A/N: A soul mate trope. Yeeeeaaah. I heard about it, and I thought it was literally so cute, so I wanted to give it a quick little story. It's a modern AU; boys are still soldiers and whatnot, and Gene is a medic/doctor in training. Sam is a nurse. I hate these two nerds; they are ruining my life. But I also love it. Ugh.

This is done purely for fun; I mean absolutely no offense by any of it! I hope no one is offended. I have nothing but the utmost respect for these men.

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Part 1: I'm Having a Good Time

Eugene Roe ran a hand over his face as he stepped out of the hospital.

The automatic doors slid closed behind him, and he sighed heavily, shoulders slumping. It had been another long, hellish shift at the hospital, and it wouldn't have been so bad except for the party of drunk idiots who ended up in the emergency room after one too many tequila shots.

Speaking of tequila, he really needed a drink.

But the fact that he had an early shift tomorrow kept him from acting on his desire, and he sighed again as he checked his watch. It was nearing twelve a.m. His shift should've been over an hour ago. "Fuck," he mumbled, just as his cellphone buzzed in his pocket. The quiet noise startled Gene, and he fumbled with the phone before managing to bring it to his ear. "Jeeze, hello?"

"Gene, where da fuck you been?"

Babe Heffron's voice on the other line made Gene smile just slightly; since transferring to Easy Company in mid-August, Babe had become Gene's roommate on base, and the medic had to admit, he did like the guy. Babe was a good friend, always eager to help whenever he could, and he was clean and liked to keep the house tidy and cooked like no one's business, so that was a plus. He even volunteered to pick Gene up when he had late shifts like this, although he got a little cranky if the shifts ran overtime.

"Sorry, Heffron," Gene apologized quickly. "Shift ran late." As it had most nights for the last month, ever since he'd started his internship as a resident at the New Jersey based hospital. Only a few miles from where they were stationed, it provided the best opportunity for him to get some real practice in the medical field. The army had already helped him complete his initial training and med school, and his internship was the final step in a career that felt a long time coming. He was aiming to either be an army surgeon, or working from one of the big hospitals in a major city.

"Eh, don't worry about it, doc. I'll be there to getcha in a sec." Even as Heffron spoke, Gene could see familiar headlights pulling into the parking lot and only a moment later, Babe's truck pulled up in front of him. It stopped in front, and Gene pulled the door open, hopping in and tossing his backpack in the floor.

"Thanks, Heffron."

Babe rolled his eyes, grumbling as he pulled out of the lot and onto the road, headed back to base. "Damn it, Gene, I told you to call me Babe."

Gene shrugged sheepishly; he never had it in him to use nicknames. He wasn't sure why, but they just felt…wrong? He caught hell for it from most of the guys in his company, but it was all good-natured ribbing, and it didn't bother him much. It was just his nature; no matter how close he got to someone, he didn't usually use their nickname.

"Just drive, Heffron," Gene mumbled, already feeling fatigue creeping into his bones. "I really need some sleep."

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Samantha Branigan growled quietly as she stepped out of the hospital.

Sometimes, she seriously hated herself for choosing to be a nurse. She'd never intended to be one, truth be told; she wanted to become a doctor, but medical school was way too expensive, and by the time she'd finished her RN program, she was so far in debt that she doubted she'd ever claw her way out.

This shift tonight had been a lot more difficult than most of them; a bunch of drunk idiots had come in and started making too much noise, and one of the newest residents, Eugene-something-or-other, was elected to aid them because no one else who was working the ER wanted to deal with a bunch of fucking stupid kids who didn't know what their limits were. Sam had felt a little bad for him, because he was new, and he shouldn't have had to deal with it alone, but they didn't pay her enough to clean up a nineteen-year-old-wannabe-cool-guy-frat-boy's vomit.

Of course, the case she had been dealing with was a lot harder than the new guy's.

A man and a woman had been in a car accident, and the woman was in critical condition. The man was okay; minor cuts and bruises, and a few scrapes here and there. They'd both been admitted, and Sam had the dubious honor of checking the man over, making sure he was all right and not concussed. She'd ordered that he stay the night, at the very least, to make sure nothing went wrong, especially internally.

His wife was another matter.

Sam knew about Soulmates; everybody in the whole God damn world knew about Soulmates. The person you were meant to be with forever, the one who was made for you. Every person had special words written on their hips, tucked safely out of sight of prying eyes, waiting to be spoken by that special person. When that happened, you knew they were yours forever.

There was only one problem.

Sam didn't have any words.

