Go Easy On Me, Band of Brothers, TA, Doc/OC (3/7)
Title: Go Easy On Me
Subject: Band of Brothers
Rating: TA
Pairing: Doc/OC
Word Count: 1791
Disclaimer: I don’t own Band of Brothers or anything relating to them and I base my fiction entirely on the actors and their portrayals. No disrespect intended. Emilie Ramos does, however, belong to me.
Author's Notes: This is probably my favorite part. The bit with Babe, I mean...Robin Laing has a perfect nose.Um. Apparently I enjoy breaking my character's hands. What do you know.
Summary: There was some rumor that Easy Company was her favorite, and though she wants to retort, she never can.
Three - Babe
It isn’t much longer before they’re all freezing, sitting in fox holes, and surrounded by white and gray, like the world was devoid of color and all things vivid. And it isn’t long at all before Gene is running out of supplies and the whole company’s running out of everything and she feels like she’s traveling across the country, searching for something, anything to give any of them, all of them, a brief respite from the cold and the hunger and the pain.
She likes to stop by Dog Company, too, because for some reason she’d felt like she owed Speirs, so she’d brought him a pack of cigarettes and had been dropping by ever since even though the boys looked at her funny and they rarely said more than the beginnings of a conversation, always cutting off abruptly. But that was how they were, because she could read him and she was beginning to think that he was reading her.
Her favorite time of day, the times she remembers when she feels like she can’t go on, is when she finds Gene’s foxhole and he’s actually there and for some reason just sitting next to him can warm her more than stopping by HQ to see Colonel Sink.
--
“Hey, Ralph, you seen Gene?” she asks as she slips into the foxhole where Doc Spina sits with Babe under his arm. Spina shakes his head at her and she sighs, pulling herself further in the hole, sliding up next to Babe and offering a half smile his way, but he doesn’t smile back, he hardly looks her way. She bites her lip, which are a light shade of blue with the cold, wishing she was stuck in a hole with Gene and not watching this kid from Philly becoming overwhelmed with grief. But she was trying harder, these days, to keep herself in the moment.
“Babe,” she starts, but is interrupted by Gene sliding into the hole himself and she feels like there’s a weight coming off her shoulders because if anyone could fix everything that was wrong it was him. She digs her hand into Babe’s side to let her hand grasp his elbow after Doc’s given him chocolate and he and Spina start up a conversation.
She’d meant to leave again before morning, she’d only meant to find Gene for a moment, but she’d fallen asleep against Babe and when she woke the medics were gone. Babe offers her a smile, though, this time, and she can’t help but smile back at him, and let her head fall back against his shoulder. They’d hardly spoken to one another but the eyes they both had staring back at them were enough to give them the feeling of being kindred spirits in some odd way. It wasn’t like they had anything else in common, her skin was dark and his was fair and she was from Mississippi and he was from Pennsylvania and he was a soldier and she was just there to do paperwork. But somehow they fit.
“How long you been in love with Doc?” He asks, quite suddenly, and she thinks she should probably be surprised by the question but she doesn’t have the energy to pull her head from his shoulder again and so she doesn’t answer him at all but he keeps going, anyway. “He likes you, you know.”
“Yeah?” she questions, softly, because she doesn’t really believe any of it, but talking with Babe is like talking to her brother, in which all things were theoretical until he was ready to beat someone up.
“Yeah,” Babe pauses, looking down at her thin brown hair that flutters every now and again. And he doesn’t even mind the feel of it against his face. “You’re like a puppy, Ramos. Always following him around.”
“That’s not true,” she argues half heartedly, to which he laughs, and adds, “And it’s Emilie, Babe.”
“Sure, it’s true, Emilie,” he stresses her name and she smiles, tilting her head lightly to bury it against his sleeve. “Want to know how I know he likes you?” She shakes her head against his arm, but he answers his own question anyway, “Nobody wants a lame dog. But Gene likes you too much to put you out of your misery.”
“Babe,” she mutters against his sleeve, before finally looking up at him to see him wearing a grin and she vaguely thinks that at least she was good for something before smacking his arm. “Shut up.”
--
She’s sitting against the tire of the jeep that she was going to take back to the lines, her left hand shaking and bloody and as far away as she can get it, when Gene finds her.
