April 12, 1945

For almost a week nonstop, the officers had found themselves either in briefings until they were red in the face, or with absolutely nothing to do. There seemed to be no in between. The enlisted had started to go a bit stir crazy as well, some messing around enough to result in significant disciplinary action. Trouble was, once the men realized discipline included time not on the line, they'd ignored it. So Sink instituted a monetary discipline policy. Different infractions led to different fines.

As Alice picked at her food, she sat at a table in the house she'd taken over. Harry and Ron had rooms on the top level, and she on the second. Bright sunlight streamed in through the window to her right, bathing the bedroom in warmth and light. She closed her eyes. A vase with some flowers sat in the center of the circular wooden, a random assortment of tulips, daffodils, and something else she couldn't remember the name for. Though she couldn't see them with her closed eyes, she could smell them. Alice smiled, laying her fork down on the table.

Footsteps on the wood floor made her open her eyes again. It surprised her to find Nixon wander in, but the Vat 69 bottle in his right hand felt far too familiar. She smiled at him. "Get bored in your briefing?"

He scoffed, sitting on the edge of her bed. He took a drink from the bottle. "It's the same every day. Nothing ever changes."

With a deep breath, she nodded. Alice turned in her chair to face him. His expression was drawn, worn. On the one hand, it flattered her how much he was willing to let his guard down around her. Very few people got that; Harry, Dick, and herself were perhaps the only ones. More than ever she wanted to hug him, tell him it would be alright.

But Alice didn't trust herself. And if she was to be honest with herself, she wasn't sure Nixon could control himself either, considering he was probably intoxicated beyond what was healthy. And she would not be the one to cross the line.

"Goddamnit," he murmured, running a hand through his hair, face towards the ground as he leaned on his knees. 

Alice squeezed her eyes shut. Her brain screamed at her. But her heart screamed louder, and she couldn't ignore Nixon's obvious distress, especially considering he'd helped her through Bastogne. Alice scooted her chair closer and looked at him. He still wouldn't look up. She took a deep breath and reached for the Vat 69 in his hands.

It took a moment before he let go. But once he had, she wasted no time in placing it on the table behind her. She didn't know what else to do. His face in his hands, she could hear him taking deep breaths. Alice frowned. This Nixon was so far from the man she'd met almost three years previous. It hurt her to look at him.

She hesitated before a smile broke her frown. "Do you... Do you remember when I beat you in a snowball fight? Because that is something I am never going to forget." She could stop her smile from growing as she thought back on the memory. She even laughed a little. "I genuinely felt bad about pelting you in the face at the time."

He snorted. "At the time?"

"Well, now I know you deserved it," she teased.

With a small, sharp laugh, he shook his head in his hands. But then he laughed again. "Jesus, that was so long ago."

"A lifetime ago," she agreed, voice low. 

As silence fell around them again, she sighed. Alice reached out and placed a hand on his knee. "Nix, it's going to get better. It has to." Her voice caught before she managed to continue, fighting back tears. "You may not... you may not believe it, Nix. But you and every man in this outfit living or passed, you're heroes to me. You're fighting for a cause that isn't yours. You're fighting in a nation that isn't yours. You're here for me, for us, for Germany and Austria and Poland and France." She choked on a sob, removing her hand to wipe her tears away. "God, Nix, you can't ever understand what that means."

He took a deep breath and finally uncovered his face. When he looked at her, he seemed a little less sad. She offered him a tiny smile, the best she could do through her own tears. Nixon nodded. The burning filled her body again; she really wanted to kiss him. 

Alice released a long breath, sitting back a bit. She couldn't even entertain the thought, however much she wanted to. Standing away from the chair, she broke eye contact, shaking a bit. In an effort to have an excuse for bolting, she moved her plate and utensils over towards the door.

"For the record, it was Ron who won that fight."

She spun around, hand on her hip. Alice tried to glare at him, but couldn't stop the smile and laugh that escaped her. For a moment, she saw the old Nixon sitting on her bed. With a scoff, she shook her head. "Not true."

"He got the last shot in," Nixon reminded her. "You were on the ground freezing your ass off."

"I resent that implication! I was just as crucial to our win as Ron was!"

