Fic: Some Dreams...
Just a short Roe/Babe fic that I wrote way late at night, as I despair over having to rewrite chapters to other stories that my computer kind of...ate.
Title: Some Dreams We Remember
Pairing: Roe/Babe...although you could read it as gen but..why would you want to?
Word Count: 1,053
Summary: The meaning of a long lost dream skirts on the edges of Gene's memory...but he always remembers important things.
Disclaimer: I’m not making any money off of writing this story. It’s entirely fictional and based on the performances given in the HBO miniseries Band of Brothers and not the actual soldiers. I don’t own anything….so please don’t sue me. I wrote it for your enjoyment so…enjoy!
Certain dreams always come at crucial times in his life, as if they’re trying to guide him. How? He isn’t sure. And why? That’s something he’s even less sure of. These dreams that seem so important over the course of his young life…they’re different from normal dreams.
Although what’s normal in his family? Gene isn’t really sure.
Nonetheless he knows that some dreams are special. Feels that they are trying to communicate something…only he doesn’t yet know what.
He puts a lot of stock into his dreams; a trait that stems from his belief in all things unexplainable, from his grandmother’s healing touch to the power of the subconscious mind.
One such dream comes to him when he is 8 years old. His family had just moved further into the Bayou…to be closer to his grandmother after the death of his grandfather.
He loved his grandmother, to be sure, but moving…even just to a different part of Louisiana…had been hard for him as a child.
So this first night in his family’s new house…he has the strangest dream.
He’s back at their old home…sitting on the bottom step of their front porch. Alone.
Gene’s been feeling so alone.
He’s pulling a giant leaf apart slowly. Shredding it up until it looks like one of the herbs his grandmother uses to make people feel better. Once it has been torn completely to bits, he lets the pieces fall to the Earth, no longer having anything to play with.
There’s a spot of blood on his finger, he notices, and he wipes it away…but there is nothing wrong with him…no cut, no scrape…nothing.
He’s so busying looking at his finger that he doesn’t hear anyone coming. Then suddenly there is a crunch of gravel and a loud “Ouch!”
Gene snaps his attention away from his finger and looks over to see that a young boy has just tripped and fallen down right in front of Gene.
And he was young…younger than Gene, who is 8 and a half. But maybe he’s not as young as he looks.
‘Where did he come from?’ Gene wonders. He looks around briefly...but they live pretty far out in the middle of nowhere and there are no other houses from which the boy could have come.
Gene sees that the little boy is clutching his knee and making some kind of noise. He jumps up to see if the boy is alright.
When he stands over the boy he notices that he is laughing. He can’t be older than 6, his red hair is mussed and his shoelaces are untied…probably why he tripped.
Gene leans down, “Are you okay?”
The boy just laughs, “Yes. Are you?”
Gene moves the little boy’s hands away from his knee and sees a bloody scrape. “Of course I’m okay! You need a bandage.”
The boy just stares at him, lips pursed as if he is confused. Finally he says, “You look sad.”
Gene frowns, “I’m not sad!”
The red headed boy laughs again, “But you look sad!”
“Well I ain’t!” Gene argues, “If anyone should be sad it’s you! You scraped your knee.”
“But I’m the one who’s laughing.” The little boy points out, not sounding like a little boy at all. “You haven’t hurt yourself at all…but you’re so sad. Why?”
Gene has found a bandage in his pocket (why it is there he isn’t sure) and pulls the little boy’s injured knee closer to him. He blows on the scrape lightly, the way his mother does, before putting the bandage on it.
“I don’t know.” He answers the little boy.
The boy just puts his little chin on the top of his knee. “It’s because you’re lonely. Don’t worry…you don’t have to be lonely any more. You have me.”
Gene was going to ask him his name….but then he woke up.
When he explains the dream to his grandmother later, she asks him if he knows any little red headed boys, and he tells her no.
She just purses her lips at him and nods, as if she has just realized something. “Never forget this dream.” She tells him.
“Why?’ he asks her. Dreams are just dreams. That’s what his mother always says.
“Sweetheart,” his grandmother addresses him, running her gnarled fingers through his hair, “you’ve never consulted with me about your dreams before. Do you think this dream is special?”
Gene looks at the ground, thinks about it for a moment and then nods, “Yes.”
“Then that’s why you should remember it.”
And despite all of the promises to remember that bubble out of his mouth, he forgets. After she passes years later he forgets all the things she told him to remember. Almost as if he is doing it out of spite, because he is angry with her for leaving him all alone in this world, where no one understands him.
But there are a handful of moments even later, in the middle of quiet woods and falling snow, where he tries to remember. There are long fingers, chilled laughs, red hair, violent coughs and hurt. Gene is watching him hurt and every little thing is a sign pointing him towards something long lost but highly valuable and no matter how hard he tries, Gene can’t fucking remember.
It isn’t until he has Heffron’s bleeding hand lying in his, and Babe is just laughing at the serious and exasperated look on his face that Gene remembers it all. Every little detail rushing back to him, making him want to squirm and scream as he recognizes she was right, she was always right, that dream was important.
His spiral into unreasonable panic is stopped by a light touch on his knee and he realizes that he’s squeezing Babe’s fingers too tightly, so he looks up into the young soldier’s eyes and the concern in them reminds Gene…of the last words the little boy said to him.
