Warnings: ¡Spoilers! Blood, Gore, Language, Violence, Dark Themes, War Action, Descriptions of Wounds/Illness, etc
Spoilers: Bastogne ( s01e06 ) , set two days post - Requiem of An Incident ( Disquiet )
Timeline: Bastogne
Pairings: Gen. None.
Overall Summary: Memories tied with an intimate, imprinting emotion are usually remembered with far greater vividness than others.
Chapter Summary: It's always a morose time when a comrade is wounded & their return is in question, especially with the ones so well liked, but it's always a grand relief when the odds are beat & to the ranks they do return to fight alongside their brothers once again. Or in this case, swoop in to secure a bandage in place with softly assured words & swift application of morphine.
A/N: I don't have much of an author's note, except to apologise that this took a bit longer to post than I had originally thought it would as after completing it , I realised I had left out a massive bit that needed to be resolved from the first chapter. So I had to find a way to slip it into all that I had already written since it wouldn't be complete without it.

Thank you so much to Mckenna , TheGoldenGroups , & Footprints In The Snow for reviewing ! I appreciate your comments & words of encouragement , I am very happy that you liked chapter one & I hope you like chapter two as well !

Disclaimer: I do not own any rights to Band of Brothers or the book it's based on. Nor do I wish to mock / slander / jest with or disgrace their names & that part of history. Take none of what happens within as fact, unless stated otherwise in endnotes.

"Under certain circumstances, profanity provides a relief denied even to prayer." – Mark Twain

Unfamiliar noises filtered through the grogginess of sleep, ones not associated with the chatting of soldiers or conversing of officers nor that of the woods 2nd battalion had been camped in for the last few weeks. Curious, Roe attempted to open his eyes to look around and hopefully place where he was. He was prone to forgetting just as any man was, but complete blank spaces of memory as to if they moved out was worrying to him.

A wave of dizziness kept his movements restricted, barely able to move his head to look about the room. Seeing the hazy field of a ceiling above and fuzzy outlines of people, furniture and other items slowly coming into focus, Roe realised he was at the aid station. The headache he was currently sporting gave him a clue as to why, but he held no memory of anything that could have landed him here as a patient.

Though, as startling as waking up here without immediate recall of why or how, the medic was thankful to hear a familiar voice suddenly gasp out in express relief, "Jesus fucking Christ, Thank God."

Squinting against the light filtering in through the windows, the brightness stinging the back of his eyes and throbbing at his temples, Roe focused on the welcome sight of Ralph Spina. Noting despite his discomfort and the relieved smile on his partner's face that Spina appeared haggard with dark circles under a set of troubled eyes that were further outlined by the pale nature of his face.

His clothes carrying discolored patches of mottled maroon on his olive green ODs, Roe's mind supplying that dried blood was responsible for the miscolour. Those stains hadn't been as present on the other medic's uniform when he'd last seen him.

Those observations spurred Roe's next words, spoken with a concern they shared for another as medics, "You alright?"

Spina stared at him, an odd look in his eyes before shaking his head incredulously and clearing his throat to explain, "You've been out for two days, Doc. A bullet to the side of your head coupled with exhaustion put you out like no tomorrow."

The admission left Roe stunned, reeling at the notion of him being off the line for two days, even a few hours was bad enough, "What? Two days?... Damn."

Hearing that response pulled a laugh from Spina, though it was devoid of any real humour, "I'd say, Doc. You had everyone worried."

Wanting Roe to realize all he put them through with not waking up within an hour or the day, just continuing to be unresponsive to any attempts to wake him. It had scarred Spina more than he let show when he returned to camp after doing all that he could for Roe that night. Fearing for his friend's life, whether he'd be the same after he woke back up or if he ever would, and afraid for 2nd battalion as a whole with so few medics to begin with.

"Was anyone hurt while I was out?" Roe asked, genuine worry over the men back on the line punched his brow and he would have made to sit up had a stab of dizziness not chosen that moment to strike, but by the time it passed Spina was already into his rendition of events.

"The kid who shot you is actin' as a runner for Captain Winters, he's pretty sorry about what he did."

…

Parting ways from the First Sergeant, Spina made his way towards the farther back positioned foxholes. Back where he knew Ducaine was now situated with Benton. Footfalls crunching the snow under his boots, his crouched position not lessening the sound any since the snow had frozen without any new snowfall to cover it again. Though by tonight the medic was certain that wouldn't be the case. Another snowstorm never seemed far away here.

Dropping low to kneel just along the edge of Benton's foxhole, it being far too small for him to slip beside the two that sat within. Giving a small nod to the Corporal, Spina focused his attention on the replacement private. The kid sat huddled underneath an army issued blanket, although it appeared to be doing little good with the tremors racking the private's frame being visible to the naked eye despite it. Gaze staring ahead just over the lip of the foxhole, but it didn't seem as if the kid was seeing much.

"Hey, Ducaine." Spina called, tone aimed light, near conversational - like to ensure the replacement knew Spina held nothing against the kid nor was he patronising him either.

Suddenly seeming to come alive, Ducaine's head shot up to sharply look at Spina, "Doc Roe, is he—? He's okay, right?"

Hearing the unabashed hope in the younger trooper's tone had Spina rolling his bottom lip between his teeth. Conflicted about telling Ducaine a partial truth to the whole of it. While Roe's chances were good, head wounds were tricky given the best of circumstances. And considering they were without any surgeons nor proper aid station with supplies, Spina worried for Roe. Hell, at this rate, it was worrisome for everyone out here, but he doubted that degree of honesty would garner any points towards moral.

