Chapter Text
Dear Eugene,
That first spring evening
You called me an angel
How I wish I could be yours now
December 2nd, 1944
After such a strenuous day, Rapunzel was more than relieved to see the infirmary tent finally beginning to settle. Nearly two dozen men had been dragged in after an explosion rocked the air that morning, meaning her day had been filled with moaning blood-soaked men all on the verge of meeting their maker. But with the setting of the sun came the calm of clean bandages and several avoided casualties. One poor soldier had to lose a mutilated leg, but she honestly preferred standing by the doctor during the procedure to having to cover his corpse with a sheet. A missing leg meant he got sent home, and surely there were many people who would be thanking the heavens for that blessing, two legs or not.
Rapunzel polished off the scissors she had been cutting bandages with. Until her current ward woke up and was able to give her an assessment on his current state of health, there wasn’t much else to do. With nothing more interesting to look at, she turned her gaze to the unconscious man in the cot. He had apparently seen the grenade before his fellow soldiers and protected several of them—obviously not the amputee, but nonetheless it must have been a heroic act. Especially considering how he had been one of the soldiers closest to buying the farm that day. Bandages covered the wounds across his torso and arms, leaving him looking rather comically like a motion-picture mummy. His face had been the luckiest in the ordeal; despite how close he had been to the explosion, he’d managed to make it out with only some scrapes and bruises across his chiseled features. Rapunzel could only imagine that there was more than one young lady back home who would be relieved to know that face was still intact so he could return to “active duty.”
She cocked her head and considered the face in question. He was rather handsome—if not a little dopey while he slept—but not a conventional handsome. Certainly not a Jimmy Stewart or a Bing Crosby. His cheekbones and nose were much too angular for the boyish charm of such actors. Possibly a bit of Gary Cooper, or even a smidge of John Wayne roguishness. Of course, none of those stars had facial hair, but who did nowadays? She’d seen a few David Niven mustaches in style before the war, but for obvious reasons those were no longer a thing. Goatees were definitely not within the realm of current fashion—or military grooming codes. Neither was considerably long hair. She would have chalked up his odd choice in hairstyle to simply a lack of access to proper grooming tools, but the trim of his goatee betrayed both the intention and a meticulous concern for his appearance. As much as she wasn’t a fan of facial hair, she had to admit it did frame his jawline quite well.
Rapunzel held her scissors up in the light, noting with satisfaction the perfect gleam off of them before setting them on the table with her other tools. She would have to sketch this uniquely handsome soldier later tonight; no one would believe her if she tried to describe him.
Said handsome soldier let out a long groan. He tried to turn his head, but only succeeded in flopping it over to the side. His eyes struggled to open even enough to peek out into the evening light.
Rapunzel resisted the urge to giggle; the soldiers were often quite groggy when waking up. With a delicate touch she straightened his head to look up, giving him a better view of the tent from his slightly propped position.
His eyes were barely open by slits, but he managed to focus on her face. Rapunzel offered him a smile, most likely a welcome sight after his harrowing experience.
Instead, his brow furrowed, “Crap.”
That wasn’t really the reaction she had been expecting. “Sorry?”
“I’m dead.”
Rapunzel blinked once, “What?”
“I’m dead,” he slurred. “I died, I’m dead. Holy sh—can I say that here? I shouldn’t say that in heaven. How did I get to heaven?”
“Hold on, hold on!” Rapunzel scooted closer into the soldier’s blurry line of sight, “What on earth makes you think you’re dead?!”
He refocused on her face, “Because you’re an angel.”
Rapunzel felt a blush bloom across her face. It wasn’t the first time she’d heard poorly-crafted pick-up lines of the same take from men in the infirmary, but this was the first time it had been said with complete and utter conviction. Enough to make her blush at the very least. He had taken one look at her and immediately thought he had died because she looked like an angel? It must be the white uniform… She told herself. Or maybe he was just really good at acting. But the continued furrow in his brow told her otherwise; mister-oddly-handsome truly believed he was dead and that she was an angel.
Trying her best to shake off the rattle in her bones, she offered another smile that hopefully hid her embarrassment, “No…no sir, you’re not dead. You’re in the infirmary. You and your fellow soldiers were in line of a grenade, but you protected some of them and you’re all okay. Pete lost a leg, but otherwise he’s alive and well. You’re not dead, you’re in Southern France.”
The soldier kept staring, “….I don’t really believe you.”
Rapunzel shook her head with a laugh, “You don’t have to. Just get some rest and everything will eventually make sense.”
