A/N: Okay, so it's been brought to my attention by many people, most of whom are avid fans of the story, that they wanted a better ending. They weren't too happy with how it ended originally, and given the time constraints I am currently under, I have now finished the alternate ending. I will ask that you forgive me if things are not perfectly edited, but I am busy juggling a lot in life right now. Anyways...Here is the alt ending to the story. Enjoy.

After our final year in England helping out with the wounded soldiers who were being flown back, Darla and I were finally able to go back home to the states. After everything we had seen and everything we had been through, we were ready to leave behind the country we were forced to call home and return to what we thought of as a distant memory.

On the plane back to the States, Darla sat next to me as I gazed out the window at the clouds we soared above. She asked, "So, when we return home, when are you going to have that pie with me?"

A small smile graced my lips. I tore my sights from the clouds and turned to face her. "As soon as we land, if you'd like."

She returned the smile. "You've changed, Em."

The smile on my face faltered a little. "Why do you say that?"

"You've never chosen to talk about your past before. It's...well, let's just say that it's different," she stated.

I couldn't argue with her. I didn't feel different necessarily, but I knew that I had changed in a lot of ways from the person I was when we had started training to the person that I was now. Darla, of course, would be the one person in the world who would notice those changes.

During the flight home, Darla and I discussed what our plans would be once we landed. We had agreed that the most important tasks at hand were to look up Charlotte's and Sarah's parents to tell them what happened. We knew this would be one of the most difficult things we would ever be tasked with but I knew that Darla would know exactly what to say. She was always the best at comforting those around her.

I could feel the pang in my heart thinking about them. It was my fault that Sarah was killed. The Lerners thought she was me. I wasn't sure if I should say anything to her parents about that part or not. Darla had advised me not to, but I was feeling overwhelming guilt about it. I had a hard time imagining that it wasn't my fault. Had I not run away and joined the military, Sarah would most likely still be alive. Darla had asked me how I could be so sure. If Sarah hadn't been ambushed by the Lerner brother, would she really have survived the war itself? She was asking me the tough questions - questions that I needed to be asking myself - but I wasn't.

Charlotte's death wasn't my fault. Speirs had told me that. Even so, there was a small part of me that often wondered how truthful he was being in that regard. He had just told me that Sarah's death was in a sense my fault and maybe he didn't want me to beat myself up over losing two of my friends who could have potentially survived had they not known me. Darla had also mentioned that Speirs wasn't one to sugarcoat anything and she didn't believe that he would intentionally lie to me about this.

The thought of Speirs brought back a flood of emotions and memories for me. I hadn't seen or spoken to him since the war was declared over...since he told me that he loved me but chose to stay in the military - getting himself shipped elsewhere. Every time I closed my eyes, I tried to recall his face - his features - so that I could see him in my mind. Every hair, his tense jaw line, his brooding eyes, his five o'clock shadow...each detail had been fresh in my mind the first few months since seeing him last, but now I was beginning to forget certain features. I worried that as time continued to pass, perhaps I would forget him entirely. Every fiber in my being fought that from happening. If Darla saw my inner struggle, she never said a word.

During our time in England, I had started the task of writing to the parents of the soldiers whose dog tags I had collected. By the time our final year had finished, I had the majority of them completed. After Darla and I had made our final arrangements on our flight back to the States, I decided to finish up the letters. There was only one name on my list that I felt needed a personal visit instead of a letter - Thomas Palmer.

Darla's fiancé managed to track down Thomas's next of kin and their address. When Darla gave it to me, she promised that I'd let her come along. I agreed to it, not realizing how serious she was being. Her fiancé didn't seem to mind her traveling back to the States and spending a while traveling with me. In fact, he encouraged it. It was almost as if he knew that I needed Darla by my side.

When we landed in the States, Darla demanded we stop at the first cafe we came across to get that pie. A small part of me had chuckled at her request but another side of me fought the feeling of annoyance. I knew I had promised to tell her, and I wanted to, however I wasn't used to talking about anything with people. The moment she spotted some run-down cafe, we stopped and found a table. Darla wasn't shy about quickly ordering coffee and pie for us. The moment they arrived, she sat there with her hands interlocked, patiently waiting for me to begin my tale.

I had a hard time figuring out where to start, but once I began, I found myself telling her things I never shared with anyone - not even Randleman or Speirs. I told her about my parents and how they died. I spoke about how things at the wayward home went from a place filled with happy memories to the hell that every one of us girls faced on a daily basis. I spoke of the beatings and abuse, the days that we went hungry or cold. I recounted the moments when Robert took charge and hell seemed to become a distant memory for the nightmares that would ensue.