"He's alive and at the aid station where he needs to be." Spina answered, figuring a version of the response he gave the Captain would have to do, "Only time can tell with head wounds, but Gene's a tough s.o.b as anyone will tell you."

"Yeah, couldn't put that better myself!" Benton added, glancing from the medic to the replacement.

Although the kid had paled a shade lighter at hearing Spina's words. Swallowing thickly at the thought of having killed, or worse yet, harmed the doc's mind in any degree, the young trooper began trembling all over again. Mind awash with guilt over doing that to another man, on their side and their medic for christ's sake.

"Hey, hey, it was an accident, kid." Benton threw an arm over Ducaine's shoulders, speaking reassuringly with only a creeping edge of desperatity to his tone.

Too many replacements, fucking kids really, were being taken out by kaut fire or by the whole weight of this situation. Constant vigilance, facing enemy artillery with uneasy break in between, plus the cold and little hot food, wore away at everyone. To add losing buddies, or this instant of guilt in being the cause of anyone's harm within their company had to be all the more weight. Or so Benton figured.

"Doc Spina was there quick enough. And Doc's at the aid station now being looked after. Best to be optimistic, Sam."

Spina nodded in agreement with Benton's words, "He's right. Gene's where he needs to be and I have a request from Captain Winters for you to be a runner for him at headquarters for a while."

Ducaine attempted a shake of his head, he didn't want to come off the line, he'd already caused enough trouble for everyone. In his mind.

Opening his mouth to protest, but Benton spoke up before Ducaine could voice a word against it, "Smith once skewered Talbert with a bayonet because he thought he was a Kaut."

This drew Ducaine's attention, and Benton continued to explain, especially at seeing Spina's intrigued expression, "Tab found a Kaut pancho and was wearing it when he went to check the line, then he went to wake Smith. Still wearing that pancho and Smith thought a Kaut was sneaking up on him, and stabbed him. Happened back when we took Carentan."

"See. Accidents happen." Spina reiterated softly, then standing he motioned for the kid to stand and follow him, "Now c'mon we shouldn't keep Captain Winters waiting."

Ducaine nodded, looking a slight numb but less on the verge of panicking, and stood to pull himself up out of he foxhole. Spina offering a hand for him to grasp, to which he accepted a bit absently. Still pale but standing steady, Ducaine didn't flinch when Spina gingerly slapped him on the back as they walked. Knowing the gesture was supposed to be bostlering and friendly.

"C'mon, let's get you to Lipton. And he'll take you to the CP." Spina explained, turning away from the kid to call into the thin fog where he knew the First Sergeant would be waiting, "Sergeant Lipton."

Carwood Lipton was quick to appear, walking up towards them with a patient smile that he always had for the men, "Doc Spina. Ducaine, you ready to try your hand at being a runner?"

Spoken as if this assignment was an undertaking, one that was of equal importance to this war as any of the men still situated within their foxholes. Lipton always has a way about never belittling nor shaming a man when he wasn't at his best. All the First Sergeant's strength of person and position of rank, never once was it abused. It reminded Spina of Captain Winters in that respect. A good man.

…

Breaking off from his retelling, Spina lunged forward to place a hand on Roe's chest. Attempting to keep the other medic from rising from

the cot, but it seemed Roe was insistent to sit up.

Spina reaches around to help Roe do so, placing an arm around his back and keeping it there when the stubborn medic swayed. The sudden change in elevation eliciting another dizzy spell and lightheadedness at the fluctuation in blood pressure sitting up had caused. Roe's eyes had slammed closed, his features compressed in a grimace.

"Breathe through it." Spina encouraged, "You know the drill. I won't let go until you're ready."

After a handful of moments, Roe was able to open his eyes and give a ginger nod that he was okay on his own now. Spina waited a moment more, eyeing his partner's all too pale face and the tension at his eyes that spelled a hell of a headache, before gauging that Roe was indeed steady enough for him to move away.

"Hang on a second." Spina stepped over to a crate of supplies to pull out a glass bottle of aspirin, twisting off the cap and shaking out two of the little white pills, he moved back over to Roe's cot.

"Here." Spina held out his hand to pass over the pain relief, removing his canteen and taking its cap off to pass that over next.

Roe reached out to take the proffered items but stopped short when he felt something on his hand. Glancing down at the appendage, he noticed that a rosary dangled from being intricately woven around his fingers. He blinked in shock at seeing it, he didn't have one of his own but this one seemed vaguely familiar.

"Oh, that's Skip's." Spina explained at seeing the confusion come over Roe's face, "He lent it to you. He thought it'd help."

"Ah." A delicate upturn come to Roe's lips at realising why the cross was there.

Gently removed it from his hand and placed it in his pocket, where it'd be protected and kept safe. Setting a mental reminder to give it back to Muck once he returned to the line and thank him for lending it to him. The gesture a kind one that Roe appreciated far more than he could express.

"Here." Spina reminded, giving his hand a little shake for empathises, Roe of the pills he'd been about to take.

"Thank you." Roe accepted each easily then, popping the pills in then swallowing them down with a drink of water that had him groaning anew at the iodine taste of it.

"Figured you'd have one hell of a headache, no matter how many days it took you to wake up." Spina took the canteen back, sliding into its cover before retrieving his lighter, "Mind if I check?"

Roe glanced from Spina to the lighter then back again, nodding faintly, "Yeah, okay. If you tell me all that's happened since I've been 'ere."