“You don’t have to be lonely anymore. You have me."
And well…Gene guesses he does.
Title: Some Dreams We Remember
Pairing: Roe/Babe...although you could read it as gen but..why would you want to?
Word Count: 1,053
Summary: The meaning of a long lost dream skirts on the edges of Gene's memory...but he always remembers important things.
Disclaimer: I’m not making any money off of writing this story. It’s entirely fictional and based on the performances given in the HBO miniseries Band of Brothers and not the actual soldiers. I don’t own anything….so please don’t sue me. I wrote it for your enjoyment so…enjoy!
Certain dreams always come at crucial times in his life, as if they’re trying to guide him. How? He isn’t sure. And why? That’s something he’s even less sure of. These dreams that seem so important over the course of his young life…they’re different from normal dreams.
Although what’s normal in his family? Gene isn’t really sure.
Nonetheless he knows that some dreams are special. Feels that they are trying to communicate something…only he doesn’t yet know what.
He puts a lot of stock into his dreams; a trait that stems from his belief in all things unexplainable, from his grandmother’s healing touch to the power of the subconscious mind.
One such dream comes to him when he is 8 years old. His family had just moved further into the Bayou…to be closer to his grandmother after the death of his grandfather.
He loved his grandmother, to be sure, but moving…even just to a different part of Louisiana…had been hard for him as a child.
So this first night in his family’s new house…he has the strangest dream.
He’s back at their old home…sitting on the bottom step of their front porch. Alone.
Gene’s been feeling so alone.
He’s pulling a giant leaf apart slowly. Shredding it up until it looks like one of the herbs his grandmother uses to make people feel better. Once it has been torn completely to bits, he lets the pieces fall to the Earth, no longer having anything to play with.
There’s a spot of blood on his finger, he notices, and he wipes it away…but there is nothing wrong with him…no cut, no scrape…nothing.
He’s so busying looking at his finger that he doesn’t hear anyone coming. Then suddenly there is a crunch of gravel and a loud “Ouch!”
Gene snaps his attention away from his finger and looks over to see that a young boy has just tripped and fallen down right in front of Gene.
And he was young…younger than Gene, who is 8 and a half. But maybe he’s not as young as he looks.
‘Where did he come from?’ Gene wonders. He looks around briefly...but they live pretty far out in the middle of nowhere and there are no other houses from which the boy could have come.
Gene sees that the little boy is clutching his knee and making some kind of noise. He jumps up to see if the boy is alright.
When he stands over the boy he notices that he is laughing. He can’t be older than 6, his red hair is mussed and his shoelaces are untied…probably why he tripped.
Gene leans down, “Are you okay?”
The boy just laughs, “Yes. Are you?”
Gene moves the little boy’s hands away from his knee and sees a bloody scrape. “Of course I’m okay! You need a bandage.”
The boy just stares at him, lips pursed as if he is confused. Finally he says, “You look sad.”
Gene frowns, “I’m not sad!”
The red headed boy laughs again, “But you look sad!”
“Well I ain’t!” Gene argues, “If anyone should be sad it’s you! You scraped your knee.”
“But I’m the one who’s laughing.” The little boy points out, not sounding like a little boy at all. “You haven’t hurt yourself at all…but you’re so sad. Why?”
Gene has found a bandage in his pocket (why it is there he isn’t sure) and pulls the little boy’s injured knee closer to him. He blows on the scrape lightly, the way his mother does, before putting the bandage on it.
“I don’t know.” He answers the little boy.
The boy just puts his little chin on the top of his knee. “It’s because you’re lonely. Don’t worry…you don’t have to be lonely any more. You have me.”
Gene was going to ask him his name….but then he woke up.
When he explains the dream to his grandmother later, she asks him if he knows any little red headed boys, and he tells her no.
She just purses her lips at him and nods, as if she has just realized something. “Never forget this dream.” She tells him.
“Why?’ he asks her. Dreams are just dreams. That’s what his mother always says.
“Sweetheart,” his grandmother addresses him, running her gnarled fingers through his hair, “you’ve never consulted with me about your dreams before. Do you think this dream is special?”
Gene looks at the ground, thinks about it for a moment and then nods, “Yes.”
“Then that’s why you should remember it.”
And despite all of the promises to remember that bubble out of his mouth, he forgets. After she passes years later he forgets all the things she told him to remember. Almost as if he is doing it out of spite, because he is angry with her for leaving him all alone in this world, where no one understands him.
But there are a handful of moments even later, in the middle of quiet woods and falling snow, where he tries to remember. There are long fingers, chilled laughs, red hair, violent coughs and hurt. Gene is watching him hurt and every little thing is a sign pointing him towards something long lost but highly valuable and no matter how hard he tries, Gene can’t fucking remember.
It isn’t until he has Heffron’s bleeding hand lying in his, and Babe is just laughing at the serious and exasperated look on his face that Gene remembers it all. Every little detail rushing back to him, making him want to squirm and scream as he recognizes she was right, she was always right, that dream was important.
His spiral into unreasonable panic is stopped by a light touch on his knee and he realizes that he’s squeezing Babe’s fingers too tightly, so he looks up into the young soldier’s eyes and the concern in them reminds Gene…of the last words the little boy said to him.
“You don’t have to be lonely anymore. You have me."
And well…Gene guesses he does.