“Ramos?” She doesn’t look up at him, she can’t look up at him, all she can see is Blithe staring back at her and all she knows is that her hand doesn’t feel quite right and she knows, somewhere in the back of her mind, that the town’s probably gone. He falls down beside her and takes her hand into his and she turns her head as the pain spasms across her face even as the electricity that Gene’s touch creates shoots up her arm.
“Emilie,” his other hand’s on her shoulder and his voice is pleading with her to look at him, “Come on. Em.” She feels that lurch in her stomach when she looks at him because she realizes that Babe was probably right. About her, anyway, she didn’t know about Gene.
“It’s goin’ to hurt, Em,” he says, his eyes locked on hers and she nods because she knew that anyway, she realizes, because some of her fingers were out of place and they needed to be popped back and there was bits of shrapnel and gravel stuck in it, too, and she knows because she was a bit of a nurse, too, because if she didn’t have multiple uses she never would have been here in the first place. She nods again as Gene’s still looking at her, and takes her tags in her right hand and scratches them against one another to prove that she’s still alive.
“Alrigh’?” he asks, because he’s been waiting to hear her voice and she’s been denying him the whole time and he felt like his heart was about to burst. Renee was dead. And he’d be damned if he was going to let anything else happen to the only other woman he felt like he’d cared about in the last few years. So he says her name again and he wants to pull her into him when she responds.
“Gene,” she starts, and he lets his focus drift back to her hand, “Gene. I’m sorry, Gene.” And with each touch of their hands on the others they let whispers of apologies pass back and forth.
“God,” she’s still holding her hand awkwardly, like it wasn’t meant to be there, but he’s finished and there’s nothing else he can do not in the least because the town’s all but gone anyway. “Gene. I’m sorry.” Her eyelids are fluttering shut in her exhaustion, as she leans against him because he’s taken her spot of leaning against the tire of her jeep. “Shit,” she mumbles.
“Em?” he’s finally pulled her against him for the first time and it feels good and he’s not quite sure why, just that his heart’s pounding and she’s alive and so‘s he and that was good enough for now.
“Shit, Gene, the hospital,” she’s just talking because she doesn’t know what else to do, because her heart’s still racing wildly and her hand feels strange and unconnected and painful, and his name on her lips is the best comfort she has in addition to being held firmly against his side. “That nurse. Damn it, Gene, I’m sorry.”
“Emilie,” he turns her head toward him when she makes no effort to do so herself, and it takes her a moment to focus her eyes and keep them open and really look at him and forget everything that’s happened and is happening around them. “It’s okay. You’re goin’ to be fine.”
“Shit, Gene,” she states again, unfocusing from his face and seeing the damage around them again, like she’s seeing it for the first time, because in a way she was, and she simultaneously sees those haunting blue eyes staring back at her, trying to breathe, trying to live, and there’s Gene pushing her hand out of the way. But no, this time he keeps it in his own and she sees him again, here in what’s left of Bastogne and she sighs his name on her breath one last time before letting her eyes shut and her head fall back against his chest.
“You’ll be fine, Em.” He buries his lips in her hair for a moment and then lets his breath dance across her ear. “We’ll be okay.”
--
“Hey, Em, don’t worry about it,” Babe gives her a look, sliding down next to her in her foxhole.
“Babe, my hand hurts like hell all the time and now they’re not even letting me do my job,” she grumbles, then looks at him. “But I can still freeze my ass off out here with my favorite company.”
“Yeah, I heard some rumor about you playing favorites,” he smiles at her. She sniffs, crossing her arms over her chest but the movement is awkward because she can’t bring herself to bury her left hand in her right arm.
“I should really never speak to Speirs again,” she sighs, watching her breath float away into the trees.
“Speirs?” Babe tilts his body so it’s facing her, the question clear in his eyes, because all the boys were gossips, really, there was nothing better to do, and, she thinks, maybe she shouldn’t have brought up Speirs at all.
“He’s an officer, Babe,” she states with a shake of the head. “I landed near him on D-Day. And I don’t know anything about the rumors. Maybe he did, maybe he didn’t.”
“You really don’t know anything?” he asks, for clarity, and because he’s hoping for some new story to tell.
“Just that he likes to smoke,” she answers, and adds, before he can ask any more, “Yes, I’ve given him a few packs. There’s a story for you. We can blame it all on me. God knows it’s all my fault anyway.”
“Em,” Babe puts his arm around her and even though she’s irritated and frustrated with him and everyone else, she leans against him because he’s familiar and she needed a little familiarity in her life right now. “Honestly. Don’t worry about it. They’ll realize how much they need you before too long.”