"You got it." Spina agreed, striking the lighter until a flame came up, "Already told you about the kid. But during a shelling, Alley took some shrapnel to the leg. He's fine. Then Wiseman took some to his arm. Set them both here for stitches, but they were back this morning fine an' dandy."

…

"Fuck! How bad is it?" Wiseman grounded out as Spina slid into the sparse free space within the foxhole.

Hoobler, who held a hand onto the other's uninjured shoulder to keep him off his back, shifted some to give the medic more room to work. His gaze flicking from his wounded foxhole partner to the line and back again, wondering if the kauts were going to try an advance, thus his other hand kept a tight grip on his rifle.

A moment to examine the wound through the thick clothing, visually then with some required prodding that elicited another several epithets from the wounded private, before Spina could confidently say, "It's not bad at all. I'm going to pull it and then bandage it. Get you some stitches at an aid station and you'll be fine."

"Shit." Wiseman muttered, relief coating the epithet thickly.

"Hold still." Spina instructed, bracing a hand on Wiseman's shoulder above the wound while he pinched the sharpnel between his fingers and gave a swift pull.

Blood welled up, but it was slow and Spina had a bandage pressed to it a moment later. Wiseman's groans against the sting radiating from his wound went ignored, until Spina was done securing the bandage around his patient's arm and helped sit him back up. Only then did his hands grabbed for a morphine syrette, preparing to inject it into Wiseman's shoulder, opposite of the wounded on.

"No. I'm good, I'm good." Wiseman waved off the syrette, "It just stings like a bitch."

"Think that's sting like a bee, Don." Hoobler shout back, grinning at his own joke.

Wiseman huffed on a laugh, "Jeez, Hoob."

Hoobler merely laughed aloud at that, glancing back to flash a large smile over his shoulder.

"All right, c'mon you jokers." Spina hadn't to break up the fun, but Wiseman and Alley needed an aid station, "You and Alley have an appointment at the aid station."

…

"Whoa, hey! If you push yourself too far too soon and you'll end up right back on that cot." Spina stressed in exasperation, unable to stop Roe from swinging his legs over the edge of the small cot, "You know that."

"'m fine." Roe insisted, glaring back up at the other medic, "Headache is all I've got. Others could use this bed."

Spina laid a supporting hand on his shoulder since he knew he couldn't push the stubborn man back down, going by the look Roe was sending his way, it wasn't a wise idea to even try to dissuade him further.

Instead he said the one thing he knew would stop him in his tracks, "Your girl will want to check that head of yours before you leave. She worried over you just the same."

Roe paused, about to correct the his partner about her not being "his girl", when a delighted and relieved voice called out, "Eugene!"

Renée then appeared from around the corner, hurrying over to the side of his cot, "Comment allez-vous?"

Spina stepped back to let her examine him herself, her deft fingers removing the bandage gingerly. Then she checked the integrity of the stitches, while ensuring there wasn't any sign of infection. Renée found none but when she prodded the area lightly, fingers cool against his skin and forever gentle. Roe still flinched at the slightest touch.

"Encore tendres, mais guère de vertiges." Roe replied, noticing his words to be true even if the light stung his eyes and sounds seemed a bit too loud for the still present pounding in his head.

"Vous êtes chanceux." Was her response as she renewed the dressing, her touch gentle but steady.

He replied with a quiet, "I know"

Seeming satisfied then, she answered Roe unvoiced question that'd been brimming on his features during the entire examination, "You are all right enough to return."

Standing up, slowly so as not to upset any lingering dizziness, Roe smiled lightly in thanks towards the nurse, she returned the gesture kindly.

"Merci." He thanked her whilst Spina, standing off in the background, rose his eyebrows twice in quick session when he caught Roe's gaze.

Roe sent a stern glower towards his partner, who merely smirked, when Renée turned to grab his helmet and pass it back to him. Accepting it with an kind expression, he slipped on with only the barest of winces when it brushed against the bruised side of his head. The bandage that still covered it easing the discomfort fractionally. He'd have to be careful not to hit, or have his head hit, anytime soon again.

"I would say my pleasure, but I do not wish to see you back here for nothing more than to have your stitches removed." Renée stepped aside, away from the bed, glancing from Roe to Spina, "Good luck, both of you."

The pair nodded in thanks, Spina coming up to Roe side as they made to walk out of the church. The latter ignoring the side eyed glances sent his way by the former.

"Eugene." Renée called to Roe as he settled in the passenger side seat of the jeep that'd take him and Spina back to the line, his head darting up just as a chocolate bar landed in his lap, she waved, "Pour vous!"

Then she disappeared beyond the Church's archway. Just like the first day they'd met. Leaving Roe with a reminiscent uplift to the corner of his lips.

"So that's where you keep getting all those." Spina commented, pointedly, staring at the back of Eugene's head intently, tone suggestive.

"I've got no idea what yer talkin' 'bout." Roe responded, squinting off to the scenery passing along the side of the jeep.

Roe deliberately not looking back at Spina , who scoffed and mumbled "Like Hell."

That brought a thin smile from Roe, the glare that followed it dampened by the curve to his lips. It only causing Spina to laugh outright. All in good humour were the jokes and jests, if they didn't have the little things to tease or laugh about then this hellhole would be far more devastating than it already was.

If only they could bask in that for awhile longer, but war held little sympathy for anyone; soldier and civilian alike. They had their jobs to do and necessity had Roe turning to look at Spina once again. Features severe.