I told her about each scar and broken bone that I had while being there. I recalled each girl's face and how many died at their hands, how they were buried in the fields near the house and how we were all threatened should any of us step out of line or speak about what was going on there.

Darla had listened without judgment as I spoke about my past. She would ask questions here and there, but she stayed silent as I spoke. One question she did ask was about the moment when I decided to make my escape. I explained that it took me years to work up the courage, but the final straw was when a young girl of 6 was killed before our eyes just because she cried in the middle of the night for being scared of the thunderstorm. None of us could calm her with each boom of the thunder, and she paid the price.

My escape attempts had failed before and it made Robert keep close tabs on me at all times. Sometimes he had locked me in the cellar or closets for days at a time, trying to break me and my will to run away. He had threatened to break my legs using a steel pipe, but there was something in my head telling me that I needed to try anyways. I told Darla that a large part of me knew that I was dead no matter if I tried to escape or not because Robert had painted a target on me from day one.

I told Darla in vivid detail how I managed to wait patiently and quietly for the next monstrous storm to roll in before running for it. I told her about the challenges I faced while running through the wind and rain, sheltering in what I thought was an old river bed, but was washed out by a mini flood. I told her about the people I hid with and how I never stopped looking over my shoulder, expecting the Lerners - Robert mostly - to come jumping out of the shadows to get me. It was a fear that I never got over until Speirs had taken care of him. The rest of the story, Darla knew about through our letters and conversations we had since.

When I finished regaling her with my tale, she sat there in silence for a moment before clearing her throat. I was expecting her to say something condescending like, "Oh, poor you", but instead, she looked at me after putting money on the table and said, "We need to go to Montana."

"Why?" I asked.

She smiled. "Because you have some unfinished business there."

"What business is that?" I questioned.

"Closure."

Darla wasted no time in making arrangements. She phoned her fiancé to tell him where she was going next, explaining the situation as delicately as possible. He, of course, told her to go, said that it was important to be there for me. So, once she hung up the receiver on the payphone, she hailed a taxi to take us to the nearest bus station, bought our tickets, and began the journey back to Montana.

Along the way, Darla thought it best to stop and visit with Charlotte's and Sarah's parents. It would allow us to kill two birds with one stone, so to speak, and more importantly, it allowed me time to adjust to the idea that I was heading back to the place that I never wanted to return to.

Our first stop would be Charlotte's. I thought of her often, especially after her death. I wondered how life would have been for her had she survived. Would she have married Luz? Would she have the same personality after seeing all of the terrible things throughout the war, and even the year in England that we had seen? I wondered if we would have kept in touch when we all came home again.

When we arrived to Charlotte's childhood home, I could see why she was who she was. Her home was neat and clean, everything in it's proper place. The flowers along the walkway were standing tall, blooming wide, and giving off a vibe that would say that everything was okay. I hoped her family would give off the same vibe.

After speaking with her parents, Darla hugged both of them, apologizing for being unable to protect Charlotte. I watched as Charlotte's parents embraced her and cried into her shoulders. It was clear to me that they needed this more than we did. They needed to know the details that surrounded their daughter's death, even if it was speculation on our part since we weren't there. They didn't yell at us, they didn't curse at us or wonder why we lived and their daughter didn't. They were at peace.

Walking outside towards the bus stop, Darla was quiet. I finally asked, "Are you okay?"

She nodded. "I always pictured her family to be like that because that's how she was. Calm, understanding, loving."

I nodded and waited for her to continue.

"Sarah's family won't be the same way, you know."

I nodded again. "I know."

Sarah was a sweet girl, as naive as she was. She always had a curious demeanor about her and it was simply because she never had the chance to do anything in life. It wasn't that she grew up in a bad environment, but it was because her parents paid her no mind to what she was doing or not doing. She was isolated.

Darla interrupted my thoughts. "It will be a tough talk with them, I'm afraid."

"You going to do all the talking again?" I asked.

She nodded. "Yes. Let's not mention the Lerners or you when we do this, shall we?"

I agreed with her suggestion. The last thing I wanted to do was to add more fuel to the fire that was probably already burning hot.

We climbed onto the bus, found our seats, and rode all the way towards Sarah's family. Neither one of us spoke the whole ride there and I think it was because we had no idea what would be waiting for us, nor how we would handle it.

