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Eugene felt his bones stiffen from the biting cold as he wandered from foxhole to foxhole, asking for any supplies the men could muster up. He has had little luck, only getting a bandage from a captured Kraut and the remains of Captain Winters' first aid kit. As he walked by, Easy men would ask him questions about any illnesses or minor injuries they had and he'd try to help them the best he could, but most of them needed immediate care from an aid station and that they didn't have. It frustrated him greatly that he couldn't help out his boys any more than providing life saving treatment and just offering comfort; it made him feel useless and like a failure.
He finds the foxhole he shares with fellow medic, Spina, and drops in it, his joints aching but he pushes away his own discomfort.
"You get any more supplies?" Spina gives him a hopeful look and Gene feels more guilty. He hands Spina the bandage and Winters' aid kits, shaking his head.
"No further luck. I'm going to ask 3rd Battalion if they have anything they can spare. I only have one syrette and no scissors." Spina frowns at how tired his friend looked and offers him a small smile.
"I can go check out 3rd battalion–"
Gene shakes his head, "No, it's alright. Just keep watch. And keep asking around for scissors for me, please?"
Spina sighs, knowing he can't force the younger man to stay and try to rest because he'll just get up and start working himself to exhaustion again. "You know I will, Gene. But when you get back, you're taking a few hours off, alright? No negotiating."
Gene gives him a shy smile and nods, before leaving their foxhole and venturing out again. They both knew if he had returned, he would not have taken even a minute of rest. With his mind set on finding supplies for his boys, he forgot Winters' orders.
"Grab someone and go check out 3rd battalion."
He's been walking for almost an hour now, confused on how he got lost when there were times he had to head over to 3rd BTN to help out their medics. He knew the path so well but it just doesn't look right; it feels like he's been walking in circles. Many trees were splintered by the artillery barrages and mortars, thick branches almost causing him to trip a few times as they're hidden under the ever growing pile of snow covering the forest ground. He slouches into himself, the cold causing full blown tremors to shake his body, his skin almost as white as the snow, except for his rosy cheeks and bright red nose. He doesn't want to give up though, but an unsettling feeling has been churning his stomach for the last 10 minutes and it's starting to make him paranoid. He'll stop and look around, but there's no telling if he was being watched with the heavy fog obscuring his vision.
Maybe he should've let Spina go instead, perhaps he really is that exhausted he can't find his way to the other base camp. With a defeated sigh that's barely audible, he turns to retrace his steps when his heart drops to his stomach. There's another set of footsteps, almost overlapping his, and his head snaps side to side, eyes wide. An eerie silence hangs in the air, his ears perked for even the quietest of whispers, but there's nothing. He takes a step back, jumping when a branch cracks and he says 'screw it' and starts running.
"Halt!" A thick accent shouts from behind him and he only pushes himself to run faster, zigzagging between the trees and leaping over branches and the occasional corpse of a fallen soldier from either side. He doesn't know where he's going now, just that his survival instincts kicked in and he's close to breaking his composure and screaming for his boys. He does break when a German soldier appears out of nowhere and also chases after him, his bayonet attached to his weapon.
"BABE!" He yells as loud as he can, almost tripping over his own feet. "CAPTAIN!"
The Germans are shouting either at him or to each other, and he risks a look back to see he's gaining distance, only for the air to be knocked out of him when he runs into what feels like a brick wall. He falls onto his back, eyes wide as he stares up at another German, his heart pounding against his chest as the barrel of a gun is pointed at him, almost touching his nose.
"D-don't shoot...medic," He points to his armband, flinching when the other two Germans chasing him come to stop behind him. They start talking, and he hasn't been able to pick up much German since he's been busy saving lives and healing others. Liebgott and Nixon only taught him what to say to save his life.
"Grab him, don't injure him too much." The taller of the three says, and Gene starts to back away when the one with the bayonet, who wears a pale scar from his right eyebrow to his lower jaw, moves to grab him. The shorter one mutters something angrily and storms up to Eugene, slapping him hard. Eugene's head snaps to the side and he winces as warmth floods to the spot where he was hit.
