#or how after. that one trip back to bastogne gene just

[cirr0stratus]

That art you just posted, who are those fellas. The art is gorgeous, absolutely stunning, I must know who they are, what they are from, and is this like a ship or friends or related?

oh heLLO i’m so excited i get to talk about My Interest

those fellas are Eugene “Doc” Roe and Edward “Babe” Hefferon from the HBO war series Band of Brothers.

While they are based off real people, real heroes who fought in the United States Airborne’s own Easy Company, my portrayal (and anyone who engages in this fandoms portrayal) of them is strictly fictional.

my portrayal of them is as a ship (i GUESS it’s sort of more complicated than that but i feel the same way about Kat and Paul in all quiet on the western front) (if you’ve read all quiet on the western front you’d understand what i mean) (if you haven’t please read all quiet on the western front)

anyways i’m so normal about them. I’m so, so normal about them and i am BEGGING you to watch the show, it’s so, so good. the imagery and music and just. EVERYTHING it’s such an incredible series.

[ralphspina]

Snow Angels, the Perfect Tree, and Frozen Limbs

Spina convinces Roe to take some time off and visit him in Philly after the war. During winter. 

Taglist: @gottapenny​ @itisjustmethistime​ @indigosandviolets​ 

Trudging behind Ralph through knee deep snow, Gene questions what on Earth he`s doing here for approximately the ten millionth time that day. Ralph is jabbering away as they make their way through the frozen woods, regaling Gene with a thousand stories of winters past. Gene is doing his best to try and pay attention but his mind feels almost as numb as his limbs.

"You ever make a snow angel?"

"What?" 

"A snow angel."

As Ralph looks back at Gene over his shoulder, Gene raises an eyebrow at him. Catching sight of the look on Gene`s face, Ralph lets out a laugh, "Right, sorry, this is your first real snow. Don`t suppose you make mud angels or somethin' down in Louisiana?" There is a teasing tone to Ralph`s words and he makes what is possibly the single worst attempt at a southern accent Gene has ever heard in his life when he says the word Louisiana. Gene snorts in amusement at the butchered mimicry of his accent.

"Ain`t heard of a mud angel. Or a snow angel."

"Well, here. Watch. It`s like this."

Ralph proceeds to lay back in the snow and wave his arms and legs back and forth. Gene bites back a laugh as he watches the ridiculous display.

"Ralph, the hell you doin'?"

There`s a massive grin on Ralph`s face as he stands back up and points down at his impression in the snow.

"Ta da! Snow angel!"

"No offense, but that don`t look like any angel I`ve ever seen."

"Jesus, Gene. It`s a snow angel. Use your imagination!" There`s a thread of frustration underneath Ralph`s words and Gene feels a small pang of guilt. Ralph has been doing his damn best to give Gene some happy snow memories, practically begging Gene for several years now to come visit him in Philly during winter so he can experience his "first real snow" (he kept using the term"first real snow" like if he used it enough it would somehow negate Gene experiencing his actual first snow in Bastogne). And since Gene agreed a few weeks ago to take some time off and visit, Ralph has been going all out to make sure Gene enjoys his trip. They`ve done all the classic winter activities - ice skating, drinking hot cocoa by the fire, building snowmen, sledding, and now this - cutting down a Christmas tree. 

They`ve been wandering through the woods for what feels like hours now, searching for the perfect tree. At this point, Gene thinks they all look great and they should just pick any of them and call it a day. But apparently, finding the perfect tree is a big deal in the Spina family. And apparently, that means driving two hours outside of Philadelphia and wandering around the frozen wilderness for half an eternity. And apparently, it means that if your best friend happens to freeze to death while you do so, it`s a small price to pay.

Gene takes a deep breath as he continues following Ralph through the snow and promises himself that his next vacation will be somewhere the temperature never drops below a nice, toasty, 80 degrees.

As they reach a clearing, Ralph pauses at the edge of it, turns to Gene with a small smile and gestures to the scene in front of them.

"See? It doesn`t have to be ugly, ya know."

Gene takes in the view - a sea of pine trees coated with a dusting of snow in the distance, the sun shining down on a field of pure white, making the snow practically sparkle underneath the bright blue sky. Gene has to admit it`s a beautiful thing. Well, he`ll admit it to himself. All he gives Ralph is a small shrug and a quiet, "'S'Alright."

Ralph sighs, "You`re killing me, Gene."

He doesn`t see the the playful smile Gene carefully buries in to his scarf.

It takes what feels like yet another hour to find the tree, although Ralph insists it`s only been twenty minutes. Gene`s frozen limbs make the task of cutting down the tree and dragging it back to the car seem like an almost Herculean effort, but somehow his arms and legs get through it. As they tie the tree to the car, Gene can`t stop thinking about getting back to Ralph`s and sitting in the living room under a blanket, a warm cup of cocoa in one hand and one of Ralph`s wife`s cookies in the other, as feeling slowly returns to his incredibly numb body.

"Alright! Looks good! Ready to go?"

"Couldn`t be more ready, Ralphie."

Ralph crinkles his nose at the nickname. Gene learned about a year or so ago how much Ralph hated the nickname and, of course, being his best friend and all, has made sure to call him Ralphie every once in awhile ever since.

"Gene, I swear to God.." Ralph gives him a playful shove towards the passenger side door, "Get in the car, you jerk."

As Ralph heads over to the driver`s side, Gene reaches down and scoops up a handful of snow, doing his best to squish it into a ball.

"Hey, Ralph?"

"Yeah?"

Just as Ralph turns to face Gene, he`s hit in the shoulder by a snowball. Gene stands there, a smile full of mischief on his face.

"Oh, it`s on!"

Neither of them are all that sure how much time they spend chasing each other, ducking and dodging snowballs, but by the end of it, they`re both fully out of breath, leaning against the side of the car.

"Ain`t that bad, I guess."

"What?"

Gene smirks at Ralph, "The snow."

"Told you so. Just 'cause you don`t like to listen doesn't mean I ain`t right." There`s a hint of triumph in Ralph`s smile.

"Now come on, let`s get outta here. I`m fuckin' freezin'."

Gene can`t help the laugh that bursts out at Ralph`s statement.

"Thought you yankees loved the cold?"

"Fuck you, Gene."

As they climb in to the car and immediately delve into a playful argument about the radio, Gene thinks that he`ll probably never love the snow, but maybe he doesn`t have to hate it either.

[madame-brioche]

Can I just say I LOVE all of your Doc Roe writings? And I was wondering if you could do a sequel to Paralysie?? Maybe one where he’s home, but has a nightmare that he’s still back in Bastogne?

Y’all can’t give poor Doc a break, huh? Well I guess I can’t either :)

Title: Cauchemar

Author: madame-brioche

Prompt: Sequel to Paralysie, in which Eugene is home and haunted by the past

Warning: some angst, some ptsd, quite a bit of French

A cool April breeze whistled through the open window, making the flame of the lone candle spring to life in a flickering dance. Moonlight trickled through the thin curtains to illuminate the patches of moss on the timber window ledge. Outside you swear you could hear the steady trick-trick-trickle of the Atchafalaya River not far from the old cobblestone house, nuzzling you into a sleepy trance quicker than you would have liked. This was the first time you’d seen Gene since the company had gotten home a month ago, and he’d sent for you to meet his family as soon as time would allow.