Once we arrived and found the place, we understood why she lied about her age just to get away. The house was completely opposite of Charlotte's. It was rundown, the weeds and grass had taken over the walkways and were growing wild up the house. The shingles on the roof were hanging on by a thread, and the steps up to the door were wobbly and dangerous.

We knocked on the door and heard barking coming from within, followed by yelling from the back of the house. The barking grew slightly quieter, but we could hear it from the backyard instead. After a few moments, we heard footsteps approaching the rickety door.

The old door stuck in the frame but once it was jerked open, we stood face to face with a man who looked like he hadn't showered in months. He eyed both of us from our feet to our heads. I stiffened under his gaze, suddenly feeling like I was being watched by Robert all over again.

"Yeah? What do you want?" he demanded.

Darla cleared her throat gently before speaking. "Are you Sarah Morgan's family?"

He glared at her. "Yeah. What's it to you?"

"We wanted to talk to you about what happened to her," she stated.

He spat, "Don't care."

"Wait, what do you mean, you don't care?" I asked, taken aback.

He turned his angered gaze onto me. "I. Don't. Care."

"Now wait just a damned minute!" I started. I could feel Darla placing a hand on my arm, trying to calm me before I started something I wouldn't be able to finish.

The man stood straighter, as if to show me just how big he really was, but I didn't care. Sarah deserved better. She might not have been the smartest or the prettiest of all of us, but she died for her country, and she deserved to be remembered.

"How can you stand there and say that you don't care about someone who was killed in a war? She was your family. How can you not care?" I asked.

"She's dead. She ran away, and she's dead. What's done is done. I ain't about to keep going on about her as if she mattered," the man shouted back at me.

I stood up straighter. "The Hell you say. You have no idea who she was. She had more guts than you'll ever have. And you know what, she's better off without you. From what I've seen, you're not her family. We are."

Darla motioned to the irate man, who was starting to leave the comforts of his home to come after me, to stay. "We're leaving. So sorry to have bothered you."

"Don't you ever come back here again, you fucking bitches!" the man shouted back at us.
I could feel Darla's tight grip on my arm, urging me to continue walking. Once we were out of sight of the house, she pulled me to a stop. "Mind telling me what the hell just happened back there?"

I looked at her in disbelief. Motioning back towards the house, I asked, "Are you seriously telling me that you were about to put up with that?"

She sighed and waited for me to vent.

I continued, "That is not what I expected to see coming from her family - if you even want to call it that. She deserves better than that! She deserves respect, and not just from us or random people, but she deserves it from her family!"

I took one step forward and stopped, turning back around to face Darla, I added, "You know something? I'm glad she's gone. I'm glad that she doesn't have to go back into that house and live a life that is unfitting for her."

"What makes you so sure that she would have gone home?" Darla asked me calmly.

I furrowed my brow at her. "Because it's Sarah. She would have gone home."

"Not according to Gordon."

I stopped dead in my tracks. "What?"

Darla nodded. "Yeah. Gordon said that had they both lived to see the end of this war, he would have proposed to her. He was going to marry her and get her far away from them as possible."

"Wait, he knew about her family?" I asked.

She nodded again. "Yes. He knew. But that didn't change the way he felt about her."

I sighed, letting my head fall to my chest. "Why did we even bother coming here?"

"Because I thought you needed to see that you weren't the only one who had a bad life before the war. Now, I'm not saying that yours wasn't worse, but she didn't have it easy either," Darla stated.

She brushed passed me on the sidewalk and whispered, "Besides, it was the right thing to do."

"Until I go and muck everything up," I added.

She laughed. "Well, it certainly was unexpected to see you try to take on someone three times your size."

"I don't know where I got that," I admitted.

She smiled. "Yes, you do."

I gave her a confused look and she added, "Pick any man from Easy Company, or you could pick Speirs. Either way, they taught you to be tough."

"I'm not tough," I muttered, thinking back on the night that Lerner beat me within an inch of my life.

Darla saw the look on my face, and read my mind as she said, "Don't think about that."

I sighed and nodded.

She added, "Don't ever think about that again."

The final leg of our little road trip was approaching. The closer we got to the little town in Montana, the more my nerves started to act up. I was picking the skin off my lips, which in turn caused a lot of open and bleeding spots. Darla had to hold my hands to keep me from doing any more damage to them. I could hear Speirs in the back of my head talking about the bad habit that I had when it came to biting my lips. If he could only see me now, I knew that he'd be scolding me with his eyes.

The bus stopped and Darla looked over at me. "Are you ready?"

