Chapter Text
Something was up with Doc Roe. Everyone could see it, but no one was really willing to talk about it. There was a great respect for the medics of Easy Company, one that held the company together, even when it was freezing and there was little to do but huddle and shiver together. Doc, though, never stopped moving. At first, Babe thought it might’ve been a strategy to get warm. The guy never let up; demanded things from aid kits, pilfered scissors from Perconte, and checked boots. He handed out pairs of socks to those who lost theirs, he checked fevers and coughs, but when he reached Babe and Julian’s foxhole, he paused and stared for a minute before he scampered off to check on Guarnere’s leg.
It was odd, even for Doc.
Babe wasn’t going to call him out on it, though. Malarkey had been brave enough to do it hours ago, when the medic had been extra pushy about Joe Toye’s socks. Doc had snapped at them both about trench foot, pulled out a pair of socks, and threw it at them. Neither had been willing to put up much of a fight after that. A few hours later, Lipton had pulled the good doctor aside to murmur quietly to him, but Doc Roe just pulled away and waved him off like he hadn’t terrorized the camp all day.
As bad as he was the day before, the next day, when they were blessed before the scouting mission Battalion insisted they go on, Roe had changed places with Spina. Nothing odd there, the medics often scurried about and swapped places. Most of the men, Babe included, felt a little more at ease with Doc with them anyways. But then Martin hung back, placed a hand on Doc’s chest and told him to stay and wait for them to come back.
Doc Roe argued, loudly.
Babe had never heard the man yell in anger before, but Johnny Martin took it all in stride and argued back. The rest of patrol tried not to listen in, but it was hard to look away when Doc was gesturing wildly, voice loud and demanding. It was so uncharacteristic that Babe couldn’t help but stare.
Luz leaned in to mutter, “What the fuck is Doc’s problem, huh?”
“He wants to come with us.” Perconte shrugged. “Don’t see the harm in letting him come, but Johnny wants him to hang back, keep out of trouble.”
“Feel better with Doc with us,” Bull grumbled around a cigar, “but Martin’s right. No need to risk the Doc.”
“True.” Perconte conceded with another shrug.
Hoobler grabbed at Babe’s shoulder and tugged. “C’mon, quit staring. Let’s get this over with so we can get back for some grub.”
Babe finally pulled his eyes away and shuffled a little bit in the snow so he could land in the back of the march. Martin finally jogged up, pulling in the rear with a scold for Hoobler to pick it up. Once they were safely away from Doc Roe and out of earshot, Babe turned around to face Johnny.
“What the hell was that about?”
“Babe, just turn around and focus on scouting.” Johnny ordered. “Doc’s just concerned, is all.”
“Yeah, sure, concerned.” Babe huffed and adjusted his grip on his M1. “He’s only got an entire stick up his ass with worry.”
Perconte and Hoobler laughed in front of him, but Johnny shook his head. Bull stopped suddenly at the front, and the rest of the men halted and ducked down, as ordered. Julian, bless his young heart, made his way to the rear.
“Bull wants you up front, sir.” Julian supplied, and Johnny shook his head once more.
“I can read hand signs just fine, private.” Johnny muttered something rather unsavory under his breath, but nonetheless, waved for Julian to follow him up the line.
Babe rolled his eyes. Fucking replacements, always looking to get an edge up. Julian had the nerve to ask not five minutes ago to lead the whole damn thing. Martin must have known the kid wasn’t going to stop trying until he managed to do something he deemed noteworthy. Fine, let Johnny take the kid under wing. Babe had a hard enough time getting him to focus on the damn line in a foxhole. If Martin could whip even an ounce of common sense into him, Babe would sneak him an extra helping of dinner. At least then he could sleep easy.
Come to think of it, it was always Babe who ended up in a foxhole with the replacements. It was probably because he was one of the first replacements to enter to company. The difference between Babe and these new guys was Babe knew how to keep his head down, joke with the guys, and live to see another day. Kids like Julian wanted a medal to bring home to their mamas.
It didn’t stop him from getting attached, unfortunately. Especially when the company insisted on pairing him up with them every chance they got.