"Tell me the rest of what happened while I was out?" Roe asked, "So I know what ta expect when we get back."

Spina cleared his throat to answer, knowing his partner would find out later anyway as Roe remained the most senior medic to 2nd battalion, "Shell blast hit Hayes. Soaked through his bandages no matter how much pressure we put on it."

...

"How bad?" Spina questioned once he dropped to his knees along the ground near Holton and Hayes' foxhole, leaning in close to examine Hayes.

"Took a hit from shell fragments." Holton, who sat near Hayes' head, pointed out the darkening carmine patches along the other private's left side.

Nodding in acknowledge, expression sent in a calm determination, the medic set to work. Pulling at the wounded man's pants leg to tear them open, gaining access to the afflicted area. Visually taking in the injury, as his hands moved to snatch a sulfa packet from his bag. Tearing it open with his teeth he evenly sprinkled it along his leg, slapping a clean bandage on next and swiftly tying it securely.

Retrieving another sulfa packet and pressure bandage, Spina quickly made work of tying it to the majority of the wound on his side, before snatching a syrette from his bag to stick the trooper with.

"Here. Pin that to his jacket." Spina passed up the empty syrette to Sergeant Martin, who had came over to help.

"We got a jeep coming." Martin told the medic whilst he quickly obeyed Spina's orders, "Got Luz to radio in before I came over."

"Thanks." Spina acknowledged with a nod.

"He's gonna be okay, right?" Holton's question was directed at Spina, fearful eyes imploring Spina to say yes.

"He's going to be fine. He'll need some stitches and to get to the aid station. Though it depends on the amount of damage to the muscle on his leg if he'll come back or not." Spina answered, but his attention was on the bandages along Hayes' side, noting the snow beneath the private was still growing red despite the bandage being tight.

Frowning, Spina leaned over to pull up the downed man's eyelids then press a hand to his forehead as the other clasped his wrist to feel for the pulse there.

"Help me turn him! He's bleeding somewhere else!" Spina's actions were ahead of his words as he was already pulling at the trooper's belt to see his back, and with the help of the others revealed another gunshot wound to his lower back. "All the way, I need him on his stomach."

The movements were quick and efficient, though not a sound came from the wounded man. Even with the morphine, hastily being maneuvered onto his back should have at least brought a moan or movement indicating of pain. That wasn't a good sign.

"Oh God." Breathed Holton at seeing the extent of wound, swallowing thickly at the sight of it.

Spina's hands shoved the regulation jacket and undershirt aside to better access the shrapnel wound. The fragment had punctured through the lower back near where the kidneys were, and was steadily bleeding, even with gravity now against it; something major had been hit or the artery severed.

Coming to that conclusion didn't stop the medic from pulling an abdominal bandage from his bag and pressing it against the trooper's back. The body beneath him didn't react either to this, causing a stab of fear to slice through Spina's core. Quiet patients were always a concern. He'd rather them screaming their lungs dry or cursing him out than quiet and listless.

...

His voice having gained vehemence throughout his retelling had dropped off suddenly, leaving Spina a slight breathless and grief stricken, "Shit. I'm sorry, 'Gene."

"Hey, hey Ralph." Roe had turned in his seat the best he could to face Spina, his expression hauntingly understanding, "I get it, it's hell losing 'em. But you did all you could. Tha's all any of us can do out 'ere."

"Yeah, but maybe if you'd be—" Spina began, interrupted swiftly by Roe.

"Nuh-uh. You's just a good medic, betta than most." Roe redirected, "They know that an' trust you. All you did for 'em while I was at the aid station. They saw that an' all the times before."

Spina considered Roe's words, thinking back to the few days he spent as Easy Company's sole medic. Helping Ducaine see it was just an accident, giving reports to Winters and the rest of the men about Roe's health, patching up Alley and Wiseman, and keeping a steady check up on the men's overall health. Going beyond his duties as a medic ranked at Private. It was a responsibility he hadn't had to yet face alone, nor really considered as Roe had always been there, but he did it.

But he had hated being without Roe. Someone to just shoot the shit or sit in comfortable silent with after the wounded to taken care of. Having someone who knew the specific struggle all medics faced day in and day out helped. It ease the burdens of everyday and drew them closer than with any other company member. Despite army medicals advising against attachments, he and Roe had become friends.

"An' you're still 'ere despite all the bad." Roe continued, taking Spina's silence as continued doubt, "Through this shit, you still run out at the call of medic an' do your job. You give your all for every man."

Spina looked up at Roe, catching the other's intense gaze, "I get what you're saying. It's just..."

"I know." Roe agreed, he too was finding the fight against combat fatigue rough, "Think that's why they try to keep us in pairs. To balance each other out when we need."

"That I can believe for sure." Spina had to smile at that, it more rueful than humourful, before turning serious again, "Missed the hell out of having you only a shout away. Scared the hell out of me too. Being the only one they'd call for."

Roe offered a rarely seen genuine smile, it reaching his tired eyes, "Well, you survived it an' managed to help lots of the guys. Helped patch me up too when I needed it."

Glancing down, Spina nodded. Always he'd doubted that'd he have the metal for being a medic, running out to bandage wounded men against Kraut fire without any weapon. He'd prepared to do weapons training and kill Krauts, not train in first aid and save lives. It was a reversal for him when after basic training, they'd slapped a red cross brassard in his hands and told him to report to the medical tents for his training.

