Every Spark (4/5)
Who needs a social life when you have fanfiction? Also, I'm still hungover. So I'm officially NOT lame. Or maybe I am. At least I'm a lame alcoholic? Hrm.
Title: Every Spark (4/5)
Author: Krista or smilesawakeyou
Fandom: Band of Brothers
Pairing/characters: Babe/Doc Roe (though mostly just UST) with an appearance of Webgott! Sort of. It’s mild. And… McClung is there! For some reason.
Rating: PG-13 for language and some disturbing imagery
Disclaimer: I didn’t invent this show and I don’t propose to own it. Even if I did and you sued, all you would get is a shitty computer and my broken dreams. Anyway, I don’t so please leave me be. Also, this is meant to be based off of the characters of the HBO show, not the actual men themselves. So yeah... don't pitchfork me.
Author's Notes: And here we have a longer chapter! With actual plot! It’s unheard of, I know. This chapter takes place during Why We Fight so, uh, be prepared for that. Anyway, thanks to everyone for leaving awesome feedback, I will be getting back to you (hopefully) soon. I hope you enjoy!
Length: 4053
Summary: Four times Babe Heffron and Eugene Roe almost collide and one time they do.
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Every Spark
(4/5)
In Landsberg, it’s the stench that really gets to Babe - when he shuts his eyes, he can almost pretend he’s somewhere else only the smell has seemingly settled into everything everywhere and when he rubs a soil-covered hand across his face, he doesn’t smell dirt. Only burning skin and excrement and corpses. He thought he’d smelled the worst death possible on the battlefield but no. This is it. This decaying landscape of soot and blood and bodies in rotting piles on top of each other.
Babe can’t stop shaking but he figures it’s alright; all the men look disturbed, their faces ashen and their eyes averted as they stare at the disgusting ground. So Babe just lights a cigarette, bringing it to his trembling lips and focusing on the smoke filling his lungs. In and out. In and out. That is until he spots Gene.
He’s not looking his way but Babe can see that his posture is straight as he examines a prisoner (Victim, his brain supplies), his movements jerky. He takes pulses, examines teeth, feels ribs, all the while wearing a grim expression of determination. He looks less disturbed than resolute, moving in between what’s left of these desolate men efficiently. Babe’s not even sure if he’s really accomplishing anything with his examinations, but Babe suddenly feels useless with his cigarette and his shaking hands. Steeling himself, he makes his way towards Gene.
“Doc?” he asks, his voice quiet.
Gene’s eyes dart toward him and his expression softens a bit before his attention goes back to another prisoner. “Yeah Babe?”
“Can I… is there anything… I know I don’t got the training but, you know, I’m good with my hands and…”
Gene’s knowing glance cuts off his rambling. “Yeah.” He stops checking the prisoner, patting him on the shoulder before motioning for another couple of men to come to him. “Sure. You know how to take a pulse?”
Babe shrugs. “Uh, sure, from when I ran track.”
“Good,” Gene says, distracted as he inspects yet another set of gums. “Just do that. Look at their teeth too. Ribs. That kinda thing.”
Babe stands awkwardly for a moment until Gene seems to take pity on him, grabbing him by the arm and pulling him until they stand side by side. Babe goes to work, staring at bleeding gums and feeling stomachs that are so gaunt they touch the spine.
“Uh,” Babe starts, his voice soft. “What… what exactly am I looking for?”
“Anything that stands out.” Gene glances at Babe to find him giving him a look. He grimaces in response. “Besides the obvious. Basically anything that needs attention right away.”
Babe pauses as he watches Gene feel the glands in a man’s neck before mimicking the action on the man in front of him. He tries not to wince or think about the food they could be giving. The water. Anything. He swallows.
“Gene… they all need attention right away.”
Gene’s hands go still for a moment and he seems to get lost in himself before he finally shakes his head. “I know, Babe. I know.”
They work the entire afternoon and evening, getting other various men to help them as they inspect the broken bodies in the camp. Soon night falls and they’re setting cots for the prisoners to sleep in, the temperate taking a steep nosedive with the setting sun. Almost everyone wanders off, no longer able or willing to stare the scene in the face anymore. But, even though Gene looks like he can barely stand, he still isn’t leaving; he bandages up anyone who needs it and never stops once to eat or even take a piss. Somewhere along the way Babe decides he’s not going to leave his side… even if he does feel like he’s about to pass out or cry or do any number of things unbefitting a soldier. His hands are still shaking but it’s sort of settled into a steady, full-body thrumming that lulls him into a stupor, allowing him to forget where he is and what he’s doing until all the faces blend together and the only thing he’s aware of is Gene’s assuring presence beside him.
“Heffron,” Gene says as he sets a broken bone, slipping the prisoner some whiskey donated by Speirs, “you should go back and sleep.”
“Are you going back and sleeping?” Babe shoots back as he moves to hold the man’s shoulders down. Gene just gives him a wry look. “Then I’m not either.”
Gene almost smiles at that but just shakes his head, the corners of his lips twitching. They work in silence for a spell; Gene continues to wrap and stitch and bind as Babe restrains the men and checks their hair for lice, his eyes straining in the half-light and his fingers turning blue. The whole time Gene keeps sending him little mystified glances though his eyes are elsewhere whenever Babe looks back. They’re inspecting yet another prisoner with a case of malnutrition when Gene casts a glance over his shoulder.