The train trip down to Breaux Bridge from Chicago had used up much of your energy, and after a warm bowl of Madame Roe's flavorful gumbo, exhaustion had overtaken you once and for all. It took all you had not to fall asleep at the dinner table, and worse still you felt your eyes drooping while you helped Gene's mother hand out cups of tea and a dessert of pineapple-coconut cake – something she'd made special for your arrival. His older sister Minnie was staying for the weekend with her twin daughters while her husband was away on business in Baton Rouge, and you found her to be just as sweet and soft-spoken as Eugene. She seemed to enjoy telling you lots of embarrassing stories from Gene's childhood, some of which made Gene's cheeks turn a shade of crimson and he'd subsequently cover his face, but not before you caught his good-humored smile.

And now Gene was down the hall, tucking his little nieces, Charlotte and Sophie, into bed, promising you he'd be back in the shake of a lamb's tail. You leaned against the doorframe, listening to his honey-sounding voice and his niece's giggles as he told them a story about a tribe of water sprites that used to inhabit the bayou, waiting for small children to wander into the ever-present fog so they could whisk them away to their world forever. As the two gasped in both fear and delight, Gene went on to say that some fishermen say the little creatures can still be seen moving through the mists, just before sundown.

"Mais, you have really seen les fées, Uncle Gene?" One of the girls asked, and you couldn't be sure which one, for the twins sounded so much alike.

"Oui, mes chous, I have, when I was about your age," Gene replied, and you heard the floorboards creak as he made his way to the door. "Luckily I ran before they could take me away."

You tiptoed back into the bedroom as Gene emerged into the hallway, climbing into his childhood bed and not even bothering with the blanket due to the humidity. From the window, you could hear the chorus of frogs, crickets, and the occasional owl – all vying for volume over the light pattering of rain. You had been rather surprised his devout mother allowed you to share a room with her son, let alone a bed, but you weren't about to complain. She had doted over you in her broken English, squeezing the sides of your face affectionately and kissing your cheek, looking at you and saying to Gene, "Ah look at her face, elle est si mignonne, mais trop mince, elle doit manger si elle veut avoir de bonnes hanches pour l'accouchement, yes?"

You never quite figured out what that meant, and Gene had flat-out refused to translate that one for you, despite your prodding.

Moments after the twins had gone to sleep, Gene returned to the bedroom, closing the door behind him, and you watched as he took off his belt and collared shirt, draping it over a wooden dresser. He sprawled out on the narrow mattress in his trousers and undershirt, his back up against the headboard. You pressed your body to his, feeling butterflies as he snuggled against you, enclosing you in a protective cocoon. You felt his heart beating against your back, his fingers tracing small circles along your waist. You wished the two of you could stay like that forever.

"It certainly is strange to be back," he mumbles against your neck. "After all that time being away. I've had dreams about coming home. But I'll admit I didn't keep my hopes up just in case something happened to me."

You were quiet for a moment, listening to his rhythmic breathing, feeling his chest rise and fall. Though you had been a nurse, your domain had primarily been the hospital, compared to Gene's which was on the battlefield, as he had lived each day thinking it might be his last.

"What kept you going?" You wondered aloud.

"My dying wish of having a bowl of gumbo one last time."

With a small dreamy sigh, you gave him a gentle smack on the arm, prompting him to laugh quietly. "I'm serious," you reply as he touches the tip of your nose fondly.

"Mmm, she's serious," he teased, the hum of his voice against your skin sending shivers down your spine. "The thought of having a life with you, mon amour. What else could it be?" He wrapped a strong arm around your stomach, pulling you into him, his long fingers lazily finding yours and lacing them.

He rearranged his body as he rested his head on the pillow, pulling you toward him again with his chin atop your head. You felt him fade away into a steady sleep, his fingers still intertwined with yours. And not long after you'd drifted away yourself.

It was around three o’clock in the morning that you’re eyes fluttered open to the sensation of something hitting the back of your leg. Eyes still blurry with sleep, you felt another slight kick and realized it was Gene, laying beside you, tossing and turning like invisible bugs were biting him. He slammed his arm down hard as he rolled over, smashing his hand on the nightstand, but that action didn’t seem to rouse him. Atop this, he was moaning quietly, like a wounded animal, the cries becoming gradually louder.

You laid there quietly for a moment, a too stunned to say or do anything. Was he having a nightmare? You watched him jolt up suddenly, and you thought he might be awake, but then you saw his eyes — glazed over and distant-looking, like he wasn’t altogether there. He looked down at you and mumbled something unintelligible about morphine, holding out his hand expectantly.

You shook your head, confused and a bit worried. “Gene, sweetheart?” You whispered groggily, wiping your eyes and pulling yourself up slightly. “What’s wrong?”

He just stared back at you as if really seeing you for the first time and then put his hands on your shoulders, easing you back down. His brow was furrowed in deep focus as he traced some kind of pattern or letter on your forehead with his thumb before pulling the blanket up over your face and getting up from the bed. You pushed the blanket away and sat up.

“Gene...” you called after him softly, watching the dark-haired young man open the door rigidly and shuffle stiffly into the hallway. “Gene, come back to bed.”

But he didn’t seem to hear you, so you quickly got out of bed and wrapped your cardigan around your thin nightgown, following him quietly.

He turned the corner, the floor creaking under his movements, mumbling incoherently to himself, almost sounding like he was about to cry. “Gene,” you tried again, reaching for his hand but again it was as if he didn’t see or hear you. You watched as he opened the front door and disappeared into the warm shadowy night without shoes or a light. Nervously, you tiptoed outside wondering what the hell he could be doing when you almost tripped over something in the grassy field not far from the door.

You looked down to find Eugene, curled up on the ground near a garden statute of a blue-veiled woman with her arms extended, mumbling something over and over again. “I want to go home,” he has crying, still looking out of it. He flinched when you touched the side of his face, kneeling beside him and bringing his head into your lap. “I want to go home.”

“Shhh,” you whispered, smoothing his hair gently. “You are home, baby. You are home.” He grabbed onto your wrist, staring up at you a bit mistrustfully.

“J’ai...besoin de...I need scissors,” he mumbled in that strong Cajun accent, his words coming out jumbled and breathy.

“You need scissors, baby?” You asked, wiping the stray tears from his cheeks. He looked up at you and nodded painfully. And then it started to hit you that he was in a trance, acting out a nightmare of some kind and likely had no idea what he was saying or doing.

“Oui.”

“Why do you need scissors, mon amour?” You asked, borrowing the pet name he used for you as he scrunched up his eyebrows in a panic. He looked like a little boy who’d just been scolded, his lip trembling as he reached up and touched your nose gently, then lazily dragged his fingers down to touch your lips. “What is it, Gene? What’s wrong?”