"Thanks. Guess I just needed to hear it." Spina finally relaxed, unaware his posture had been so tense before.

Roe allowed a smirk to upturn his lips, the most Spina had seen his smile in this last ten minutes than since they met, "More like convince you of what was right under your nose."

"Oh okay. I see how it is." Spina laughed, taking the joke for what it was, "Tell me I'm good then bring out the insults. Thanks 'Gene."

Roe's smirk deepened. He turned back around to conceal the expression from his partner, shoulders jumping a fraction in a silent laugh at hearing Spina's mock affronted huff from behind him.

...

Their return back to camp was heralded by a barrage of shelling not a second after the jeep pulled up to the outer perimeter of Easy Company's designated encampment. Machine gun fire and snapped off rifle shots soon followed. The Germans pressing along the line.

Immediately Roe and Spina leapt out of the jeep's interior, the latter running out first into the fray as his instincts had yet to let him relax so soon after Doc's return. Besides he didn't want the other overworking himself that soon after having his bell rung that severely. Him catching the first call for medic , voiced by Wynn.

Sliding to his knees beside a fallen tree trunk, Roe clutched his head between both his hands. Pressing the palms of each hand to his temples, aching to shift them over his ears but knowing he wouldn't be able to hear anyone yell over the explosions combined with him muffling his already ringing ears. Though the ground felt as if he'd stepped foot on an ocean bound rig during rough seas, he was up and sprinting like a bullet at the second call for a medic. Trusting Spina to handle the first, but he wasn't without help any longer. Not so long as Roe was still around and capable.

His leanly muscled legs covering the distance in long strides, weaving purposefully and not so purposefully through the trees and natural debris caused by previous barrages; using fallen trunks or stumps as cover and pausing points to regain some of his bearings before pushing off again. Paying no attention to hearing a startled shout of 'what the fuck' off to his left, his sole focus being on putting one foot in front of the other as quickly as possible towards the man needing his assistance.

It was a foxhole shielding Robbins and Christenson that the shouts came from. Sliding in expertly into the slim open space of their foxhole, Roe took note of Christenson holding each of Robbins' arms in each of his hands, clasping them at the elbow and keeping them apart as Robbins withered and grimaced against the pain. The source coming from blistered burns lining the palm of his right hand.

"How'd ya manage this?" The medic asked, more to gauge his patient's level of alertness and pain than any true confusion.

Robbins gasped, gritting his teeth, "Touched the fucking barrel."

Christenson was quick to explain further , "We had to move quickly. He grabbed the gun's barrel without gloves, but if he hadn't we would have lost the whole gun."

"Takin' your word fer that, Sarge." Roe answered without looking up from examining Robbins' hand, noting with relief that the burns didn't extend past the palms and appeared to be only partial thickness.

"It ain't that bad, Robbins. Ain't bad at all." As he spoke, Roe pulled a syrette from his bag, angling it then forcefully injecting it through the soldier's clothes and into the skin, "There ya go. It'll be all right".

The morphine taking affect almost instantly. Robbins' panting breathing rate slowing as his uncontrollable trembling and involuntary jerking movements in vain attempts to get away from the pain. Sliding the needle through the collar of his patient's uniform, ensuring it was pinned before diving back into his bag.

Seeing Doc shove his hands back into the internals of his bag to retrieve a packet containing sulfa pills, then unbuttoning the straps restraining one of his canteens, he ripped open the packet and calling to the drowsy assistant machine gunner, "Robbins, you gotta take these. C'mon."

Slipping an arm around the man's back, Roe lifted him up and popped the two white pills into the nearly limp soldier's mouth then lifted the uncapped canteen to his lips, patiently holding it steady as Robbins drank enough to wash down the chalky medication. Helping him lean back against the rugged wall of the foxhole while Roe shuffled through his bag to pull the tube of boric acid ointment out along with a bandage.

Unscrewing the cap to the burn cream, the medic set about gently spreading it over Robbins' injured hand. Ensuring to cover all the blisters and reddened areas of his hand before unwinding the cotton bandage around it.

Securing it with a pin on the back of Robbins' hand, Roe glanced up at Christenson, "Help me get 'em up an' to the rear."

With a swift heave, Robbins was out of the foxhole and they were headed to the jeep that thankfully remained here whilst the shelling was occurring. Though the driver was crouching a few feet away behind a large tree, the man running up to them and jumping back into the driver seat, looking all too eager to head back into town.

Just behind the three was Spina with Wynn helping a wounded Mayer supported between them. Roe turned to help lift Mayer up onto the stretcher strapped to the hood of the jeep. Robbins, glassy - eyed due to the morphine , held the passenger seat next to the driver.

"You go. Robbins got burns to both 'is hands." Roe spoke to Spina, but at noting the look of hesitance his fellow medic sent him , Eugene allowed a hint of a smile curved at a single corner of his pale lips as he continued, "I've spent more than enough time there."

Spina let loose a sharp chuckle at hearing that, stepping up to sit behind the Robbins' seat. Bracing between the spare tire and the seat's back to ride in with the two patients. An awkward ride it would make but it was nothing he hadn't done before.

"Make sure Robbins gets a penicillin shot!" Roe called as the jeep began pulling away, his voice near swallowed by another ME impacting the ground, but Spina waved a hand in signal that he heard.

Crouching beside a still standing tree, the medic waited. Ears perked, despite the deafening sound of artillery whistling overhead and the following explosions once it hit the earth, for any shouts for help. But as soon as the barrage had began, it was over. Only lasting a few handful of minutes as if the Germans were merely sending a reminder of their presence across the line.