Subject: Band of Brothers
Rating: TA
Pairing: Doc/OC
Word Count: 1791
Disclaimer: I don’t own Band of Brothers or anything relating to them and I base my fiction entirely on the actors and their portrayals. No disrespect intended. Emilie Ramos does, however, belong to me.
Author's Notes: This is probably my favorite part. The bit with Babe, I mean...Robin Laing has a perfect nose.Um. Apparently I enjoy breaking my character's hands. What do you know.
Summary: There was some rumor that Easy Company was her favorite, and though she wants to retort, she never can.
Three - Babe
It isn’t much longer before they’re all freezing, sitting in fox holes, and surrounded by white and gray, like the world was devoid of color and all things vivid. And it isn’t long at all before Gene is running out of supplies and the whole company’s running out of everything and she feels like she’s traveling across the country, searching for something, anything to give any of them, all of them, a brief respite from the cold and the hunger and the pain.
She likes to stop by Dog Company, too, because for some reason she’d felt like she owed Speirs, so she’d brought him a pack of cigarettes and had been dropping by ever since even though the boys looked at her funny and they rarely said more than the beginnings of a conversation, always cutting off abruptly. But that was how they were, because she could read him and she was beginning to think that he was reading her.
Her favorite time of day, the times she remembers when she feels like she can’t go on, is when she finds Gene’s foxhole and he’s actually there and for some reason just sitting next to him can warm her more than stopping by HQ to see Colonel Sink.
--
“Hey, Ralph, you seen Gene?” she asks as she slips into the foxhole where Doc Spina sits with Babe under his arm. Spina shakes his head at her and she sighs, pulling herself further in the hole, sliding up next to Babe and offering a half smile his way, but he doesn’t smile back, he hardly looks her way. She bites her lip, which are a light shade of blue with the cold, wishing she was stuck in a hole with Gene and not watching this kid from Philly becoming overwhelmed with grief. But she was trying harder, these days, to keep herself in the moment.
“Babe,” she starts, but is interrupted by Gene sliding into the hole himself and she feels like there’s a weight coming off her shoulders because if anyone could fix everything that was wrong it was him. She digs her hand into Babe’s side to let her hand grasp his elbow after Doc’s given him chocolate and he and Spina start up a conversation.
She’d meant to leave again before morning, she’d only meant to find Gene for a moment, but she’d fallen asleep against Babe and when she woke the medics were gone. Babe offers her a smile, though, this time, and she can’t help but smile back at him, and let her head fall back against his shoulder. They’d hardly spoken to one another but the eyes they both had staring back at them were enough to give them the feeling of being kindred spirits in some odd way. It wasn’t like they had anything else in common, her skin was dark and his was fair and she was from Mississippi and he was from Pennsylvania and he was a soldier and she was just there to do paperwork. But somehow they fit.
“How long you been in love with Doc?” He asks, quite suddenly, and she thinks she should probably be surprised by the question but she doesn’t have the energy to pull her head from his shoulder again and so she doesn’t answer him at all but he keeps going, anyway. “He likes you, you know.”
“Yeah?” she questions, softly, because she doesn’t really believe any of it, but talking with Babe is like talking to her brother, in which all things were theoretical until he was ready to beat someone up.
“Yeah,” Babe pauses, looking down at her thin brown hair that flutters every now and again. And he doesn’t even mind the feel of it against his face. “You’re like a puppy, Ramos. Always following him around.”
“That’s not true,” she argues half heartedly, to which he laughs, and adds, “And it’s Emilie, Babe.”
“Sure, it’s true, Emilie,” he stresses her name and she smiles, tilting her head lightly to bury it against his sleeve. “Want to know how I know he likes you?” She shakes her head against his arm, but he answers his own question anyway, “Nobody wants a lame dog. But Gene likes you too much to put you out of your misery.”
“Babe,” she mutters against his sleeve, before finally looking up at him to see him wearing a grin and she vaguely thinks that at least she was good for something before smacking his arm. “Shut up.”
--
She’s sitting against the tire of the jeep that she was going to take back to the lines, her left hand shaking and bloody and as far away as she can get it, when Gene finds her.
“Ramos?” She doesn’t look up at him, she can’t look up at him, all she can see is Blithe staring back at her and all she knows is that her hand doesn’t feel quite right and she knows, somewhere in the back of her mind, that the town’s probably gone. He falls down beside her and takes her hand into his and she turns her head as the pain spasms across her face even as the electricity that Gene’s touch creates shoots up her arm.
