Bastogne is gray. The sky is crisp, pale and wintery, the clouds sparse. On the ground, half melted slush is trampled under foot and tire, dirt bleeding into the snow as it is crushed. Rubble, blackened with ash, lines the roads in piles, and the half standing skeletons of houses tower above them, empty. Cinders blow into Eugene's eyes as they drive by.
He almost averts his eyes when they pass the church. The outer walls are still standing, but the windows are blown out, the sides of the building are streaked with black, and Eugene knows that inside is a mountain of fallen stone and wood, dust settling over it finely. He keeps his gaze straight though, face unfaltering and immovable.
Eugene isn't bringing in wounded this time. He's here for supplies. Thanks to General Patton, supplies are flowing in again, and Eugene doesn't want to risk being empty handed again in the near future. The jeep brings him to a school in town where the wounded have been moved to, as the building miraculously survived the bombing intact. Eugene isn't the only one with the idea of restocking; medics from all companies are swarming about, gathering up what they need. Eugene doesn't waste a moment. He gets a box and starts filling it with all that which has been lacking the last few weeks, morphine, bandages, plasma. He picks up a few extra pairs of scissors as well, just in case.
He is about to leave when he hears a voice. A young woman's voice, brisk as it gives orders on where to lay the newly wounded. Eugene sets the box down and looks up...and there she is. Standing at the door of the school, waving in the men bearing stretchers.
Eugene steps towards her slowly, hardly believing what he is seeing. Before he knows it he is right in front of her. She looks up and smiles when she sees him.
"Eugene!"
She looks at him and smiles like nothing is amiss, but he is unsure of what to do. He offers her a smile, but one that is shaky because his mind is racing with gratitude and relief at the sight of her. He can hardly form a sentence, because this is a first in his line of work. Somebody has come back from the dead.
"Eugene?" Now she is concerned. He shakes himself and smiles again, more normally this time.
"I'm sorry, I just...I can't believe it. I thought you were dead," he said simply. "The bombing..."
Her eyes widen as she understands. "No, I was lucky. I was on a truck moving the wounded when the church was hit. Anna got out as well."
"I'm glad to hear it. See, I found–" Eugene stops suddenly, wondering what she will make of the fact that he had found and kept her headscarf.
"Found what?"
"Your kerchief. The blue one." She has not replaced it and her head is bare, her brown hair tightly braided and coiled up on the back of her head. "It was in the rubble."
"Renée!" A man was calling for her. "Where should these men go?" A jeep has just pulled up to the door, bearing three wounded men.
"I'm needed," she says apologetically. She smiles, the same sweet smile she'd given him when she gave him the chocolate. "It was good to see you, Eugene." She hurries away, all business as usual when it comes to the wounded men. Eugene is glad she didn't ask for her headscarf back; in fact he feels absurdly guilty now that he tore it up. He picks up his box of supplies again and heads out. It is much later when he thinks on how glad he is that she is alive, because it turns out to be the best thing that happened during their time in Bastogne.
As Easy Company moves closer to Foy, their time in the Ardennes slowly changes from merely a particularly unpleasant part of the war to hell. Moving closer to the German line means Easy Company is in range of German artillery, and once the Germans determine their position, the shellings commence quickly.
Of everything he has seen in war, the shellings are the worst and most terrifying. Eugene can take tanks and infantry, when he can see the person who holds the gun. But a shelling is completely different. The sky is flashing black and white, trees are splintered like toothpicks, and the very ground under their feet explodes, while death falls from the sky. Somewhere there is a man in a German uniform launching the mortars, but in the woods, all Eugene can see is the indiscriminate death and destruction, as if it is not man, but nature tearing herself apart, trying to kill them. He can't help the wounded who are screaming in agony, he can't even hear the call for a medic over the almighty roaring of the shells. There is nothing he can do but stay low and pray to God for the hundredth time, please, please, let me live.
The longer they stay in Bastogne the more deaths he sees. Eugene can't believe it. First Hoobler, the poor kid. Then Muck and Penkala. Not to mention the loss of Guarnere, Toye, and Compton, who weren't dead, but off the line for good. The line of dead and dying and wounded is never ending and Eugene is exhausted. His nerves of steel are starting to fray.
He finds himself almost looking forward to when he has the luxury of moving a wounded man back to the town, because it means a rest as he's driven back, with nothing to worry about except holding the plasma bottle upright. And, of course, he gets to see Renée.
Having already accepted her death, Eugene has to remind himself that she is still alive the first few times he goes to the hospital after the bombing. Each time he sees her he feels another wave of relief, until finally he has convinced himself that she is here to stay.
She may not think herself an angel, but the more Eugene sees of her, the more he disagrees with her. She doesn't actually do much medical work; Anna takes care of that. But the men are happiest to see her. When she speaks to a wounded man her voice is low and comforting, and her touch calms even the most hysterical patients. And Eugene can hardly deny the effect she has on him. When he stops by the aid station it is like a load has been lifted off his shoulders. He smiles more around her, and his smiles come easily and naturally. He talks more, telling her snippets of his life in Louisiana, sometimes things about the other men. Not too much–the habit of being withdrawn and distant is still too strong in him. But things will just slip out when he least expects it.