"Right."

Alice scoffed. "Get out, Nixon. I won't be insulted like this."

As he smirked and retrieved his Vat 69 bottle, Alice frowned. But she didn't scold him for grabbing it back. With a snarky little wink, he left the room. Just as he approached the hallway, Alice following him to the door, boots pounded against the steps nearby.

"Anyone seen Cap'n Nixon or Lieutenant Klein?" they heard someone asking.

"In here!" he called.

An out of breath private skidded to a halt at the entrance to Alice's suite. He looked pale, his hand shaking. "Sir. Telegram." Then he looked past Nixon and noticed Alice. "Oh, ma'am. Good. Same thing."

They both took the slips of paper. The private caught his breath before nodding to them and heading back down the stairs in a hurry. Alice and Nixon exchanged confused glances. They unfolded the telegrams.

"TO ALL ALLIED INTELLIGENCE PERSONNEL. PRESIDENT ROOSEVELT SUFFERED CEREBRAL STROKE, PRONOUNCED DEAD AT 1535 HOURS. PRESIDENT TRUMAN HAS ASSUMED OFFICE. PLEASE STAND BY FOR FURTHER INFORMATION."

"Holy shit," Nixon muttered. "Jesus Christ."

Alice almost swayed where she stood. She had no real love for Roosevelt, but the man had been a driving force behind the war. With him dead, she only hoped the States would maintain their thrust into Germany. After a moment, she glanced at Nixon. He looked at her.

After a moment of hesitation, he shook his head. "I gotta tell Dick."

"Yeah," she agreed. "Come on."

They both hurried down the hall to the stairwell. They took the wooden flight down with as much speed as they safely could. When they reached the outside, she saw the sun starting to sink in the sky, painting a beautiful sunset. But she hurried after Nixon as they made their way through the throngs of civilians and military personnel alike.

Battalion Headquarters was surprisingly empty. But on the edge of hearing, she could make out Dick's voice down the hall. Nixon heard it too. Soon, he burst through the door. They found Ron and Dick standing at the far wall looking at a map of Germany. At their entrance, the two men spun around.

Nixon paused. "President's dead."

Neither of them spoke. Dick's hand dropped to his side as he stared at Nixon and Alice, and Ron just looked at the floor. The heavy silence lingered even as both of them moved further into the room. Finally Dick nodded.

"Orders?" he asked.

Nixon shrugged. "Hell if I know. I assume Sink'll call you in when there's more." He downed a drink of the Vat 69 bottle. With a shake of his head, he looked out the window. "He died of a fuckin' stroke."

"We all knew he wasn't in the best health," Dick pointed out. "Truman's president then?"

"Yeah. Yeah he is." Nixon rubbed his forehead. 

More silence. Alice watched them closely. Nixon looked on his way to being as depressed as the previous hour. In contrast, Ron barely seemed affected, but knowing him, she wasn't surprised to see him not reacting. Dick just nodded, set his mind on the task at hand. It didn't surprise him when he turned back to Ron. 

"Speirs, pick a night patrol." He turned to the far side of the room. "Zielinski, finish typing up those reports and then get them to Strayer."

Alice noticed the orderly for the first time as he confirmed his order. Confident in the orders at hand, he nodded to the other three officers. "It's almost dinner. Get food, get some rest. I'm sure the Colonels will have more for us to do soon."

He said get rest, but they didn't quite obey. By 2200 hours, when most of the other men slept, Ron, Alice, Nixon, Harry, and Lipton found themselves in a huge study in the Battalion HQ. A downpour of rain pelted against the walls and windows, drowning the area outside in water and inside in noise. Harry shuffled a deck of cards. Behind Ron and Nixon, someone had lit the fireplace. 

The warmth circulated through the room. Alice sighed in contentment as she enjoyed a cigarette. Gene had insisted she cut back. One a day was difficult, but doable. While she waited for her cards, she closed her eyes.

"I can't believe he's dead," Harry muttered. With a flick of his wrist, he began to pass the cards. With a sigh, he added, "Five card draw, nothing wild. Ante up."