“Think it might be about time to get Liebgott back,” he says nonchalantly though he doesn’t look Babe in the eye.
Babe crinkles his forehead. “Liebgott? What’re you talking about? Lieb left hours ago…” But then he looks past Gene and sees Liebgott lounging against a wall and staring out into the camp darkly. Babe’s eyes widen when he sees him take a swig out of a brown bottle, his red-rimmed eyes becoming even more hooded and brooding. “What in the hell?” His gaze goes back to Gene who is doing a good job of still avoiding his eyes and not looking too awfully guilty. Babe just raises an eyebrow at him. “What’s Liebgott still doing here?”
Gene shifts where he stands, his bottom lip catching between his teeth. That’s the only outward sign that Babe’s accusing tone may be making him uncomfortable; otherwise he just continues his examination of an old man.
“He commandeered a jeep and wanted to help out again but he’s too outa sorts at the moment. So I might’ve slipped him some whiskey to calm him down when you were taking a break. Figured it was the least I could do.” He glances up, his eyes a bit mischievous. “Plus I thought it’d be a good way to get you outa here.”
Babe’s floored because, goddamn, did Gene just hatch a fucking scheme? Once he picks his jaw off the ground he’s about to snap that hell no, he sure as shit isn’t going to leave just because Liebgott got his sorry ass drunk but then he sees Joe begin to slip down the wall, the bottle falling out of his hand and crashing to the ground. Muttering a curse, Babe rushes over to where the other man has slumped and hoists him up before he can fall any further. He then attempts to stride as best he can back to Gene’s side and regard him with a harsh look, all while hoisting Liebgott against his shoulder.
“This ain’t accomplishing nothing, Gene,” he says, trying to sound severe. He figures it’s a losing battle because while Gene still has an impassive and innocent look on his face, the twitching at the corners of his mouth suggests that he might just be attempting not to laugh. “I’m coming right back here once I’ve gotten this jackass to bed.”
“Who ya calling a jackass, jackass?” Liebgott slurs, his head bumping into Babe’s shoulder. Babe ignores him.
When Gene doesn’t respond and only keeps staring at him from under his eyelashes, amusement dancing over his face, Babe feels a blush creeping up his neck. “Seriously!” he says, sounding like a petulant child. “I’m coming back, you... fucking… mother hen.”
Gene holds up his hands, nodding and raising his eyebrows. “O’course, Heffron. I believe you.”
Babe just sends him a narrow-eyed glare in return, muttering something that sounds suspiciously like “Eugene fucking Roe, goddammit,” before hauling Liebgott towards the jeep he had stolen and hurling him inside. “Where are the keys?” he demands.
“In my fucking pocket,” Liebgott growls, squinting at him. “Where the hell do you think I have ‘em?”
Babe scowls at him, the tiredness making his eyes itch and his brain ache.
“Up your ass,” he says acidly, “right where your head must be.”
Liebgott just rolls his eyes and retrieves the keys, throwing them at Babe’s head. He catches them before they hit him in the face but regards the other man with a dark look all the same.
“Well are we going or aren’t we?” Liebgott demands, his eyes falling shut.
Babe lets out a frustrated grunt but gets into the jeep, making sure he pulls out in a way that jerks Joe around as much as possible. “What the fuck?” the other man mutters, his eyes still shut as he leans heavily into Babe. Babe just glares at him and jerks the wheel once more, ignoring Gene’s wave as he pulls away.
The ride is uneventful; Babe strains to keep his eyes open as Liebgott’s head lolls against his shoulder. All he can think about is just staying fucking awake for Christ’s sake and Eugene fucking Roe. He’s not Babe’s mother and Babe grumbles under his breath, not sure if he’s angry at Gene or the situation or just this stupid war itself and Liebgott’s drunk ass. He hasn’t come to any conclusions once he reaches the make-shift barracks.
As he hauls Joe out of the passenger seat he makes a grunting noise and gurgles something about Nazis and possibly something about Webster. Babe doesn’t really catch it nor does he care to. He half-drags, half-walks Liebgott up the stairs, pausing every now and again to catch his breath.
“Jesus Christ, Joe,” he mutters as Liebgott almost head-butts him when he begins to slip out of Babe’s arms, “you weigh a fucking ton for such a skinny asshole.”
“You weigh a ton,” Joe slurs without much conviction.
When he finally makes it to the room they’ve claimed as their own, he bangs open the door. Of course, one of the other men sleeping there wakes with a start and shoots up into a sitting position, grabbing at his rifle.
“Who’s there?” he asks, his voice heavy with sleep.
“Christ, Web,” Babe grunts, heaving Liebgott inside, “it’s Babe and Liebgott, you jumpy son of a bitch. Put that thing down and come help me. This guy ain’t as light as he looks.”
Web drops from his top bunk, dressed in only in a wife beater and shorts as Joe grumbles something about Babe not being as light as he looks. Babe resists the urge to punch him in the head.
“Here,” Web sighs, looking resigned. “Let me take him.”
“Hey Web,” Liebgott says with a sloppy grin as Babe unceremoniously deposits him into Webster’s arms. Babe plops onto his bunk, weariness overwhelming him as McClung snorts and rolls over in the bunk above. “Sorry to interrupt your beauty sleep. You gotta know ya don’t need it though.” He winks and even in the dark Babe can see the color rise to Web’s cheeks as he rolls his eyes.
“Dammit, Joe,” Web sighs. “You smell like a fucking still.”
