Disclaimer: all the usual apply.
Chapter 24
Amelia POV
Her lips drew away from her teeth in an ugly grimace as she poured ice cold water over the laceration running down the inside of her upper arm. It had been nearly two days since she'd been wounded and her arm hadn't started to heal at all. On the contrary, the area around the cut was hot to the touch and swollen, her entire arm felt heavy and every small gesture hurt like hell and exhausted her all at once.
"Fuck," she hissed as she washed the last bit of yellow pus out of the wound.
She knew she should go to Gene, hell, she should have gone to him from the start. She kept telling herself she'd go to him when she saw him next, but either there was someone else close by or they were trying not to get blown to smithereens by another artillery bombardment.
She'd taken an extra shirt Derek had stuffed in the bottom of his pack and ripped it into long strips. She'd given most of the strips to Gene, but conveniently kept one for herself. As she pulled it tightly around her arm a wave of nausea ran over her body, forcing her to bend over and take long purposeful breaths to stop herself from throwing up the little bit of food she had in her stomach.
When the feeling finally subsided she straightened out, put on her jackets and walked back to the men, in search of her medic. She couldn't risk passing out in the middle of a fire fight, it would put her friends in danger.
A deep hum disturbed the silence of the forest and she looked around confused as her brain tried desperately to place the familiar noise. Lifting her hand, she squinted into the sun trying to find the source of the noise and just then it hit her. The sun, she was looking into the sun. The fog had finally lifted and the noise was so familiar because it was the sound of C 47 planes. American planes.
A cheer went up and men streamed past her to a nearby clearing in the trees. Her discomfort and fatigue momentarily forgotten she ran after them, whooping and giggling with every step.
She was a few feet away from the clearing when she finally saw the line of beautiful metal birds flying overhead. Her head was spinning, but she couldn't decide whether it was from her hysterical laughter or the infection slowly making its way up her arm.
The sound of heavy snow crunching underneath boots neared her and the grinning faces of Gene and Lipton swam in-front of her eyes.
She smiled back at them as they said words she couldn't hear through the blood rushing in her ears.
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Roe POV
He didn't think he'd ever been so happy before in his life as the moment he saw the bellies of those C 47's. They were still surrounded by Germans on all sides, but at least now they'd have some supplies.
He and Lipton had run back to call a jeep to take a few of them into town to collect supplies. They found Amelia standing by herself, a massive smile on her face as she stared up at the sky.
As they skidded to a stop in-front of her, her eyes fell to their faces but he immediately knew something was wrong. Her eyes weren't focused on their faces and a bead of sweat ran down her ghostly white neck.
She started to sway and Lipton grabbed her shoulders to steady her. "Amelia, what's wrong?" the sergeant asked, his elation at their reprieve now replaced by intense concern.
"Nothing," she slurred.
Gene touched her forehead and nearly hissed as the heat from her skin stung the palm of his hand.
"She has a fever," he informed Lipton.
"Maybe Doc, but she's shaking like a leaf."
"Gene," she whispered.
"I'm right here," he said as he franticly looked her over to try and find any indication of what had caused her sudden illness.
"Don't be mad, please," she said, but before he could respond she pushed Lipton's hands away and bent over to empty the content of her stomach onto the ground.
"Shit," he swore out loud.
Her legs started to give way under her and he was just in time to catch her before she hit the ground.
He placed her down gently on the snow as Lipton held his canteen to her cracked lips, pouring a small stream of water in-between them.
"Amelia, what happened?" he asked, still unable to figure out what the hell was wrong with her.
"I got shot," she mumbled and they both stared at her in shocked silence.
Lipton was the first to recover, "Where? When?"
"'Bout two days ago. It was just a graze. Nothing serious. I didn't want to worry anyone. We don't have enough supplies."
He was still holding onto her small shoulders, and for the first time it struck him how small she had become. "Where is it?"
"Inside of my right arm," she replied, barely meeting his furious gaze.
With the help of Lipton, they quickly stripped of her two jackets. As he rolled up the sleeves of her right arm he could feel the heat radiating off of her skin. When he finally got to the strip of fabric covering the wound he had to bite his tongue to stop himself from cursing her to high heaven.
With trembling fingers, he gently untied the knot and his stomach recoiled at the sucking sound the fabric made as he pulled it away. Gently turning her arm so he could have a better look he saw red veins running from the swollen wound to her heart.
He caught Lipton's eyes. He swore the man had lost the little bit of color he'd had left in his skin. You didn't need to be a medic to know this wasn't good.
"Shit Amelia, you should've come to me."
"I know. We don't have enough supplies, other people needed them more. I thought it would be OK," she said in a voice that sounded so much like a child's.
"Well, we got more supplies now. C'mon Doc, let's get her up. She can go to Bastogne with you and they can treat her at the aid station," Lipton ordered.
He gave Lipton a firm nod in reply and took out his last clean bandage to wrap around her arm before they helped her put her jackets back on.
He took both her hands and pulled her to her feet. He was just about to scoop her into his arms when she took a shaky step away from them. "I can walk," she slurred and if you didn't know better you'd have sworn she was drunk.
He eyed her skeptically as she took a flimsy step in the opposite direction of the waiting jeep before her legs started to shake.
"Damn woman," he cursed as he stepped into her path and scooped her into his arms.
"Gene," she started to protest halfheartedly.
"No, I'm carrying you. Deal with it."