“I’m sad,” He whispered, still trapped in the nightmare. You thought about getting someone to come help you, but the minute you started to pull away, he grabbed at your hand tighter. “Don’t leave me. Please don’t leave me. It hurts,” he cried, his voice breaking at this.

“Where, baby? Where does it hurt?” You asked, your breath hitching in your throat at the look of absolute devastation on his face.

He took your hand drowsily and placed it on his chest, his hand over yours, and you felt the slow beat of his heart. “It hurts right here,” he cried, holding your hand as if afraid you’d slip away. “Mes amis, ils sont morts à cause de moi. Et maintenant je pleure, et j’ai besoin de ciseaux.”

Although Gene had been trying to teach you french in the past, you couldn’t quite make out what he was saying given how mumbled it was.

“Eugène, mon p’tit,” you heard a soothing Cajun voice say from behind you. “Il est temps d’entrer maintenant, mon bébé.”

You looked up from Gene to see his mother’s silhouette from the darkened doorway, her hair loose and messy, her face wrinkled and sleepy. She walked over to you two steadily and knelt beside her baby, brushing her hand gently across his forehead. This effect seemed to calm Gene, although he was still shaking a bit and looking up at you worriedly.

Madame Roe gave you a knowing look, as if to say this wasn’t the first time this had happened.

“Is he okay? Should I get a doctor?” You asked her quietly, your eyes wide with worry. She just gave you a soft smile, and you realized she didn’t understand what you were saying but she could sense your panic.

“Mauvais esprits dans sa tête,” she replied, tracing a finger along his forehead. “Ils hantent ses rêves.” She turned back to her son who had closed his eyes once again in your lap. “Eugène, c’est Maman,” she whispered into his ear.

“Should we wake him up?” You asked in vain, and then made a motion to her as if opening his eyes. She looked like she understand and shook her head.

“Better, eh....if he sleep,” she replied, and then began to hum a little tune quietly, one that seemed to open Gene’s eyes but not bring him back to earth.

A little smile formed on his baby face upon seeing her, his eyes no longer stormy and wild as he breathed out in awed disbelief, “Maman?”

“Et voilà, mon p’tit chat,” she hummed, taking his hand gently from yours. “J’suis là pour te ramener chez nous, d’accord ?”

He gave a faint nod, allowing the two of you to pull him up and help him stumble back into the house. As you laid him out on the bed, Madame Roe lit a few candles in the room. She dipped her finger in a little bowl of water that hung decoratively near the door and traced a lowercase ‘t’ on Gene’s forehead. He’d fallen back asleep now, though his face still looked perpetually anxious.

As she sprinkled pinches of the water about the room and the bed, you could make out a few words she was softly chanting. Words like cauchemar meaning nightmare and mauvais esprits meaning evil spirits.

Then she turned to you with a smile that was similar to Gene’s. “You help me, yes?” She asked, gesturing for you to follow her into the small kitchen. She had you get a tea cup from the cabinet shelf, eager to allow you into her world of traiteur healing.

Monsieur Roe emerged sleepily into the kitchen, alerted by all the noise. You found it remarkable how closely Gene resembled his father, the same dark hair and dark eyes, even down to the identical facial expressions. He’d been relatively quiet during the dinner, and you’d felt a bit intimidated by him, the way he’d only grunt or hum to communicate. But you soon realized it was because he knew even less English than Gene’s mother, if none at all.

When he saw what his wife and you were brewing with the crushed herbs, he seemed to know exactly what it was for. Turning to you, he said with a gruff voice but a friendly smile, “Ah, to fais eni di thé avec fleu’ siro et Eugène boit ça po’ les cauchemars. To l’aime, ouai ?”

You managed a small nod and a nervous smile, although you couldn’t make out much of what he’d said. His dialect was so strong and so different from Madame Roe’s that the only word you could understand was “Eugene.”

“Le sureau,” Madame Roe corrected for you, but that didn’t seem to make much difference. “Eh...elderberry. He say you to learn to make thé avec le sureau, et he know you have...eh...l’amour, yes? You have l’amour for our Eugène,” she said with a smile.

“Oh, oui that’s true,” you blushed as you poured the water and fresh elderberries into the little blue saucepan, watching as his mother rhythmically sprinkled in turmeric and cinnamon.

After the water was brought to a boil, Monsieur Roe opened the door to let the family collie Fleur outside and followed her closely with a flashlight to make sure no wild animals got her. Meanwhile, you and Madame Roe sat at the kitchen table for a few minutes while the tea simmered. She took your soft hands into her worn, calloused ones and studied them in the moonlight.

“Here now, chile’,” she said in her strong accent, giving you an encouraging smile as she traced the lines on your palm like she was navigating a maze. You could smell the rosemary oil on her warm wrist, the lavender soap on her sleeve.

“Anything special?” You asked, slightly amused and curious. Gene had never mentioned that his mother did palmistry. “Or bad?”

She gave you a wink, the wrinkles around her lips softening into a small grin, revealing dimples that would have been more prominent in her younger years. “Bah non, ma chérie, c’est bon,” she replied, her doe eyes twinkling warmly, tracing your fingers and massaging your hand gently. “Eh...you have the healer hands, yes? Like me et ma mère et sa mère. So petites et si douces, like a little doll,” she said quietly.

She squeezed your thumb affectionately. “In war, you treat as nurse, et make better the hurt boys,” she said with a touch of melancholy, looking at your thumb. “I see here, little thumb so delicate comme une petite abeille.” Then she looked at the lines running through the middle of your hand and gave a little giggle. “Ah, regarde, le zig-zag,” she sighed, squeezing your hand again. “Des enfants, beaucoup d’enfants.”

She got up a bit excitedly and took the saucepan off the stove to let it cool, and then she had you stir in a generous amount of honey. She smiled as she watched you, and then held both sides of your face with her wrinkled hands. “I teach you, ma fille, I teach you, et puis you teach les enfants.”

With that she took your hand in her hers and held it up a bit, her other hand hovering over the freshly brewed tea. Closing her eyes, she whispered. “You say after me,” and then proceeded to sing a few French lines of prayer, pausing to let you repeat the words. When she was done, she brought the necklace she wore to her lips and kissed it, before opening her eyes and turning to look at you with pride and approval.

Then she poured the tea into the ceramic cup and gestured with her head for you to bring it back to Gene. She gave you a soft kiss goodnight on the forehead and you slowly made your way back to the bedroom.

Gene stirred slightly as you sat down beside him, cup in hand.

“Mmm, Y/N?” He asked, his voice crackly and strained. “Tu fais quoi, mon amour?”

You hushed him, wanting to smile at the way his little nose scrunched up in confusion and his eyebrows furrowed as they often did. “You were tossing and turning, that’s all,” you said softly as he sat up. “I made you some tea.”

“Oh,” he wiped his hand over his tired face. “I didn’t mean to wake you.” He took the cup you handed him, wrapping his large hands around the warm pottery and inhaling the herbal steam. “You made this?”