"Don't fight, or else." The German says in English, and Eugene doesn't want to just give up, but he has no weapon, he has nothing to defend himself. And even if he did, he's a medic, he's supposed to heal, not hurt. Would the blame be put on him if he defended himself? Surely Winters and Nixon wouldn't care, but Dike is the commanding officer. He'll do anything to be deemed as a good officer.
"Okay, okay. Do you need help?" He asks, wondering why they would even want him. Everything would fly out the window if they said to give them his medical bag, because he's worked so hard to ration and find the supplies.
"My men, they are hurt. We have no medics, they have been evacuated off the line to treat other soldiers. You will heal them, yes? And if you are good, we may let you go." The taller one says, and Eugene nods, trying to force a small smile but he's shaking in his boots, and not from the cold.
"Okay, I'll help you. Just...just put your guns away" Gene lets the shorter one stand him up, eyeing their weapons with nervousness. Scarface slings his rifle over his shoulder and nods at the other two, who do the same. The shorter one shoves him forward and he almost falls again, turning to glare at the German but the taller one speaks up instead.
"Leave him alone, Felix. Commander doesn't want a broken toy."
The shorter grunts and grabs Eugene by his bicep, his fingers digging in harshly they are likely to leave a mark in their wake. "Fine."
As they marched through the snow and towards the Germans line, Eugene felt ashamed he gave in so easily and stupid he didn't bring one of the boys. He could only hope the Germans let him go, or his boys realize he's missing and search for him.
"Hey Spina, have you seen Doc Roe?" Guarnere asks, his hands buried into the pockets of his winter coat. Spina looks over at the other man and frowns, shaking his head.
"No, I haven't. I thought he'll be back by now, I assumed he was checking up on ya." Spina gets out of his foxhole, wiggling his fingers to help with the blood flow but it's just too damn cold.
Guarnere copies his frown, "Where did he go?"
"He went to check with 3rd Battalion to see if they had supplies to spare. It's been a few hours since he left. Unless they needed an extra pair of hands, he should have definitely been back." Spina gestures for Guarnere to follow him, walking over to Winters' foxhole. To his luck, the XO was there and he takes a knee, and Winters' knows something is wrong at the panic slowly rising in Spina's face.
"Hey sir, has Eugene come to check in with you? He left a while ago and hasn't returned from 3rd." Winters shakes his head, sitting up straight now.
"No, I haven't seen or heard from him. Hey Nix," Winters calls out to his friend as Nixon walks by. "Have you heard from 3rd Battalion?"
"Yeah, they left their line like two hours ago. They were being overrun constantly. Why?" The intelligence officer walks closer to them, his flask in hand and Spina wonders if he can ask for a large sip.
"Doc Roe went out to see if they had any supplies. He hasn't come back yet."
Nixon almost drops his flask, eyebrows shooting up. "They never said anything about Doc visiting. And they usually report to me if Doc makes a visit."
Now the small group was panicking, wondering where the hell their medic was.
"Hold on," Guarnere leaves quickly, jogging over to Babe's foxhole and the three follow him. Guarnere curses when he sees Babe sitting in his foxhole, watching over the line.
"Hey Babe, has Doc Roe been by?" He asks, his voice urgent and Babe frowns, looking at the older guys with confusion and worry.
"No, he left like three hours ago, maybe. Said something about getting supplies. Unless he came from another direction, he hasn't come back yet. Is something wrong with Gene?" Babe is scrambling out of his foxhole now, telling Julian to keep an eye out on the line.
"Guarnere, go grab 1st Sergeant Lipton, now." Winters orders, and Guarnere gives a quick "yessir" and runs off. "We need to send out a search team and contact the other companies to see if they heard from Eugene. Babe, did Doc leave with anyone?"
Babe shakes his head, suddenly looking guilty. "No, no, he just said he was going to go to 3rd Battalion or something. He never takes anyone with him though, so I didn't find it weird."
"Hey, it's okay. I'm sure Gene is fine, he probably got lost." Spina pats the young man comfortingly on the back, but fear is eating away at him. By now, Easy Company was alerted of their beloved medic's disappearance and all hands shot up when Winters asked for volunteers for the search team. Muck, Penkala, and Malarkey had to hold back Guarnere and Buck when Dike asked if this was really an emergency and if it was necessary to risk any lives. Winters glowered at him secretly, biting his tongue and Nixon huffed, leaving for a few minutes to calm himself down before returning.