“Emilie,” his other hand’s on her shoulder and his voice is pleading with her to look at him, “Come on. Em.” She feels that lurch in her stomach when she looks at him because she realizes that Babe was probably right. About her, anyway, she didn’t know about Gene.
“It’s goin’ to hurt, Em,” he says, his eyes locked on hers and she nods because she knew that anyway, she realizes, because some of her fingers were out of place and they needed to be popped back and there was bits of shrapnel and gravel stuck in it, too, and she knows because she was a bit of a nurse, too, because if she didn’t have multiple uses she never would have been here in the first place. She nods again as Gene’s still looking at her, and takes her tags in her right hand and scratches them against one another to prove that she’s still alive.
“Alrigh’?” he asks, because he’s been waiting to hear her voice and she’s been denying him the whole time and he felt like his heart was about to burst. Renee was dead. And he’d be damned if he was going to let anything else happen to the only other woman he felt like he’d cared about in the last few years. So he says her name again and he wants to pull her into him when she responds.
“Gene,” she starts, and he lets his focus drift back to her hand, “Gene. I’m sorry, Gene.” And with each touch of their hands on the others they let whispers of apologies pass back and forth.
“God,” she’s still holding her hand awkwardly, like it wasn’t meant to be there, but he’s finished and there’s nothing else he can do not in the least because the town’s all but gone anyway. “Gene. I’m sorry.” Her eyelids are fluttering shut in her exhaustion, as she leans against him because he’s taken her spot of leaning against the tire of her jeep. “Shit,” she mumbles.
“Em?” he’s finally pulled her against him for the first time and it feels good and he’s not quite sure why, just that his heart’s pounding and she’s alive and so‘s he and that was good enough for now.
“Shit, Gene, the hospital,” she’s just talking because she doesn’t know what else to do, because her heart’s still racing wildly and her hand feels strange and unconnected and painful, and his name on her lips is the best comfort she has in addition to being held firmly against his side. “That nurse. Damn it, Gene, I’m sorry.”
“Emilie,” he turns her head toward him when she makes no effort to do so herself, and it takes her a moment to focus her eyes and keep them open and really look at him and forget everything that’s happened and is happening around them. “It’s okay. You’re goin’ to be fine.”
“Shit, Gene,” she states again, unfocusing from his face and seeing the damage around them again, like she’s seeing it for the first time, because in a way she was, and she simultaneously sees those haunting blue eyes staring back at her, trying to breathe, trying to live, and there’s Gene pushing her hand out of the way. But no, this time he keeps it in his own and she sees him again, here in what’s left of Bastogne and she sighs his name on her breath one last time before letting her eyes shut and her head fall back against his chest.
“You’ll be fine, Em.” He buries his lips in her hair for a moment and then lets his breath dance across her ear. “We’ll be okay.”
--
“Hey, Em, don’t worry about it,” Babe gives her a look, sliding down next to her in her foxhole.
“Babe, my hand hurts like hell all the time and now they’re not even letting me do my job,” she grumbles, then looks at him. “But I can still freeze my ass off out here with my favorite company.”
“Yeah, I heard some rumor about you playing favorites,” he smiles at her. She sniffs, crossing her arms over her chest but the movement is awkward because she can’t bring herself to bury her left hand in her right arm.
“I should really never speak to Speirs again,” she sighs, watching her breath float away into the trees.
“Speirs?” Babe tilts his body so it’s facing her, the question clear in his eyes, because all the boys were gossips, really, there was nothing better to do, and, she thinks, maybe she shouldn’t have brought up Speirs at all.
“He’s an officer, Babe,” she states with a shake of the head. “I landed near him on D-Day. And I don’t know anything about the rumors. Maybe he did, maybe he didn’t.”
“You really don’t know anything?” he asks, for clarity, and because he’s hoping for some new story to tell.
“Just that he likes to smoke,” she answers, and adds, before he can ask any more, “Yes, I’ve given him a few packs. There’s a story for you. We can blame it all on me. God knows it’s all my fault anyway.”
“Em,” Babe puts his arm around her and even though she’s irritated and frustrated with him and everyone else, she leans against him because he’s familiar and she needed a little familiarity in her life right now. “Honestly. Don’t worry about it. They’ll realize how much they need you before too long.”