"You're jealous!" he accused.

"Why the hell would I be jealous?"

"You tell me? I've been back for five minutes, and the first thing you do is jump my ass."

"Look. If you want to celebrate escaping the hospital by going off and screwing some random woman, then go right ahead."

"I don't see why you give a shit. You still mad at me over the stupid motorcycle? Is that what this is about?"

"No, Bill. It's not."

"You mad because I went AWOL from the hospital? Because you knew I would."

"I don't give a damn about that, Bill. I really don't."

"Well then, you're pissed off because I mentioned going to Lulu's."

"Just go, Bill. Everyone else was smart enough to clear out of here and get away from me. You'd think that you would've learned by now."

"No. All the other guys that were talking about that place, and I'm the only one you're pissed at? I'm not leaving until you tell me what your problem is. And neither are you," he said, matter-of-factly, locking the door to emphasize his point. I tried to ignore him and walked around the room, pretending to straighten up or roll bandages, or anything else I could find to avoid his eyes.

"I'm sorry I scared you when I got hit, Kat," he said quietly. I looked up at him, surprised at the apology, and he walked toward me. "Please don't be mad at me."

"I'm not mad at you for getting hit, Bill. I wish you'd been more careful, but I'm not mad at your for it." I could feel my initial anger softening, but I wasn't ready to let it go yet, so I cleared my throat and tried to readopt my glare. "You happy now? Now you can go chase after your skirt."

"Kat, seriously, why does it bother you if I go to Lulu's?" His voice was soft, and he touched my face, forcing me to look up at him. He studied my eyes for a second. "You are jealous. Aren't you?"

I didn't say anything, but my traitorous tears gave me away. I tried to pull away, but he caught me around my waist.

"No. Don't pull away from me. Tell me the truth. Please?"

"Fine! Fine. Yeah, I'm jealous, okay? I hate, I mean absolutely HATE, the idea of you in that place with some random woman touching you and kissing you and God knows what else! And it pissed me off that you wanted to go there the minute you got back, like you hadn't missed me at all. Now are you satisfied? Oh, and here's the letter I wrote you while you were in the hospital. Now, leave me alone and go find some girl you can pay to screw." I pushed him away and saw his jaw set in anger. I knew I was throwing a jealous fit, but I couldn't stop myself, and that upset me even more. Bill was not supposed to have known any of that. Ever.

"Fine! I'd rather do that then stand here and fight with you all night," he sniped, walking over and unlocking the door as I turned my back to him. I heard it open and then slam shut, and the sobs broke free.

** BILL'S POV **

I tried to leave. I did. I'd never seen this side of her before, and I had no idea what to do or say. I just couldn't leave her standing there. I opened the door to walk out, and then sighed and slammed it shut again. She must've thought I was gone, because she began to cry. It broke my heart. I cared for her, and I'd made her cry. I leaned down to pick up the letter that she'd thrown at me, reading it silently.

It told of how much I'd scared her when I'd gotten shot and thrown from the motorcycle. Of how she wanted me to hurry up and get better because she missed me. Of how happy she was to have met me. She'd said that she loved me.

I couldn't believe it. I'd been crazy about this girl for a year, and the first opportunity I had, I'd come back from the hospital talking about going to some brothel. To be fair, I had no idea she had those kind of feelings for me, but that didn't make me feel like any less of a jerk while she was standing there bawling her eyes out. I tucked the letter into my pocket and walked up behind her. She froze, realizing that I'd never left the room.

"Kat?"

"I thought you were gone."

"Please look at me." She turned around slowly, her eyes puffy and her cheeks flushed, but still beautiful.

"What are you still doing here? Go away."

I grabbed her hips, pulling her into my arms. "No." She finally looked up at me, and I leaned down to capture the lips I'd been dreaming about for months. "You've got nothing to be jealous of, baby."

She was tense in my arms but I pulled her in for another kiss, gently testing the waters by running my tongue along her lower lip. I could tell she wanted to kiss me back. She just didn't know if she should trust this, because it was completely out of character for me. Ten seconds ago, we'd been screaming, and now I was being all touchy-feely. "Wild Bill" Guarnere was not a tender man.

"Bill, what are you doing?"

"Do you trust me, Kat?" She was hesitant, chewing on that beautiful bottom lip, but she finally met my intense stare with a small nod. I ran my thumb along her lower lip and pulled her to me again, whispering, "Then don't think."

I could feel all thought leaving my head. I ran my fingernails along the closely shaven hair at the base of his neck, and it felt like he was trying to breathe me in. He kissed me like he was searching for something. Suddenly, I couldn't get close enough to him.

His lips ran down my neck and I could feel the blood rushing to every spot that he touched. I raised my arms so that he could pull my tank top over my head, and his fingers ghosted over my skin like he couldn't believe that he was touching me. I hadn't even realized we were moving until we fell back across the bed, landing with him between my legs so that the sudden pressure made us both gasp.

He watched me unbutton his shirt, closing his eyes as I traced the well-defined muscles of his chest and abdomen. His hand came down to hitch my leg over his hip, pulling our bodies together so that I could feel how turned on he was.

"I missed you, Kat," he whispered into my ear as he placed soft kisses along my jaw. "Every single day, I missed you."

"Really? Then why...?" He cut me off quickly.

"Because I didn't know you wanted this as much as I did. You do want this, don't you?"