“Oh ho ho! The Harvard man curses!” Lieb waves his hands around even though he’s still being awkwardly held up by Webster. “Curses like a common man!”
“Liebgott,” Babe grates from where his head has fallen into his hands, “please shut the fuck up before I kill you.”
Joe blinks at him before quirking an eyebrow at Web. “What’s up with him?”
Web doesn’t answer; he simply directs Liebgott towards his bunk and shoves him down. Joe accepts the movement, going boneless as he falls on the sheets. “I think,” Web explains as if talking to a child, “Babe has been out at the camp all night.”
“So was I,” Joe answers, sounding a bit more sober and a lot more severe. “But where was you, Web? I wasn’t kidding about you not needing beauty sleep.”
“Seriously,” Babe cuts in. “Can you two cut the bickering bullshit? My head feels like a fucking grenade went off inside it and I gotta head back out.”
Web sends Joe a glare before regarding Babe. “Listen, Babe, why don’t you rest for a while? You have to be exhausted.”
“Aren’t we all?” Joe says in a sing-song voice. They both ignore him. McClung snores.
“I can’t,” Babe says, feeling a bit desperate as his body aches in protest and the itch in his eyes turns into a definite burn. “Doc’s still out there and likely not to come back til there ain’t nobody left. I can’t…”
Web places a hand on his shoulder. “Babe, you’re completely worn out. At least rest a couple minutes or else you’ll be of no use to anyone.”
Babe scrubs his hands through his hair, the weariness making everything hurt. “But…”
Web just gives him a kind look, seemingly aware of his crumbling resolve. “Just rest a little bit, Babe. You know he wants it that way.”
Fuck what he wants, Babe thinks before the last of his stubbornness gives way.
“Fine,” he grumbles, leaning back onto his pillow and not even taking off his boots. “But only for a few minutes.”
He doesn’t even hear Web get back into his bed - his brain is off before his eyes shut and when they open again, he feels that crushing realization that a large amount of time has passed. Feeling groggy yet still in better shape than before, he gets up and stumbles to the window.
“Shit.” He squeezes his eyes shut before looking again. The first evidence of dawn is touching at the corners of the sky, slowly edging out the darkness. He apparently had slept for more than a few minutes.
Grabbing his coat, he heads out again, jumping into the jeep and starting it without a second thought. He continues to not think as he drives back to the camp, the smell of death growing in strength until he can’t remember how he ever got used to it in the first place. When he pulls up to the compound he sees Gene, huddled under an oversized jacket most likely lent from another CO and peering into the mouth of yet another prisoner. Even from a distance he can see the dark circles under his eyes and how hard he keeps blinking.
“Heffron,” he says in surprise when Babe comes striding up to him. “I thought you was…”
“I was nothing,” Babe says, his voice testy. “You fucking tricked me, Gene.”
The prisoner’s eyes dart between the two of them as Gene’s gaze flicks up to Babe’s face before he goes back to what he was doing. “Wasn’t a trick.” Gene’s voice remains neutral as he says it. “Just trying to get you to get some rest.” He looks back at Babe with kindness in his eyes. “Ain’t nothing wrong with needing that.”
“What about you?” Babe demands. “You don’t need fucking rest?” Gene doesn’t respond to that; his brow simply furrows as he begins to check the prisoner’s gums. Steeling himself, Babe makes a decision. “After you’re done with this one, I’m taking you back,” he declares. “Right?”
Gene doesn’t say anything - he pauses for a moment before looking at Babe, his eyes searching his face as Babe tries to stand his ground and look intimidating and ignore the queasy feeling that fills his stomach as Gene’s gaze stays on him a beat too long. Either it works or Gene decides to cut him some slack because he offers Babe a slight nod before redirecting his attention to the prisoner. Babe doesn’t know whether he should feel successful or foolish or what so he just nods back before taking a step away.
“Right,” he says, mostly to himself. “Good then.”
It only takes a few more minutes for Gene to finish what he’s doing, all the while leaving Babe to mull around awkwardly. Gene finally picks up his things and gives a short wave to the other few stragglers left trying to help and comes to Babe’s side.
“Ready to go?” he asks and barely stifles a yawn as he does so. Babe feels a blooming warmth of validation flow through him at the sight.
“Yeah,” he says, leading Gene to the jeep. Once they’re inside and Babe pulls out, albeit much more smoothly than just hours before, he casts a glance at Gene’s face. His eyes are becoming more hooded by the second and his breath seems to be evening out. He sure as hell stinks though. “You even take a fucking break to eat anything?” Babe asks, his voice not unkind.
Gene just offers a shrug, his eyes continuing to struggle with staying open. “Not as such.” Babe snorts and Gene shoots him an amused look. “I’m the mother hen?”
Babe feels his face flush again and turns his attention back to the road. “Shut up.”
They ride the rest of the way in silence; Gene doesn’t move to lean against him as Liebgott had, instead sitting upright though his head lolls every now and again. His head repeatedly snaps back upwards, his eyes trying to blink the obvious weariness away. Babe finds himself unable to stop glancing his way, checking to see if he’s driving too fast or jostling him too much. Gene’s eyes stay on the road. When they finally reach the barracks again, Babe is surprised to find that Gene’s eyes are completely closed, his chin nestled into his chest.
“Gene,” he says, giving him a gentle shake by the shoulder. “Gene, we’re back.”
