz. Nice to meet you Sam. I presume I’ll see you later too, then.”

Sam nodded curtly, and watched and Lewis made an about-face and disappeared from sight. She turned to Lizzie, raising an eyebrow and fixing her with a look. “What?” Lizzie asked innocently, folding her hands behind her back.

“Lizzie, you’re an idiot.”

[MillietheWarrior]

“Well dang. When they say ‘invasion,’ they certainly mean ‘invasion,’” Sam commented dryly as they strolled down the street.

“And what a handsome invasion it is,” Lizzie sighed dreamily from beside her. Sam gave her an odd look, and scooted a good few inches away, just to be safe.

“What the heck is wrong with you?”

“Hey, I’ve been American man deprived for a really long time, okay? I think I deserve a good ogle or two, don’t you? I feel like I‘ve been surrounded by British and French soldiers for waaaay too long.”

“You scare me, Lizzie. You really do.”

They passed by groups of men in uniforms, trucks, jeeps, and all sorts of other things that certainly hadn’t been there the night before. “Where did Lew say he was, exactly?”

“Down the street.”

“How oddly specific.” Sam shot her a pointed look.

“….You’re right. How the heck are we going to find him again in this mess?”

“Ask around,” Sam shrugged, looking pretty blasé about the entire thing. She could care less about the soldiers invading their cheery little town, although inside, she was pretty giddy about not being the only one in uniform. Maybe now she’d get some peace from the local girls who made it their mission in life to hound her very shadow. If only they knew what lay beneath the over-large, floppy uniform.

[MillietheWarrior]

“Who should I ask?” Lizzie cried, flustered. Sam rolled her eyes, and without warning, reached out to grab the arm of the nearest man passing by.

The man was jerked back with a start, only to come face-to-face with a blue-eyed, brown haired soldier he’d never seen before. Confused, and a little bit miffed about behind man-handled, he shot the man a dark look. “What d’ya want fella? I’m walkin’ here.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Sam replied dryly. “Hey, you know where…” she trailed off, looking to Lizzie for instruction.

“Oh! Right. Uh, captain Lewis Nixon, 101st Airborne, 506th PIR, Easy Company, is?”

Sam blinked; that sounded so rehearsed. “Yeah, that guy. You know where he is?” she finished for her friend, turning to stare imperiously across at the man who was as tall as her and not an inch taller.

“You lookin’ for captain Nixon?” the man replied, confused. Sam nodded curtly. “He’s up the road. Right over there.” He jerked his thumb behind him, and then scowled down at Sam’s hand still on his arm. “Hey, pal, ya think ya could let go already? I got places ta get to.”

“Yeah, all right,” Sam replied distractedly as she and Lizzie started up the road again. The man peered after them curiously, then shook his head. What a funny broad…And that soldier sure looked awfully strange. Shrugging to himself, the soldier kept going, deciding he’d retell this story later, and maybe add a couple of punches and uppercuts to make it more exciting.