I was afraid to answer. I wanted Bill, but this was about so much more than sex to me. I didn't want to be a replacement for Lulu's, or for him to think that I was something he could turn to when he was desperate for a little female company. He must've sensed my hesitation because he looked down at me sternly.

"I know what you're thinking, and you can stop. It's not like that. This isn't about me wanting some. This is about us."

"Us?"

"Yeah, us. You and me. Friends and lovers. Here and at home. For richer or poorer. In sickness and health. Kids and grandkids. Now and forever. Us," he answered decisively. Seeing my teary smile, he added, "Don't you think for one second that I'm ever gonna let another man step in and see or touch you the way I'm about to."

"Yes sir," I laughed, pulling him back down into a kiss. The next few minutes were a blur. I don't know if Houdini could have made clothes disappear that fast. When we slowed again, relishing the feeling of his skin on mine, he rolled so that he was underneath me and I could control the pace.

I moved to join our bodies and as I did, he kissed me, whispering, "I love you" against my lips. I was sure the pace was torturous for him but he didn't move, allowing me time to adjust, gently reassuring me and checking to make sure that I was okay.

As my body became accustomed to the intrusion, I moved and cried out in pleasure as he touched a new spot inside of me. It was apparently a signal he had been waiting on. One strong arm curled around my waist, pulling me tightly to him as he found that spot again, leaving me breathless.

I could feel him getting restless beneath me, so I turned my body, pulling his arm with me as I kissed him. He took the cue and rolled, pinning me underneath him and finding an instant, mind-blowing rhythm against my hips. I couldn't tell where I stopped and he began, and he kissed me like the two parts of him now exploring my insides were going to meet in the middle.

** BILL'S POV **

I was going to have scratches and bruises on my shoulder blades, but I didn't care. As long as I got to have her this way every day for the rest of our lives, she could leave all the marks she wanted to. We were both close, damp with sweat and mumbling unintelligible words against each other's skin as we moved.

I kissed her again, finally coaxing her off the edge and, with the feel of her release around me, I quickly followed her over. Collapsing beside her, I pulled her into me and we lay there curled up together for a long time, just listening to the sounds of our breathing. She broke the silence first.

"I love you, Bill."

In response, I blurted out the thought that had been running through my head for the last half hour. "What do you think about Paris?"

"Huh?" I smiled and kissed her forehead, propping myself up on my arm to look at her.

"We could get passes, you know? 48-hour passes. Go to Paris. Get married. No one would know. We could keep it from the brass until the war was over. None of the guys would let on."

"Was that a… did you just… propose to me?"

"Well, yeah." Now I was nervous. Fidgeting, I felt compelled to add, "I mean, if that's what you want. I know it's not exactly ideal, but…"

"Yes!" My eyes met hers. Those beautiful blue eyes that I hoped all of our children inherited. The face I still wanted to be waking up to in 50 years. She reaffirmed, "Yes. Absolutely, yes."

That kiss almost started another round between us, but we both knew we'd be pushing it, so we reluctantly got dressed and straightened the bed. She went back to rolling bandages as we stood there talking and waiting for the others to return from dinner.

"I'm sorry I don't have a ring for you. I promise that when we get home, we'll find the perfect ring."

She laughed. "Sweetheart, I don't care. I'd marry you if I never had one. I'd rather have my perfect husband than the perfect ring."

God, I loved that woman. I pulled out my knife, walking over to the bed where we had just made love for the first time. She watched me, curious, as I cut small strips from the blanket and sheet and braided them together. When I was finished, I took her hand, looping the band around her ring finger so that it fit comfortably snug.

"There. That will have to do for now." She looked between me and the "ring," awestruck as though I'd just put a diamond on her hand.

"I couldn't possibly love any ring more. I'll never take it off."

She didn't. She didn't take it off when the other guys came back and saw it. She didn't take it off when we had to postpone our trip to Paris, or as we marched into the freezing Hell that was Bastogne. And she didn't take it off when she and Doc found Joe and me lying there in the January snow with our lives changed forever.

I tried to tell her that it was okay. That I would bow out so that she could have a normal life. Leaning against that tree, my shredded leg in my hands, I had no idea what was going to happen to me or what kind of life I was going to lead when I got home with one leg. I told her that she didn't need to worry about taking care of a crippled husband when there were probably a million guys with two legs who'd jump at the chance to have her. I told her she could take it off and give it back, and that I would completely understand.

That woman…

She knelt down in front of me to block my view of my wound, taking my face in her hands and looking into my eyes. Her tone was measured, and I could tell that she was shaken but trying not to show me. "Bill, you listen to me. I did not fall in love with your damned leg. Do you hear me? I fell in love with your heart. It's still beating, and as long as it is, nothing changes. Don't you ever tell me to give up on you. Now and forever. In sickness and health, remember?"

The war ended in August, and I went home to Philadelphia. Resilient as ever, Bill had embraced his new life as an amputee despite the fact that he hated his prosthesis. Once recovered, he went to work doing construction and manual labor, in part, I think, to prove that he could. The other part was because, in a way, he had seen so much destruction in the war that it made him feel good to be building things up again. He was a provider again, and it gave him his confidence back.

A year later, we were married at the first annual Easy Company reunion. In front of our friends and families, he slid a new wedding ring onto my finger, resting it against a faded braid made of bits of blanket and bed sheet. I will never take it off.