Gene’s head shoots up and his eyes flutter open, his breath still heavy and even. “Kay,” he says, trying to get out of the jeep. He starts to stumble as he makes his way out of the door so Babe rushes around to his side, grabbing him before he faceplants on the ground. Gene grunts out an apology to which Babe smiles.
“Hey, you’ve been straining your eyes in the dark for the past few hours,” Babe says, jostling Gene into a more comfortable position and helping him towards the door. He’s pleased to find that he weighs significantly less than Liebgott. “Makes sense that you can’t find the ground.”
Gene actually chuckles at that, rubbing a hand over his face as Babe helps him up the stairs. They don’t speak the rest of the way, Babe just quietly staying by Gene’s side as they make their way to Gene’s bedroom. Luckily this time they don’t have to worry about being quiet- ever since they’ve started having the luxury of staying in places with real bedrooms and real beds, the men have come to an unspoken agreement that Doc Roe should get his own room whenever possible. Sure, he isn’t a man of high ranking or anything like that, but their respect for him is motivation enough to provide him with some privacy. Especially since, save his friendship with Babe, he seems to appreciate the solitude.
So Babe helps Gene sit down on his bed in the tiny room that had been selected for him (Luz had stolen his bag when they had arrived, finding the room with one bed in it and leaving Gene a note that said “Sweet Dreams, Doc.” Gene had received it with a roll of his eyes and a hidden smile) before standing upright again. He feels at a bit of a loss - Gene is simply sitting on the edge of the bed, his eyes closed and his body lax, not moving to lie down. Furrowing his brow Babe bends to kneel in front of him, pausing for a second before he begins to untie his friend’s shoelaces and work the boots off his feet.
“I can undress myself, you know,” Gene grunts. Babe glances up to see him peeking down at him with half-closed eyes and a small smile.
“Yeah, well, thought I’d try the whole mother hen thing out now that you mention it,” Babe says back, his face heating up. He figures Gene probably can’t see him, given the darkness of the room. “See what it’s like to be you.”
Gene snorts and lets Babe finish taking his boots off. His feet are freezing and Babe frowns at them, wondering if Gene ever takes care of himself. He doesn’t say anything though - he just stands upright again and gently nudges his friend by the shoulders until he’s lying down, smiling to himself when he has to pick up Gene’s boneless legs to put them onto the bed.
“You alright to sleep with your clothes on?” Babe asks, his voice quiet.
Gene shrugs, his eyes falling closed. “Sure. Gonna have to get up soon anyway.” Babe frowns and wonders if he can do anything to change that.
He’s about to go but then he pauses, seeing that Gene still has yet to remove his helmet and isn’t moving to do so. He almost tells him to take it off but stops upon seeing Gene’s completely relaxed face, instead opting to gingerly remove the heavy helmet himself. As he takes it off, Gene’s hair is revealed; from where Babe is standing the black looks so deep that it’s almost blue, so thick it looks like the coarse fur of some sort of animal. He’s noticed his friend’s hair before but something about the half-light of the room makes it look different. Wilder.
Babe’s aunt had this dog once - a mutt according to his uncle - but it strikes Babe that its fur looked just like Gene’s hair, all jet-black and untamed. Babe used to dig his fingers into it, trying to see if he could actually reach the dog’s skin so he could scratch it better. He’d just lay with the dog, his head tucked under Babe’s chin as Babe would stroke the fur, all warm in the summer sun. Not thinking, Babe continues to stare at Gene’s hair for a moment until he finds himself unconsciously lifting a hand to feel it. It’s softer than he expects, strong and silky in his fingers - sort of like the dog, before he got all mangy and his uncle said he had to be put down - and he barely realizes what he’s doing until he feels a hand on his wrist.
Blinking with a start, his eyes dart back at Gene’s face. He looks very awake all of the sudden, his eyes boring into Babe’s as his hand stays on his wrist. His grip isn’t too tight but it’s strong, firm, and his skin feels hot against Babe’s. Slowly his fingers shift, moving more to cup Babe’s hand against his own, his pulse point beating through his thumb against Babe’s palm. They’re just looking at each other and Babe realizes how close their bodies are, their faces are, how odd it is, because if he moved forward even a little they could almost be…
With that thought he moves back, Gene releasing his hand in a fluid motion as he stands and straightens his uniform. They don’t look at each other and Babe struggles to find his voice.
“Sleep well, alright Doc?”
Gene nods, his gaze averted as his Adam’s apple bobs. Babe nods back, feeling unhinged and flustered and, with only the slightest hesitation, he leaves the room.
He knows that he’s messed up somehow… that something went wrong but Gene’s prone to strange moods and strange words and strange actions so maybe he’s just reading things incorrectly. To be fair, how the hell should he understand Gene all the fucking time? They might as well be from different planets, Babe thinks. Gene’s all stillness and deep thinking and Babe’s, well, Babe. And as for what the hell just happened, it’s nothing. It isn’t.
…So why then can’t he seem to catch his breath and why his heart is racing like he just ran across a fucking battlefield?
Letting out a frustrated growl, he goes up the stairs again and falls into his bed. He sleeps almost immediately but his dreams are a disjointed jumble of broken images and humid scenes filled with the disorienting sense of trying to catch something and always missing it.
He never does piece it together.
Onto Chapter 5...
Endnote: I can’t believe this is drawing to a close and, again, all feedback has been great and really appreciated. I just hope this chapter feels emotionally and stylistically consistent with all the rest. The last chapter will be up in a few days. Thanks again!