Eugene is unable to explain this slow but steady change. It is Renée's presence, yes, but exactly what it is about her he cannot pin down. She is not that different from a hundred other girls he has known both in Europe and in Louisiana. Plain brown hair and blue eyes, in a face that is neither beautiful nor homely. She is gentle and kind, but he has seen gentleness and kindness in every nurse he's met. Every time he sets his mind to figuring out what the something that makes her different is, it evades him. Needless to say, it is quite frustrating.
For her part, Renée is always glad to see Eugene as well, and glad to see him opening up ever so slightly. He is like a bird, she thinks, when he begins talking to her. Coming closer to her in tiny steps, but ready to fly away at the first sight of danger. He talks easily for a while, then, without warning, his face will close and he will stop. She never tries to make him say more though; that is not her place. It is enough for her to see that frighteningly dull look in his eyes disappear over time. She doesn't know that it is because of her that his eyes began to brighten. She doesn't know that it is because of her that he smiles a bit more, and that he looks forward to seeing her every time he goes back to the church. She doesn't know how much she has helped him without even meaning to. She does not think of herself as a saint, nor an angel, nor a worker of miracles. She is only a girl who brings bandages, washes away blood, and holds the hands of dying men.
Renee is rolling newly washed bandages when she hears her name being called softly. Looking up, she sees Eugene in the doorway. He asks if she has a minute, so she sets her work aside and follows him out the hallway to a smaller classroom. In the aftermath of the recent attack on Foy the hospital is more crowded than ever, but this room is used for storage and is empty but for boxes.
He talks, and she listens. His unit, Easy Company, is leaving Bastogne now that Foy has been taken. They're bound for the town of Noville, which they are planning to take next.
He is leaving.
Renée is unsure of why the news hits her so hard. They are friendly, yes, but she hardly knows Eugene. Their contact is sporadic, sometimes nothing more than a few minutes every couple of days. Fighting men have been entering and leaving her life at the drop of a hat ever since she became a nurse, why should this be any different? Her mind is an agitated jumble as she stares at him, a rush of too many thoughts coming together. She tries to say something, but the words stick in her throat. As she tries to unravel the tangled mess of her thoughts she realizes that despite what she though earlier, she does know Eugene. She knows him well enough to want him to stay, even though Eugene has stayed much longer than most of the others. Long enough that she'd almost forgotten that eventually he would have to leave, and now she is remembering too quickly.
"Well, I..." He stops, looks at the ground, looks up again. "I just wanted to say goodbye."
The word sounds so final and awful Renée doesn't even want to think about it, but she can't avoid it. "I don't suppose you'll come through here again."
"No, after Noville we're being moved to Haguenau. We probably won't come back to Belgium unless there's more fighting to be done." His words only confirm what she has known the entire time: that after he leaves, she will never see him again.
"I see." The words fall from her lips quietly.
He opens his mouth to speak, but she forestalls him. "Wait, please." She hurries out of the room to the place she keeps her jacket. There is a scrap of paper in the pocket, and she borrows a pen from one of the doctors. When she goes back to Eugene she hands him the paper. He looks down and reads it. She's written her address on it.
"If you want to keep in touch," she explains. Then she watches him nervously for a reaction. She had done it on an impulse; the idea had not even entered her mind before that very minute. But she suddenly felt so stricken at his leaving that she couldn't just let him leave with nothing. However, now she worries that it was too forward, too presumptuous of her. Her fears are assuaged, though, when Eugene looks up with a small smile.
"I'd like that," he says, and tucks the paper into his jacket pocket. Renée doesn't know it, but it's the same pocket where he keeps his string for prayer, a photo of his family, and the other half of her headscarf.
She sees him to the door, where she gives him another bar of chocolate. This time she hands it to him as she says, "Au revoir, Eugene." She desperately wants to say more, but all the words that come to her mind feel wrong, so she lets the chocolate speak for her.
He takes the bar and puts it in his bag. His eyes linger on her face and there is a slight pause before he says,
"Goodbye."
As she watches him move towards the jeep she wonders if he will even remember her.
She watches the jeep drive off. He looks back once, and she catches her last glimpse of Eugene Roe as he is carried away and back to war.
A/N: This chapter is not that great, I apologize TT_TT It feels rushed, choppy, and altogether poorly written. I spent all week on it but it still doesn't feel right, and I wanted to update at least once a week so I just went ahead and posted it. I may rewrite this and update later in the future. Anyways, thank you for reading! I'd also like to thank ChocAndSnow19 and airborneIMPREZA, who were so kind as to leave reviews on the earlier chapters. Reviews are always loved, thank you~