She'd been born without them, a rare occurrence, but an occurrence nonetheless. She'd researched the phenomenon, finding out that one in about every nine-hundred thousand people had been born without a Soulmate. Most of what she read was encouraging; she could find someone who had no words, someone who was like her, and live a pretty happy life. She never got involved with anyone who had words on them because that was just a recipe for heartbreak, but it didn't mean it didn't bother her any less. It was sobering to think that the universe didn't have any plans for you beyond your simple existence, and that they hadn't created someone especially for you.

Some of what she read wasn't as encouraging; she read about people who had no words, but who fell in love with someone who did. They were promptly left behind when their loved ones found their Soulmate, doomed to a broken heart and probably a life of alcoholism. Hell, there were even movies about unrequited love, either from people who said the words of someone they weren't Soulmates with, or people who had no words who pined after someone that wasn't meant for them. It was very depressing, if she was honest with herself.

Sam kept her distance from people; she'd gone on dates once or twice with men who had words, but broke it off immediately once she found out for sure. She was not about to stupidly involve herself with someone who was destined to leave her for another. Anytime a man showed interest, she generally tried to shut it down before it started. She didn't need that kind of drama in her life.

But the man and the woman who had come in from the car accident had nearly torn her heart in two, and made her curse the irony of the universe's wicked grand plans, or lack thereof, for her.

When she'd brought the man in to see his wife—who was hooked up to a ventilator and a heart monitor, but who was in relatively stable condition—the way he had held her hand and looked at her, with such love and tenderness and utter devotion had nearly done Sam in, and she'd had to step outside to compose herself. She'd caught the eye of that new resident, Eugene-what's-his-name, but he hadn't said a word to her, and had immediately rolled up his sleeves to dive back into a room full of a bunch of drunk idiots who really needed to sober the hell up.

Blowing out a long breath, Sam wrapped her arms around herself as she strode towards her car, eager to get home and get to bed. Maybe if she tried hard enough, she could forget today had ever happened.

She'd forget the look the man had leveled his wife with, forget the love and absolutely soul wrenching loyalty and care he'd looked at her with. She'd forget she didn't have any words on her hip, and forget that she was probably destined to be alone, because what were the odds of finding someone else without words who would put up with her?

Sam laughed bitterly; yeah right. More like if she drank enough vodka, she'd forget how fucking messed up the universe actually was.

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Gene blinked bleary eyes at the way-too-chipper man in front of him as Babe slid him a plate of breakfast food.

"Seriously, Heffron?" he asked, staring down at a Sunnyside up happy face with the bacon for a smile. He raised an eyebrow at Babe, who was humming cheerfully like a fucking housewife as he fixed his own plate. Ugh, it was too early for this.

"Seriously. A balanced breakfast is the only way to start the day," Babe chirped.

"Why is it smilin'?"

"I think the better question is: why aren't you smilin'? I made you fucking breakfast. Be grateful, ya asshat."

Rolling his eyes, Gene decided he might as well dig in, and wasn't surprised that the food was delicious; Heffron was a really good cook, a fact that he'd discovered early on and silently praised because being as busy as he was with Easy Company and the hospital, his usual meals tended to come from a bag or a box. If he even ate at all, of course.

"What's on the agenda today?" he asked, glancing up at the red-head who sat himself at the table across from him, eagerly tucking into his own food.

"Cap'n said drills. Somethin' about getting' ready for the War Games, I guess. Wants Easy to be in top shape. Aren't you comin' to those?" Babe looked confused; Eugene was Easy's medic, so of course he should know about what the company was expected to do day-to-day.

Gene shook his head. "Naw, not today. I got an early shift at the hospital, so I'm excused. I'd like to say I won't be as busy as you boys, but I'd be lyin'. If it's anything like last night…" He trailed off and shivered; he'd had terrible dreams about frat boys vomiting all over his cleanly pressed, military-issued uniform.

"Hey, yeah, that's-" Babe began, but he was cut off by the ringing of their doorbell. When Gene didn't make a move to get it, Babe huffed and slid from his chair, striding towards the door and opening it without checking to see who it was.

"'Ey, Babe, how ya doin'?"

Babe grinned at Bill Guarnere, Joe Toye, and George Luz, who stood just on the threshold of the door, eagerly bouncing on their feet. Well, George was bouncing; Toye was too dignified for that, and Bill was leaning against the doorframe, looking amused. "Bill, Joe, Luz," Babe greeted. "Come on in; I just made breakfast."

Not one to pass up food (and knowing how good of a cook their red-haired friend was), the three men immediately accepted the invitation, making themselves comfortable around the small kitchen and grabbing plates of bacon and eggs. Gene was silent, quietly eating his food as quick as he could before he had to leave for his shift at the hospital.