The men marched on not even half a mile before Babe halted with the rest of the patrol. He could only vaguely see Martin dart ahead with Julian. He tapped his foot against the snow and shuffled in his position.
Luz only gave him a look and muttered, “If you’re that worried about the kid, move up.”
With a frustrated sort of growl in his throat, he did just that. He tread carefully ahead, almost to where Bull had ducked in for cover when the rapid fire of a machine gun echoed through the forest. Martin called for Bull and Christensen to move up, but the rest of the company surged forward as well and provided cover fire. Babe landed in between Bull and Martin, eagerly asked for what they had run into. It was then that he noticed Julian, hands desperately trying to hold his throat together. Blood was everywhere, his face, his nose, the ground...
A second later he saw someone run at them at top speed.
It took only a moment for Babe to realize what Doc was doing for him to launch himself onto the frantic man. They went down hard into the snow, a tangle of limbs.
“Get off! Heffron, get off!” Doc was panicked, clawed at him to get him off, but Heffron only squeezed harder around him. He struggled to get the Doc down and behind cover. “Let me go, I have to go!”
“Doc! Doc, you’re gonna get shot!” Bull tried to warn, and Johnny shouted something, but it was drowned out by the deafening sounds of bullets shattering through trees and frozen earth.
“Stop, stop!” Babe pleaded, and cried out as bullet lanced through his left bicep. The pain made him let go of their medic.
Doc Roe jumped to his feet, slipping on ice and snow to get to Julian. Babe cursed and just as Roe was about to jump out into the open, Heffron caught his pants and jerked him down again. He quickly pulled the medic backwards, arms wrapped around kicking feet. They were ducked behind the cover of some logs stacked up, probably for firewood, so they were relatively safe.
Doc kicked out at him again, but he held on tighter.
“Julian!” Roe cried, and Julian’s pained eyes met his just in time for him to gasp and gurgle. And then he lay still, eyes turned to glass. Doc never stopped in struggles, fought harder then, but Babe couldn’t move, didn’t have control of his hands anymore.
And then he opened his eyes.
He was in his foxhole, cold and miserable. He shivered, breath a visible puff in the air. He took in a shuddered breath, confused and panicked. The sick feeling in his stomach prompted him to stand and pull himself out of the foxhole, to gag outside of the place he’d be sleeping for who knows how long.
“Whoa, Heffron, you okay?” Someone asked.
Babe gaped at the sight of Julian, eyes wide with concern. Instantly he reached out a trembling hand to the boy’s throat. Julian pulled back at the touch, a hand over his.
“Hey, hey, it’s okay. Nightmare?”
“Fuck,” Babe whispered into the morning air. Was that all that was? A nightmare? Had to have been. Julian’s throat was fine, damn near picture perfect compared to the horrible image of blood gushing out of his jugular. “Fuck.”
“Hey, Heffron, c’mon. It’s okay.”
Babe pulled his hand back and wiped at his mouth. He didn’t puke, but the action felt right, considering he nearly had. Julian helped him up with eyes still wide and lip worried between teeth.
“‘M fine, ‘m fine.” Babe muttered. “You’re fine.”
Nightmares were so common, it was almost like a game around the company. There was a mental bingo card in everyone’s head to keep. It was a way to talk it out without the vulnerability of admitting you were haunted in your dreams as well as while you were awake.
“Damn near got me a bingo.” Babe offered a shaky smile to Muck, passing by with a look of mild concern.
“Got mine yesterday!” Muck called back with a wave as he passed.
“C’mon, you were gonna sleep through breakfast. Beans again.”
“I’ll give you a little inside information, Julian,” Babe coughed into his gloves. “It’s always fucking beans.”
The images haunted him as they waited in line for their cup of beans. Julian watched him for a time, but Babe just pretended not to notice.
“Was that nightmare about me? Is that why you were all over me this morning?”
A low whistle came from in front of them and Babe hissed a curse and elbowed Julian in the gut. Popeye grinned at the two of them and in front of him Malarkey snickered.