"No."

"You'll be okay," she stated.

I asked, "How can you be so sure?"

She smiled. "Because I'm here with you."

We got off the bus and she waited for me to direct her towards the house.

For whatever reason, the moment I stepped off the bus, I felt like all eyes were on me. I knew that that wasn't happening, because I was just a child when I ran away, and most of the people in this town had no idea who I was, but that didn't stop me from feeling that overwhelming urge to run and hide from everyone's sight.

Darla took my hand and said, "You're going to be all right, Emmeline."

I gave her a short smile before walking down the lane with her. I could picture the house in my head, replaying memories that I had long since buried and I wanted to throw up. I didn't want to be here. I hoped that Darla was right in saying that I needed closure of this place, but I wasn't sure that I wanted it.

When we neared the pasture that the house stood upon, I could make out it's outline in the distance. Darla asked, "Is that it?"

I nodded. "Yeah. Watch your step."

She looked down, didn't see anything and glanced back up at me confused.

I added, "You might step on a grave if you're not careful."

She slowly nodded, remembering my story as she started to follow me across the overgrown pasture, treading carefully beside me.

Finally, we reached the evil house. The windows and doors were boarded and nailed shut. The basement door was chained and locked up tight. There were signs posted all along the property stating that the house was condemned and ready for demolishment. It even gave the date of destruction.

I stood there staring at the house that loomed over me. It felt like my feet were glued to that spot. The house had seen better days. I remembered it in better days. The house actually reminded me of what I felt inside, like it was a physical representation of me. Run down, paint chipping, broken windows, falling shutters, rusted doorknobs. When the wind blew across the plain, I felt cold chills running down my spine. The hair on my body stood at attention, and I thought I could hear the distant sounds of crying.

Darla stood in front of me and asked, "So, is this how you remember it?"

I shook my head. "No. Robert made sure to keep the house in good condition so not to alert anyone of something happening here. But it looks like it's been like this for a while. Why did it take so long for someone to notice?"

Darla gave me a sad smile. "I don't know."

I pointed to the window at the top of the house. "That's where I used to sleep before my mother-" I stopped mid sentence before correcting myself, "Before Miss Lerner died."

Darla saw the tiny window, which was still dressed in lace curtains. She asked, "Before Robert took over?"

I nodded before pointing to the basement door. "That's where I was after that. Me and about five others."

"How did you escape from there?" she asked.

I replied, "They forgot to lock it one night after being drunk. Saw an opportunity and took it."

Darla glanced over her shoulder to see vehicles approaching. She nudged my arm and I turned to see. I knew before they were close enough who it was. The police.

The cars stopped and they stepped out. As the approached us, they tipped their hats in our direction. "Ladies."

"Officers," Darla responded.

"Mind explaining what you're doing all the way out here?" the tall officer asked.

Before I could interject some kind of lie, Darla blasted out the truth. "She used to live here. We came for closure."

The men looked between the two of us before the tall one stated, "None of the girls who lived here survived."

I blinked in response. "None of them?"

He shook his head. "No. By the time we got the ones who were still...breathing...out, they didn't make it."

I felt sick again.

The tall cop looked at me more carefully. He said, "Actually, now that I think about it..."

I looked over at him, raising my eyebrow. I waited for him to finish his thoughts.

He pulled out a picture from his pocket and held it forward for us to see. "A long time ago, the owner's son asked us to keep a look out for a girl who was kidnapped from here."

I looked down at the picture to see a young girl looking back at me. She had a sweet smile on her face but she looked sickly. The bones in her face were plain as day to see, her clothes barely hung onto her body. Behind the sweet smile on her face, you could see the distraught life behind her eyes.

Darla saw the picture before turning back to me, almost in shock. "That's you?"

I glanced between the cops, Darla, and the photo of a girl long since forgotten. I didn't say anything but looked back at the house.
The cop put the picture back into his pocket and asked, "You weren't kidnapped, were you?"

I smirked. "That's what they told you happened?"

He nodded. "Been carrying that picture in my pocket for years. He said that she had been taken from them by her family who had abused her and they just wanted to see that she was returned safely to them. He seemed pretty concerned."

I laughed. I kept laughing. I couldn't stop, even knowing that they were watching me, I just couldn't help myself. I fell to the ground, still laughing, but then the laughter turned to sobs. Darla dropped to her knees and embraced me. I felt my body shaking with each sob that came out of me.

The cop said, "We'll give you a few minutes before we take you back to town. The wrecking crew is coming in a couple hours."