Title: Every Spark (4/5)
Author: Krista or smilesawakeyou
Fandom: Band of Brothers
Pairing/characters: Babe/Doc Roe (though mostly just UST) with an appearance of Webgott! Sort of. It’s mild. And… McClung is there! For some reason.
Rating: PG-13 for language and some disturbing imagery
Disclaimer: I didn’t invent this show and I don’t propose to own it. Even if I did and you sued, all you would get is a shitty computer and my broken dreams. Anyway, I don’t so please leave me be. Also, this is meant to be based off of the characters of the HBO show, not the actual men themselves. So yeah... don't pitchfork me.
Author's Notes: And here we have a longer chapter! With actual plot! It’s unheard of, I know. This chapter takes place during Why We Fight so, uh, be prepared for that. Anyway, thanks to everyone for leaving awesome feedback, I will be getting back to you (hopefully) soon. I hope you enjoy!
Length: 4053
Summary: Four times Babe Heffron and Eugene Roe almost collide and one time they do.
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Every Spark
(4/5)
In Landsberg, it’s the stench that really gets to Babe - when he shuts his eyes, he can almost pretend he’s somewhere else only the smell has seemingly settled into everything everywhere and when he rubs a soil-covered hand across his face, he doesn’t smell dirt. Only burning skin and excrement and corpses. He thought he’d smelled the worst death possible on the battlefield but no. This is it. This decaying landscape of soot and blood and bodies in rotting piles on top of each other.
Babe can’t stop shaking but he figures it’s alright; all the men look disturbed, their faces ashen and their eyes averted as they stare at the disgusting ground. So Babe just lights a cigarette, bringing it to his trembling lips and focusing on the smoke filling his lungs. In and out. In and out. That is until he spots Gene.
He’s not looking his way but Babe can see that his posture is straight as he examines a prisoner (Victim, his brain supplies), his movements jerky. He takes pulses, examines teeth, feels ribs, all the while wearing a grim expression of determination. He looks less disturbed than resolute, moving in between what’s left of these desolate men efficiently. Babe’s not even sure if he’s really accomplishing anything with his examinations, but Babe suddenly feels useless with his cigarette and his shaking hands. Steeling himself, he makes his way towards Gene.
“Doc?” he asks, his voice quiet.
Gene’s eyes dart toward him and his expression softens a bit before his attention goes back to another prisoner. “Yeah Babe?”
“Can I… is there anything… I know I don’t got the training but, you know, I’m good with my hands and…”
Gene’s knowing glance cuts off his rambling. “Yeah.” He stops checking the prisoner, patting him on the shoulder before motioning for another couple of men to come to him. “Sure. You know how to take a pulse?”
Babe shrugs. “Uh, sure, from when I ran track.”
“Good,” Gene says, distracted as he inspects yet another set of gums. “Just do that. Look at their teeth too. Ribs. That kinda thing.”
Babe stands awkwardly for a moment until Gene seems to take pity on him, grabbing him by the arm and pulling him until they stand side by side. Babe goes to work, staring at bleeding gums and feeling stomachs that are so gaunt they touch the spine.
“Uh,” Babe starts, his voice soft. “What… what exactly am I looking for?”
“Anything that stands out.” Gene glances at Babe to find him giving him a look. He grimaces in response. “Besides the obvious. Basically anything that needs attention right away.”
Babe pauses as he watches Gene feel the glands in a man’s neck before mimicking the action on the man in front of him. He tries not to wince or think about the food they could be giving. The water. Anything. He swallows.
“Gene… they all need attention right away.”
Gene’s hands go still for a moment and he seems to get lost in himself before he finally shakes his head. “I know, Babe. I know.”
They work the entire afternoon and evening, getting other various men to help them as they inspect the broken bodies in the camp. Soon night falls and they’re setting cots for the prisoners to sleep in, the temperate taking a steep nosedive with the setting sun. Almost everyone wanders off, no longer able or willing to stare the scene in the face anymore. But, even though Gene looks like he can barely stand, he still isn’t leaving; he bandages up anyone who needs it and never stops once to eat or even take a piss. Somewhere along the way Babe decides he’s not going to leave his side… even if he does feel like he’s about to pass out or cry or do any number of things unbefitting a soldier. His hands are still shaking but it’s sort of settled into a steady, full-body thrumming that lulls him into a stupor, allowing him to forget where he is and what he’s doing until all the faces blend together and the only thing he’s aware of is Gene’s assuring presence beside him.
“Heffron,” Gene says as he sets a broken bone, slipping the prisoner some whiskey donated by Speirs, “you should go back and sleep.”
“Are you going back and sleeping?” Babe shoots back as he moves to hold the man’s shoulders down. Gene just gives him a wry look. “Then I’m not either.”
Gene almost smiles at that but just shakes his head, the corners of his lips twitching. They work in silence for a spell; Gene continues to wrap and stitch and bind as Babe restrains the men and checks their hair for lice, his eyes straining in the half-light and his fingers turning blue. The whole time Gene keeps sending him little mystified glances though his eyes are elsewhere whenever Babe looks back. They’re inspecting yet another prisoner with a case of malnutrition when Gene casts a glance over his shoulder.
“Think it might be about time to get Liebgott back,” he says nonchalantly though he doesn’t look Babe in the eye.