Within 15 minutes, a plan was made and the search team consisted of Babe, Guarnere, Toye, Lipton, and Liebgott. When Winters visited Dog Company to tell them to keep an eye out for Eugene, Lieutenant Speirs surprisingly joined the search team.
"He's a good kid and a damn great medic. He helped many of my boys. We'll get you your doc back, sir. No one messes with our medics." Speirs says, his eyes hard and Winters nodded, grateful for the extra help and a bit worried about what Speirs was willing to do to get back their medic. But if the Germans really did capture Eugene, since that's a possibility that Nixon brought up, then Winters couldn't find himself caring what Speirs would do. Medics were so supposed to be left alone. If they so much as looked at Eugene the wrong way, Winters himself would be on them.
"Thanks Sparky. If there's anyone I trust to bring hell on the Germans and keep Eugene safe, it's you and my boys." They nod at each other before going their separate ways, Winters back to his line and Speirs to take charge of the search team.
"I hope he's okay," Winters says to Nixon, his voice unusually quiet and sounding far away. Nixon rests a hand on his shoulder and gives him a look.
"He is. It's Eugene Roe we're talking about, he wasn't afraid to rip you and Harry a new one that one night. The kid knows how to survive. Just don't overwork yourself, Dick. Gene needs us, he needs you, to be strong." Nixon isn't usually the comforting type, but he's trying and whether it was for Dick or himself, he didn't have the answer to. But it worked for Winters, who gives him a grateful smile. It doesn't work for himself though, because as an intelligence officer, he knows too much about these situations. And he can only hope the special insignia on Eugene saves him.
Harsh coughs, bullet holes, and behavioral problems were wounds Eugene attempted to care for with limited supplies. The Germans barely had much to offer, but Eugene did the best he could and the wounded enemy soldiers were grateful for the medic.
He's led to a young soldier, barely 18, who's sobbing loudly as his left leg is shredded, the skin peeled and dangling.
"Incident with one of our mortars. He's been injured for a few hours now." One of the German soldiers tells him and Eugene nods, kneeling besides the sobbing boy and grabbing his hand. The young soldier's pupils were blown wide, darting wildly at everyone, but once Gene held his hand and started saying comforting words in a soft voice, the cries stopped and his eyes fell onto the medic, his body relaxing.
"That's good, um, what's his name?" Eugene looked over to the boy's comrades, and one of them with bright blue eyes spoke up.
"Anton."
Eugene nods, looking back down at the boy and giving him a soft, almost motherly, smile. "It's okay, Anton. You're doing so good. I'm going to check out your wound, okay? Just continue holding my hand." He inspects the wound and grimaces at the sight, spotting pieces of wood and shrapnel embedded in the boy's leg. He digs through his satchel with one hand and takes out gauze, a trauma bandage, and a packet of sulfa.
"Okay Anton, I need to clean your wound and stop the bleeding." Anton nods and lets go of his hand reluctantly, and Eugene gives his two comrades a serious look.
"I need you to hold him down." They both nod, Bright Eyes placing Anton's head on his lap while he holds down his shoulders, while the other soldier grabs his ankles and presses them down. Gene grabs his tweezers and gets to work removing the foreign objects, apologizing quietly as Anton starts crying again, his body twitching in pain.
"I know, cher, I know. Just breathe, Anton, okay?" Eugene feels the boy grab onto his thigh, letting him tug at his trousers. He finishes quickly and the next step is what breaks his heart, because Anton is just a kid, a baby, he didn't deserve to be in such pain. Pleading for his mother, pleading to go home.
Eugene takes out the flask of alcohol one of the soldiers gave to him and gives the boy an apologetic look before pouring the remains of the contents onto the wound. Anton screams, his body struggling against the holds of his friends as his leg burns with pain as the alcohol works as a disinfectant.
"Please, it hurts! Just kill me, doctor, please it hurts! Mother!" Anton sobs and Eugene works quickly on applying the gauze and wrapping the trauma bandage tightly around the wound.