It seemed like he wanted to argue, but fatigue took over his senses once again and his eyes drooped shut. The rise and fall of his mummified chest assured Rapunzel that he was well asleep.
In fact, her own wave of exhaustion suddenly swept over her. And just in time, as Faith came to relieve Rapunzel’s position. A comment or two was made regarding the soldier’s hairstyle before Rapunzel excused herself and wound her way out of the tent and across the barracks to the ladies’ quarters. In record time she was changed and settled in her bunk with a dim lantern on the stand beside her.
Cass leaned over the side of the bunk to glare at Rapunzel, “Are you gonna turn that thing off sometime soon? It’s late, Raps.”
“In a minute,” Rapunzel responded absentmindedly, putting the finishing touches on her sketch.
Cass grumbled something about her having said the same thing half-an-hour ago before retreating back to the upper bunk. Rapunzel smiled to herself; no matter how annoyed Cass could be, Rapunzel knew her adopted sister was more than happy for them to have been sent to the same barrack. It certainly made the general horrors of being a war-time nurse a little less excruciating.
“Aaaand…there!” Rapunzel whispered with a last brush of her pencil across the sketched locks. Although she had only spoken with the soldier for a short time, she thought she had managed to capture his uniqueness. Her rendering had a bit of a heroic determination to his gaze, which was more or less conjecture on her part. He had saved some soldiers by putting himself in harm’s way, which suggested at least a sense of duty and compassion. But of course, knowing the men she was around every day, Rapunzel could be completely wrong about his character. Maybe he was actually a womanizer and a cad. But maybe not.
She tucked the slip of paper into her journal on the nightstand and finally killed the light, sending the crowded room into darkness.
The next morning she was a little surprised to be given the same position as the day before. However, as explained to her, Faith was concerned about one of the soldiers and specifically wanted Rapunzel to relieve her.
Rapunzel ducked into the tent, early morning light leaking through the cloth walls to bathe the room in a friendly glow than the previous day. The soldiers from yesterday’s incident all seemed to be rousing and generally alright. All except for the one by Faith, who wrung her hands in her uniform and shuffled back and forth in obvious discomfort.
“What’s wrong, Faith?” Rapunzel inquired as gently as she could. The young girl was easily startled, but nevertheless Rapunzel didn’t want to take lightly whatever had set her off.
“The soldier, he wouldn’t stop babbling all night!” Faith bit her lip in an attempt to stave off her anxious tears.
A bubble of frustration pricked at Rapunzel’s gut, although she did her best to push it down, “A lot of soldiers talk in their sleep, Faith. I’m sure he’s fine.”
“But—but he kept talking about an angel, and being dead, and—” Faith glanced back to the prone soldier on the cot, “…it just scared me…”
The annoyance Rapunzel had felt gave way to the usual sisterly concern she felt for Faith. She wrapped an arm around the girl’s shoulders and gave her a gentle squeeze, “I know; the night shift can be a little scary. Why don’t you go have breakfast and get some rest? You did great, and I’m sure he’s just fine.” Rapunzel let a coy smile cross her lips, “To tell you the truth, he actually thought he had woken up dead yesterday, so I’m not terribly surprised about his late-night ramblings.”
Faith giggled despite her frazzled nerves, “Then I guess the angel he meant must have been you.”
“I blame the uniforms.”
“Or,” Faith returned the sly grin, “maybe because you’re just so pretty!”
“Oh hush! Now get on out of here before I put you to work on something!”
With a final giggle, Faith scampered out of the tent, her fears apparently gone. Rapunzel turned to the soldier, still fast asleep despite the bustle. A quick finger to his wrist assured her his heart rate was normal, and a hand to his forehead indicated only a slight fever. A cold towel would fix that right up.
Having gathered her supplies, Rapunzel wrung a towel of the excess ice water. She propped the soldier’s head back up from where it had lolled over yet again, triggering a sleepy moan from him. At least he was showing some signs of consciousness. She laid the icy towel over his forehead.
At the flash of cold, the soldier’s eyes snapped open sudden enough to make Rapunzel jump. He didn’t flail or struggle, as rudely-awoken soldiers were wont to do. His eyes darted around the room, taking in his surroundings with frantic comprehension before landing on Rapunzel. His brow furrowed again, much the same way as it had the day before.
Rapunzel repressed the urge to roll her own eyes, “No, you’re not dead. No, I’m not an angel. Yes, you can cuss.”
He blinked a few times before her explanation seemed to finally settle in his brain, “I‘ve asked you that before, haven’t I?”
“And apparently you’ve been rambling about it all night too.”