“Well, your mother showed me how,” you said, ruffling a hand through his ink black hair as he dipped his tongue into the liquid.

“Thank you,” he murmured into the cup, taking a little sip and reveling in the taste. He leaned over and set the cup on the nightstand, and then shifted over to pull you into his arms.

“Gene?”

“Oui, mon cœur?”

“You know that I’m always here for you. I won’t ever leave,” you said, hearing his heart with your head snuggled against his chest. You felt your own eyes water with tears at the thought of the pain he was suppressing, the kind he didn’t want you to see. “I just need you to know that.”

He didn’t say anything, just leaned down and kissed the top of your head, burying his face in your hair.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered as he rocked you gently, and then he seemed to notice your tears.

“Oh, ne pleure pas, mon amour,” he said, peppering your head and forehead with little kisses. “I’ve gotcha. You’re safe, just sleep,” he whispered soothingly, his lips grazing your temple. And you thought about how quickly it had all flipped, one moment you were holding him and the next he was holding you with those hands that had saved so many.

“Je t’aime,” you tried out in a whisper, causing Gene to smile down at you through bashful eyelashes.

“I love you, too,” he replied in his soft drawl, cradling you as the rain outside bounced off the trees and the moss and the shadowy fields of tall grass, lulling the rest of the bayou to sleep. “With all my heart...with all my heart.”

[itisjustmethistime]

Color (Eugene Roe X Reader)

A/N: Let’s hope I don’t embarrass myself with this. Please go easy on me! I hope you enjoy!

Words: 1.672

Warnings: None

The world seemed to be drained of color. There were only dull traces that proved that once, a long time ago, the world was a happier place. A place blessed with purples and yellows, flowers and sunshine. A place with love and happiness. A place where children played in the streets and dogs ran on lawns. A place where a man would take his wife out for a picnic. 

Now all that was left were browns and dull greens. Whites and greys. No happiness, no color it seemed. 

I imagined Bastogne must have once been a beautiful place. The sun shining through the green leaves of the trees, giving the forest a warm inviting glow. Flowers blooming in patches around trees, waiting to be plucked. Now it was grey. The sky filled with dark clouds and oddly ash colored snowflakes. The brown earth too, dusted with a jacket of white fluffy powder, looked drab and depressing. Trees fallen over or blown apart. 

The only colors I managed to find were blues and purples. The color of chapped lips on frozen men. Pinks on noses and cheeks from the wind cutting through bone. The cold first drained the soldiers of color, then decorated them with signs of frostbite. 

And then there was red. The color of loss and grief. It was once so beautiful, the color of the roses that grew on the bush in the garden. The color of sundresses and beach towels. Now all the color was, was blood. Thick, red, tacky blood covering everything.

The sound of an engine traveled through the quiet forest, growing louder as the vehicle came nearer. I was surprised I still noticed the familiar noise. The jeeps were in and out of the area so many times each day that I would have thought my brain would tune it out by now, just like it had the sound of the airplane’s engines before a jump, or the rumble of the trucks as we drove to a new destination. 

I was tempted to check if Eugene was on the jeep. He’d been gone for hours and I was beginning to get a little worried. I was supposed to watch the line, but in the dark night I could barely make out anything beyond the rim of my foxhole. The German soldiers that were stationed in the town weren’t stupid enough to light a fire so I doubted we would notice if something was happening in Foy. 

Before I could even turn around to look and see if I could find the jeep, a body jumped into my foxhole beside me, my heart leaping out of my chest in fright. 

“Hey there.” Eugene’s voice quietly spoke. His familiar accent washed over me like a warm shower, relief flooding my body as he settled beside me. 

“Hi Gene.” I whispered back, leaning into his side to steal some of his warmth. “You okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah I’m fine.” The medic mumbled. “You been moving around a bit? Ya gotta keep moving or you’ll get trench foot.”

“I know Gene.” I smiled. Eugene always worried about his men, always encouraging them to eat something, have some coffee, keep moving. Never did he think to stop and take care of himself instead. He was too good for us.

We sat in a comfortable silence for a while, looking out at the dark night beyond our feet. I was curled into his side, head resting on his shoulder and hugging his arm. 

“You miss home?” He spoke suddenly, his voice laced with sleep. 

I had to think about it. I definitely missed the warmth and familiarity of home. I missed my bed and the smell of the flowers in the garden. I missed the sounds of children playing in the street and the colors of the sky as the sun set behind the lake. What I didn’t miss was the feeling of loneliness I was left with when I was there. Both my parents had passed away years ago, when I was just a kid. After that, my brothers were always gone, working so that we could all eat that night. And then when the war first broke out, both of them were forced to enlist leaving me completely alone until I turned 18 and enlisted myself. 

“Y/N?” Eugene snapped me out of my thoughts.

“I don’t know. There’s not much left for me there. I just miss the comfort, you know? The peace, the warmth, the food. My bed…”

“What about your family?” Eugene questioned, turning to look at me. I gave him a weak smile.

“They ain’t home. My parents passed away in a car accident years ago. One of my brothers got killed in Normandy on D-day. Fuck knows where the other one is. I mean I guess I still miss them, but going back wouldn’t help with that.”

Eugene nodded, his brows knitted together in a frown. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” I pulled up my blanket a little as an icy gust of wind swept through the forrest.

“Oh I forgot. I got ya something.” The medic sat up and started ruffling through his bag. The same bag he had carried around since D-day, dirty and well used. It was usually stuffed with bandages, morphine, plasma, you name it. Now it was almost empty, there were not enough supplies for the aid stations, let alone the medics in the field. For days, Eugene and Spina had been going around, searching for more morphine, bandages, stealing aid kits from the men and risking a trip to Dog company to see if they had anything to spare.

“Here, it’s nothing special. It just, well it made me think of you.” He handed me a piece of fabric so yellow, it almost seemed to give light. It was the first bright color I had seen since we entered the Ardennes nearly a week ago.

He was right, it wasn’t anything special. Just a piece of colored fabric. But to me it was everything. The color was a symbol of hope to me, a sign that better times were ahead. A reassurance even.

“I know it’s stupid, it’s just fabric. I thought you might like the color though.” Eugene said quietly.

“No, no it’s not stupid. Gene, I love it.” I gushed, grabbing his face and planting a kiss on his hairline. “Thank you.”

The medic’s face lit up like a child’s on Christmas day, eyes glittering and a faint blush dusting his cheeks. A small smile crept onto his lips and he pushed his chin down into his jacket to hide it. He always did that, hiding his smile. He’d cover his mouth with his hand, or he’d quickly shove a cigarette between his lips. He’d hide in his jacket and look down and pretend to be somewhere else.

“Why do you do that?” I blurted. I hadn’t meant to ask the question, but there it was.

He looked at me with a puzzled expression. “Do what?” 

“Hide your smile. It’s okay to let people see you happy, you know.” I nudged his shoulder.