A heavy breadth of silence fell upon the wood then. Everyone seeming to be held suspended in a moment of soundless tension, waiting to see if another bout of rounds would soon fall or any more movements from the kraut line and not wanting to be the one to set it off. No sound , nor movement. It seemed they'd halted any notion of advancing, or had simply been toying with their side.

Whatever it may have been, now all was quiet. And was so even after a handful of minutes. By unvoiced agreement several heads began to rise to peak over the lip of foxholes , while others relaxed their huddled forms and some called lowly pitched shouts to neighbouring foxholes asking if their buddies were all right.

Everyone had answered in affirmative as far as Roe could hear, none calling for a medic nor seeming to be in need of one. Thus he stayed put, crouched against the thick trunk of a tree. His frame ready to spring forward should that change.

"Did anyone else see Doc running through here?" Mellett piqued up, his head peeking over his foxhole to look right then left.

"Why? You need a medic?" Hashey asked, giving his foxhole partner a hard stare.

Mellett huffed, feeling a blush of embarrassment creep up on his face at the incline of how his next words may be received, "No, but I swear I saw Doc run by during that last attack."

"Hey, Hash, he hit his head in that last one?" Hoobler asked good naturedly, his voice coming from the left of them, he having overheard their conversation.

"Very funny, but I'm serious!" Mellett's tone had a hint of a plead within it, but was beginning to question what he'd seen.

Shaking his head at the exchange, Roe moved forward , crouched low, before anymore barbs could be exchanged, "'e's serious. Now you guys okay?"

A collective sputtering sound came from the foxholes nearest, whilst a vindicated, "See!" sprang up from his direct right.

"What the hell, Doc! When'd you get back?" Hoobler asked in a hushed whisper, elation palpable in his tone and in the fact he was smiling from ear to ear.

Another voice piped up, "Yeah, thought the aid station would have you held hostage for a few days yet!"

"You take a french leave from aid station, Doc?" Came an equally good - humoured voice.

"You know nothin' can keep me away long." Roe answered almost absently, keeping low to the ground he inched forward step by step, he asked again, "Everybody okay?"

Hoobler gave a short breathy laugh, shaking his head in wonderment, "We're good here."

"All good on your right." Came Hashey's voice, a follow up from Mellett with a quick, "A - Okay."

"Nothing to complain about that we don't already." That one brought forth a few snickers from those close enough to hear.

Spreading faster than a wildfire, as news amongst the men was wont to do, word was passed through the ranks of Doc's return. Met with marginal disbelief, until the man himself past by to check in on those within their foxholes. Happy greetings, muted in volume but not in delight, and choirs of welcome back.

"Hey, Doc. Heard you made it back to us just in time for that last attack." Malarkey spoke up at seeing the medic approach his and Muck's foxhole, a smile pulling at his chapped lips.

"Yeah, don't you know that staying out of it is the sane thing to do?" Muck added, but too was smiling.

Roe squatted outside the lip of their foxhole, a hint of his own smile playing at the corner of his lips, "Ain't stop me none. Not you neither."

"Isn't that the true of it." Malarkey huffed, elbowing Muck, "Mister 'I swam across the Niagara Falls River'."

"Eh, never said I was the sanest one around." Muck shrugged, his good - humour not abating any, "But again who of us is? Jumping out of perfectly good airplanes to go to war."

Malarkey had to agree with that, both their smiles upturning towards grins at the joke that most of airborne personnel always brought up one time or the next. Had to be a little nuts to do what they did. All the better for it, by their thoughts.

"Muck." Roe brought the conversation back, features a slight more serious than before as he reached up to pull the wooden rosary from his jacket pocket, "Thought you'd be wanting this back. An' I want to thank you for lendin' it."

Muck reached upwards to take the beloved cross from the medic's hands, remembering when he'd given to Spina to give to the doc. Secret worry that Roe wouldn't be returning to the company and want to comfort a man who'd been through the thick of it with them since the beginning, a friend. It's spurred his actions then, and it must have worked seeing as Doc was before them right now. Whole and hale.

"Thanks for bringing it back to me, Doc." Muck's tone was sincere, gently he wound the rosary around his fingers. He'd missed having it, missed having the Doc around even more.

Roe nodded, "Think all the thanks belongs to you. Was nice, calmin' to see that when I woke up."

"'Least any of us could do with how you always take care of all our asses around here." The smile that's pulled at Muck's lips didn't diminish any of the sincerity within his voice, enhancing the appreciation and admiration he held for the medic.

"Hey, Doc!" Lipton called to the medic, trotting up to Roe and Muck's position.

A smile had bloomed on the First Sergeant's face as he stepped up to the pair, "Good to have you back, Doc."

"Thank you, First Sergeant." Roe nodded, returning a slight smile

of his own.

"I hate to break up the party you two have here." Lipton's smile turned a slight sheepish, as it always did when he had to rely orders that'd dispel with a good mood, "But Captain Winters wants to see you, Doc."

Roe nodded, glancing over to Muck to see the other waving him off, "Ah I've taken too much of your time anyway. See you around."

Another small nod with a tiny uptilt of a smile before Roe move past the pair to head over towards the Captain's foxhole. Steps softly crunching on the snow, it looked not even a few hours old, thus the sound was more muted. Once it froze that classic harsh crunch would return. That was if no new snowfall returned to cover this morning's fall before then.