Babe crinkles his forehead. “Liebgott? What’re you talking about? Lieb left hours ago…” But then he looks past Gene and sees Liebgott lounging against a wall and staring out into the camp darkly. Babe’s eyes widen when he sees him take a swig out of a brown bottle, his red-rimmed eyes becoming even more hooded and brooding. “What in the hell?” His gaze goes back to Gene who is doing a good job of still avoiding his eyes and not looking too awfully guilty. Babe just raises an eyebrow at him. “What’s Liebgott still doing here?”
Gene shifts where he stands, his bottom lip catching between his teeth. That’s the only outward sign that Babe’s accusing tone may be making him uncomfortable; otherwise he just continues his examination of an old man.
“He commandeered a jeep and wanted to help out again but he’s too outa sorts at the moment. So I might’ve slipped him some whiskey to calm him down when you were taking a break. Figured it was the least I could do.” He glances up, his eyes a bit mischievous. “Plus I thought it’d be a good way to get you outa here.”
Babe’s floored because, goddamn, did Gene just hatch a fucking scheme? Once he picks his jaw off the ground he’s about to snap that hell no, he sure as shit isn’t going to leave just because Liebgott got his sorry ass drunk but then he sees Joe begin to slip down the wall, the bottle falling out of his hand and crashing to the ground. Muttering a curse, Babe rushes over to where the other man has slumped and hoists him up before he can fall any further. He then attempts to stride as best he can back to Gene’s side and regard him with a harsh look, all while hoisting Liebgott against his shoulder.
“This ain’t accomplishing nothing, Gene,” he says, trying to sound severe. He figures it’s a losing battle because while Gene still has an impassive and innocent look on his face, the twitching at the corners of his mouth suggests that he might just be attempting not to laugh. “I’m coming right back here once I’ve gotten this jackass to bed.”
“Who ya calling a jackass, jackass?” Liebgott slurs, his head bumping into Babe’s shoulder. Babe ignores him.
When Gene doesn’t respond and only keeps staring at him from under his eyelashes, amusement dancing over his face, Babe feels a blush creeping up his neck. “Seriously!” he says, sounding like a petulant child. “I’m coming back, you... fucking… mother hen.”
Gene holds up his hands, nodding and raising his eyebrows. “O’course, Heffron. I believe you.”
Babe just sends him a narrow-eyed glare in return, muttering something that sounds suspiciously like “Eugene fucking Roe, goddammit,” before hauling Liebgott towards the jeep he had stolen and hurling him inside. “Where are the keys?” he demands.
“In my fucking pocket,” Liebgott growls, squinting at him. “Where the hell do you think I have ‘em?”
Babe scowls at him, the tiredness making his eyes itch and his brain ache.
“Up your ass,” he says acidly, “right where your head must be.”
Liebgott just rolls his eyes and retrieves the keys, throwing them at Babe’s head. He catches them before they hit him in the face but regards the other man with a dark look all the same.
“Well are we going or aren’t we?” Liebgott demands, his eyes falling shut.
Babe lets out a frustrated grunt but gets into the jeep, making sure he pulls out in a way that jerks Joe around as much as possible. “What the fuck?” the other man mutters, his eyes still shut as he leans heavily into Babe. Babe just glares at him and jerks the wheel once more, ignoring Gene’s wave as he pulls away.
The ride is uneventful; Babe strains to keep his eyes open as Liebgott’s head lolls against his shoulder. All he can think about is just staying fucking awake for Christ’s sake and Eugene fucking Roe. He’s not Babe’s mother and Babe grumbles under his breath, not sure if he’s angry at Gene or the situation or just this stupid war itself and Liebgott’s drunk ass. He hasn’t come to any conclusions once he reaches the make-shift barracks.
As he hauls Joe out of the passenger seat he makes a grunting noise and gurgles something about Nazis and possibly something about Webster. Babe doesn’t really catch it nor does he care to. He half-drags, half-walks Liebgott up the stairs, pausing every now and again to catch his breath.
“Jesus Christ, Joe,” he mutters as Liebgott almost head-butts him when he begins to slip out of Babe’s arms, “you weigh a fucking ton for such a skinny asshole.”
“You weigh a ton,” Joe slurs without much conviction.
When he finally makes it to the room they’ve claimed as their own, he bangs open the door. Of course, one of the other men sleeping there wakes with a start and shoots up into a sitting position, grabbing at his rifle.
“Who’s there?” he asks, his voice heavy with sleep.
“Christ, Web,” Babe grunts, heaving Liebgott inside, “it’s Babe and Liebgott, you jumpy son of a bitch. Put that thing down and come help me. This guy ain’t as light as he looks.”
Web drops from his top bunk, dressed in only in a wife beater and shorts as Joe grumbles something about Babe not being as light as he looks. Babe resists the urge to punch him in the head.
“Here,” Web sighs, looking resigned. “Let me take him.”
“Hey Web,” Liebgott says with a sloppy grin as Babe unceremoniously deposits him into Webster’s arms. Babe plops onto his bunk, weariness overwhelming him as McClung snorts and rolls over in the bunk above. “Sorry to interrupt your beauty sleep. You gotta know ya don’t need it though.” He winks and even in the dark Babe can see the color rise to Web’s cheeks as he rolls his eyes.
“Dammit, Joe,” Web sighs. “You smell like a fucking still.”