He smiled again, lips curling up and a dimple forming in his cheek. He didn’t hide it that time, instead looking right at me, eyes full of some emotion I couldn’t recognize. 

“You know why that reminded me of you?” He motioned to the fabric I was still holding tightly. I shook my head, waiting for him to continue.

“Well you know how most colors are associated with an emotion? Like blue is sad, and angry is red. Well Yellow is associated with happiness. And you make me happy.” 

I was quiet, shocked by his confession. My heart swelled, a smile forming on my lips. Eugene and I had been close since Toccoa. Even though he always tried to distance himself from everyone, I hadn’t let him do that. I’d taken an interest in the quiet man from Louisiana, so focussed on his training. Ever polite and respectful, following orders without question. He was never scared to correct someone if they made a mistake, but kept quiet most of the time besides that. It wasn’t until we were at Aldbourne in England that I realized I felt different about Eugene than I did about the other men in Easy. Of course I never did anything with it, too scared they’d kick me out of the Airborne after all my hard work.

“I make you happy?”

“You do.” The smile was evident in his voice. I felt his hand on my cheek, his other covering my own as I clung to the fabric. 

I looked up at him, his eyes searching my face for a sign to back off. He didn’t find one, so he moved closer, his warm breath fanning over my face.

“May I?” He whispered, eyes flickering down to my lips. 

I bit my lip to hide the smile, nodding softly. “You may.”

Eugene wasted no time in closing the gap, his hand pulling my face to meet his own, his lips closing over mine. The kiss left me feeling warm and fuzzy as both of us poured everything we had into it. I never wanted it to end. My hands tangled in his dark hair, his hands holding my face so carefully it was as though he was afraid I would break. I was the first to pull away for air, resting my forehead against his. 

“Y/N?” Eugene asked.

“Mhm?” 

“I have a confession.”

“Yeah?” I asked him, moving away a little to look at him. His hands moved down to grasp mine and he looked at them as he played with my fingers.

“I love you.” He said confidently, but he never looked away from our hands, his head down, hiding his face from me. Smiling I reached over to guide his chin up so I could look at him. He looked like a puppy, eyes big and bright looking up at me hopefully.

“I love you too, Gene.”

[marvelmymarvel]

War Is No Place...

Part 4/9

George Luz x Medic!Marshall!Reader (Fixed and in Love)

Joseph Liebogtt x Medic!Marshall!Reader (One-Sided, Sorry)

Eugene “Doc” Roe x Medic!Marshall!Reader (One-Sided)

Synopsis: You had your eyes on George Luz since day one. Quickly, you fell in love with one another, but you soon realized that war is no place for a lot of things. Mainly, though, its no place for love.

Trigger Warning: Panic attack. Extreme fucking angst

A/N: I don't know what happened. I hope you liked it. I’m releasing this now, and I’m gonna write a sweet little Malarkey one before I get back to my school work. Kisses love.

You snuggled closer to George’s side. You could feel Joe glaring at you from across the way, but you didn't care. You loved George. You always have. You always will. You inhaled sharply as a blast of wind hit your already cold face. Shoving your face more into Georges' neck, he hissed at the new cold feeling but pulled you in closer to keep you warm. Your one arm was wrapped across his stomach and the hand traveled under his jacket and to his back where it was gripping tightly onto his shirt. Your other hand was shoved deep into one of his pockets as you tried your hardest to get warm. Poor baby, you thought as you looked up at a very very cold George. 

You pulled your face out to give him some warmth but then another strong wind came by and you hid your face immediately once more. “I’m sorry, baby I’m cold” you whimpered out and he just pulled you closer to him. He didn't mind. He missed you. To him, your cold face being pressed into his warm neck was, well,

Heaven.

Joe rolled his eyes but George just ignored it, not really in the mood to deal with a hot head when you were freezing in his arms.

His arms. 

That's all that mattered to him. The truck stopped finally and you were all advised that you had to walk into Bastogne’s forest. And then you saw them. All of the men retreating, you stood wide-eyed on the truck bed, just watching them. They looked disheveled and defeated. Something you rarely ever saw. “Baby” you heard George call out from below on the ground. You looked down at him and he just motioned for you to come down. Nodding, you headed towards the end of the truck where he helped you down, pulling you close into his chest, he rubbed his hands on your back to try and warm you up. “They’re retreating” you whispered out into his ear. He simply nodded at you before kissing your temple, “Hell awaits us. But we have each other” he muttered and you just nodded softly. He was right. Hell did await you. You just didn't realize it would break you.

You stood, shivering above Gene as he looked at something on the ground. “Genie we have to find morphine” you trembled out as you squatted down next to him. You couldn't see what he was looking at, he wouldn't let you see. But he stood up quickly and motioned for you to follow him. It was cold. No. It was freezing. The only comfort you seemed to get was when you were in George’s arms at night or while your bodies were pressed together as you tried other ways to get warm. Both brought comfort and warmth. You missed him. Missed his body. Missed his smile and laugh. The way his body pressed to yours, made you feel safe in this damn forest. Kisses hungry and hands wandering. That time with George was magical. It was heaven. 

It was-

“Y/n” Eugene hissed out as you snapped out of your daze. Gene just stared at you as you blushed at the vivid thoughts you were having of you and George’s fun times together. “Sorry” you croaked out before scratching your neck sheepishly. Clearing your throat, you realized then that you were walking while you were zoned out and you were back at the camp. You were trying hard to find morphine, but you didn't have any luck. It was getting darker and you were getting tired. 

For once. 

Eugene could see your eyes droop a little as you walked and he stopped you by grabbing your arm. You turned back lazily and he frowned at you before cupping your cheek and examining your weak features. Your bags were huge and dark. You looked sick. “How have you been sleeping Y/n?” he whispered before stepping forward into your space.  “Who’s sleep? I’ve never heard of her” you joked out and he just looked at you plainly. “You need to go sleep, or you’re going to crash” he whispered out and you just glared at him. “I wish I could sleep, but everyone keeps screaming for a medic-” 

“Then I’ll take care of it... You sleep” he cut you off before letting you go and backing up a little. Your eyebrows scrunched up at his distance before you heard footsteps behind you. 

You turned slowly and smiled weakly at George. While you didn't show it, due to the sleep deprivation, your heart raced as he seemed to warm you from the inside out. All from just his presence. “Luz, I need her to stay in your guys' foxhole until she gets a full nights sleep. Doctors orders” Eugene stated before trailing off and eyeing you. George came up behind you and wrapped an arm around your waist. Your lip trembled as George nodded at Docs words. “I’ll make sure she sleeps soundly Doc” George whispered out as he pulled you away, “Gene” You called out before pulling out of Georges' arms. Running full speed to your best friend, you flew into his arms, holding him tightly. You both had gone through some tough times recently, the only thing holding you two together was each other. While George made you forget about the fight going on outside of the hole, Eugene calmed you when you were out in the middle of it. You helped him in the same way. You pecked his cheek sweetly before pulling back. “Take care of yourself” you whimpered out and he just nodded before pushing you back to George softly. He wasn't upset about you kissing Genes cheek. He knew that Gene was like a brother to you, and that was it. But George knew how Eugene felt about you. Eugene averted eye contact with a glaring Goerge before walking away. You grabbed George’s arm before pulling him towards the foxhole you shared. You didn't know that night would change everything. 