"He needs immediate attention, the wound could get infected. No major arteries were damaged, the bleeding is controlled and slow. Do you have blankets? The pain and cold could send him into shock." Eugene looks at the soldiers, and Bright Eyes orders the other soldier to grab blankets. When the other soldier leaves, Bright Eyes watches as Eugene lets Anton hold onto his hand, comforting words continuing to fall from his lips and a bloody hand runs itself through Anton's matted locks. Like a mother comforting her child.
"Our commander doesn't want anyone moved off the lines." He freezes when Eugene snaps his attention to him, eyes narrowed and lips pulled down into a frown.
"Why not?"
"He believes that a soldier should fight until they are dead and buried underneath the snow. He'll just send Anton back to his post."
Eugene looks down at the boy and his heart breaks. He helps the soldier who comes back with two blankets move Anton into a foxhole and cover him with the blankets snugly.
"You two, sit close next to him. He needs all the warmth he can get." He turns to the soldier who's been watching him the whole time, Scarface. "Where's your commander?"
"Why?"
Eugene steps closer to the taller man, glaring him down. "I want to talk to your commander."
Scarface stared at him for a moment before nodding, knowing it's pointless to argue with the American. He's seen the last two hours how Eugene cares little about the situation he's in. Whenever his eyes land on an injured man, his sole purpose is treating that man. He yelled orders and took supplies out of hands, pockets, foxholes. He has a fire in him that is admirable, but Scarface could only think about it being snuffed when the small medic meets the commander.
"Commander, our prisoner wants to speak to you." Scarface says, stepping aside when the officer looks up and grunts. Eugene stares the older man down with his eyes, but his voice is polite.
"Sir, you're men must be transported to your nearest aid station. Their wounds are exposed to the cold and are at risk of infection. There's not enough supplies to fully treat them, they need a hospital. If they stay any longer, they can develop shock or an infection. They need to be put off the line." Eugene says, watching as the commander stands and glares down at him.
"You think you can just tell me what to do with my men?"
"Your men are dying because of your selfish–" Eugene doesn't get to finish his sentence. The commander grabs a fistful of his hair and slams him against the nearest tree, his other hand wrapping around Eugene's neck.
"I had my men bring you here to treat the wounded. That's your job! You will continue to treat my men or else."
Eugene whimpers when the commander tightens his grasp, but his eyes are still hard. "There's...there's not enough s-supplies. I can't treat them a-anymore."
"You better. If you're this useless as a medic, it's no wonder why your Army cannot advance. You can't even save your own men." The commander growls out, and those words punch Eugene in the stomach. He thought of all the men he couldn't save, the ones that cried in his hold and died in his hold. The ones who made it, but we're discharged because their wounds were too serious for them to ever be sent back on the line. He thought about his boys now, how they're struggling and he doesn't even have the supplies to treat them. He's a failure. He's useless. Why do they even keep him around?
The commander knows he hit a nerve, and lets Eugene go, patting his cheek roughly. "Go help my men out. I expect the best."
Eugene lets himself be guided away to the next wounded soldier, offering the same comforting words and the quick, efficient treatment. The Germans stared at him with admiration and gratefulness, having heard or seen Eugene stand up against their commander. It's unfair, it's a no win situation for the enlisted, but no one's gotten the courage to speak up about it. Just one small American medic who wants to save everyone, and is tired of pain, death, and war.
"He's not going to let you go," Scarface whispers. It got dark, and most of the men were turning in for the night. "You have a gift. Anton wouldn't shut up, but all you did was look at him and he looked at you like you were an angel. The men haven't felt this comfort since they left home. We don't know when our medics are returning."
Eugene accepts the cigarette handed to him, his hands shaking at both the cold and in fear.
"What's your name?" Eugene asks quietly, trying to think differently of this situation. But two other soldiers were posted as guards and had their weapons ready to be aimed at him if he made the slightest suspicious movement.
"Klaus." Eugene nods, offering a small smile as he smokes the cigarette. Silence falls over them for a minute before Klaus turns towards him again.
"What's your name, doctor?"
"Eugene."
"God dammit!" Speirs growls out, kicking at the snow when the footprints they've been following ended. "Someone was watching him, it explains the second pair. He must've stopped here."
