Ad Astra Per Aspera [2] - Band of Brothers

60 | the art of eye contact

" Eye contact is way more intimate than words will ever be."

- Faraaz Kazi

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George had rolled down the windows of the old Nissan, letting in the fresh mountain breeze in. It was like they were in Austria again, strolling the cobblestone streets as the sun shone brightly down on top of them, watching a freed country, a war-free world finally feel the liberation that they had deserved years before.

George softly glanced over to look towards Catherine and he swore his eyes softened at the sight. Head looking out the window, as her hair flew out behind her, her face glowing like the sun, the center of his universe, and looking so free - so free. He couldn't remember the last time a smile was unmaintainable on his lips, his corners poking up onto his face, glee filling his soul. It was a euphoric feeling that he wished would never disappear. 

George let his eyes briefly move over towards Catherine again and smiled softly, eyes filled with an ethereal and a tender love. 

His mind wandered back to Aldbourne - after Normandy had taken so much from the company, after they had returned battered and filled with the horrors of war - after Catherine had finally made it back to the company. George remembered the feeling that had flooded his system the minute Hazel had told him about Catherine and what had happened to her. 

Of course, admiration from afar was not something George was keen on taking up, he rather flirted his way in, rather confidently too. 

But with Catherine, it was no secret that she had intimidated a majority of the guys upon introduction, but for some reason, that drew George's eyes more than normal - where ever she appeared, or even went, his eyes were on her. He had been infatuated. 

So upon hearing she was injured, wounded, distraught and taken from a battle she was born for, he was saddened. And seeing her come back, bright eyed, so joyful, so unbothered seemingly from that wound, made a smile appear on his face - he remembered how that smile had felt. It was quite a nice smile. 

George remembered that night, late August of 1944, where the sun was still out late into the evening, the towns women and towns men, gathering at the pubs after working long hours in the shops or fields, and the crickets chirping gently, their quiet symphony a hum in the breeze. 

Yeah, George remembered that night vividly - it was the first night he had properly spoken to the Lieutenant that his eye always managed to catch ahold on. It was like it was yesterday. 

George had sat in the corner in one of the booths in the bar, a joking grin spread on his lips, as Bill leaned forward a bit to tell one of the jokes he always seemed to throw around. A cold beer in his grasp, George slowly lifted the glass to his lips, briefly pulling from the conversation to let his gaze linger a bit on the townspeople packed into the tiny pub. His eyes stopped suddenly, catching the figure of a familiar Lieutenant slipping into the bar, trying her best it seemed to remain unnoticed.