“It meant nothing” you growled quietly as you hunched lowly to the ground and searched through your bag for a blanket. He just scoffed behind you and you stopped searching. Feeling your blood boil, but you suppressed a blow up that would shake the ground around you. So, you continued to search for the blanket. 

“You know he likes you right.” 

You ignored him as you found the blanket and you pulled it out of the bag. You knew Eugene had feelings for you, at one time, you did as well. But not anymore. You loved George. He scoffed at your silence as he stood up and towered over you. 

“Of course you do, that's why you’re fucking him behind my back-” You slammed your blanket down angrily before whirling on your toes and standing up swiftly. Your chests were pressed together as you stood your ground. “You sick fuck” you growled out before shoving him back by the shoulders to lessen the space in case you felt the need to swing a fist. Joe really was wearing off on you. “How dare you even think that I would cheat on you” you snarled out. “Am I wrong to think such things when you kiss another mans cheek-”

“I KISSED HIS CHEEK NOT HIS DICK YOU ASSHOLE” you screamed out and many heads popped out of their foxholes at the sound of you screaming. “Y/n!” Lip hissed to you and you just inhaled sharply before shaking your head. Grabbing the blanket off of the ground where you threw it, you climbed out of the hole. “Where the hell do you think you’re going” he growled out as he grabbed your ankle. He didn't mean to hurt you. He just wanted you to stay and your ankle was the only thing that he could grab. It caused you to slip as you tripped and fell onto the ground. Your yelp came out quietly but it made his heart stop beating as you brought up your bleeding hand where you scratched it on a rock that was hidden under the snow. It wasn't bleeding that heavily, but it wasn't a scratch. You stood up angrily as George’s face softened. “I’m so sorry, baby I’m sorry I didn't mean for that... I’m... Oh my God, I’m so sorry-”

“FUCK OFF” you snapped down at him before kicking the hand away that tried to grab your foot. You turned swiftly and stormed off to another foxhole as George just stood there dumbfounded. What did he just do? All of this, over his jealousy. 

You approached the one foxhole you knew you were welcome at the most. You dropped down to your knees next to the edge of the covered hole. You were still holding your bleeding hand, “Lieb” you whispered out quietly. You were trying so hard not to wake the other men, even though they were all awake after your screaming match with George. “Lieb” you called out a little louder, you heard a groan before the tarp was pulled back. You climbed in and he rubbed his eyes in confusion, “What the hell happened to you?” he asked suddenly as he saw the blood. He leaped forward and grabbed your hand, examining the nasty cut in the moonlight. “Ow Joe” you whispered out as he manhandled your hand, trying hard to see how bad it was. You pulled your hand away and opened your bag with your other hand to see if you could wrap it up. He watched you expectantly, wanting to know who did this to you. But you never opened your mouth. You found a rag and began to clean it off. Grabbing the gauze, you put the end in your mouth to start unraveling it. He chuckled before grabbing it from your teeth. “I got ya” he whispered out before starting to wrap your hand. You felt courage, maybe you could confide in him. He was one of your best friends after all. “George and I got into a fight” you breathed out as you looked at the wall beside his head. He stopped wrapping and looked up at you slowly. Truthfully, he could hear you two in the distance, but he prayed you coming to him bloody was from a different instance. “Did he touch you” Joe snarled out as he gripped your wrist tightly. Your eyes snapped to his and you shook your head. “It was a mistake, he didn't mean to hurt me-”

“But he did” Joe cut you off before gripping your wrist even harder. You knew he wasn't doing this because he was mad at you, but it still hurt. “Ow” you grumbled out and he let you go before whispering an apology. Silence filled the hole as he finished the wrapping. He felt the courage rise in his chest, and he was about to take his chance.

“He doesn't deserve you. Y/n” Joe whispered before he got closer. Your face scrunched up in confusion but you thought no differently of his proximity, more so his words. “What do you mean?” you mumbled out and he just snarkily chuckled, “Who deserves me then?” you asked as you cocked your head. You were clueless. You didn't mean for it to seem suggestive, you were relatively curious about who he thought you deserved. You realized though, that your words were not something to say. 

“Me” he whispered out before crashing his lips onto yours. Your eyes were wide in shock and you didn't move your lips, but your hands moved fast. Shoving him back you stood swiftly, breathing heavily as you felt the guilt fill your body. You didn't mean to lead him on. You thought it was fun and games before. Shaking your head down at him, you touched your lips in shock. “I’m sorry Joe” you whispered out before shakily grabbing your bag that fell off your shoulder. He looked heartbroken as you sat back against the wall. “Get out” he growled and your lip trembled in sadness. “Joe I really am sorry that I made you thin-” “GET. OUT.” he screamed up at you and you scrambled out quickly. Racing over back to your hole, you felt like the whole world was crashing down. You lifted up the tarp that was covering the hole and jumped in before closing it. 

“Y/n-” George whispered out in surprise before you dropped down to your knees, sobbing as you grabbed his face. “I’m so sorry” you cried out before pressing your face to his. You wanted to kiss him. But you felt so dirty. George grew confused but held you close as you cried and cried and cried into his neck. You were heartbroken, you felt so untrue. The sobs that came out of your mouth were ragged and uneven. Your chest felt heavy as you gripped onto him like he would disappear any second now. Because he might. “Joe kissed me, George’ you whimpered out frantically against his skin. Gripping onto you harder, his heart broke. You lifted your face out of his neck and looked at him in fear. He knew you were afraid of losing him. You didn't know that he had the same fear of losing you. “I didn't kiss him back, a-a-and I pushed him away G-G-George I-I-I promise, p-p-please don't leave me I’m so-so-sorry” you tried to get out but you were hyperventilating causing the words to come out jagged and somewhat incoherent. But he heard you loud and clear. Your heart was breaking as you felt the anxiety bubbling up in your chest. You were going to lose him. You fell back onto your bottom as you hid your face into your hands, you were gasping for breath and George finally snapped out of his daze. Springing forward, he wrapped you in his arms. “I’m not gonna leave you baby girl. I’m not going anywhere” he cooed out softly as you just kept sobbing, but this time in his shoulder instead of your hands. He moved you so he could sit and you could cuddle into him. He pulled the blanket up to your neck as you laid in his arms, finally calming down in his embrace. Eventually, with his sweet words and calming hands trailing up and down your back, you fell asleep. 

“MEDIC!” You heard a scream as you jolted up in the bed, flying out of it you hit the hardwood floor. Gasping for breath as you heard the fireworks going off outside. You looked at the clock.

3:00 AM.

Inhaling sharply, you moved your hand to your stomach which was rather large now that the baby was almost due. 

July 4th, 1947.

