Disclaimer: I don't own Band of Brothers or anything relating to them and I base my fiction entirely on the actors and their portrayals.

Mmm. I'm at the point where I think it's still a good idea, but I'm not sure I've executed it in the best manner...

You should know that I find Rick Warden to be unbelievably adorable and puppy like.

Six - Harry

There's only one time in Emilie Ramos's entire life where she doubts Eugene Roe. Only one time, because she learns from her mistakes. But that one moment did well to throw her for a loop, and she never felt like she entirely recovered from it.

She couldn't take the faces, so she stays away from the camp, only passing by when she knows that's where an officer'll be that she needs, but that's rare after the first few days. So really she doesn't see Gene, and that's probably where the doubt came from in the first place. She doesn't have a chance to realize that it's there, anyway, because she's still running to and fro, always favoring the right side because her ankle didn't function properly and her hand was awkward and uncomfortable.

"Nix," she grumbles one morning, because she was in a fairly constant state of irritation these days because everything she ran back and forth was rather pointless and she hadn't seen Gene, and, she adds aloud, "I think I've finally run out." She fumbles in her pockets, always on the right, and produces the flask one last time, filled with the last of it.

"Ramos," he downs nearly half of it in one go, slipping it into one of his own pockets. "You're a Godsend either way." And here he buries his lips into her hair and for a moment she's sorry that she doesn't have more.

"Anyway," she supplies, realizing after he'd moved back that he was waiting on information. "Dick's looking for you."

He laughs, so she smiles.

It isn't until that evening that she understands she's doubting his promise to her. Because it had been days since they'd shared any more than looks across desolation and sorrow and she doesn't want to be selfish but she really does because she's in love with Gene.

But she doesn't really think anything's going to come of it, whether he kissed her or not, she doubts him; until he finally finds her while she's on her way to curl up with Babe because she can't handle sleeping by herself anymore. Not after all the faces. But Gene spins her about and she's burying herself in him instead of Babe.

"I'm sorry, Em," he whispers against her skin and she shakes her head because she doesn't believe there's a single person in this world who is as astoundingly perfect as he is. So she tells him and he gives half a laugh and she finds that she likes the way it feels against her body and every bit of doubt she'd ever had about him vanished because here he was fixing her. Like he'd promised. She searches blindly for his hand and when she finds it she lets her fingers trace its outlines.

"I'm kind of in love with you, Eugene Roe," she says the words directly into his heart and he separates their hands to coax her face to his.

"I know," he states when they break, and she has the overwhelming desire to see whether her hand fits as perfectly around his jawline as she thinks it might. "I love you, Emilie."

She lets her hand blend with his face and the shadows and he turns into it because it's her left hand and she hasn't realized but he has. She takes a moment to breathe in the moment deeply enough that she'll remember it even when all her other memories fade before she suspends her lips just above his.

"Gene," she whispers, and he leans closer so their lips are touching, "Go easy on me."

"Hey, Babe," she offers him a smile as the boys are gathering their things. He smiles back and it widens when his eyes flick behind her and she rolls her eyes because Gene's hand is slipping into hers and Babe knows he was right back in that foxhole in Bastogne. "Shut up."

"Doc," he says instead, and Gene nods back with a mutter of "Heffron."

"Em, I was thinking," Gene starts, having pulled her around before she could join Babe. They'd made an unspoken agreement that they wouldn't alter any of their normal patterns because they couldn't be entirely certain what the night had meant and it's not like there was any sort of precedent, or, at least, none that Emilie knew of. And it was her job to know. "I wouldn't normally suggest stealing, but you should stay off your feet. There's a barn just outside town."

She smiles again, because just being around him gives her that free falling feeling and that itch just beneath her skin that tells her that somehow, spectacularly, she was kind of happy. And first and foremost on his mind was her and she'd never known that before. So she brings their entwined hands upward and lets her lips graze across his knuckles before turning away.

"Hey, Babe," she echoes herself, and he looks back at them with a look in his eye because the boys were gossips. "Want to help me steal a horse?"