Babe frowns, worry eating away at him as Lipton looks around the area, trying to find anything that could tell them what happened.
"Oh shit. Look at this," Toye mumbles, crouching down and the group circles around him, grimacing at the sight of blood on the ground.
"Fuck." Guarnere growls out, removing his helmet to run a hand through his hair. "No doubting it now, the fucking Krauts have him."
"So what do we do now?" Babe curses at how his voice shakes, but he's panicking for Eugene. Is he okay? Is he hurt? Is he alive?
"I say we fucking push forward and ambush those motherfuckers with all we got." Liebgott speaks up, anger coloring him head to toe and Lipton shakes his head, about to speak when Speirs starts talking instead.
"Calm down. We know that he's been captured, or else they would've left his body here. They're struggling, they need a medic, not just supplies. Even with all our manpower, getting to their line would be hell. And if we just go guns blazing, chances are they will kill him." Speirs knows he's being blunt, but he has to get through the angry and worried minds of Easy's men. "We have to go back, report our findings, and make a new plan."
Babe, however, didn't see the effort Speirs was trying to put in. "You don't fucking know Eugene, you don't care about him. Why the hell are you even here? Telling us to just walk away, when they could be torturing him right now!"
The guys looked at him in awe and fear, watching for Speirs reaction of a private yelling in his face. But the lieutenant is calm, eyes and face void of emotion, but his voice wavers when he speaks.
"I do care about Eugene Roe. He's a great soldier and the best medic I've ever met. I can promise you that when we get Gene back, I am going to rip those Nazi fucks into shreds with my bare hands. Now, if there's no more arguments you want to start, private, I suggest we all start heading back." Speirs doesn't wait for a reply, he starts walking back where they came from. Guarnere wraps an arm around him, shaking him slightly.
"Doc is going to be okay, he's a fighter. We're going to get him back. But we do need a plan."
Babe nods, rubbing his eyes, trying to fight back the tears. "I know. I know." He prays that night, while the officers and NCOs are making plans.
"Please protect him. Please keep him safe. Please God,
I love him."
Eugene manages to get an hour of sleep in Klaus' foxhole, waking up in a panic as he thought he heard someone scream for a medic. He starts to scramble out of the foxhole, but Klaus wakes up and tries grabbing him, only to be elbowed in the face.
"Eugene!" He yells, wrapping his arms around Gene's waist.
"Let go! They need me!" Gene soon exhausts himself out, slumping against Klaus as his chest heaves up and down. "My boys..."
"Shh, it's okay. You're boys are okay." Klaus mumbles, holding Eugene close. There's grumbling nearby by some soldiers they likely woke up. "Get some sleep, Eugene."
Gene shakes his head, "I can't. I'm going to check on your men." He slips out of Klaus' hold, looking at the man expectedly and the German sighs, nodding and following him out of his foxhole. They walk side by side to each foxhole, Eugene checking on the men, and Klaus can't hold back his smile as he watches Eugene interact with his men. His men, which were Eugene's enemies but he cared for them nonetheless. A true angel.
They go over to the foxhole Anton was in, and Eugene checks the boy's leg and frowns at how warm the surrounding skin was. "Merde. He's getting an infection. He needs to leave."
Klaus shakes his head, "There's nothing we can do–"
"He can die!" Eugene exclaims, his expression contorting to one of anger. He doesn't wait for another answer, storming over to the commander's foxhole, ignoring Klaus' warnings. He shakes the commander awake, his anger getting the best of him, taking over his rationality.
"What is the meaning of this?!"
"One of your men needs to be transported to an aid station immediately. He will die by morning if his wound is not treated."
The commander snorts, "Then treat it!"
Eugene's hands shake as they clenched into fists, and he's really considering punching this asshole when Klaus grabs him and tries dragging him away.
"My apologies, sir–"
"No, leave him here. If he wants to fight so badly, then I'll love to see what he has to offer." The commander gets out of his foxhole, easily towering over Gene, who simply glares up at him.
"Take your men to an aid station." Eugene repeats, and he dodges the punch thrown his way. He grew up with older and younger siblings, whenever he did go out with his boys on weekend passes, he always had to drag them away from a fight. He knew how to fight, smartly.