“Oh ho ho! The Harvard man curses!” Lieb waves his hands around even though he’s still being awkwardly held up by Webster. “Curses like a common man!”
“Liebgott,” Babe grates from where his head has fallen into his hands, “please shut the fuck up before I kill you.”
Joe blinks at him before quirking an eyebrow at Web. “What’s up with him?”
Web doesn’t answer; he simply directs Liebgott towards his bunk and shoves him down. Joe accepts the movement, going boneless as he falls on the sheets. “I think,” Web explains as if talking to a child, “Babe has been out at the camp all night.”
“So was I,” Joe answers, sounding a bit more sober and a lot more severe. “But where was you, Web? I wasn’t kidding about you not needing beauty sleep.”
“Seriously,” Babe cuts in. “Can you two cut the bickering bullshit? My head feels like a fucking grenade went off inside it and I gotta head back out.”
Web sends Joe a glare before regarding Babe. “Listen, Babe, why don’t you rest for a while? You have to be exhausted.”
“Aren’t we all?” Joe says in a sing-song voice. They both ignore him. McClung snores.
“I can’t,” Babe says, feeling a bit desperate as his body aches in protest and the itch in his eyes turns into a definite burn. “Doc’s still out there and likely not to come back til there ain’t nobody left. I can’t…”
Web places a hand on his shoulder. “Babe, you’re completely worn out. At least rest a couple minutes or else you’ll be of no use to anyone.”
Babe scrubs his hands through his hair, the weariness making everything hurt. “But…”
Web just gives him a kind look, seemingly aware of his crumbling resolve. “Just rest a little bit, Babe. You know he wants it that way.”
Fuck what he wants, Babe thinks before the last of his stubbornness gives way.
“Fine,” he grumbles, leaning back onto his pillow and not even taking off his boots. “But only for a few minutes.”
He doesn’t even hear Web get back into his bed - his brain is off before his eyes shut and when they open again, he feels that crushing realization that a large amount of time has passed. Feeling groggy yet still in better shape than before, he gets up and stumbles to the window.
“Shit.” He squeezes his eyes shut before looking again. The first evidence of dawn is touching at the corners of the sky, slowly edging out the darkness. He apparently had slept for more than a few minutes.
Grabbing his coat, he heads out again, jumping into the jeep and starting it without a second thought. He continues to not think as he drives back to the camp, the smell of death growing in strength until he can’t remember how he ever got used to it in the first place. When he pulls up to the compound he sees Gene, huddled under an oversized jacket most likely lent from another CO and peering into the mouth of yet another prisoner. Even from a distance he can see the dark circles under his eyes and how hard he keeps blinking.
“Heffron,” he says in surprise when Babe comes striding up to him. “I thought you was…”
“I was nothing,” Babe says, his voice testy. “You fucking tricked me, Gene.”
The prisoner’s eyes dart between the two of them as Gene’s gaze flicks up to Babe’s face before he goes back to what he was doing. “Wasn’t a trick.” Gene’s voice remains neutral as he says it. “Just trying to get you to get some rest.” He looks back at Babe with kindness in his eyes. “Ain’t nothing wrong with needing that.”
“What about you?” Babe demands. “You don’t need fucking rest?” Gene doesn’t respond to that; his brow simply furrows as he begins to check the prisoner’s gums. Steeling himself, Babe makes a decision. “After you’re done with this one, I’m taking you back,” he declares. “Right?”
Gene doesn’t say anything - he pauses for a moment before looking at Babe, his eyes searching his face as Babe tries to stand his ground and look intimidating and ignore the queasy feeling that fills his stomach as Gene’s gaze stays on him a beat too long. Either it works or Gene decides to cut him some slack because he offers Babe a slight nod before redirecting his attention to the prisoner. Babe doesn’t know whether he should feel successful or foolish or what so he just nods back before taking a step away.
“Right,” he says, mostly to himself. “Good then.”
It only takes a few more minutes for Gene to finish what he’s doing, all the while leaving Babe to mull around awkwardly. Gene finally picks up his things and gives a short wave to the other few stragglers left trying to help and comes to Babe’s side.
“Ready to go?” he asks and barely stifles a yawn as he does so. Babe feels a blooming warmth of validation flow through him at the sight.
“Yeah,” he says, leading Gene to the jeep. Once they’re inside and Babe pulls out, albeit much more smoothly than just hours before, he casts a glance at Gene’s face. His eyes are becoming more hooded by the second and his breath seems to be evening out. He sure as hell stinks though. “You even take a fucking break to eat anything?” Babe asks, his voice not unkind.
Gene just offers a shrug, his eyes continuing to struggle with staying open. “Not as such.” Babe snorts and Gene shoots him an amused look. “I’m the mother hen?”
Babe feels his face flush again and turns his attention back to the road. “Shut up.”
They ride the rest of the way in silence; Gene doesn’t move to lean against him as Liebgott had, instead sitting upright though his head lolls every now and again. His head repeatedly snaps back upwards, his eyes trying to blink the obvious weariness away. Babe finds himself unable to stop glancing his way, checking to see if he’s driving too fast or jostling him too much. Gene’s eyes stay on the road. When they finally reach the barracks again, Babe is surprised to find that Gene’s eyes are completely closed, his chin nestled into his chest.
“Gene,” he says, giving him a gentle shake by the shoulder. “Gene, we’re back.”