“All over him, huh, Babe? Bet you two are real close.” Malarkey teased. And where there was Malarkey there was Penkala, hooting ahead of him.
“Got you a cozy little foxhole over there. Nice and private.”
“Nah, I saw him,” Muck piped up and cut in line right between Malarkey and Penkala. Penkala happily made room. “He was shaking like a leaf and pawing at poor Julian. Must’ve scared ya, huh, kid?”
“Shut up!” Babe hissed, and then his eyes found Gene Roe’s. The Doc stared, unabashed and far longer than he should have. His hands were stuffed in his pockets, back straight as a board. He’d dreamed about Doc, too, Babe remembered, and it made him uncomfortable to think about. It had to have been a dream, the guy was absolutely nuts in whatever fake world he’d managed to conjure up.
Doc eventually moved on, but the second Babe had managed to ditch Julian and the three heckling stooges to find some peace and quiet, Doc showed up once more. His hands were still in his pockets, and his back was hunched now, curled in on himself for warmth.
“Hey, Doc,” Heffron greeted timidly, and took a bite of his beans.
“You remember it?”
Babe swallowed, but didn’t look at Gene. “Remember what?”
“Julian.” Doc answered, low, with something behind it that made Babe shiver.
“I sleep in the same foxhole as the guy, of course I remember him. You still asleep, Doc?”
“You tackled me,” Doc started, and this time Babe’s back straightened out. “I couldn't get to him in time. You remember or not?”
What the hell was Doc saying? But the images of the nightmare came back, clear as day, as if it had only happened an hour ago. The bullet through his arm, Roe struggling wildly underneath him, Julian clawing at his throat...
“Doc,” Heffron spoke slowly, spoon limp in his hand, “I ain’t sure what you’re saying right now.”
“Heffron,” Doc spoke sharply, and Babe got the impression he was in for a tongue lashing, “I need you to look me in the eye and tell me you don’t remember Julian layin’ there with his throat—”
“Stop!” Babe pleaded, and his hands shook, because that image was so clear in his mind he wasn’t sure if it was real or not. “Stop.”
“Okay,” Roe said, and his shoulders relaxed and his breath left in a slow puff of white into the air. “Okay.”
They stood there in silence for a long while. Babe watched Gene just breathe slowly, eyes far away and somewhere else. Then, it seemed as if he came back to himself, eyes focused solely on Babe once more.
“What you saw, that ain’t a dream.” Gene started, and Babe squinted in confusion. “I thought so too, the first time. But it ain’t. It’s real.”
“What the fuck are you talking about?”
“Julian died.” Doc Roe stated, flat and dull and tired. “I been tryin’ to stop it for—I been tryin’ to stop it.”
“Gene, speak fucking english here. I can’t fucking understand what you’re—”
“Julian is gonna die and we’re gonna reset.” Gene cut in, sharp in tone with eyes that bore straight into Babe’s soul. “It happens every time. No one remembers, we just go back to today an’ it starts all again.”
What? Babe just blinked at him. Didn’t bother with a reply, just stared at him with his cup of beans in one hand and his spoon, limp in the other. Eventually Gene Roe shook his head.
“Maybe you’ll remember again. Maybe I ain’t alone in this anymo’, we’ll see.”
Doc Roe left him to stand in utter confusion. Then the shells hit and Julian pulled him down into their foxhole. Penkala was hit and Gene patched him up. And then Gene found Joe Toye and Malarkey and shoved socks into their hands with a stern lecture on trench foot. Babe felt his heart clench and his mouth go dry because he’d dreamed that too.
Julian wouldn’t leave him alone about the nightmare; pestered him until dark about details Babe wasn’t willing to give. It drove him crazy and he just about dumped the kid on someone else just to try and forget the image of blood and soundless gurgles drowned out by the deafening sound of bullets.
Gene Roe’s light footsteps were the only sounds he heard that night. Pitter patter, his feet scraped across the ice and snow back and forth, checking on the men. Babe thought back to their conversation in the morning. That was the only time they’d spoken, and Gene hadn’t checked up on him since. Maybe he was trying to give Babe space, give him time to think, but he’d seemed angry, frustrated.