"Hey, so we're goin' out with some of the guys tonight; you and Babe should come, doc," Luz quipped, stuffing a bite of egg into his mouth.

"Yeah! You never come out with any of us!" Babe responded, pointing his fork at Gene with narrowed eyes. "You have to. I know for a fact that ya got the day off tomorrow, and so does the rest'a the company. We can get drunk and shit and not have to worry about waking up early tomorrow. Plus, there will be some cute girls there." He shot a meaningful look at Joe, Bill and Luz, as if silently asking for backup.

"Oh, right!" Bill agreed. "Frannie said she's gonna ask some of the gals from the hospital to come. That oughta make you feel right at home, Gene."

Gene knew that Bill's Soulmate, Frannie, was the receptionist at the hospital. He'd spoken to her once or twice, and he liked the girl. He just didn't know how he'd feel going out and drinking with a bunch of unfamiliar girls from the hospital, especially when there was the possibility of making an ass out of himself. He liked to keep work and private life separate.

"No thanks," Gene mumbled around his food, chewing thoughtfully.

"Oh, come on. Have you even talked to anyone at the hospital yet?" Babe wheedled.

"Whoa, hey. I talk to people, Heffron. Just…it's for work, not for socializin'."

"And that right there is your problem, doc," Bill responded. "You are surrounded by pretty dames all day, and you don't do a damn thing about it. If you don't talk to them, you won't ever find your Soulmate. That's the whole point of the damn mark, ya know."

"Maybe I'm not interested in findin' my Soulmate righ' now," Gene fired back, standing up from his chair and grabbing his cleared plate. He dumped it in the sink, grabbing his backpack and shrugging on his uniform top. His boots thudded on the hardwood as he headed to the door, eager to be away from the men and to get a little space; he'd drive himself today. "See ya'll later. Don' work too hard."

He was gone before any of them could respond, and Babe turned to fix Bill with a look. "Way to go Bill. Don't blame me if you wake up with your arm stitched to your head and a missing kidney."

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Sam woke up with a major hangover.

She'd groaned and grumbled all the way through her morning routine, seriously considering calling in sick. But her shabby one-bedroom rental and the mass of student debt she'd accumulated told her that she'd better haul ass to work and stop complaining about it.

She now found herself running towards the door of the hospital, ten minutes late and a granola bar sticking out of the corner of her mouth. "Shit, shit, shit," she mumbled around her 'breakfast,' stopping at the sliding doors and searching for her badge. When she came up empty, she cursed again. Of course she'd leave her badge at home; her spare was in her locker inside, but until then, she'd be forced to walk around to use the visitor entrance.

Growling under her breath, Sam snapped off a chunk of her granola bar and got ready to run when she heard the sound of boots just behind her. She canted her head to see that new doctor-in-training, the one from the military (who looked super-hot in his uniform, but hell if she'd ever say anything about it to him), walking towards her. He had a puzzled look on his face as he stopped just beside her, backpack slung over his shoulder.

The two didn't say a word to one another, and Sam shrugged, smiling sheepishly as the man seemed to realize she didn't have her badge. He moved slowly, still watching her as he leaned over and swiped his own badge, and the doors beeped before opening. He graciously allowed her to go through first (chivalrous and hot in a uniform? Check!), and Sam scuttled through, gulping down her granola bar as he walked in after her. They stood there awkwardly for a few moments, before he stuck out a hand, and she gingerly took it.

"Eugene Roe," he introduced. "I'm…new around here. I've seen you around, though. You're…Samantha Branigan, right?"

"Eugene Roe. You're the Cajun with the healing hands I've heard so much about."

Sam's smile was bright, but faltered only slightly when she saw him stiffen, his grip suddenly tightening around her hand. "Um…" she managed, concerned at the look he was leveling her with; it was way too intense for someone who she'd just introduced herself to. "You can just call me Sam, by the way." She glanced down at their hands, still joined, and still shaking, if only just slightly. "You can…stop shaking my hand now?"

Eugene gave a start, as if just realizing what he was doing, and quickly retracted his hand as if he was burned. He was still looking at her with a stare that was making her stomach do strange little flip-flops, when he said again, very slowly: "I'm new around here. I've seen you around, though. You're Samantha Branigan, right?"

Sam was now utterly confused. Hadn't they just…done this? What the hell was this guy's problem? "Yeah…you…you just said that, Eugene. Look, I'm really glad to finally know your name, but I have to get to work. I'm already late. It was nice meeting you; I'll definitely see you around the ER?" When Gene nodded jerkily, Sam flashed him an uncertain grin, before turning and jogging off down the corridor to her locker; she needed her badge if she was going to get anything done today. Mostly though, she wanted to escape that look on Gene's face, the one that reminded her of shattered glass and kicked puppies.

