THIS STORY IS FOR ARAHADI! IT STARTED OUT AS A ONE-SHOT, BUT GEORGE JUST WOULDN'T LET ME LEAVE IT THAT WAY... SO HERE IS CHAPTER ONE!

**KATIE POV**

Nobody was more surprised that I was when I developed a friendship with George Luz while training at Toccoa. We were polar opposites.

I was an over-analytical, overly serious perfectionist. My days were spent working myself to exhaustion, and my nights were spent thinking about what I needed to do better tomorrow. Sobel was a jerk, sure, but I was easily my own worst critic. I had to be. I was a woman training to become a U.S. Army paratrooper.

George, on the other hand, was the Easy Company comedian. He was a sarcastic prankster with a gift for impersonations, and he gave you no choice but to like him. Believe me, I tried to resist, even after we became friends. He was just a force of a nature… like gravity… or a black hole. If you got close, he just drew you to him.

That's not to say I was going down without a fight. I did have my pride after all. And so it went. Two years of George driving me right to the edge of insanity, and then making me laugh just before I was ready to kill him.

By December 1944, we were averaging at least one session of snarky sarcasm a day, and at least one threat of bodily harm a week. Between me and the Germans, it was a wonder that George Luz made it through Normandy and Holland.

Every fight ended the same way: an exasperated, clenched fist scream from me as George stood there, arms crossed against his chest, grinning like a Cheshire cat. Then he'd put on his most patronizing tone and pull me, struggling all the way, into a hug, patting my head like a child as I threatened him with all manner of painful torture, and say the same four words.

"But you love me."

I'd usually pinch him to make him let me go, and then walk off in a huff while he laughed behind me. Annoying little pain in the ass.

"George, I swear to God. I don't care if you've seen this movie 13 times. I promise you that you will not make it through number 14 if you don't shut your damn mouth!"

"Okay, okay! Jeez, Katie. Ya see, Lip? That's the problem with bringing these women in here. Hormones just…"

"Finish that sentence, George Luz. I fucking dare you."

He grinned and leaned forward to say something else, but never got the chance. The lights snapped on and the projector cut off as we were informed that the Germans had overrun the infantry somewhere in the Ardennes Forest of Belgium. We were moving out immediately, set to be surrounded in the forest, in the dead of winter, with no supplies. I met George's eyes again. The familiar grin was gone.

"I'm… dreaming… of a whiiiittttteee Christmas… HEY!"

George made the mistake of walking by my foxhole in the midst of his dramatic Bing Crosby impersonation, and I rewarded his performance accordingly. Instead of throwing roses onstage, he caught a snowball to the face for his trouble. He brushed the snow off his face and looked down at where I sat, alone in my foxhole.

"What was that for? Where is your Christmas spirit?"

"I've been listening to that Nazi over there singing 'Stille Nacht' for the last five minutes. I can't reach him, so you'll have to do," I answered as best I could through the chattering of my teeth.

After a quick assessment of my shivering, George rolled his eyes and jumped in beside me, making a great production out of getting seated and comfortable and forcing me to move out of his way several times. When he was finally settled, he grinned at my scowling face and patted the ground between his legs.

"There now, that's better. Tiny little thing like you, Bull should have just tucked you into his pocket or something. Come here, little one. Now, tell me, why is it that I'm always having to save your ass? Thought you women were supposed to have hot flashes or something. But I guess you're still a baby. Not old enough for all that yet. Need old George here to take care of you."

"I don't-t-t need you t-t-to s-s-save me, George. I'm p-p-perfectly f-f-fine. You can go now."

Oh, that was convincing.

"Just come here and cuddle up with Uncle Georgey."

"I'd rather freeze. Get out, Luz."

"Fine. Suit yourself, kiddo. Hope you don't get frostbite on your lips. It'd be a shame to have anything happen to freeze that mouth shut."

He was toying with death. He knew I hated being called "kiddo" almost as much as I hated his remarks about my being a female.

"And I hope I don't have to wind up performing an emergency amputation below your belt. Not that it would be a great loss to the world if you couldn't reproduce."

"Ouch. That stings. You know…" I readied another snowball, but he put up his hands in surrender and walked away laughing, "But you love me."

It was the last chance we would have to laugh for a while. Clear skies allowed the Germans to bomb Bastogne that night, destroying the aid station. Although Patton's army broke through the line two days later, it did little to lessen the feeling of isolation. Patton or not, it was still 20 below and raining German shells and splinters.

Then, on New Year's Eve, we took some casualties. We had a man killed, and Joe Toye, my rock and my ally in the never-ending battle to shut George up, was wounded… again. Purple Heart number 3. The look in his eyes as they took him away let me know he would be back sooner rather than later, but I was still pissed. I curled up in my foxhole, swiping angry tears, and fell into a fitful sleep, dreaming of shell bursts on a backdrop of white snow and red blood.

When I woke up, it was pitch dark and I felt almost warm. For a second, I thought I might be dead, but when I shifted my body I discovered I was no longer alone. I was resting, rather comfortably I might add, against a firm chest with a pair of strong arms wrapped around me. I moved to see who it was and he spoke.

"I'm not moving, so don't even bother. You're going to freeze to death in here by yourself."

George.

"What happened? You draw the short straw on rescuing the damsel in distress."

"Something like that. Now shut up and go back to sleep."

I smacked him playfully on the chest and he chuckled, but I was too comfortable to move.

"Happy New Year, George."

As I drifted back into a much more peaceful sleep, I felt him press a kiss to the top of my head.

"Happy New Year, beautiful."