Babe didn’t sleep a wink that night. There were no nightmares to be had, and by the time midday came again, he felt dead on his feet. And then Johnny rounded him up with the others for a blessing before a patrol Battalion had sent the order for. Babe’s heart dropped into his stomach because the image of Julian bleeding out onto the snow with Doc Roe struggling underneath him wouldn’t go away.
And then Julian asked for permission to lead.
Johnny Martin was a good man, and when he ordered Julian to get back in line, Babe could have kissed him. Anxiety coiled deep in his stomach and he turned back to say something to Johnny and Gene Roe was there, quietly insisting that he should go with them, pleading not to be left behind. It was a far cry off from the dream, a far more accurate version of Doc Roe.
Martin just shook his head, explained that it wasn’t a long patrol, that they wouldn’t be far if they ran into trouble. Doc looked exhausted as he watched Martin pull away. Babe met his eyes, couldn’t take his gaze away and the images of Julian flashed again.
“Johnny,” he called quietly, and Martin had turned around. Gene looked mildly hopeful, and Babe turned to look at his sergeant. “I think he should come with.”
Martin looked him dead in the eye, started to open his mouth, when Luz called out for them to hurry up. Reluctantly, Martin looked back at Doc Roe, one step forward with an eager look to him, an anxious look.
“Alright, alright. I was just tryna look out for you, Doc.”
“‘Preciate it, Sergeant,” Gene replied with a curt nod, “But I’d rather look after you.”
Martin offered a meager twitch of his lips, and waved them along. “Let’s go boys!”
Eugene fell in line with Heffron, and Babe wasn’t quite sure why he sided with Gene. Johnny had just been trying to keep the Doc safe, and any amount of time they could offer a medic to recover and recuperate, they gave.
Julian .
Something in the back of his mind reminded him, and he shivered at the images again. Doc didn’t look at him, just focused on what was ahead of them. The area looked familiar, but not familiar enough for Babe to know where he was going. Johnny waved Julian up to his position and Babe’s heart leapt in his throat. That was when Doc bolted, ducked down to pick up a rock and throw it as hard as he could. The rock clacked loudly against the trees and the next thing Babe knew, he was ducking for cover.
Doc crawled toward Julian, inch by inch as the young replacement ducked behind a stack of logs with Martin. Johnny turned, called out for a retreat, and there was blood spewing from his face. He fell forward into the snow and Roe was right there on him, rolled him over to provide aid but glassy eyes stared up at the heavens. Babe remembered the anguished look on Doc’s face before he opened his eyes to his foxhole once more.
This time he did spew once he reached outside. Julian was there, a comforting hand to his back, asking about nightmares. Babe allowed himself to finish, to release what little his stomach still had to offer before he stumbled up onto his feet. Muck was there too, his hands provided support so he could straighten out.
“Doc, I need to find Doc.” He managed to get out before he gagged again.
Julian grimaced and moved back away from him a tad. “Doc’s out looking for supplies. He’ll be back soon.”
“Fuck,” Babe gasped, and pulled his helmet off to run a hand through dirty hair. “Johnny, is Johnny okay?”
“Martin?” Muck asked, before hollering over Babe’s trembling form. “Hey, someone go grab Martin!”
“He’ll be here soon, Babe,” Julian tried to comfort, “You okay? You don’t look so good.”
“No shit!” Babe snapped, and immediately regretted it when the kid pulled away with a hurt look. “Fuck, let it be a dream. Let it be a fucking dream.”
“Easy, Babe,” Muck soothed, rubbing small circles into his back, “Just another nightmare to add to your bingo card. I got a bingo just—”
“Yesterday.” Babe bit out, and squeezed his eyes closed when Muck admitted that yes, he had. How did he know? “Fuck!”
“Babe? What’s wrong?” That was Johnny, thank God, it was Johnny Martin.
Babe opened his eyes, straightened up to study his face, a face without a hole through it and—
“Johnny, thank God.” Babe all but whimpered, “Doc, you seen Doc?”
