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"Get everyone in the trucks! Go! Go!" Winters commanded his men, walking down the line of waiting vehicles.
Doc Roe looked up from wrapping a bandage around a man's shoulder. He watched the men scurry around like ants after a child kicked their home in childish glee.
Operation Market Garden was collapsing around them. Since learning about the operation, while the other men cheered at the idea of Berlin by Christmas, Roe felt nauseous. Something about the operation did not sit well with him. Call it intuition or a sixth sense, he just knew it could not be that simple. Before they dropped into Holland, he had convinced all the medics he knew to bring extra bandages and morphine, anything they could get their hands on. He hoped it would be enough.
"Can you get up?"
The Private grimaced, face pale. "Thank you, Doc. I'll find a seat myself."
"We'll find you some morphine at the aid station." Roe nodded at the Private before starting along the line of trucks, eyes and ears open for the call of a medic.
He caught sight of Spina helping a limping Private onto a truck bed before climbing in himself to continue administering aid. As he continued, he checked people off his mental list. He saw Shifty, Moore, Liebgott, Ramirez, Tanner, Talbert...more and more raced back to the trucks, some with blood tainting their skin and uniforms. He would have to check on them later.
There was one face in particular he had not seen yet.
The further he walked, dodging men retreating, the more his heart pounded in his ears. She was supposed to be in the back. She was supposed to be safe.
"Non, non, non, où es-tu?" He whispered to himself, panic creeping under his skin. (No, no, no, where are you?)
Ever since she had been wounded in Carentan, Winters had kept her from the front lines unless absolutely necessary. Usually, she was holed up somewhere and watching the men's backs, using her sniper skills. Shifty may be their sniper on the ground, but she was their sniper from above. Their guardian angel. If she had been sent to assist...the situation was worse than Roe had previously thought.
Sometime between Toccoa and Aldbourne, he something shifted between them. He could not pinpoint an exact moment. It was somewhere in the lingering touches, the soft smiles exchanged, the comforting words and stories to cheer one another up...somehow, he had fallen in love. Now he needed her just as much as air. She was his lighthouse, his beacon of hope. She had to be safe.
Glancing to his left, he headed towards the truck with what looked like most of her platoon in it. "Luz! You seen y/n?"
Luz looked down at him from his seat. "No, Doc. Last I saw she was protecting the retreat." Remorse and concern filled his eyes as he answered. They both knew what that meant. She would be the last to evacuate, the last to safety, the one most likely left behind.
Roe started running.
"Merde." He swore, eyes darting everywhere for a sign she was nearby, that she was alright. She had to be. It was that loyalty that he both loved and hated in her, how she would make sure "her boys" were safe, protecting their backs and lives, and in the process, be willing to sacrifice her own.
"Y/n! Y/n!" He began calling out in desperation. Ignoring the stares of some of the men, he wrestled internally with his own panic. His cries bordered on hysterical at this point.
They had never spoken those three little words to each other. Never put a name to what existed between them. They just were whatever the other one needed. Over the past two years, that grew until they were each other's world. How they sought each other out. How in a group, they always looked for the other first before anyone else. The quiet nights they cried together.
"Richardson! Is y/n with you?"
The man glanced around the back of the truck that he was waiting to jump into. "No, Doc. She missing?"
Roe did not wait to reply. He kept moving. He had to. Otherwise the growing terror in his mind would consume him. "S’ll vous plaît, Que Dieu la laisse être en sécurité. S'il vous plaît." (Please, God let her be safe. Please.)
"Doc! Over here!"
He zeroed in on Toye's call at the last truck. Pushing anyone who got in his way, he raced to where Toye stood watching. Once Toye noticed him coming, he sat back down, turning back to the person sitting next to him.
Rounding the side, he felt his heart and mind restart as he saw her. She sat next to Toye and some other Private on the uncomfortable wooden bench, her beloved rifle in her lap. As if sensing him, she looked up to meet his gaze. A soft smile -his smile- touched her lips. The panic and terror threatening him vanished like a mist in the wind.
"Mon amour." He breathed out, relief flooding him. There was dirt smeared on one side of her face and a small cut on her chin. Otherwise she appeared fine, even if her clothes looked disheveled and dirty beyond saving. She was alive. (My love.)
Without a further word, he jumped up into the truck and knelt down in front of her. "Hey, you." He held her face in his hands, gazing into her eyes for a long moment before pressing their foreheads together.
"Hey you." She whispered back, her hands cupping his own face. He could taste her breath on his lips. "I'm alright, Gene. I promise."
Leaning back, he ran a hand through her hair, wondering what happened to her helmet. Then he felt something wet and sticky on his fingers. Pulling his hand back, he saw blood on it...her blood.
Immediately he went into overbearing doctor mode.
"What happened?" He demanded, turning her head to the side and trying to find where the bleeding stemmed from.
"I'm fine."
He glared at her before resuming his inspection. Carding his fingers through her hair for an extra second, he began inspecting underneath, silently praying it was minimal. He could not lose her. There was nothing gushing so that was a good sign. She still seemed coherent, her eyes were not dilated, other good signs.
"I just hit my head a little on a brick wall when one of those explosions went off. It's not a big deal."
"Doll, shut up and let the man look you over." Toye drawled from beside her, watching the two in amusement.
Roe rolled his eyes as she stuck her tongue out at Toye. She winced when he touched a particular spot on the side of her head, hair matted with blood. After a moment, he leaned back on his knees and began digging through his medic bag.
"There’s a laceration but it doesn't look deep. You're lucky." He wrapped a bandage around the cut and her head to hold it there. Suppressing a chuckle, he continued to wrap it as she narrowed her eyes at him. She hated being fussed over. In his opinion, she could deal with it. She needed to get better...for both of their sakes.
The truck suddenly lurched, beginning its escape from Holland and the disastrous mission.
Roe shoved the Private next to her over, ignoring his protest, and slipped to her other side. Quietly he took her hand in his as his eyes scanned the others. He had been so focused on her; he did not even think about if any of the other men in the truck were injured. Luckily none were.
"I'm sorry I scared you. I had to help." She murmured, voice barely above the rumble of the trucks.
He sighed, squeezing her hand then pulled her closer into his side. "I know, mon amour, I know." He looked down, meeting those eyes he adored. "Doesn't mean I have to like it."
She laid her head on his shoulder. "No, but you can't protect me from everything. This is war."
"I can try. Tu es tout pour moi. J’ai besoin de toi à mes côtés. Toujours. Je promets après cette guerre de continuer à vous aimer et à vous chérir comme vous le méritez." The words poured forth, needing to be said, needing to be spoken aloud, even if just for his own sake. Though he meant them with all his heart. (You are everything to me. I need you by my side. Always. I promise after this war to continue to love and cherish you as you deserve.)
"Gene, you know I don't speak French. It's not fair cause I wanna know what you're saying."
"I'll teach you, y/n. I promise." He could not help but press a chaste kiss to the top of her head as they bounced along the road.
Looking at the blue sky and clouds above, he prayed he would be able to fulfill both of his promises to her, that they would both make it through this war. Most of all, he prayed for her to be safe, even at the expense of his own life.