"You think you're in the position to order me around, American?" The commander growls, and Eugene says screw it and punches the bigger man square in the face. The commander grunts, his eyes growing dark and he grabs Gene, who tries shoving him back but the German is bigger than him, in height and weight. At least someone is eating in this forest, Gene thinks bitterly.
"Sir, stop, he's a medic–" Klaus tries intervening but the commander yells and takes out his Luger, forcing both him and Eugene to freeze.
"I have no problem shooting this little brat. Or, perhaps I should shoot you, teach him a lesson. Have him watch as you choke on your own blood and he can't save you." The commander grins evilly and Eugene shakes his head, feeling defeated.
"No, no, I'm sorry. Don't hurt him. Please." He's had to beg before, unfortunately. For supplies, for young men to not close their eyes and fake their last breath. But this was different. He was begging to the enemy. He's ashamed of himself, and he's thankful his boys aren't here to see him give up so easily. But he was tired, so tired, of deaths and wounds he can't fix. The enlisted soldiers haven't done much to him besides show gratitude as he treats their wounded comrades. But this officer reminded him of Sobel, just more evil and ten times worse.
"That's what I thought. Tomorrow I'll take you to another battalion, I'm sure they have more wounded that need to be taken care of."
Eugene's eyes widen, and he takes a step back. "Wait, you said you'll let me go if I help your men. I did."
"You think I'm giving you up that easily? I've seen your work. I'll use you until you grow tired and die of starvation and exhaustion." The commander steps forward and trails the barrel of his Luger down Eugene's face, smirking when the young man flinches and shuts his eyes. "Go to sleep. You have a long day ahead of you, little one."
Klaus glares weakly at his commander before dragging Gene away, shaking his head. "I told you, Eugene. It's no use."
"I want to watch over Anton. To see if he gets worse." Eugene looks up at Klaus, who frowns but nods, guiding him to the young soldier's foxhole. Eugene gets in the foxhole, adjusting the sleeping boy so he's laying on his lap, and Eugene runs his fingers through his sweaty hair, his eyes big and sad and Klaus sits next to him, wrapping an arm around his shoulder.
"He's not going to make it...is he?" He whispers, and Eugene shakes his head.
"We have a replacement. Barely 18. My friend complains about him but I know it's because he cares for him. We're all so young..." Eugene shudders, biting his bottom lip as his eyes sting. Klaus hugs him closer, intertwining a hand with Anton's cold, pallid one. The promise to protect this boy, to keep him alive to the end of the war, was broken.
Klaus held Eugene as he cried silently when Anton took his last breath. And he made up his mind. He's going to get Eugene out of there.
When morning came, Klaus grabbed his gun and led a quiet Eugene away from the others as they ate whatever they had for breakfast. They walk to the end of the line, where Klaus spots Felix, and nods at him. Felix sighs in relief and rushes out of the foxhole he's been sitting in for 12 continuous hours with little sleep.
"Gene, get out." Klaus mutters, lighting a cigarette and the medic stares at him with wide eyes.
"What?"
"Get out. Leave. Run. This is your only chance." He repeats, and Gene shakes his head, taking a step forward only to freeze.
"He's going to kill you for letting me go." He whispers in a small voice and Klaus nods, trying to give the younger man a reassuring smile but it comes out strained.
"It's okay, Eugene."
The medic shakes his head, "No, it's not. He's your commander, he should be leading you. Helping you. He should give up all he has for you and your men."
"I guess we got a bad leader," Klaus chuckles, and Eugene gives him a small smile.
"I'll never complain about my commanding officer again."
"Eugene," Klaus swallows the lump in his throat, looking away for a second before staring the medic in the eyes. "Thank you, for everything you've done. For taking care of my men. You've given us hope."
Eugene blushes, shaking his head. "I did my job. It wasn't much, but...but I tried my best."
"You did more than enough, Eugene. Don't ever doubt your abilities as a medic." Klaus nudges him gently, looking out into the forest. "Think you can find your way back?"
Eugene bites his lip, his mind replaying the previous day. "No."