Martin looked thoroughly confused. “No, he went to scrounge for supplies. You need a medic, I can get Spina to come and—”
“No, no.” Babe shook his head, shook off Muck’s hands and three sets of equally concerned looks. “I’ll find him, I’ll wait. Has to be Doc.”
“Hey now, Spina’s a fine medic.” Muck defended, hands raised placatingly. “Give him a chance, Babe, he’ll fix it.”
“He won’t.” Babe answered, whimpered, “He won’t cause I don’t know what the fuck just happened to me.”
His outburst was the talk of the camp for twenty minutes before Doc Roe stumbled between fox holes with a lost look on his face. Babe met his eyes, saw mirrored in Gene what he felt, and rose to greet him.
“I remember, Gene.” Heffron told him, shaky on his feet, “I remember.”
Eugene Roe didn’t look the least bit happy to hear it.
When they were alone, off out in the forest, far too close to the line, Gene made Heffron sit against a tree before he explained what he knew. It started after Foy, Gene just woke up in the forest by himself. He managed to wander back to the company, and from there he proceeded to freak out because what the hell were they doing in Bastogne? Winters had treated him as if he cracked, even more so when people who were dead were staring back at him.
The first reset had hit him hard, he hadn’t been able to do anything but fight for answers. Julian died, and Gene woke up in the snow again. And on and on it went until Gene had talked to everyone in the company and no one knew what he was talking about. They had never been to Foy, no one died, and Gene had been called crazy and cracked time and time again.
He took a chance when he overheard Muck teasing Heffron. He never expected Babe to actually remember, but Heffron wasn’t in the right place after the reset, wasn’t talking the same conversation he usually did.
“Fuck, Gene,” was all Heffron could reply, and Gene nodded slowly and puffed into fisted hands to try and keep the limbs warm. “What do we do?”
“Save Julian.” Gene answered. “It all starts again after him, so if we save him, maybe…”
“Fuck,” Heffron repeated, nothing but a mutter under his breath, “I don’t know if I can do this.”
He couldn’t stand to watch Julian die over and over again, just a little too late and a little too far. It wasn’t even a clean death, a shot through the heart or something. His goddamn throat had been torn to shreds and the kid just lay there suffering while Babe could only watch on in horror and clutch tightly to Gene to make sure he didn’t get torn to shreds with him.
“Have to, Heffron,” Gene told him and it snapped him out of the memories. Doc leaned back against the trunk of a tree across from him. “Don’t got a choice, unless you want to relive the same two days over an’ over.”
The yelling, the irritability, everything from the day before the last reset made perfect sense now. How many times had Gene lived this day? How many times had he been forced to watch Julian die, to try desperately to save him and have no one fucking listen to the only one who saw it coming?
“Gene, how many times have you reset?”
Gene looked away, refused to look at him and just shrugged his shoulders. “Too many.”
In despair, Babe wondered if he’d ever see the Gene Roe he remembered. He wondered if he’d only see Gene angry, fed up with everything, or the Gene he’d seen last reset, subdued and defeated.
“We need to plan.” Gene told Heffron, and Babe ran a hand through red hair and looked up at him incredulously.
“How do you s’pose we do that, huh?” Babe shook his head and looked away from him again. “Tell him to sit this one out? That ain’t up to us Gene.”
“No,” Gene sighed, “it ain’t. Tried that already.”
“You try Nixon?”
“And Winters. Martin, you, Randleman, I’ve tried everyone in the damn company.”
Babe didn’t want to think about what he might’ve said, might have dismissed without knowing, without remembering. His thoughts went to before he woke up, staring at Johnny’s lifeless eyes.
“Last time,” Heffron started, slow and careful, “you saved him. Johnny was—Johnny got it, so why…?”
Gene turned dark eyes back to Heffron. “Been thinkin’ about that too. I think it has to be everyone.”
“What do you mean?”
“I gotta save everyone.” Gene shoved his hands into his pockets, swallowed around bitter words. “Can’t let someone take his place. Gotta be everyone who makes it back.”
