Summary:  "She remembered there being a party. Fourth of July, maybe? Was it July? Oh god."

Prompt: given by Tumblr's @tvserie-s-world from @wecomrades fabulous list. Number 21, Floyd Talbert + "Holy mother of god, what?" + orange flowers.

[ 8 ]

FLOWERS FOR YOUR GRAVE

July 1945

Zell am See, Austria

"Ow."

Alice grabbed at her head. The sunlight streaming through the window at her right burned her eyes. Her mouth felt fuzzy and dry. As she pulled herself awake, Alice added up the symptoms.

Definitely a hangover.

"Shit," she muttered. Trying to sit up, she only succeeded in making herself feel worse. Alice turned from the window as best she could, facing the inner wall in her room instead. "Shit. What?"

Alice had been hungover many times. It came with the territory of not only being in the army but being from Europe and being in love with one Lewis Nixon, king of whiskey. But she'd never felt this bad, not in a long time at least. What had happened? Alice narrowed her eyes again, trying to glance around the room.

She remembered there being a party. Fourth of July, maybe? Was it July? Oh god. Alice rubbed her face with her hand, massaging her temples. She'd been at a party with the officers. Sink had insisted. Talbert had come too, as the First Sergeant, and he'd been pissed about it. She remembered there being French Army brass there too. Weird.

Clawing out from under the sheets, Alice nearly stumbled into the wall. How much had she had to drink? Her eyes widened at the thought that maybe she was still drunk. Good god. Once she'd straightened up, Alice just nodded to herself.

She and Tab had sulked all through the party. Lipton had said something to the effect of playing babysitter while Harry and Nix had been bugging Dick. There'd been champagne.

There'd been a lot of champagne. As another stabbing pain shot through her head, Alice grimaced. Too much champagne?

But no. Alice remembered leaving the party by midnight. Maybe even as early as ten. Sink had gone off with the French First Army officers around then, and she had left with Talbert. A bit of a clearer picture started to form. She remembered a lot of laughing. She remembered singing. 

Who had been singing? Was it her? It must've been her, as she thought it had been in French. Why had she been singing in French? Unless it had been Gene...

By the time she'd pulled on her uniform, Alice had scrounged together some small explanation for her hangover. She must've partied with the enlisted after the officers. Poor Tab probably felt as bad as she did.

Maybe George knew what happened. She downed three cups of water. With a grimace at the prospect of going out into the sunlight, she just set her jaw and left the hotel room, throat and mouth still dry despite the water.

She took the stairs as carefully as she could. The last thing she needed was to stagger around obviously inebriated at what was probably far too early in the day. Alice checked her watch. 1015 hours. Definitely too early.

"Lip!" 

Alice breathed a sigh of relief when she saw him in the lobby. He stood chatting with Malarkey. At her call, they both turned and started grinning as she visibly cringed. That had been louder than she'd intended. 

It was Malarkey who broke the tension first. "Well you look better than Tab does, at least." He shook his head, trying not to laugh. "He's at the lake trying to wake himself up."

"Right." Alice paused. "This is going to sound like an odd question." She glanced between them. They waited. Alice sighed. "What happened last night?"

Lipton started laughing. "Talbert asked the same thing."

"You mean you don't remember the incredible Bastille Day celebration you put on?" Malarkey added. But his smirk said he already figured that out.

"Holy mother of god, what?" She groaned. Bastille Day! That made so much more sense. That explained the French. "Shit. What did I do?"

They started moving outdoors. At the sun, she groaned, but she stayed with Lip and Malark as they moved down the road in the direction of the lake. Both of them laughed again, and she glared.

"At about three we had to find Doc because you were speaking half in French," Malarkey told her. "He wasn't too happy with that."

"Tab passed out around four. You'd beat him in your fourth drinking competition of the night," Lip added. "It was impressive."

"I'm going to have to tell Bill and Joe that in my next letter," she muttered. "It's all the practice they put me through in training."

Malarkey snorted. "And Nixon's Vat 69."

"Yeah."

By the time they reached the lake, Alice regretted every choice she'd made in the past twenty-four hours. The sun made her sick, the increasingly loud laughter from the lake not helping any either. Alice groaned.

"It'll get better. The water's cool. Should help," Lipton said.

Malarkey snorted. "That was Tab's theory, anyway."

Talbert was sitting laying shirtless on the dock with his knees up, shirt bunched up over his face to stop the sun. On top of the shirt, someone had placed orange flowers. Water pooled around him. In the water were Babe, Les, and Tony, while George and Bull chatted on the side. 

"Look who finally decided to get up!" 

Liebgott. Alice grimaced as he appeared from behind one of the trees. At his call, everyone in earshot turned. Everyone except Talbert who didn't move at all. She grimaced.

"Mademoiselle! Awake at last," George heckled. He left Bull and jogged up to her. "You look better than Tab, at least," he teased. "Any more desire to teach us that crazy french anthem? What was it called... Lip? Malark?"

After a couple of moments where they tried to pronounce the french song, she realized what they meant. "La Marseillaise?" She covered her face. "Shit. Why did I drink so much?"

"Blame Talbert," Malarkey suggested. "He can't remember anything."

She sighed. "I'm not much better off."

George broke down laughing and shook his head. "I've never seen you so drunk."

"How did I get back to my room," she muttered. Alice shook her head. To be honest, she wasn't sure she wanted to know.

"I got you back," Lipton assured her. "George distracted the front desk."

Alice smiled and thanked them. After a few deep breaths, she moved to the dock and closer to the commotion. She looked down in confusion at the flowers on Talbert's shirt. But she didn't waste much time before stripping down to the least amount of clothes she felt comfortable around the men in. In a rare moment of total impulse, she stepped off into the cool glacial lake without hesitation. 

It did help a bit. It woke her up, that was for sure. But before long, Alice's headache started to return in full force. Talbert still hadn't moved on the dock when she heaved herself up next to him. She looked at the flowers again. Then she laid back the same way Talbert had and shaded her eyes with her arm.

A weird tickling in her palm made her sit up in surprise, knocking Talbert in the process. He groaned, and she looked at her hand. Someone had put orange flowers there. Not someone. George. He was smirking at her.

"Ok what is with the flowers," she demanded.

Talbert, voice muddled a bit by the shirt, groaned out an answer. "Flowers for the dead."

While George just cracked up, she sighed. At least they had the kindness to put flowers on her grave. She flashed George half a smirk, pulled the flowers to her chest, and laid back down. Her headache was killing her. At least they got that one right.