"Roe." Captain Winters greeted, voice a slight shaky with the cold, but the soft upturn to his lips told of the gladness he felt at seeing the medic hale and whole.

He dipped his head in replacement of a salute, uttering a respectful greeting in return , "Cap'n."

"It's good to see you on your feet." Winters began, eyeing the other with a keen glance up and down, "No worse for wear?"

"No, sir. There's no break in the bone an' no infection of the wound." Roe answered, "But I'll have to go back in a week ta have the stitches removed."

"Are you sure you should be back with us yet?" Winters asked, features furrowed in consideration of the medic before him.

"Yes, sir." Roe affirmed, "The headaches may last a while, but there's nothin' they can do at the aid station for it. Best I be here."

Nixon cleared his throat to drag Roe's attention away from Winters for a moment as he made to pass the tin cup to the medic, "Coffee? Or at least, what CP likes to pass off to us as coffee."

"No, thank you, sir." Roe was polite in declining the drink.

"You're sure?" Nixon asked but at receiving a nod from the medic, he shrugged, "Suit yourself."

"It's good to have you back, Eugene." Winters brought the conversation back on track, smiling lightly as he spoke, accepting Roe's word.

Nixon pulled his tin cup from his lips hurriedly, "What he said. Wasn't the same without you here. Spina did a hell of a job though, you'd be impressed."

"Thank you, sirs." Roe returned the small smile Winters had given, nodding formally in his thanks before angling his attention towards Captain Nixon, "An' I know that, sir. He's a good medic."

"You got that right." Nixon tipped the cup in way of salute to that statement before taking another drink from the tin, his gaze flicking towards his fellow captain.

"All right, return to the men, but try to take it easy. Okay, Doc?" Winters brought the conversation back on track, his own gaze returning to the medic.

"Yeah. Same to Spina. Hate to lose either of you." Nixon added, although the smile that he wore was his usual curved smirk, there was a quiet sincerity to his eyes that not many saw.

Roe nodded, offering a tiny smile of his own, "Yes, sirs, we'll try."

"Good man!" Nixon praised, the casual, near carefree, nature to his person back, as he turned away towards his own foxhole.

Winters nodded to Roe, a quiet dismissal, smiling a bit more openly. A weight of worry lifted with Roe's return and Nixon always had a knack for lightening his mood no matter the trails they faced. The medic returned his gesture, both of them turning away to head back towards their foxholes.

Snow was beginning to fall once again. Tiny snowflakes that were caught by the frigid breeze to twirling around in its wake before meeting the ground. The biting nature of Bastogne wasn't something any of them had become accustomed to, it still chilling to the very bone, yet it was tolerated. With grumblings from many of the enlisted and even some of the officers.

Roe had found snow to be beautiful when he first saw it fall, never having experienced the phenomenon before. Although it had lost much of its glamour in the coming days, it was still a source of fascination for the Louisiana born medic. Despite being less acclimated to the cold than those troops that's grown up in elements such as this, and the added burden it place on their positions here. Snowfall seemed a rare treat that he'd want to share with his family, perhaps in tale enclosed in a letter he'd send home. Focus on this bit of wonder to fill a page, covering over the splattering of horror that tainted this wood.

Stepping through the snow, weaving around the foxholes of the dug in men to get to his foxhole. It only showing traces of the recent snowfall, none from the two days he had been absent from tending to it. This caused him to pause a moment, then leaning down to jump into the shallow hole.

Everything he'd left in it, which wasn't much, had been dusted from snow and kept nice as could be whilst here. His puzzled expression cleared about when he figures Spina must have been by to his foxhole since his housed the spare bottle of plasma and the few cloth bandages that they didn't keep in their medic bags. Only what they needed for a few runs before restocking, in case a shell hit them and destroyed the low amount of supplies they carried on them. It would be a loss they couldn't much afford now. Thus they kept some separate from their person.

Reminding himself to thank his fellow medic later, Roe squatted down. Unfolding his legs out from under him to sit down, drawing them up as they hit the wall of his foxhole. It wasn't quite long enough to stretch out in, nor was it very deep, but it helped when it came to jumping out of it quickly.

"Hey, Gene."

An oddly soft, but familiar voice called from overhead. Roe twisted around to peer up at the visitor to his foxhole from underneath the lip of his helmet. Knowing it was Heffron, even with his figure shrouded in the darkness of the late evening, leaving him a mere silhouette against the brighter backdrop off the snow laden forest.

"Heffron." Roe shifted over in the too small foxhole to allow Heffron to step down and squeeze into the tiny space left, at least they were both out of the line of possible fire and their close proximity kept whatever warmth left in their limbs trapped between them.

Heffron wiggles around a moment before settling, his rifle along his lap, finally looking towards the medic, "See getting knocked to the head ain't changed ya mind any about calling by my nickname, but least it means you're still you."

Gaze narrowing, brow pinching downwards a slight, Roe glanced towards his foxhole partner. His confusion clear on his features. Heffron seeing the look, and understanding his words had been rather cryptic, opened his mouth to explain.

"Uh, when you got hit, just. I'd seen a fella of mine back in Philly take a real bad hit to the head and when he woke up, his memory wasn't the same." Heffron stared at his hands, remembering the fear that'd plagued the last two days for the medic who he was beginning to consider a friend, "Was worried that'd happen to you."

"Hey." Roe called quietly, waiting until Heffron looked back up at him before continuing, "It didn't happen to me."