“Okay, okay.” Babe stood, stretched, and slung his gun over his shoulder. “But you’ve got me now, right? You’ve got me now and we can do it together. I’ll take his place, be the one up in front. We know where they are now, right? So it’ll be easy to just avoid ‘em and retreat.”
“Alright.” Gene agreed, and it felt too easy, like Gene was hiding something behind that word.
“Okay,” Babe breathed in the way someone did to reassure themselves something was going to work. He pulled his helmet back on, nodded to Gene, and walked off in the direction of his foxhole.
The plan worked, for the most part. Johnny was all too happy to have Babe up next to him rather than Julian. The kid was mad at him, annoyed at the lecture Babe gave him about staying safe, keeping his head down and living to see another day, to protect his brothers in arms rather than showing them up. And then on top of that he had taken his place at the front; it was kind of a low blow but Babe couldn’t bring himself to care. Instead, he just bribed Luz with a pack of cigarettes to watch after the kid for him. Doc was there too, ready to pounce at any given moment.
“Hey, hey, no, this way.” Babe whispered sharply and waved Johnny away from horrors that awaited behind that stack of logs. He took them left, tried desperately to see past the fog, and then Johnny tackled him just in time for machine gun fire to whizz past them.
The fire stopped very briefly, and all Babe could see from underneath Johnny was Julian, Doc’s hands pressed tightly against the hole in his chest. The fire started up again, but as soon as it started, it stopped, and Babe woke up in his foxhole.
He sat there for a minute, breathed hard and fast for a while in frustration. He heard footsteps above him and knew it was Julian coming to get him for breakfast. Babe pulled himself up, squeezed past the branches they used as a cover and was startled to find Johnny Martin staring with wide eyes at Julian.
Babe knew that look.
Carefully, he ignored Julian’s call for him to go get breakfast and made his way to Martin. Martin didn’t look at him, kept his eyes firmly on Julian as the kid weaved between foxholes to make it further into the treeline where a very meager breakfast of beans awaited them.
“Johnny,” Babe called, and reached out a hand to touch his shoulder. “You alright?”
Martin startled, looked to Babe like a drunk man would look at someone speaking a foreign language. He shook his head, his eyes cleared, and Johnny just quirked a small smile,
“Yeah, I’m fine. Just cold and hungry, like everyone else.”
It was lie, even Babe knew that, but just like Doc Roe had done for him, Babe held off, let him process. He wasn’t even completely sure Johnny Martin remembered. But he was here, at his foxhole, instead of—well, come to think of it, Babe wasn’t too sure where Johnny usually was. Not here. Muck passed by them, waved a miserable good morning to the two of them, and Martin walked off.
Either way, they’d need to try again. It looked like they couldn’t avoid going the path they’d gone first. There was way more cover than there was trying to go around. If they kept Julian in the back, still, and if Doc could somehow tackle him down, all Babe had to do was make sure no one else got hit.
The shelling started, just as it always did, and the calls for a medic reminded Babe that Gene was back. He and Julian shared a foxhole that was far too shallow for the two of them, but really, they didn’t have a choice when they were so far from their fortified one. The hits stopped, Julian trembled and gasped sharply into the cold air, eyes wide and on high alert, just like always.
“Hey,” Babe nudged him with his boot and Julian whipped around to face him, “I want you to listen to me, alright? No matter what, I want you to listen.”
“Yeah, sure,” Julian dismissed, and Babe kicked him. “Ow, hey!”
“I mean it!” Babe hissed. “You’re young out here, yeah? You don’t know shit, and I do. I’m tryna keep your ass alive, a’right?”
“Better listen to Babe, Julian.” Guarnere advised, out of his own foxhole and shivering as snow started to fall.
“Yeah, alright!” Julian grouched, and pulled his M1 close to his chest, “What makes you think I ain’t listening?”
“You gonna do something stupid tomorrow, like ask to lead a patrol.” Babe kicked him again when Julian scrunched his nose. “Don’t look like that, I know you’re gonna. Ain’t like there won’t be a million patrols, so just keep your head down. I mean it, Julian. I ain’t takin’ nothin’ to your mother.”
“That was a promise.” Julian told him, stern and pouting at the same time. “You can’t go back on that.”