Klaus sighs, looking at his men still conversing over rations and knows he's begging for his death sentence. "Let's go."
They run away from the line, keeping a low profile as Klaus guides Gene around the forest. Gene shivers at the morning coldness that envelopes the Ardennes like a blanket, squinting his eyes as paranoia hits him, his eyes imagining the trees as Germans watching them. He almost trips, but Klaus grabs his hand and holds it as they run, his other hand on his weapon. They run for what feels like forever until Klaus stops, stepping in front of Eugene protectively.
"Wha–" "Shh." He unslings his rifle and aims it at the trees in front of them. "Halt! Who's there?"
A shot rings out, landing by Eugene's left foot and Eugene flinches, frozen in his spot. Klaus fires off a round in response, trying to get Eugene to move back. More shots are fired and Klaus curses, throwing him and Eugene behind a tree and covering his body with his own.
"Where'd they go?" A familiar voice whispers, and Eugene perks up, eyes widening. He looks at Klaus, who's aiming his gun and ready to fire.
"Wait," he orders, and Klaus raises a brow. Eugene stands up on shaky legs, peeking over the tree. "Don't shoot! I'm a medic!" He calls out, hoping his mind wasn't playing tricks on him.
It wasn't.
A figure emerged from the fog, and Eugene let tears, tears that he didn't know were threatening to fall, fall when Babe came to view, his own face twisted in disbelief as they stared at each other.
"Gene?" He whispers, and the medic nods. Babe sighs, a noise loud in the silence of the forest, and rushes over, literally lifting Gene off the ground as he embraces him tightly. "Oh God, Gene, you're okay! Why didn't you say anything before?!"
Klaus stands, lowering his gun on the floor, and Babe narrows his eyes at him. Eugene is surprised to see Guarnere, Lipton, Martin, Toye, and Speirs step out of the fog. Speirs growls at the German, storming over in a flash and slamming him against the tree.
"You're going to wish you were never born–"
"Ron!" Eugene shouts, rushing over and pulling the lieutenant off his newfound friend. "Wait, he helped me. It's okay."
"Gene," Lipton walks over worriedly, "your face."
Eugene frowns, confused as he lifts a hand up and touches his left cheeks, wincing when he feels a cut that stings.
"His neck," Guarnere growls out, and Eugene remembers that he wasn't left woundless either.
"It's okay, I'm okay. Let's head back to the line, I'll explain everything there." Eugene says, eyes pleading and his boys nod, staring at Klaus.
"Don't think you're getting off scotch free, Kraut." Toye spats, and Klaus nods, raising his hands in surrender.
"Anything is better than that hellhole of a battalion."
Easy Company surrounds Eugene once they get back, asking him questions and threatening to kill the Germans that hurt him, all while staring as Klaus is handed over to Nixon for interrogation. Eugene makes Nixon promise nothing bad happens to him, to which the intel officer reluctantly agrees.
Spina makes his way over, gently shoving the guys out of his way as he starts to examine Gene. He cleans up the dried blood from the cut on his cheek from being hit, and as Eugene explains everything to the men, Spina eyes the fingerprints tainting Gene's pale neck. Winters wraps an arm around Gene for a moment, turning to look at the men.
"Alright, let's give Doc some space. He needs rest and food." At that, the men rush off to grab their rations, yelling at each other as they try to find something good for their medic. Eugene smiles softly at their shenanigans before noticing Winters and Spina's staring. He tilts his head slightly, a frown immediately replacing his smile.
"Is something wrong?" He asks, and Spina leans back.
"What happened to your neck, Gene?" The younger medic winces, knowing someone was going to break the tension and ask eventually.
"I got mouthy with the commander. He wouldn't evacuate his men to an aid station, and they were all unfit to continue fighting. I kept telling him, he got mad, and shoved me against a tree and wrapped a hand around my neck. I didn't care, because those men needed immediate attention and that commander was just awful." Gene shakes his head, his mind settling on Anton, the young boy who died in his arms.
"They're just like us. Struggling. Trying to hold onto hope. We're all human." He whispers, looking over to Julian, who's watching the line. "I tried my best to save them. All of them."