The soldier nodded once, still apparently wrapping his mind around what must have been a very hazy 24 hours, “You’re sure I’m not dead?”
“Positive.”
“Really? Because…” a very smarmy grin etched across his chiseled features, “You do look like an angel.”
Rapunzel shot him a glare.
Flustered shame bloomed across his face with a grimace, “Sorry…sorry, that was rude. I’m sorry…”
At least he apologized, “Apology accepted. I’m just glad to see you’re able to form coherent sentences.”
“Well it’s not often I get such diligent treatment in this tent.”
“Considering how you got blasted in the face yesterday, we couldn’t very well leave you to rot by yourself.”
“My face?!” His bandaged hand flew to his nose, “I’m—how’s my nose?!”
Rapunzel cocked an eyebrow, “Perfectly fine. But shouldn’t you be more worried about the rest of your body that’s covered in bandages?”
“This nose is a gift. I gotta protect my assets.”
A burst of laughter escaped Rapunzel before she could manage to quiet herself, with a number of glares from the other nurses shot her way.
The soldier cocked his head in confusion, “Why’d you stop?”
Rapunzel cleared her throat in an attempt to regain civility, “The medic tent is no place for that, that’s why.”
His stare bored into her as though attempting to pick apart some puzzle she couldn’t see on her own face, “That’s too bad,” he said after a long minute of perusal, “You have a beautiful laugh.”
Rapunzel almost brushed aside the comment, but something in his stare told her to not take his word for granted. “Um…thank you?”
“Plus,” he flashed her a dazzling white smile, “I kinda have a thing for brunettes.”
It seemed his sincerity only went so far. Rapunzel scowled again, although the soldier seemed to have caught himself already.
“Sh— I’m sorry! Old habits die hard, I guess.” He rubbed a hand across his face as though trying to wipe away the treasonous grin.
Rapunzel rolled her eyes; he was going to be an interesting ward for the next few days, between lame attempts at flirting and flustered apologies. Probably more annoying than it was charming.
….maybe it was a little charming. A little.
She fought back the sudden knot in her stomach and snatched a roll of white bandage from her supplies. “Can you sit up? I need to change your wrappings.”
The soldier glanced down at his torso, “Maybe?” He gripped the sides of the cot and pushed with a grunt; to no avail. Despite the strain across his face he didn’t lift himself more than a few inches from the cot.
“Here, let me help,” Rapunzel slipped her hands beneath him and lifted. With a huff of significant effort he managed to sit up at last.
“What did I do to myself?” The soldier grumbled. “I can’t even sit up right…”
“You pulled a few muscles, and you have several burns—”
“Rhetorical question,”
Rapunzel pursed her lips, “You want my help or not?”
He returned her glare with a groan, “Fine…”
With his reluctant permission, Rapunzel positioned herself behind him and began undoing the wrappings. He winced as the cloth pulled away from his tender skin. Such a reaction wasn’t uncommon, but for whatever reason Rapunzel was stabbed with a pang of guilt.
“So…” She searched desperately for any line of conversation, something to distract him from the mounting discomfort, “Why did you jump in front of that grenade?”
“You heard why,” he responded through gritted teeth. “The guys were in the way, and I had a split second to get them out.”
“Well yes,” Rapunzel wasn’t sure of the answer she was fishing for from him, “But…why?”
He was silent for a long while; long enough that Rapunzel thought maybe he wasn’t comfortable giving her a response, or that he couldn’t think of one to her prying question. That is, until he let out a sigh that made the burns and scars now exposed across his back stretch in a way that made her stomach churn. “They’re good men; they have things to keep fighting for back home. I guess I couldn’t rationalize putting whatever I think I deserve over that.”
Rapunzel’s hands halted their work, suddenly taken quite aback. “That’s…that’s very noble.”
His shoulders gave a minuscule shrug, as much as his wounds would allow, “Or fatalistic.”
Despite herself, a smile crossed her lips, “That’s a five-dollar college word if I ever heard one.”
“Surprised I’m more than just a pretty face?”
Rapunzel huffed with amusement, “Maybe.” She bundled up the now-removed bandage and dropped it in the refuse bin. “Now can I get a name with that pretty face?”
The soldier glanced over his shoulder, a twinkle in his eye, “Eugene. Eugene Fitzherbert.”
“Hm, I like it. Sounds like a hero from a Jane Austen novel.”
“What, you think it sounds like Fitzwilliam Darcy—oh yeah, I hear it.” He cocked an eyebrow to her, “And might I get the name of my diligent nurse as well?”
Her smile grew despite herself, “Rapunzel.”
“…Gesundheit?”