“I won’t.” Babe promised again and pushed aside the memories. “I won’t.”
“Well, ladies,” Bill snickered, “I’m off to get breakfast.”
Babe watched Julian crawl out of the shallow foxhole, watched Bull Randleman and Perconte give him a look as they passed, but he just sat and watched for a while longer. Eventually, Doc Roe approached the fox hole with a frown.
“Heffron, you okay?”
“No.” Babe admitted, low and petulant. “It should have worked.”
Gene gave an aborted sort of nod in agreement, hands tucked into his pockets. “Next time.”
“Yeah, and if that don’t work? We just gonna do this forever?”
Gene glanced sideways at him, crouched down to come a bit closer. He didn’t answer the question and Babe felt like kicking him the way he kicked at Julian. Who the hell did Gene Roe think he was, acting like this shit wasn’t the weirdest fucking thing to ever happen to a man?
“I think Johnny’s in.” Babe muttered and coughed into his gloves. God, he was sick of this fucking cough. At this rate he’d have it forever. “Saw him lookin’ at Julian earlier. He wasn’t there last couple of times.”
Gene gave him is full attention, now, eyebrows furrows together. “Martin?”
“Yeah, s’what I said.” Babe snipped. “He didn’t say nothin’, but I recognize the look. Would help if he was, right?”
Gene didn’t reply, didn’t get a chance to because Spina had called for him. Doc did offer a small smile, something rare in the past week Babe had seen him. Had the Doc really not smiled that much? Babe could have sworn the guy smiled more than once a week. He hadn’t exactly paid that much attention. Maybe he should.
Babe didn’t realize just how little he saw of the Doc during a single day. In the past three resets, he’d managed to carve out some time to talk, but for whatever reason he couldn’t even find the guy let alone sit down to talk to him without someone else butting in. It wasn’t until Julian woke up for watch that Babe used the excuse of taking a piss to hop from foxhole to foxhole in search of the medic.
Turns out, he wasn’t in his hole either. It wasn’t ideal, but they took to the outskirts of camp. There wasn’t going to be a shelling tonight, and they needed to plan out the next day. Half of the camp was asleep or trying, and as long as they stayed quiet, no one should notice the odd meeting outside of the foxholes.
“Doc, what are we gonna do?” Babe whispered, huddled close next to Gene against one of the thin trees.
“Avoiding them didn’t work.” Gene bit out between shivers.
“Yeah, no shit.” Babe huffed, and rubbed his hands together despite the gloves over them. “Taking a head on approach didn’t work neither. What the fuck else is there to do, huh?”
“You’re asking the wrong guy, Heffron.” Gene snapped, before he added in a hissed whisper, “I’ve tried everything I could think of and it ain’t worked, what makes you think I know what to do now, huh?”
Babe paused, thought about how he didn’t know how many times this made for Doc. Could have been hundreds, for all he knew, and he couldn’t even handle four. Pathetic.
“A’right, a’right.” Babe conceded, and pulled off his gloves. He plopped them in Gene’s lap and looked away. “We just try again, like you said. Best chance we had, we went straight in. Just gotta keep Johnny down and it’ll be cake. Bring Julian back safe and sound and we move the fuck on.”
There was a comfortable silence between them for a time, and it really was worse above ground than down in the foxholes. Maybe he could convince Gene to come huddle with them. It would beat the single one Babe knew Doc hid out in from time to time. Fucking Dike threw a fit every time he caught the medics together, paranoid that they’d both be lost in one hit. Winters never had a problem with it.
“Hey, you suppose Johnny really might be in?”
Babe turned just in time to see Gene shrug and pass him back his gloves. Babe frowned at the returned gesture. It hadn’t even been five minutes. Doc hissed as he stood.
“I don’t even know how you got it, Heffron.” Gene shoved his pale hands into his coat pockets and rolled his shoulders. “Thought it’d just be me.”
“You really don’t know what’s goin’ on, Doc?”