Winters kneels down so he's eye level with the medic and rubs his back. "You do so much for us, Gene, you risk your life every second to reach a man that shouldn't be reached. You care so much, the men love you, you're the best medic Easy Company could ever have. There's going to be lives that can't be saved, and you're going to blame yourself, but it's not your fault, Eugene. You did everything you could, and you provided them comfort as they took their last breath."
Eugene looks at Winters, and he wants to believe the captain. He wants to believe that he's given all he could give. But the deaths haunt him, the pleads to be saved, then comes the pleads to just end them as the pain becomes too unbearable.
"Okay." He finally whispers, looking at Spina and the older man notices his eyes pleading at him.
"Alright Gene, you're all good. Go get some rest." Spina says and Eugene is quick to stand on his feet and walk away, not wanting to see the sad look on Winters' face. He goes to his lonely foxhole, stopping at the edge and frowning before pivoting around and going over to a certain foxhole by the line.
"Hey Gene," Babe greets without looking up, and Eugene jumps into the hole beside him, bringing his knees close to his chest.
"What did I miss while I was away?" Gene asks, and Babe looks over at him.
"Not much, honestly. Just us running around, panicking. Surprisingly no one managed to get hurt." Babe says, and Gene huffs, playfully rolling his eyes.
"That's what it takes to get you stubborn SOBs to not trip over air and crack ya skulls open? Me going missing." Babe laughs softly at that, wrapping an arm around Eugene and pulling him close.
"I've never been so scared in my life before, Gene. I thought I was never going to see you again. I felt so guilty, letting you go out there alone."
Eugene frowns and shakes his head, "It's not your fault, He– Babe."
Babe smiles, noting the small slip up, but says nothing. "And it's not your fault about whatever it is you blame yourself on." He goes quiet for a moment before turning slightly so he's facing the medic, staring him straight in the eyes with a serious expression. "Gene, I gotta tell you something."
"What is it?" Eugene's medic mindset kicks in, concern written across his face and Babe smiles at how adorable his medic is.
"It's nothing bad, promise. I mean, I hope it's not. Gene, I really li–"
"Doc! Luz got a splinter in his ass!" Muck shouts from his foxhole and Gene sighs, rolling his eyes again as he places a hand on top of his medical bag. He stands reluctantly, giving Babe an apologetic smile.
"I'll be quick." He says softly, and Babe nods, his face heating up as he watches Gene leave his foxhole and take a few steps towards the direction of Luz's whining and the guys laughing. He stops and turns around, a shy smile tracing his lips and he stares into Babe's eyes, taking the young man's breath away.
"I like you too, Babe." He turns quickly and rushes off to help his fellow soldier, leaving Babe a mouth gaping, red faced mess. A big smile doesn't leave his lips, and when he gets to the foxhole and helps out Luz, the men stare at his smile and listen to his soft words. As he's packing his supplies away, they all share a knowing look and Muck is snickering quietly as cigarettes are handed to him.
When Gene leaves to go back to Babe, Guarnere gives the guys a serious look.
"Y'think Speirs is gon' hunt down Babe now?" The men laugh and resume messing around with each other. Bill leans back against the foxhole and nudges Muck, about to make a remark on the bet he won when the air seemed to get colder if possible.
"Guarnere," a quiet voice startles Easy men as they look up to see Speirs staring down at them. He takes a knee, staring at the Italian American and Guarnere shivers, his blood turning into ice.
"Sir." He nods, and Speirs tilts his head slightly to the side.
"If Babe so much as makes Eugene frown, I will bring hell to this forest." Despite Bastogne feeling like hell, they knew Speirs could make their lives a hundred times worse.
"Yessir." The men say in unison, watching with wide eyes as the dark haired man stood and began to walk away, only to stop and turn back to them, holding out a carton of Lucky Strikes.
"Cigarette?" He asks almost innocently. The men are quick to shake their heads no, small murmurs of "No, thank you sir." barely heard. Speirs shrugs and continues walking away, barely concealing the smirk at their reactions. Sadly his threats to Easy were useless, because he didn't have the heart to hurt Gene, and because the only person he was scared of in this whole world was Gene.
Sweet, kind, selfless Eugene Roe. An angel sent from God. A medic in trying times.