An Expensive Solitude: A Band of Brothers Fanfiction

Ice Queen

Bastogne

The pack of Lucky Strike cigarettes was half-empty. Nonetheless, Lewis Nixon tugged it from the pocket of his trench coat as he emerged into the frigid air. He tucked a cigarette between his lips. As he trudged out onto the cracked cobblestones, he surveyed the street.

Since the line had broken, the town's atmosphere had changed for the better. Hope had resurfaced even among the most battle weary men. It didn't hurt that they had the chance for a hot meal every so often now. In all honesty, Lewis didn't give a shit that the world thought Patton was their savior. The men who had served on that hard battered line knew they'd never needed saving. Lewis damn well knew he hadn't.

He flicked his lighter. After several tries with no dice, he knew it was a fruitless effort. It had finally run dry after weeks in the Ardennes.

"Damn," he muttered, removing the cigarette from his lips.

A gaggle of new replacements loaded a supply truck across the street. Nixon studied the scene. He realized that the supply officer overseeing the operation was female. She had her back to him, bundled in layers of winter uniform, but he could detect the feminine curve of a waistline. It was a strange sight in this area. Most of the women present were nurses in the makeshift aid stations and evacuation hospitals set up around Bastogne.

A private struggling with a container set it down beside a jeep behind the truck. The woman's gaze snapped over to him and she raised a hand, motioning him to bring it over. The corner of Lew's mouth pulled upwards as he recognized her. Lieutenant Edith Sink brushed away an errant strand of blonde hair that had come loose from her tight French braid and called out another order.

He snorted and shook his head. He knew he shouldn't have been surprised. The Ice Queen, as some of the other officers and noncoms called her, would certainly have raced to her daddy's aid once the coast was clear. He had to admit though that Edith Sink knew her job and did it well.

Damned if he knew how Sink had managed to father such a handsome woman. She was the spitting image of Veronica Lake, not that it seemed to matter much to her. She had to know she was beautiful, but she seemed like the kind of woman who didn't put much worth into something that didn't have a practical use. After waiting for a jeep to pass, he crossed over. Nixon strode up alongside her, still holding the packet of cigarettes.

"Wouldn't happen to have any Lucky Strikes or lighters in those boxes, would yah?" he asked, crooking a heavy dark brow.

Edith peered up apathetically from the clipboard.

"Captain Nixon," she drawled in a monotone voice, her expression straight as an arrow. "Glad to see you are still alive. Having trouble finding a razor lately?"

Lew scoffed, running his bare fingers over his scruffy chin. "No, just can't seem to lose the five o'clock shadow no matter how hard I try."

"I'm sure." She scanned the boys as they scurried under her sharp gaze.

"You get here recently?" He tugged his gloves out of his coat pocket.

"Yesterday."

"How are things back at Mourmelon?"

"Private Howe!" Edith called authoritatively to a skinny kid lighting a cigarette and leaning up against the jeep. "There are still quite a few more things that need to be stowed before we can head out.

The private shrugged and lifted the half smoked cigarette. "Almost done."

Nixon shook his head. He could only imagine how frustrating it would be to a woman in Edith's position. No matter how well she did her job, she was only a broad with a clipboard to some men.