Gene shook his head and moved, pittering across the frozen ground with ease, like a dancer or something. Babe just hissed out a low, “Fuck.” and pulled himself up to go back to his hole with Julian. Julian gave him a cross look, but turned back to the line when Babe gave one back. He sunk in next to him and pulled the blanket up over both of them.
“When I get outta this, I’m gonna move somewhere fucking hot.”
“Like where?” Julian asked, dull and tired.
“Mexico or some shit, I don’t care. Just somewhere where the sun don’t stop fucking shining.”
“I hope you get there, someday.” Julian said, and it was so sincere that Babe’s heart dropped.
For as much as the little shit bugged him, the kid wasn’t half bad. He was young, a virgin with high hopes for the world and a heart for adventure. It was why he was here, in this shithole with his rifle thinking the war would earn him enough stripes that he could get any broad and make something of himself.
Babe prayed a bullet wouldn’t end up through his throat. He prayed that this time it would be enough.
Morning came and Babe couldn’t bring himself to eat, he was nothing but jitters. Frustration burned holes through his skin and just about took off Cobb’s head when the asshole sent a sly remark his way. After that, Lipton was sent his way. The guy had a way of calming people down, of pulling them down off of the ledge of losing it completely.
Babe didn’t need Lipton, Babe needed Julian to last past the next six hours. He assured Lipton he wasn’t cracked, just eager to get moving. Malarkey laughed and told him he was getting his wish, Nixon was sending him out on a patrol. Babe just let himself stew in the sourness of three resets. This would be the fifth time he’d hear Hoobler whine about the cold as they walked.
When the priest finished his prayer and everyone grumbled as they geared up, Babe caught Martin’s eyes on Julian again. Julian wandered up, exactly as Babe had warned him not to do, and asked for permission to lead. Johnny just stared at the kid for minute and ordered him back in line. Doc came in, just as he had for the last time, quietly insisting he go. Babe readied himself to agree, but to his surprise Martin nodded.
“Yeah, stay close to the front, just in case.”
Babe shared a look with Roe and opened his mouth, “Hey, Martin, can I join you up front?”
Johnny looked at him, looked a little pale and far too pensive. “Yeah, sure. Hey, Julian, you’re bringing up the rear, got it? Don’t let anyone get on our ass.”
“Sir.” Julian said, visibly downtrodden.
“Hey, don’t be poutin’.” Babe scolded. “My ass is important, you hear?”
He swallowed after Julian rolled his eyes, but smiled back at him. Fuck, he needed this kid to live. Babe followed Johnny to the front and the gut feeling he had yesterday only multiplied. Johnny was way too quiet for his usual self.
“Hey, Johnny,” Babe called after a couple of minutes, when they pulled slightly ahead of the others. It was enough that only Bull Randleman and Doc could overhear them. “You’re real quiet.”
“Nah,” Johnny denied with a shrug, “just trying to listen over your loud breathing.”
Babe ignored the jeer and countered with a nonchalant, “You have a nightmare or somethin’?”
Johnny slowed, just a tad, and Babe gave him the courtesy of not looking at him. He just carried on, M1 ready as they approached what Babe had labeled in his head the kill zone.
“Somethin’.” Johnny answered, slow and careful.
Well shit, he knew he was right. “Me too. Somethin’, I mean.”
“I think we should continue ahead.” Martin advised, and Babe nodded in agreement. “Fog looks thicker to the left.”
“Didn’t work out so well last time, huh?” Babe said without thinking too much about it.
Johnny stopped walking, took hold of his arm and Babe looked him in the eye. “What did you just say?”
Then there were bullets. Hundreds whipped past them as the company dove for cover. Shit, Babe hadn’t paid enough attention. Johnny looked unhurt, barked out orders like nothing had happened and Babe tried to focus on that. Doc had Julian, Babe was certain. This time, he wasn’t going to die.
Julian didn’t. Someone else was hit, a shot just above the stomach and Babe watched as Hoobler and Bull pulled the man back into what would hopefully be safety. Martin called for Peacock to run back to CP. He was shot in the head as he ran. Babe had only a second to look Johnny in the eyes before he found himself in his foxhole once more.
“Son of a bitch!”