Anyway, she was glad to be busy; the more work she had to do, the less time she'd have to think about the hot-but-odd Cajun in his sexy uniform.

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Gene stood dumbly in the middle of the hallway, thigh burning where he knew his words had turned a shimmering quicksilver after she'd said them.

Samantha Branigan was his Soulmate.

Samantha. Branigan. Was his Soulmate.

But the only problem with that was, he wasn't hers. He'd even repeated what he thought were her words, what he was sure would make some flash of recognition light her eyes up. But she'd just looked at him like he was insane, and a little creepy. He imagined that the way he'd come off probably had been sort of disturbing, especially if she was his Soulmate but he wasn't hers.

But how could that be?

Everyone had a Soulmate, didn't they? He knew about some people who didn't have one, who didn't have words on their skin, but those were so few and far between that they didn't make much of a blip on his radar. He'd also heard of some people who found their Soulmate, spoke their words, only to realize that their Soulmate was not theirs. They would be doomed to follow them and love them forever, their only concern the happiness of the person they weren't meant to be with, and inevitably either died of a broken heart, sacrificed themselves in some way for their Soulmate, or lived a lonely, single life as they watched the person meant for them find love in the arms of someone else. That was what had just happened, he surmised: Samantha Branigan was his Soulmate.

But he wasn't hers.

He felt an immediate urge to run after her, suddenly feeling empty and cold without her next to him. Was this what it was like to find your Soulmate? This crushing, intense feeling of devotion and love that overwhelmed you and made you want to be by their side forever?

His fingers gently rested on his hip, on where the words were still warm against his skin, and he frowned in the direction Sam had gone.

His Soulmate.

Destined to be with someone else.

Gene shook his head; he knew the universe had a fucked up sense of right and wrong, but he'd never imagined it would screw him over so badly. All he could do now was try to do his job, and maybe if he was lucky, he would get to talk to Sam again before the day was over.

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Sam rolled her shoulders, feeling the intense stare of Eugene Roe prickling along the back of her neck like a million tiny little spiders.

She was leaning desperately against the reception desk in the ER, charts in hand but eyes unseeing as she stared down at them. Since their meeting that morning, Roe had been staring at her all day, watching her with that stare of his that made her toes curl and made her want to jump into his arms and yell 'take me now!' It was utterly disturbing, and Frannie—the receptionist, bless her soul—had figured something was up.

"Okay, Sam, spill. You've been ducking and dodging something all day. What happened? And who is it?"

Sam made a shushing motion; Eugene was only some little ways away, still watching her, though he was fairly preoccupied with a patient at the moment. She knew he was sneaking glances her way, and she was torn between confronting him about it, or throwing herself at him. "Oh my God, Frannie," Sam hissed. "Okay, so this morning, I had the weirdest exchange with the new guy—Eugene Roe. He just kinda weirded out; we introduced ourselves to one another, and he kinda spazzed."

"Spazzed how?" Frannie asked, raising one delicate brow.

"Um, like, he froze, and then he said the same thing he first said to me over again, like some sort of weird robot. And he shook my hand for an uncomfortable amount of time. Like…really uncomfortable. And he's been staring at me ever since; he keeps making excuses to talk to me, or touch my hand, or hand me things, or…or to be in the same patient room as me. Now don't get me wrong; the boy is hotter than hades in that uniform, but he's starting to freak me out."

Frannie was staring at her with wide eyes, an elated smile that was also slowly freaking Sam out. "Um…Frannie?"

"Oh my God, Sam!" the receptionist squealed. "You-you found your Soulmate! Oh, wait 'til I tell Bill! Eugene is from his company, you know! He'll be so excited!"

"Whoa, whoa!" Sam cried, waving her hands frantically. "What are you talking about? I did not find a Soulmate!"

Frannie's smile slowly fizzled out as she fixed Sam with a confused stare. "But…he obviously said your words and you obviously said his…so why…why wouldn't he be your Soulmate?" She suddenly gasped. "Unless he didn't say your words!?"

Sam had never admitted that she didn't have Soulmate words on her hip; she didn't need anyone pitying her or labeling her, especially not at work. If she had to die an old maid, then so be it. She'd die alone and happy with her twelve cats and her student debt. Even now, in the face of whatever kind of fucked up revelation this was, Sam was not about to admit she was 'wordless.'

"No, Frannie. He didn't say my words. I know for a fact that he didn't."

"Are you sure?" Frannie demanded.