Gene’s head shoots up and his eyes flutter open, his breath still heavy and even. “Kay,” he says, trying to get out of the jeep. He starts to stumble as he makes his way out of the door so Babe rushes around to his side, grabbing him before he faceplants on the ground. Gene grunts out an apology to which Babe smiles.
“Hey, you’ve been straining your eyes in the dark for the past few hours,” Babe says, jostling Gene into a more comfortable position and helping him towards the door. He’s pleased to find that he weighs significantly less than Liebgott. “Makes sense that you can’t find the ground.”
Gene actually chuckles at that, rubbing a hand over his face as Babe helps him up the stairs. They don’t speak the rest of the way, Babe just quietly staying by Gene’s side as they make their way to Gene’s bedroom. Luckily this time they don’t have to worry about being quiet- ever since they’ve started having the luxury of staying in places with real bedrooms and real beds, the men have come to an unspoken agreement that Doc Roe should get his own room whenever possible. Sure, he isn’t a man of high ranking or anything like that, but their respect for him is motivation enough to provide him with some privacy. Especially since, save his friendship with Babe, he seems to appreciate the solitude.
So Babe helps Gene sit down on his bed in the tiny room that had been selected for him (Luz had stolen his bag when they had arrived, finding the room with one bed in it and leaving Gene a note that said “Sweet Dreams, Doc.” Gene had received it with a roll of his eyes and a hidden smile) before standing upright again. He feels at a bit of a loss - Gene is simply sitting on the edge of the bed, his eyes closed and his body lax, not moving to lie down. Furrowing his brow Babe bends to kneel in front of him, pausing for a second before he begins to untie his friend’s shoelaces and work the boots off his feet.
“I can undress myself, you know,” Gene grunts. Babe glances up to see him peeking down at him with half-closed eyes and a small smile.
“Yeah, well, thought I’d try the whole mother hen thing out now that you mention it,” Babe says back, his face heating up. He figures Gene probably can’t see him, given the darkness of the room. “See what it’s like to be you.”
Gene snorts and lets Babe finish taking his boots off. His feet are freezing and Babe frowns at them, wondering if Gene ever takes care of himself. He doesn’t say anything though - he just stands upright again and gently nudges his friend by the shoulders until he’s lying down, smiling to himself when he has to pick up Gene’s boneless legs to put them onto the bed.
“You alright to sleep with your clothes on?” Babe asks, his voice quiet.
Gene shrugs, his eyes falling closed. “Sure. Gonna have to get up soon anyway.” Babe frowns and wonders if he can do anything to change that.
He’s about to go but then he pauses, seeing that Gene still has yet to remove his helmet and isn’t moving to do so. He almost tells him to take it off but stops upon seeing Gene’s completely relaxed face, instead opting to gingerly remove the heavy helmet himself. As he takes it off, Gene’s hair is revealed; from where Babe is standing the black looks so deep that it’s almost blue, so thick it looks like the coarse fur of some sort of animal. He’s noticed his friend’s hair before but something about the half-light of the room makes it look different. Wilder.
Babe’s aunt had this dog once - a mutt according to his uncle - but it strikes Babe that its fur looked just like Gene’s hair, all jet-black and untamed. Babe used to dig his fingers into it, trying to see if he could actually reach the dog’s skin so he could scratch it better. He’d just lay with the dog, his head tucked under Babe’s chin as Babe would stroke the fur, all warm in the summer sun. Not thinking, Babe continues to stare at Gene’s hair for a moment until he finds himself unconsciously lifting a hand to feel it. It’s softer than he expects, strong and silky in his fingers - sort of like the dog, before he got all mangy and his uncle said he had to be put down - and he barely realizes what he’s doing until he feels a hand on his wrist.
Blinking with a start, his eyes dart back at Gene’s face. He looks very awake all of the sudden, his eyes boring into Babe’s as his hand stays on his wrist. His grip isn’t too tight but it’s strong, firm, and his skin feels hot against Babe’s. Slowly his fingers shift, moving more to cup Babe’s hand against his own, his pulse point beating through his thumb against Babe’s palm. They’re just looking at each other and Babe realizes how close their bodies are, their faces are, how odd it is, because if he moved forward even a little they could almost be…
With that thought he moves back, Gene releasing his hand in a fluid motion as he stands and straightens his uniform. They don’t look at each other and Babe struggles to find his voice.
“Sleep well, alright Doc?”
Gene nods, his gaze averted as his Adam’s apple bobs. Babe nods back, feeling unhinged and flustered and, with only the slightest hesitation, he leaves the room.
He knows that he’s messed up somehow… that something went wrong but Gene’s prone to strange moods and strange words and strange actions so maybe he’s just reading things incorrectly. To be fair, how the hell should he understand Gene all the fucking time? They might as well be from different planets, Babe thinks. Gene’s all stillness and deep thinking and Babe’s, well, Babe. And as for what the hell just happened, it’s nothing. It isn’t.
…So why then can’t he seem to catch his breath and why his heart is racing like he just ran across a fucking battlefield?
Letting out a frustrated growl, he goes up the stairs again and falls into his bed. He sleeps almost immediately but his dreams are a disjointed jumble of broken images and humid scenes filled with the disorienting sense of trying to catch something and always missing it.
He never does piece it together.
Onto Chapter 5...
Endnote: I can’t believe this is drawing to a close and, again, all feedback has been great and really appreciated. I just hope this chapter feels emotionally and stylistically consistent with all the rest. The last chapter will be up in a few days. Thanks again!