You kept breathing, trying to calm yourself as you reminded yourself that you were no longer in Bastogne, you were no longer in danger. Those fireworks were just fireworks. Not bombs that could kill you or George any second. 

“Y/n” George whispered out as he kneeled behind you, wrapping his warm arms around you as his hands went to your swollen belly as well. He kissed down your shoulder sweetly as he felt you calm down in his arms. “They were screaming for me” you silently cried out and he just nodded against your neck before pressing a kiss to it. “We aren't in Bastogne anymore... You and little one are safe. I’m safe. I will keep you both safe.” he whispered out before turning you so you could look at him straight on. “Don't forget your other little one” you whispered out cheekily and he just smiled before looking at the crib in the corner where your first baby girl laid, silently sleeping. “I’ll keep you all safe. Forever” he whispered out while turning back to you and cupping your cheek lovingly. Your baby girl then began to stir and cry, you looked at him tiredly and he just nodded before pressing his lips to your forehead. “I'll get her love, go rest” he started before helping you up. He stopped your retreat before pulling you back to him. His one hand on your stomach and the other on your cheek. “I will always be here” he muttered out sweetly.

“I love-”

But his voice cut out, his mouth only moving. “What” you whispered out. He started to fade away as you desperately grasped onto him. “GEORGE” You screamed as you grabbed your belly only to find no bump there. The room began to fade into darkness as you whirled to the crib, where the cry distorted into something more masculine. You opened your mouth to scream for his name, but nothing came out. 

“MEDIC” 

Your eyes snapped open as you jolted forward in the hole. “Y/N!” Someone screamed out and you climbed out of the hole desperately. “Y/n wait! Doc said-”

“FUCK DOC” You growled out before dashing towards the cries. The babies cries echoed in your ears the harder you ran, your hand went to your stomach as you approached the man who was crying out to you. While having your own baby was nice, one of your babies was currently bleeding out. Flying down to their side, you ripped open their shirt right as Doc slid in next to you. “What did I say damn it” he growled angrily as he began to help you stop the bleeding. “Not now” you snapped up at him before turning back to the man as he took over while you soothed the poor soldier. You injected morphine into the man and managed to get him over to the jeep in time for Spina to ride with him into Bastogne. You looked at Eugene as the jeep pulled away before looking at the ground. Your hand was still on your stomach as if it was somehow trying to find the bump that you prayed was there. “Why are you feeling your stomach, are you hurt?” he pressed as he moved closer and grabbed your hand, pulling it away to check you. You were fine. But that babies cry haunted you. “Whats going on y/n” he whispered out finally before wrapping an arm across your shoulders. You shook your head before dropping your hand and looking up at him. “I had a dream” you stated as you started past him and towards your hole. He caught up to you and you sighed knowing he wouldn’t leave until you told him what it was about. You stopped before turning to him. “I was pregnant, with George’s baby. And we had another baby girl in a crib. It was peaceful...” you whispered out shakily as a smile formed on your lips at the mere thought of having a child with the man you loved. Eugene’s eyes crinkled and he smiled at you sweetly as you two began to walk. You looked at the ground and he finally piped up. “It's a good thing you aren't though” he commented and you looked at him plainly before he explained what he meant. 

“War is no place for a baby... Y/n” he whispered out quietly as you two approached your hole. 

You nodded at him before kneeling to grab the tarp, but he grabbed your arm softly. You looked up at him and he just smiled softly “Now please, get some sleep.” he begged and you nodded. He let you go before taking off towards his hole. You lifted the tarp and got in to find a worried George. “Jesus Christ” he whispered out but you just climbed into his arms and hid your face in his neck. Trying so hard to warm back up. He would normally press, but he knew that it wasn't the time or place. “What time is it,” you asked sleepily as he pulled the blanket to cover you up. “Um..” he began as he lifted his wrist “3 am” he commented softly before enclosing you once more in his arms. He didn't see your face, but your eyes snapped open at the thought of the dream. It was 3 am there. A beautiful dream, warm bed and the love of your life next to you. But it wasn't real. You reminded yourself over and over again as you simply closed your eyes once more and cuddled into him more. You were calm for a couple of minutes, and then a thought occurred to you making your world rock and your night sleepless.

When was the last time you had your period?

tags: @hell-itwasyou @desired-love-​

[blakelysco-pilot]

Hey Nurse

Pairing: Joe Liebgott/’Reader Rating: Teen+ Author: GinaBaker1666 Summary: Easy Company’s field nurse meets her match when Joe Liebgott walks into the aid station, and she realizes there’s always one soldier who’s too sarcastic for their own good. But then again, so is she.  Because @liebgotttrash wanted more Joe Liebgott fics. Enjoy!

If you asked me the exact date and time I met Joe Liebgott, chances are I couldn't tell you. If you asked me where I met him; the aid station in Holland, D-Day plus 64. It was far from glamorous, and he was covered in dirt and blood. His own blood. But truthfully, it might be the only part of the war I don't want to forget. We knew all about Operation Market Garden, that the boys would be jumping into Holland, and we would be right behind them for support. What a lousy word to use; support. Ever since we made the jump on D-Day we had done so much more than just support, each of us, just as much a part of their company as the men. 