"I know, you calling' me 'Heffron' told me that already." Heffron smiled, relief overcoming any irritation, but at Roe's contrite expression, he was quick to add, "I ain't even mad about it. Just glad you're you."

Roe nodded, the corner of his lips twitching in small display of a smile in thanks, his tongue farting out then to lick his chapped lips before he spoke again, "Don't rememba' much after it, not much of bein' at the aid station eitha', but everythin' else I do."

"Guess that's good, not rememberin' it because seeing you hit isn't soemthin' I want to see again." Heffron

"Can't promise that." Roe was quick to squash any thought to him being invincible, because medics were supposed to be off limits but it was never any guarantee that a shell wouldn't find their mark with him or an arrant round would hit him or like then a mistake would take him out of the action again. Nothing was a guarantee in combat.

Something they all knew, but seemed a slight more foreign for the soldiers in regards to those who wore the white armbands decorated with red crosses. The Geneva Convention saying non-combatants weren't meant to be aimed at nor harmed, also none of them carried a weapon on their person but were still smack in the middle of the shit with everyone else. Coming to the aid of those in the personal hell of being wounded in the middle of the bigger hell of active combat. Who couldn't see them as something a bit more than what they were.

Or so Heffron had thought. Despite the knowledge that the next moment wasn't a promise for any of them. The evidence the last few days having driven the point home, the medic's words reminding him

of that point.

"But I'll always get up if I can and come back." Roe continued, unknowingly interrupting Heffron's morose thoughts.

Huffing on his next breath, an odd mix of amusement, exasperation and affection mingling in the single breath. For, of course, Roe would come back. A steady, calming presence in every moment, especially when in the thick of it. Unwaveringly, he was always there. No matter the severity of the combat or personal risk to himself. With a bandage and a quiet word of reassurance. As long as he was able, Gene would be there. Heffron knew it, he believed it wholeheartedly.

Not that it was ever in question for the red head, or anyone in the company. Their medics were some reliable son of bitches.

"I know you will." Heffron could keep the grin from pulling up at his lips, "Too stubborn not to, you."

Roe sighed through his nose, fighting to keep any trace of a smile from his own lips as he spoke, "Well, guess I fit right in with everyone else here."

Heffron laughed outright, the comment and seeing a peek at the sense of humour the medic kept mostly under wraps spurring his reaction, "You got that right. All of us a bunch of crazy S. ."

Softly snorting, Roe shook his head, silently glad to be seeing some

of Heffron's good humour returning after the devastating loss of Julian. It'd been a worry of him and Spina's. Worrying if the loss would be a tipping point for Babe, whether it'd changed him for good or be a near final straw before he cracked. They'd kept a special eye on him since, but it was relief to see more of his natural personality. Another thing he'd have to share with Spina later.

The smile Roe'd managed to keep at bay until then curved subtlety at the corners of his lips, a genuine expression of mirth, "Heffron, get outta my foxhole before both a' our legs fall asleep."

Letting loose another laugh at hearing Roe's tone and seeing the expression on his face, Heffron grinned wider. The steps into befriending the medic seemed to be taking root, this banter and conversations proving such. He was more than glad to leave it on this good note.

And his legs were beginning to lose a bit of feeling.

Still shaking with suppressed chuckles, Heffron hauled himself out of the foxhole. A bit of shuffling and grappling before he was finally standing outside the edge of it.

"See ya around, Gene." His breath a ghost-like waft in front of his face, eyes still bright with laughter.

Roe nodded back, the creases of his smile still present, "See you, Edward."

Another peel of quiet laughter fell from Heffron's lips at being called his christian name. One of these days he'd get Gene to call him 'Babe'. How? He didn't know yet, but he wouldn't ever let the medic forget it once he did. And he would. That's for sure.

A/N: There, see Roe is all right & was able to assure easy that he was. While also getting to see more insight into Spina's time as company medic. Also closure for some of the missed events in chapter one.

As always comments / reviews are amazing because I'd love to know what you think or if you want to impart some constructive criticism or merely thoughts / reactions on this piece, but if you're just here to read then that's a - okay as well !

Note#1 : Medics carried sulfa tablets, along with powdered sulfa packets, which were supposed to be swallowed as an oral antibiotic , which I wanted to feature here. But also to sprinkle sulfa powder on burns isn't wise , since it's a powder meaning little granules instead of a cream. Just necessarily painful & would cause more harm than good. ( also reason for the mention of a injury outside of a shrapnel or bullet wound was to showcase some of the medics other supplies than bandages & morphine )

Note#2 : Cpl. Francis J. Mellett ( we see him for a moment in Replacements; Hashey tosses the K ration down to Mellett for the woman on the side of the road ) served in Operation Market Garden , Operation Pegasus , & the Battle of the Bulge. He was KIA on January 13, 1945. I mention him in here to show some of the other men of Easy that weren't showcased as much in the miniseries but were no less brave and human beings as everyone is, it's not meant in any disrespect of any form.

Note#3 : french leave = AWOL
AWOL = absence without official leave

Translations:
Comment allez-vous? - How are you?
Encore tendres, mais guère de vertiges. - Still tender, but hardly dizzy.
Vous êtes chanceux. - You are lucky.
Merci. - Thank you.
Pour vous! - For you

*I know Renée & Roe switch back & forth between 'vous' & 'tu / toi' throughout the episode Bastogne, I kept the formal one because they don't know each well, even though they're beginning to be friends & have shared their first names. It just seemed more appropriate to keep it formal. If my assumption is wrong, let me know & I'll fix it.