Sometime later, she finds herself sitting with Speirs, Nix, and Harry, staring out at the bluest sky she'd ever seen from Hitler's Eagle's Nest. And it strikes her as oddly poetic, VE-Day in an Eagle's Nest. Dick trades Lip for Nix and she finds herself face to face with Harry instead.

"Ramos," he lifts the bottle toward her, because Dick had turned him down, and she shakes her head, her hair shifting between falling over her shoulder and down her back as she does so. "If you don't mind me asking, why are you up here?"

"First, Harry, call me Emilie," she states, letting her eyes drift to Speirs and Lipton who've turned half their attention to her and Harry. "Second, what do you mean?" Because she doesn't know what he could possibly be asking, as she spent the majority of her time with the officers, technically she was one, though she'd long forgotten and she figured the boys had, too, because her stripes where stained as much as the rest of her uniform.

"Sorry, Em," he replies, already dropping the majority of her name like he'd called her that all the time. "I mean, why aren't you with Doc Roe?" She feels a blush spreading across her face, and she thinks, for the first time since D-Day, she'd like to let her hair down. Really and truly down, to hide the blush across her face.

They'd been discrete, or, at least, she thought they'd been discrete. As far as she knew there wasn't anyone who knew except her and Gene and Babe, though he hadn't come out and said it, so, she knew, he hadn't actually told anyone else. But now it was out for most of Easy's officers and all of Hitler's ghosts.

"You know what I've always liked about you, Ramos?" Speirs interrupts before she can even begin to think of a proper answer. She lets her eyes shift toward him and discovers that he's not looking at her anymore and for a moment the air between them is almost comfortable. "You've never needed to be told twice."

He spares have a glance her direction and she can't stop the childlike smile that lights her entire face before she disappears back into the house and back down the mountain.

He doesn't let his own smile grace his face until her footsteps have faded, but Harry claps a hand on his shoulder and hands over the bottle.

"Em," Babe's voice entices her to spin from her short conversation with Shifty because she wanted to be able to say goodbye even before everyone knew, officially, that he was getting to go home. "Oh, sorry, I suppose I should be calling you Lieutenant Ramos."

"Maybe you should, Private Heffron," she replies, letting her hands sit on either side of her waist to further accentuate it. But when he pulls her against him she lifts herself on her toes to put her lips against his cheek.

"What was that for, Lieutenant?" He asks, and she thinks she sees a touch of red on his face and she finds satisfaction in discovering that she wasn't the only one. She shrugs, pulling away from his reach and making her way to stand back to Speirs's left.

"I just—thanks, Babe."

"I heard there was a pretty Lieutenant trying to escape on a horse," he calls, and she pulls the reins back around, letting the horse trot to a stop just in front of him.

"Not escaping," she states, offering her hand to him, which gives him a slight thrill that he's learned to associate with her. "I'm merely," she pauses, "appreciating my freedom." He shakes his head because she's beautiful in ways that he can't describe and when he takes her hand it's to pull her down instead of helping himself up.

"I think," he whispers, because they're close enough that they blend together, "I could help with that." He lets his lips dance across hers and she's certain she can feel his soul. So she hopes he can feel hers, too.

"Your hands are beautiful, you know?" she says, because she's got them both in her own hands and she's struck with how lovely they really are and how unashamedly she enjoys the feel of them in hers. He looks down, away from her eyes when she says this and she can feel his mood shifting because he's thinking through everyone he's saved and everyone he hasn't and she is, too, because she hasn't been through the entirety of the list in weeks.

"Hey, Gene," she murmurs, because she's not ready to feel that way yet, and she'll do her best to keep him from feeling that ever. "You called me pretty."

"Of course I did," he states, and she pulls her hand up to bring his eyes back to hers. He bites his lip and she silently tells that right now they should just be happy and he gives a subtle nod and they deplete the distance between them quickly. "You're beautiful."

For the first time, she's aware that he's nervous because he's not in his element; he's not using his hands. So she guides them to either side of her waist and lets her arms surround his shoulders.

And he knows just what to do from there.

So yeah...one left and it's done! I kind of want to write a Lieb fix next. Thanks for the review, Holly's Mean Reds, if I knew any French I'd actually give him some dialogue!

And thanks to everyone for reading, I hope it's alright. Feel free to let me know what you think!

-Piper