Disclaimer: I don't own any of this and mean no disrespect to the veterans the miniseries was based on. I was merely inspired by the era and the story as told by HBO.

1946
Mobile, Alabama

The moon slants through the spring leaves, shedding a ghostly glow on the lake. Shifting in the passenger seat, the crickets humming in the tall grass outside the car, I settle my arm on the open window. I hear the click of a lighter and the smooth scent of expensive tobacco fills the cab.

"My father used to smoke a pipe." I idly fill the silence that has lain between us since we left the Ball.

Eugene says nothing but slowly exhales. I glance over and watch as smoke escapes his mouth in delicate tendrils. The elusive cloud dissipates in the faint refracted light. His face is veiled by shadow but I can tell he isn't looking at me. He hasn't since we got into the car.

"Why were you crying in the parking lot?"

The question shakes me. I feel an electric prickle at the base of my skull as I turn once more towards the window.

"I wasn't crying." I reply, rubbing the back of my neck.

He chuckles lightly. I sense him relax as he takes another deep pull from his pipe. It's as though he gathering his strength from the smoke. As if he needed strength to be alone with me.

"That's a lie." His lazy southern drawl drifts towards me on the cross breeze.

I peek over and see that he has laid his head back against his seat.

"What does it matter to you anyway?" I ask evenly over my shoulder.

"Because I know that back in high school you and Sid-"

"It's not like we ever dated." I snap, feeling a pang at the mention of Sidney Phillips.

Eugene lets out another light laugh, "I never said you did."

The pipe smoke is souring my stomach. Wordlessly, I step out of the car without shutting the door and briskly walk towards the edge of the lake. My expensive heels sink in the dirt. My mother will have a conniption if I come home with ruined shoes or a frayed hem on my best dress. However, at this moment of deepest humiliation, it would be a welcome distraction.

"Hey, wait a minute!" Eugene slams the driver's side door behind him as he jogs down to the water's edge, "Look, I didn't mean to upset you."

Crossing my arms over my chest, my white kid gloves gleam in the moonlight as does my powder blue dress. I had felt like a child at a birthday party next to the illustrious Mary Houston.

"You didn't." I flash a thin smile in his direction without making eye contact, "I was tired and ready to go home. That's why I was in the parking lot."

Eugene puffs again. He edges towards me with deliberate steps. He stands elbow to elbow with me, surveying the wrinkling spasms of starlight in the surface of the water.

"Why weren't you inside having fun at the Ball?" I ask, peeling the gloves from my hands and fighting the urge to throw them to the ground like bad memories, "Most of the boys who served could be found at every dinner party and dance within ten miles of Mobile for months after they got home."

Eugene shifts his weight on his feet.

"Its 1946, the party is over. I missed it." His tone is curt and he ends by taking a few furious draws from his pipe.

"That party is still going on and will be until the wee hours." I offer, merely thankful to have the attention taken off of me, "I'm sure Sid could find you someone to dance with-"

"I don't want to dance." He snarls, "Damn it, why is everyone trying to get me to dance?"

Rendered speechless, I purse my mouth and clasp my hands in front of me. I have never had a man swear in front of me. It especially wasn't anything I expected from bookish Eugene Sledge. A glacial silence wedges between us. A barn owl calls out in the night. I pivot down the edge of the water and away from Eugene who stands stony and mute. Peering back over my shoulder, I see him pull his pipe from his lips. He swivels his gaze on me.

I can spy the heaviness under his eyes and lines around his mouth as his lips are drawn down. Even though we graduated together, he seems so much older than me. I try to remember what I have heard about his time in the service.

"Ellie, wait."

I stop. There is something so wounded in his expression. He paces softly towards me, his gaze falling to the ground. I face him, my gloves crumpled in my hands.

"You don't have to apologize." I offer, "I shouldn't have pushed you. I didn't want to talk about me is all."

A rare, true smile plays at his mouth. He taps the pipe on his open palm.

"I didn't want to talk about me either." He admits.

I nod, "Do you know if there are any snakes in this lake?"

He lets out a surprised bark of a laugh, "I'm not sure. I don't think many. There are always a few around bodies of water in this area."

"Leeches?"

"Possibly." He narrows his eyebrows with a grin, "Why?"

The idea blossoms with charming impulsivity. My heart beats a little harder in my chest. Taking a couple steps forward onto the sand bar, I tug off my shoes and unhook my silk stockings. With trembling fingers, I undo the buttons of my dress that line my spine.

I hear him inhale sharply and let out a nervous half chuckle as I tug my sleeves down, "What are you doing, Ellie?"

I let the gown drop to the damp sand and glance at him. Standing in my cotton slip, the night air nips at my skin. I'm shaking a little but it isn't from the slight chill of midnight. His jaw has slackened. I feel the heat rush to my face as his stare trails down my figure, my gauzy slip no doubt sheer in the moonlight. He runs a hand through his auburn waves.

"If neither of us want to talk about ourselves, I thought I might go for a swim." I am surprised at my own brazenness as I grin, "You can join me if you like."

Without another word, I wade into the lukewarm water. My toes sink into the silt that thickly coats the lake bed. I can't imagine how stupid I will feel if he doesn't get in after me. I push away the horror of that thought as I dip under the water.

In the taciturn stillness of the dark lake, I forget a moment about the thorn in my side. The thorn that bed itself the moment I saw Sid wrap his arm around the slender waist of Mary Houston. It had wedged itself deeper into my heart the moment I had glimpsed the ring on her finger.

I forget for a moment about the letters from across the sea. The confessions of fear and passionate commitments to me that Sid had made in those precious papers. I forget about how they had stopped soon after I received his last letter from Melbourne. His tone had turned distant and cool; too polite. I forget the last night before he left for training four years earlier. He had arrived at my door to say goodbye. He had asked to write me. I consented. Then he had kissed me, my first kiss, on the front porch of my parent's house in the purpling twilight.