Darla asked, "What? The posters say that it's another few months away."

The man nodded. "But the townsfolk know what happened to those girls we took away from here, and they all demanded that we take care of the house sooner. None of them want this place here as a reminder of what happened."

Darla stated, "We want to be here when it goes down."

The man looked between her and me before agreeing. He said, "We'll just wait over here."

That evening, the wrecking crews came and tore the house to the foundation. Everything inside the house was destroyed. There was nothing left of it by the time they were finished. Nothing left except the memories.

I stood there, staring into the pile of rubble, wishing it would just catch on fire, when Darla stated, "That cop is coming over."

I glanced over at him. He stopped just in front of me and said, "I am sorry that I didn't realize what was going on here for some many years. I guess a part of me had turned a blind eye to it because they seemed like nice people. I don't know what you went through here, but after seeing those other girls, I can only imagine."

After a moments thought, he pulled out the picture of me from so long ago, looked at it one more time before extending it out to me. "I was wondering if you wouldn't mind if I keep this."

I took the picture from him to look at one more time. "Why would you want to keep this?" I was confused by his request simply because it wasn't like I was a healthy looking kid when it was taken. It wasn't even like we were family for him to want to keep it.

He explained, "I want to keep it as a reminder to do a better job when it comes to the innocent. I failed you all those years ago, and I knew deep down that something wasn't right, but I ignored it. I want to be reminded of that every day and I want to be reminded that you did survive...that something good did come from this travesty."

I could see the tears forming behind his blue aged eyes. I extended the picture back to him. "You can keep it. I don't know who she is."

He studied my face before realizing that I meant that I was no longer that girl. He smiled as he put it back in his pocket. "You're a brave girl to have survived through this."

I shook my head. "I was a coward. I was the one who ran. The girls who stayed, they're the brave ones."

He looked at Darla, tipped his hat, and said, "When you're ready, we'll drive you back to town."

She smiled and nodded, turning back towards me. "How do you feel?"

"Free."

The ride out of Montana, I mentioned to Darla about one more stop that I wanted to make. I explained to her that there was one more person that I needed to talk to regarding a death in the family, and it was important to me to do so because I had promised to follow thru. She understood the moment that I said that the person was in Colorado, and was the brother of Thomas Palmer.
Darla knew how important Thomas was to me. He was the one person that I thought about frequently throughout the war, the one I was reminded of each time I wrote another name into my catalog. He was the one that I felt that I had failed.

When we arrived in Denver, we headed to the hospital where I learned that Thomas's brother worked. Upon entering into the hospital, Darla spied some payphones across the way. "I'll be over there. I just want to check in."

I nodded, understanding that it had been quite a while since she last spoke to her fiance. I headed to the desk and asked the receptionist, "I was wondering if Doctor Palmer was working this afternoon?"

She smiled and said, "He is."

I gave a curt nod and asked, "Do you know where I might find him? It's kind of important."

She replied, "You might want to try the third floor. That's where most of his patients are."

I thanked her and motioned to Darla that I was going upstairs. She just waved to me to go on without her.

Once I reached the third floor, I asked the first nurse that I came across if she had seen Dr. Palmer. She explained that he was with a patient, but if I wanted to wait in his office, I could.

She walked me across the way, opened the door, and motioned to the chair against the wall. I sat down after thanking her and started to look about the room. One object caught my attention. It was a photo on his desk of who I assumed to be Dr. Palmer and Thomas. Both wore big smiles on their faces, holding letters in their hands. As I studied the picture in the frame, I heard someone enter the room and say, "Ah, that was a great day for both of us. We had just learned that we were accepted into medical school."

I stood up and he reached for my hand. After shaking hands, he introduced himself, "I'm Dr. Palmer - Jack to my favorite patients." He smiled as he motioned back to the seat.

I sat back down and replied, "I'm Emmeline Banks."

"What can I do for you today, Miss Banks?" he asked, sitting on his desk, arms folded over his chest, smiling down at me. I could see Thomas in his face which made this even harder for me to do.

I inhaled deeply and asked, "Are you Thomas Palmer's brother?"

He smiled and I quickly realized how stupid that question was, given the fact that I was just staring at a picture of the two of them. "I'm sorry, of course you are."

"You seem nervous. Would you like some coffee?" he asked.

I let out a sigh. "That would be great, thanks."

He led me out of the office, down the hall to a small cafe. He ordered the coffees and brought them to a table by the window that overlooked downtown Denver. He asked after adding three packets of sugar to his coffee, "Why don't you start again?"