Everyone tossed a dollar into the center. As she pulled her hand off the table one card at a time, Alice sighed internally. Another bad hand. Her luck had been nonexistent so far that night. She'd already lost a total of fifty-seven dollars, and that was after the forty dollars she'd managed to win.

"Everybody dies," Ron said. Pulling a cigarette from his pack, he lit it and took a deep breath. "Roosevelt got to die at home, in a chair. Better than the men over here."

Nixon snorted. "Yeah."

His glass sat half full on the table in front of him. Beside it, the bottle. Alice opened her eyes at their comments and glanced from Ron to Nixon. She sat between Harry and Lip, the former next to Ron, and Ron next to Nixon. The same pained expression from earlier was painted all over Nixon's face. She bit her cheek. She could see him spiraling before her eyes as he downed the rest of his glass.

"Two bucks," Ron said. He tossed the bills into the center. "Nix?"

He didn't even look up. Trying to get as much out of the whiskey bottle as possible, he glared down at it when it turned out to be empty. "No. I'm out."

Lip nodded. "Right. We'll, I'll call your two, and raise you another two."

Her gaze followed Nixon as he fled into the other room. She took her cigarette out of her mouth. Only when Lipton said her name did she turn back to the game. 

"No, I fold. I don't want to lose any more money to you people," she teased. Alice put her cards down. "You've taken enough from me tonight."

Ron tried to suppress a smirk. He had won the most so far, but Lipton just chuckled and turned to Harry. The man threw six dollars in and then leaned back.

"I can't believe we're not gonna jump into Berlin," he muttered.

Ron snorted. "No shit."

"Ike's gonna let the Russkies have it," he added.

"I'll tell ya' something, Welsh. This war isn't about fighting anymore, it's about who gets what." Ron shook his head. 

Nixon strode back into the room. He pulled his jacket on and pointed to the cards. "Deal me out of the next hand."

Ron rolled his eyes. "What about your money!"

As Nixon hurried out of the room, Alice watched him. Her cheek hurt from how hard she'd been biting at it, trying to decide what to do. She frowned.

"Are we waiting on him again?" asked Harry.

Lipton nodded, shuffling the cards in his hand. "Yep."

But Ron took the cigarette out of his mouth and shook his head. "He's done for the night. Ten bucks on that."

"No one's taking that bet," Harry said. 

"In that case, I'll go to bed with my winnings," Ron said, smirking. He stood from the table, gathering his cash and tossing the cards in Harry's direction. "Same time tomorrow?"

Harry drawled, "Every night, Speirs, every night."

Lipton and Ron both headed out of the room and down the stairs. Alice didn't realize Harry still sat at the table because she was so deep in thought. With the rain still pounding against the building and the crackling fire, she sat in silence. Her leg shook beneath the table.

"He's drinking too much," Harry said a few moments later.

Alice glanced up, startled. He had moved to the other side of the table and picked up the empty bottle of Vat 69. After looking at it for a moment, he tossed it in a trashcan. Alice hummed, nodding ever so slightly.

"Something set him off, though," Harry said, no question in his tone. "You know what it is?"

Alice nodded again. "Yeah. Yeah I do." She hesitated. With a sigh, Alice figured he may as well know. "His jump with the 17th didn't end well. Most of his stick went up in flames and blew up over Remagen," she told him. "He, uh. Well he didn't take it well."

"Yeah." 

Harry took his cigarette out of his mouth and stomped on it to make sure it went out. Then he slipped into another chair. He watched Alice carefully. She fiddled with her cards. 

"You're worried about him," Harry said.

With a small huff under her breath, she put her cards down. Alice glanced at the empty shot glass. Then she turned back to Harry. "Yeah. Yeah of course I am."

He didn't say anything. She missed the smirk that spread across his face. When a few more silent moments had passed, both of them collecting the cards on the table, he spoke again. "Go to bed, Alice. I'll make sure he gets back."

She glanced up at him. After watching him for several moments, Alice nodded. "Okay."

With Harry ushering her out the door, Alice soon found herself under the overhang outside the Headquarters building. The rain had lessened, but walking back would still get her soaked. With a sigh, Alice pulled her jacket closer. A perfectly gloomy night to reflect her mood.