I forget everything but the weightlessness. The heat of heartbreak cools under those moonlit waters.

When I surface, I see Eugene wading waist deep into the water. His nice suit has been discard by my dress on the sand. He grins before making a diamond with his hands and diving into the lake. He comes up spurting and treading water beside me. He shakes the dampness from his hair.

"What on earth has happened to you in the past few years, Ellie Mitchell?" He asks with a playful splash in my direction.

"Nothing actually." I answer honestly after a laugh, "I suppose that's why I'm here swimming in the moonlight instead of at a party I had no interest in to begin with."

"Well, I'm glad you chose to be here with me."

"Me too."

He holds my eyes, pearls of water dripping over his mouth and down his chin. He makes a stroke towards me, his gaze intent. He has that same look that Sid did that night on my parent's porch. Impulsively, I splash him before he can get any closer.

"Race you to the shore!" I holler as I furiously paddle away from him.

With my head start, I stumble up onto the shore. I can hear Eugene calling for me to wait. I gather my gown, leaving my shoes behind, and race towards the car through the grass.

"Ellie!"

I halt by the open passenger door, clutching my dress to my chest. Eugene comes up alongside me carrying his now ruined suit, water leaving trails down his chest. My arms crossed over my middle, I gnaw at my thumbnail. My teeth are chattering. Without a word, he drapes his coat over my wet shoulders and leans against the car beside me.

"Sid used to write me." I admit as I attempt to keep from quivering, "He wrote me a lot while he was over there."

Eugene makes an acknowledging hum in his throat, "What did he write you about."

"The war mostly. What he saw." I bite my lip, "He also liked to tell me he loved me. I think it was out of loneliness though."

"Perhaps at that time, in his way, he did love you." He replies squarely, surprising me with his answer, "When you are in the thick of it, your emotions aren't like they are at home."

"Clearly." I sniff indignantly and wipe some water from my chin, "You are going to be the best man at his wedding, aren't you?"

"I am."

"I am angry." I turn to him, the fervor of the emotion rising from my belly, "I'm angry that I still care. I'm angry that I give the both of them that kind of power over me."

Eugene shifts, kicking a stone with his bare foot, "I don't think he means any harm. Sid just doesn't think sometimes."

"Not like you, Eugene Sledge. You were always the smartest guy in our class." I nudge his shoulder with mine, training my eyes on the ground and taking a deep breath, "What are you planning on doing now that you are home?"

He turns with a sigh toward the car and sets his clothes on the black metal hood.

"Well for tonight," He takes the coat from my shoulders and gently tugs my dress from my hands before I can protest, "I will be getting back in that water."

I don't even have a chance to object before he scoops me up and trots towards the lake. I shriek as we fall headlong into the dusky water. As I come up gasping, I'm still holding onto his shoulders. My pulse quickens as I feel his hold on my waist tighten. I glance up. Eugene leans forward towards my mouth.

"Eugene," I breathe before he can kiss me.

"Yeah?" He replies with a shaky breath, our noses meeting and foreheads resting against each other.

"I think-" I struggle to straighten my thoughts, "I think you should take me home."

I dare lift my head and try to read his expression in the faint light. His brow is drawn down once more but mouth loose. He nods and exhales slowly.

"I think you're right," He admits with a slow smile before pulling our bodies closer together, "I don't think I could trust myself with you, Ellie Mitchell."

We make our way back towards the car. I tug my dress over my damp slip on the opposite side of the car from where Eugene is changing back into his suit.

"Eugene?" I call once I pull up my sleeves, "Could you come here a minute? I need some help."

Without a moment's hesitation, he is by my side, his dress shirt sticking lightly to his skin and hair dripping onto his shoulders.

"Just the buttons," I turn my back towards him, "They are tricky."

"Like this?" He asks, his tone the most natural it's sounded all night.

"I'm sure you've got it," I answer with a soft laugh. I can feel his nimble fingers at my lower back, his breath warm as it slides over the exposed skin of my shoulders. I struggle to keep the heat rising up my throat from clouding my mind, "Where did you see action while you were over there?"

His hands pause. Immediately, I regret my decision to ask him about the war and wish I could take back my query. However, he continues to work his way silently towards the last buttons at the top.

"That's a talk for another time," He replies gently.

His fingers leave goose bumps on my skin as he brushes my hair over my shoulder then leans in and presses his lips to the back of my neck. I don't have a chance to apologize or catch my breath before he walks over towards the driver's side.

"It's late, let's get you home."

I wear his coat on the drive home. As we drive in the quiet, I look over at Eugene sometimes to see his expression becoming more reserved once again. I can almost feel him closing off, walling me out of his thoughts. It isn't out of anger or hurt but I wonder if its fear driving him away. Mentally, I kick myself again for mentioning the war. Without looking at him, I take the fingers of his free hand. He allows me.

The house is dark as we pull up the gravel drive. We get out of the car silently, Eugene walking me up to our porch. Folding his coat over, I hand it back to him and meet his velvet hazel gaze. The corners of his eyes crease slightly as he gives me a half smile.

"Thank you," I abruptly burst with a shrug, "I really enjoyed this evening. I almost forgot about everything."

Eugene expression turns clandestine for a moment, yet not closed off, "I almost forgot too." He takes a step back towards his car, "Can I call you tomorrow?"

"Yes," I say and hope it doesn't sound too eager, though I know it did. I laugh, "So I'll be seeing you, Eugene?"

"I'll be seeing you, Ellie."

However, the whole next day, the phone never rings. And it doesn't for nearly a month.