I sipped the coffee and realized that it was awful. I thought military coffee was bad, but this was worse. I understood why he added three packets of sugar to it. I set the coffee down and stated, "I knew Thomas."

"You did? So, I guess you've heard the news by now," he stated.

I licked my lips before saying, "I met him on D-Day."

Jack stopped drinking his coffee mid-swig. He lowered the cup from his mouth, gave me a once over before asking, "Mind repeating that?"

I grew nervous again, unsure how he would react. I repeated, "I met Thomas on D-Day." Before he could say anything, I continued, "He was wounded pretty badly, I was treating him...well, tried to treat him. He wouldn't let me waste materials on him because he knew how bad it was. I held him as we talked for about five minutes before he died in my arms."

I reached into my pocket and pulled out his dog tags. I set them on the table and slid them across towards Jack. "I've been carrying these ever since that day. I promised him that I would let his family know what happened to him. So...here I am."

Jack picked up the tags and held them tightly in his fist. He looked over at me and asked, "How bad was it?"

I blinked at the question. "Bad."

"I want details. I think I deserve the details of my brother's death," he stated.

"I don't know if you really want to know-"

"Damn it!" he shouted as he slammed his fist onto the table. "I'm a doctor, I think I know what I can or can't handle when it comes to descriptions of blood and guts."

My eyes widened at his sudden outburst. When he calmly gathered himself, he whispered, "I'm sorry. I just...I wasn't told anything about what happened. I just want to know what happened."

So I told him everything I could about what I knew about Thomas. He had jumped from the airplane, was shot by the enemy with a tracer round, and he had a massive hole in his shoulder. He was bleeding out and knew how bad it was. I told him about how Thomas knew he wasn't going to make it and didn't want me to waste the supplies on him, how he wanted to move closer to the wall of the dead so that I didn't have to try to carry him over there afterwards, and how we talked a little bit as I held him during his final moments. I explained that Thomas made more of an impact on my life than anyone in my life had, and I vowed to tell his family what happened because he deserved it.

By the time I was done telling Jack the story of Thomas, he had tears in his eyes. He didn't look at me, but he thanked me for telling him the truth, for traveling all this way to return the tags.

When I was about to leave, he hugged me and thanked me again, asking if I wouldn't mind stopping by again tomorrow, just to talk some more. He explained that he hadn't been able to talk about Thomas to anyone, and he needed to in order to heal. I agreed to come back.

The next day, I kept my promise and came back to the hospital where I spent a good portion of the afternoon with Jack. We talked about Thomas and when we finished talking about him, we had moved onto other topics. By the end of the day, Jack had asked me if I had a job yet. I explained to him that I was just passing through, and he said that it was a shame because he was in need of good nurses who weren't afraid of blood and guts.

I ended up taking the job.

"You did what?" Darla asked me, completely in shock.

I sat down on the edge of the hotel bed and explained, "He offered me a job, so I took it."

"You don't know anything about this guy, Em."

I sighed. "I know enough, Darla. Besides, I need a job, don't I? I mean, I'm not getting married to anyone who can take care of me, like you are. I have nothing, no where to go, nothing to do. I need a job...this is the first offer that's come my way."

Darla sat down next to me. "I know...I just...You're going to be so far away from me."

"So move here."

She laughed. "I don't think he'd go for that."

"Please, you know if you ask him to move here, he would for you," I pointed out. Her fiance has never said no to her, why would he start now?

She thought about it and admitted, "I just don't know if I see you living here and continuing on being a nurse."

"It's what I'm good at," I stated. "It's the only thing I know how to do."

Darla nodded. She knew that it was the truth, for all of us. We had been at war too long, that our options were pretty limited. She laid on the bed and said, "I'm going to miss you."

I laid next to her. "I know. I'll miss you too."

We laid there next to each other, holding one another's hands, and listening to the silence around us. There wasn't much time before her bus would come to take her home and away from me.

Days turned into weeks. Weeks into months.

After a while, I stopped keeping track how long I had been working for Jack at the hospital, how long it had been since I had spoken with Darla and Anne. I was in a new town, with new people, starting a new life.

Once in a while, I would see someone come into the hospital with an injury or wound and I would suddenly feel like I was back on the lines in Bastogne or even at Brecourt. Jack would have to pull me back from my memories that haunted me just so that I could return to doing my job. I feared that one day, I may lose my job because of the flashbacks.