"How's he doing?" Turning at the sound of the familiar deep voice, I found the resident medic of Easy Company, Eugene Roe standing in front of me. "Alley? He's going to be fine," I smiled. "You got him out here just in time Doc." "You're a lifesaver..." he replied, trailing off. "C'mon Doc, I'll set you with some supplies before you head back to the line." I motioned for him to follow me, and noticed he took another glance at his wounded man before continuing on. "Geez, you really are a lifesaver." The side of his mouth curved up into that half smile we had all come to expect of the medic from New Orleans, and I couldn't help but shake my head. "So I've been told..." I made quick work of grabbing a box and loading it up with bandages, morphine and plasma. "Need anything in particular?" I tilted my head holding the box. "You know I can't go asking of all that from you..." "Hush," The word fell from my lips firmly, but playful. Any attempt to maintain normalcy. "Now tell me Gene. I doubt Captain Winters wants either of us slipping up." "He sent one of the men back to Battalion CP earlier, Joe Liebgott, he had a handful of Kraut prisoners...neck was wrapped up and he wouldn't let me fix 'im up... could you keep an eye out?" "Course I will," I handed him the box. "Now get back out there, and please..." "I know... keep an eye out for our man... he probably needs a stitch or two!" He hollered as he ran out of the aid station and back towards the Jeep. "Don't worry so much!" I yelled back, but the engine of the Jeep was too loud for him to even hear it. It was an hour or so after Gene had left that a tall, thin man entered the aid station. He had his helmet on, and his rifle over his shoulder, a dirty bandage around his neck, and covered with blood. "Can I help you..." I tried to check his name on his uniform although I was positive this was the man from Easy that Gene had told me about, but his rifle was in the way. "Yea," his voice was rough, but not like Doc's. It was a little higher, and he sounded annoyed, more than anything. "My CO sent me out to get fixed up so..." He made a circular motion with one of his fingers around his neck, and raised an eyebrow expectantly. "C'mon soldier. Go take a seat, I'll be right over." He nodded and went to sit on one of the tables set up for the wounded. His helmet now in his lap and rifle on the ground next to where his feet were dangling off the edge. "So what happened?" A fresh pair of gloves on; I began peeling away the bandage, half expecting blood to come gushing out. "I'm pretty sure I got wounded, what do you think, nurse?" "I think there's always one soldier whose too sarcastic for his own good, Liebgott." "How'd you..." "Doc Roe." I simply grinned, noting that the wound was small, and only a slight ping to his neck. And thank god nowhere near his artery. "I suspect you'll live, Joe." I looked up at him, but that same expression remained. His face was hard. "I suspected that before I got over here." Came his sharp reply. "Well, who am I to stop you from bleeding out," I stepped back. "Be my guest then, the floor is yours." "You know..." he paused, then looked down at me. "You ain't like the other nurses." "And why's that?" "Any other nurse would probably coddle me, give me the whole 'you're going to be just fine Joe' speech. But not you ya know?" "Did I not just tell you that you'd be fine?" I shook my head, turned, and began to gather clean bandages and a needle and thread. "And you ain't afraid to answer back... can't they get you for insubordination?" "Should I leave you to stitch yourself up as well?" I scowled holding out the aforementioned objects to him. He took my annoyance for playfulness. "Nah, I'll leave you to it." He grinned. "Good. Now zip it. The more you gab the harder this is." "Yea? I like a challenge." "Well I'd like not to put another unnecessary hole in your neck. So hush, Joe." At the use of his first name, he quieted immediately. The only sound that came from Joe Liebgott was a small hiss as I pushed the needle through the first time. As soon as I wrapped the clean bandage around him and set it in place he immediately began running his mouth again. "Not too shabby." He winked. "That's why I'm the nurse and you're not." I smiled. "Where are you from?" He asked, hopping off the table and immediately picking his rifle back up. "Brooklyn..." I smiled fondly, my mind immediately going to home. "Now it makes sense." "Excuse me?" "The way you talk, or talk back for that matter." "Well if I had to venture a guess I'd say you are as well, what, with an answer for everything." "Nah, Frisco." I nodded, going about cleaning up the dirty bandages and supplies, half expecting him to be gone when I turned back around. But he was still there. Still standing behind me with his helmet tucked under his arm, and a smirk on his face. "You should head back to your platoon, I'm sure Captain Winters is waiting on you." "He had his hands full when I left." "Which is why he's probably in need of another set of 'em." I winked, turning towards the sink to wash my hands. I could still feel him standing behind me, but before I could ask him what he was still doing here, we both stopped dead at the sound of gunfire. It was too close for my liking, and he seemed to notice; he immediately pulled me down to the ground with him, one hand over my back, tucking me into his side. "Jesus Christ... those bastards crossed the line!" He hollered. "Excuse me!?" "I need you to stay down, low to the ground, just, listen to me okay!" He turned to me, his eyes practically on fire, and somewhere in the middle of the shells flying his helmet was back on his head. Stealing a glance at him as he quickly snapped the safety off his rifle, I realized that Joe Liebgott, probably all of 23 years old, looked older, and worn. "Hey! Can you do that for me?" He didn't turn to look at me this time, but his voice was softer. I nodded quickly, moving behind the table he had previously occupied, my back pressed against it, my breaths coming in heavy inhales and nervous exhales. That was the first time I met Joe Liebgott. I didn't see him again until we were moved off the line in Bastogne. All the field nurses were placed with different battalions; I had ended up on the far right with third battalion and frozen to the core. News has broken that the aid station took a hard blast and anyone there, working or recovering, had been hit. I still don't know if anyone survived. I hadn't realized it was Joe who sat next to me on the truck out of Bastogne that day, until he turned to me, cheeky grin and all, and declared it. "If it ain't my favorite nurse." "Well well... Joe Liebgott..." His eyes were tired, I'm sure mine looked the same, but I smiled none the less. "Didn't know you were on the line." "That's pretty much the definition of a field nurse." "I know," he nodded. "Where were you?" "Third battalion." He nodded again, and shifted around in his seat a bit before putting his arm around my shoulder. "What are you-" "Hush." He mimicked my words from weeks, no, months ago and just smiled. "Try and sleep would ya?" "Stop that." "Can't have you putting unnecessary holes in people now can we?" He winked. "You're a real trip, Joe Liebgott." I shook my head, but allowed it to fall to his shoulder anyway. It was mere moments before my eyes drifted shut and the rumble of the truck pulled me into sleep. When the war was declared over, Japan surrendering and all of us sent home, I had said goodbye to all of the men who remained with Easy Company. It was bittersweet, that much I'll admit, but stepping onto New York soil was the greatest feeling in a long time. My apartment, just as I had left it, felt cozy; but cozy during the day did nothing for the empty at night. The silence was deafening, and I woke up more often than not to nightmares of being in the field; snow stained red, men begging for their life. It was what they had warned us about when we joined the Army back at the beginning; that we would come out different men and women. They didn't lie. It was three months at home when I found myself in the kitchen. Dinner for one, and a bottle of wine that my neighbor had given me as a gift. Thank you, she had said. Sounded as lousy as the word 'support' but, I found myself smiling as she handed it to me. It was the knock at my door that surprised me more, and as I opened it, there was Joe Liebgott. On my doorstep in civilian clothes. "Hey Nurse..." he grinned. "What...Joe what are you doing here?" "Well, I realized after we said goodbye," He stopped himself, peeking around the door. "Can I come in?" "Oh, of course!" My manners had completely evaded me. "So, I realized, I've never even seen New York! Can you imagine?" "I can, yes." I turned to move back into the kitchen, and like a puppy, he followed. "So, I decided to come see for myself what all the fuss was about... but when I got here, damn, realized I needed a tour guide." "Oh?" I turned to face him, and he was grinning that same grin as when I offered him the needle and thread all that time ago. "Care to show me around, nurse?" "Stop calling me that!" I swatted him with the dishrag. "Okay okay!" His hands held up in surrender, he asked me one more question. "Whadday say, wanna show me the town doll?" Joe spent three months in New York. Three months with me. True to my word, I showed him the town, and in turn, he took me dancing. Every dance hall he spotted found the two of us in the middle of the dance floor, thoughts of the war forgotten. When we ran out of places to dance in the city, I suggested trying new places. After all, I had never seen San Francisco and was positive I would need an escort. A year after he showed up at my door we were moving into a house in Frisco, with Joe's cab parked outside, and boxes littering the floor. "Ah, son of a bitch!" I heard him holler from the living room. "Joe?" I rounded the corner of the kitchen and found him holding his pocket knife in one hand; the other hand was bleeding. "Hey nurse, I think I'm wounded." He looked up at me. "Jesus Joe, are you just going to stand there and bleed all over the new carpet or are you going to let me fix that up?" "Well, you think I'm gonna make it?" "I suspect you'll live Joe."