"I just know, okay? And I couldn't have said his words. I'm not…I'm not capable of that."

Frannie shot her a sympathetic look, and Sam knew that face; she probably assumed that Sam had a Soulmate at some point who had said her words and died, and that she was doomed to spend the rest of her life alone, unless she found someone who was 'wordless.' It was a convenient story that had cropped up about her at the hospital due to her bachelorette status and her unwillingness to date. Sam was glad for the cover, and never bothered to correct it.

"Oh, Sam…I'm so sorry," Frannie whispered, reaching out to gently pat Sam's hand in a comforting gesture. She then brightened, and Sam was amused that the woman flip-flopped through emotions like a dog chasing a squirrel; it was oddly endearing. "Listen, why don't you come out tonight with some of the girls and I? A lot of men from the base are going to be there, including a bunch from Bill's company."

Sam knew about Easy Company; she'd met Bill once or twice when he came to see Frannie, and even one or two of the boys who tagged along with him, but that was about as much as she knew. Now she could add Eugene's name to the list of guys from Easy that she was familiar with, although awkward creepy staring was a bit of a stretch for the word 'familiar.'

Shrugging, Sam figured that going out couldn't hurt; she wasn't exactly a 'party person,' but she liked to get out every now and again, and she enjoyed the company of her coworkers—especially Frannie, who was sweet and endearing enough to make any night out enjoyable. And if she could drink away the weirdness of today, then she was all for it.

"Sure, Fran. Sounds good!"

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The eight-hour shift was possibly the longest of Gene's life.

Despite making obvious excuses to be closer to Sam—touching her hand when he handed over a chart, brushing against her as she walked by, helping her with a patient when she didn't need his help—it didn't make being around her any easier. His heart felt like it was being pulled in half, aching to be close to her, desperate to be near her. But she remained oblivious; she even started actively avoiding him towards the end of her shift and his, and he could honestly say he didn't blame her.

If she was his Soulmate, and he wasn't hers, then she probably had no idea where his sudden shift in attitude came from, or the sudden need to be near her and touch her and watch her. It was probably freaking her out, and he mentally slapped himself for being so stupid; he couldn't push himself on her, especially not when she was meant to be with someone else.

Frustrated with himself and the entire fucked up situation, Gene almost missed Frannie frantically flagging him down.

"Hey there, Frannie," he greeted, his smile feeling strained and hollow.

Frannie's lips pinched in sympathy, and she reached over the desk to gently pat his arm. "Oh, Gene, I am so sorry. Sam told me what happened this morning-"

"Wait, she knows I'm her Soulmate?" he demanded.

"Uh, no, Gene. She can't be your Soulmate; word is, she already had a Soulmate and he…well, she couldn't have said your words…" She lifted a brow, suddenly looking unsure. "Or…did she actually say them?"

Unable to speak, Gene merely nodded mutely, throat feeling tight at the revelation that Sam had a Soulmate already; no wonder she hadn't shown any recognition at what he'd said. No wonder she was trying to avoid him. She was taken already. She belonged to another man, who could hold her and kiss her and-

Gene gave himself a shake. Okay, he needed to not think about that. All it was doing was causing more hurt, and the idea of Sam with someone else…well, he didn't want to dwell on that particularly painful gem. "Guess I'm well and utterly screwed, huh?" he muttered, leaning his forehead on his palm. "If she's already got a Soulmate, then I ain't got no chance."

"Wait, no…Gene, she doesn't have a Soulmate now."

Gene's head shot up, and he stared at the receptionist with wide eyes. "But you just said-"

"I said 'had.' She's completely single, though. I think I've even heard her complain about it. But she never talks about why, so…I mean, who knows if the stories are even true?" Frannie shrugged. "I invited her out to drinks tonight with some of the girls from work and some of the boys for your company. Why don't you come? You can maybe get to know her better and see what her deal is; maybe we're all wrong and she never had a Soulmate. And who knows? I mean…maybe you'll say her words eventually?"

It was a pathetic attempt to make him feel better; they both knew that if you didn't say the words the first time you met the person, then you weren't meant to be. But Gene appreciated the effort. "I 'spose," he hedged, the idea of getting to spend more time with Sam being mighty appealing. Maybe he could find out more about her, about who or where her Soulmate was, and why she'd said his words, but he hadn't said hers. Nodding resolutely, Gene decided that it couldn't hurt.

And maybe it could help stop the ache in his heart every time he looked at her.

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A/N: I was going to make this one long chapter, but I love you all and want you to suffer. Haha, but no, it just seemed a bit long. Don't worry; I've got plenty more where this came from. Ugh, these dorks.