Jack never really asked me much about my time during the war. In fact, we had stopped talking about Thomas too. Our conversations were more on the intimate side and he was starting to sound like he wanted our relationship to be more than a working one. Whenever he would get that way with me, I would talk to Darla on the phone and ask her for advice. I wasn't interested in Jack. I knew that I could eventually love him, but I always felt this pang of guilt when I was with him because of Thomas, and I wasn't sure that I would ever get passed that. Darla reassured me that I didn't need to do anything that I didn't want to do. She offered to find me a job closer to her if I wanted, but I said no, that I could deal with Jack.

She had muttered something once over the phone that I couldn't understand but she wouldn't repeat it. The tone of her voice told me that she was planning something, but what it was, I hadn't a clue. I began to wonder if she had already set her plan into motion.

One day while I was working with Jack, he pulled me aside. "Mind grabbing a coffee with me?"

I scribbled some notes onto the patient's file and said, "Sure."

We walked in silence all the way to the cafe. When we got there, he ordered the coffee and we sat at the same table the day we met. He handed me the cup and said, "It's a nice day outside today."

I sipped the awful coffee. "Hmm."

He said, "I'm glad you stayed, Emmeline."

I lowered the cup and replied, "Me too. I enjoy the work."

Jack held my hand for a moment and said, "I've been doing a lot of thinking lately."

"About?" I asked, pulling my hand away, pretending I was going to add sugar to my coffee, which I never would.

"Us."

I swallowed hard, but never looked up at him. I didn't have the heart to. "What about us?"

"Is there an us?" he asked, voice hopeful for a yes.

I paused and prayed that something - anything would distract him. I prayed that he would be needed for a multiple car accident.

Just as I was about to say something, I heard a familiar voice behind me, "Miss Banks."

My heart leapt into my throat. Butterflies exploded in my stomach. I bit my lower lip, thinking that maybe I misheard the voice. I glanced over my shoulder and then slowly raised my eyes to the person who was standing over me. When my eyes met those familiar brooding ones, I released my lip and let out a surprised chuckle.

"I'm sorry, who are you?" Jack asked, standing up.

I watched as Jack stood in front of Speirs. Jack was shorter by a foot. It was something I hadn't realized, but then again, I had started to forget details about Speirs.

I stood up slowly from my chair, legs wobbly under me. I held onto the back of my chair just in case I needed to sit down again. I kept my eyes on Speirs as I said, "Dr. Palmer, this is Lieutenant Speirs. We served together-"

Jack cut me off. "Lieutenant, eh?"

"Actually, I'm a Lieutenant Colonel now," Speirs replied, not backing down from his spot. I smiled as memories came rushing back to me like an avalanche.

Jack asked, "So, you served together in the war?"

Speirs nodded. "We did."

"Tell me, what was she really like back then? She won't tell me much," Jack stated. It was a lie because he never asked about it and always changed the subject whenever I would start talking about it.

"She's the greatest mystery I have ever had the privilege of knowing," Speirs stated.

"Mystery?" Jack asked, clearly confused.

Speirs looked at me and stated, "I watched her start out as a meek mouse that hid from danger, from people who would do her harm, and I watched her become a strong willed, stubborn woman who learned to fight back. I am one of the few people who were lucky enough to see through the cracks of her walls and still find beauty...and still know that there's more to her than what is on the surface. I've known her for years, watched for even more, and I still don't fully know her. That's what it means to be someone's mystery."

Jack saw the look on my face as well as the look on Speirs's face and stated, "I guess this means that there is no us."

Speirs raised an eyebrow at me, waiting for my response.

I replied, "There was never an 'us', Jack. You gave me a job, which I'm grateful for, but that's all this was."

Jack was about to lose his temper, but instead gathered himself. "We can talk about this later."

Speirs replied, "There won't be a need for a talk later. She's not coming back to work here."

"Oh, I'm not, am I?" I questioned.

He shook his head. "No. In fact, I have a job for you already."

"You do? Where?" I asked.

"Georgia. Darla found you something closer to her. I'm here to bring you home," he stated.

I swallowed. "That's it? I'm just supposed to go with you?"

"You're supposed to follow orders, Miss Banks."

I smiled. "I suppose you do outrank me by a lot now...sir."

He fought a smile but looked over sternly at Jack. "It was nice meeting you, Doc. Thanks for taking care of her while she was under your employ. Good day."

Speirs grabbed my hand and led me out of the hospital. He drove me to my apartment so that I could gather my things. He looked around the quaint place and asked, "You don't own much, do you?"

I shook my head. "Never have." He stood awkwardly by the door, waiting. I stopped and looked at him. "Why did you come?"

He asked, "What do you mean?"

I asked, "Why are you here? Why now? I mean, it's been over two years...almost three since we last saw each other...so why now?"

He replied, "Darla has left me several messages."

"Darla? Why?"

"She's concerned that you'd make a mistake with that...Jack guy."

"Oh..."

"And she told me that I'd be fool for not following you and making sure that you and I were together in the end," he added.

I held his gaze. "And you told her?"

He took a couple steps forward. "I told her that if you were happy, that I'd stay away." I nodded and he added, "But she told me that you weren't. You have never been happy in your life...until I came into it. She explained that you were the happiest you have ever been in your life just being around me...and she said the same was true for me."

I smiled as I recalled some more memories of our time together. "She called you a fool?"

He nodded. "Yes. Kept telling me how I'm an idiot for staying away these past few years."

"You mean, she actually called you an idiot and you let her?"

"She spoke the truth."

I was taken back by his response. "What?"

"I've been a fool, Emmeline," he started. It was one of the few times he had used my name...my first name. "I never should have said good-bye to you that day. I should have stayed with you in England until you were cleared to go home. I should have been the one by your side in Montana. I really am a fool for letting you go."

I swallowed. "You're here now, aren't you?"

He nodded. "I'm here now."

He crossed the room, grabbed me around the waist, and crashed his lips onto mine. Emotions that I had felt back then came washing over me like waves. I felt like I was drowning in his arms. He pulled back for a moment and asked, "Will you forgive me?"

I smiled up at him. "There's nothing to forgive...Ron."

For the first time since meeting him, he smiled a real genuine smile. I could see the love behind his eyes. They were no longer dark brooding eyes, but instead, bright and loving ones. His walls had finally crumbled to the ground around him.

He kissed me once more, deep and passionate before breaking the contact. "So, are you ready for the rest of your life, Miss Banks?"

I laughed. "As long as you never call me that again, I'm all yours."

He kissed me again. "Emmeline..."

"Ronald..."

"Ronald and I married that Autumn by a quiet little pond in Georgia. Darla had arranged the guest list so many of our friends from the war were there. In fact, it was probably the last time we had seen most of them before their deaths.

"It wasn't long after our wedding that Ron and I had a family. It wasn't always easy, but we made the best out of it. We have a few grandchildren now, and see them on occasion.

"We spend a lot of our time traveling the world together. We've revisited a few of the spots we were at during the war, and time certainly has a way of changing things. But the people there still remember all that was done for them, and are the nicest people we have ever had the luck of meeting.

"I only saw Jack Palmer once after that day. He had lost his temper and came looking for me back in Georgia. It was right after my wedding that he had heard and came searching. When he knocked on our door, Ron had greeted him with a gun and told him never to show up again, unless he wanted a new handkerchief spot. It was enough to scare him away but there have always been moments where I often feel like I'm being watched from afar. It's nothing like the feelings I had when I knew Robert was looking for me, but it was uneasy enough that I started to carry a gun with me at all times. Ron had suggested that if I ever were to travel by myself, as I am today, that I use an alias so not to attract attention to myself considering there aren't many Speirs' left in the world."

The young man listening to my story asked, "Is that why you're going by the name Mrs. Palmer?"

I laughed. "It's ironic, I know, but I felt that there were more Palmers in the world, and that Jack wouldn't think that I would use a name like that if I were to use an alias."

"That's smart," the man stated with a laugh.

"I hope that's all you needed for your research," I said.

The man nodded. "It's more than enough."

"I am just happy to know that someone out there is interested in what happened to a few good nurses back then," I admitted.

"I will be sure to put it all to good use," he replied.

I stood up and started to head out when I remembered something. "You never did tell me your name, Mr..."

"Hanks. Tom Hanks," he replied.

I smiled at the name Tom and felt that things had come full circle. "Well, good luck to you, Mr. Hanks. I wish you well."

He smiled warmly at me, shook my wrinkled hand, and said, "And to you as well, Emmeline Speirs."

I smiled and took the arm of my driver who had been waiting patiently outside the conference room. We walked out of the grand hotel and outside where the sun was shining brightly. I gazed over towards the mountains that I missed so much and climbed into the opened car.

The driver closed my door, and climbed into his seat. "Where to, ma'am?"

"Home. Let's go home," I said, closing my eyes and dreaming of Ron.