They made their way over to a waiting jeep that already had men sitting and standing on every available open space.
"Make room," Lipton barked the order, and that combined with the firm set of their jaws and eyes was enough to make everyone jump.
"What the fuck?" George asked as he ran up to them.
Amelia waved him off with a flimsy shake of her wrist. "It's nothing George. Just a bad scratch. Gene's just being dramatic."
He rolled his eyes and scowled down at her but she promptly avoided his eyes.
"Oh yeah, this looks like nothing. Shit, you're burning up," George said as he reached out to touch her clammy cheek.
Babe pushed to the front of the small crowd and his eyes flicked desperately from her pale face to his anxious eyes. "Doc?" he asked as he reached for her.
"She has an infected wound. We're taking her to Bastogne."
"I'm coming with," the young man insisted.
Lipton slapped Babe's shoulder and said, "Listen up, six of us are going into town to collect supplies. Let's go."
Men clambered back onto the jeep, but this time they left two spaces open for him and Lipton.
Babe climbed onto the back seat of the jeep and held out his arms. Reluctantly he handed Amelia over to him. He watched as she turned her face into his chest and he cradled her gently against his body.
As he climbed into the front of the jeep where there was only standing room, he glanced over his shoulder as they pulled away.
Amelia's eyes were tightly shut and Babe had his head tilted down so his lips were next to her ear. He could see his mouth move but the wind rushing past them made it impossible to hear what was being said.
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Babe POV
The moment he saw a soldier in Doc's arms his stomach dropped and his heart shot up. There was only one soldier small enough for Doc to carry like that and only one that would cause both the ever reliable medic and solid sergeant to look like they were barley keeping it together.
As soon as he got the chance he took her from Doc. He cradled her in his lap, wrapping her up in his arms and doing what he could to shield her from the icy wind that was rushing past them as the jeep drove into town.
"Amelia?" he whispered against her cheek.
Her eyes fluttered open to meet his and the world disappeared around them.
"Baby, what happened?"
"A bullet grazed me. I thought it would be fine," she whispered.
"It will be," he tried his best to assure her.
"I know. I'm so sorry."
"For what?"
"Letting it get this bad. I was stupid."
He couldn't stop the smile that pulled at the corners of his lips. "Amelia Jones admitting she'd made a mistake. I'm gonna remember this moment for the rest for my life."
She narrowed her eyes at him in mock anger but the faintest of smiles lightened her features.
"You have to take care of yourself. I promised Derek I'd look after you and you can't make this even more difficult than it already is."
The jeep jerked up as it raced over bump in the road and a low moan escaped her lips.
He glared at the back of the innocent driver's head when a gentle hand on his cheek guided his face back to her. "When?" she asked.
"That last night. You were asleep and he gave me grief for being a jackass to you."
"Sounds like him."
"I deserved it. He said that if I ever hurt you again he'd hunt me down and kill me."
"Definitely sounds like him."
"Yeah, I believed him." He could still remember the way Derek had glared at from across the small space. He'd one hundred percent believed him, still did if he was being honest.
"And then he made me promise to take care of you. Especially if anything happened to him."
Her eyes met his and he saw a deep sadness there which he'd only glimpsed in passing since they'd heard about Derek.
He leaned down even closer to her, so his lips almost grazed her ear. "And you should know baby. I have every intention of keeping that promise for as long as you'll let me."
A soft hand cupped his cheek and he leaned into her touch.
As the jeep suddenly skidded to a stop they lurched forward and her hand fell from his face.
He looked up from her face and scanned the area to orientate himself. They'd pulled up in-front of the old church that served as the Regimental aid station. The town had clearly been through hell. Rubble was strewn everywhere, blocking the road and he couldn't find a whole building. Soldiers and civilians were running around, collecting the large canvas bags that contained the precious crates filled with supplies that had just been dropped.
Lipton was the first one off the jeep and he immediately started shouting orders. "Alright, you help the Doc," he pointed at Hashey, "the rest of you are with me."
Doc and Lipton walked around to his side of the jeep. Doc placed his hands underneath Amelia and picked her off his lap.
"Heffron, you go with Doc," Lipton said.
"Thank you, sir," he replied, relieved that the sergeant had given him permission to go so he wouldn't have to disobey an order.
Gene was already jogging through the church door as he and Hashey followed close on his heels.
They descended a flight of stairs to what looked like the large church basement. The cavernous space was filled from wall-to-wall with wounded and dying men, all lying on makeshift cots or leaning against the dark brick walls. The air was damp and the stench of blood and antiseptic hung in the air like a blanket.
Most of the room was lit by a few lanterns, with the exception of two small side-rooms which had stained glass windows where yellow light streamed in.
"Renée," Gene called and a pretty brunette nurse with a blue headscarf came running in their direction.
She glanced at Amelia for a split second. "Come with me," she ordered in heavily French accented English and led the way towards an open cot that was close to the yellow sunlight.
Gene gently laid Amelia down on the hard wooden surface.
The nurse bent down next to the bed and touched her forehead. "My name's Renée. What's wrong?"
Amelia managed a thin smile in greeting. "Renée, it's lovely to meet you. My right arm was grazed by a bullet. I think it's infected."
Renée gave a firm nod in understanding. "You picked a good day to get sick."
"I have great timing," Amelia joked.
"Help me get her jackets off," she ordered them and they both jumped into action, glad to finally be of some use.
Renée pulled out a pair of scissors from the blood stained apron tied around her waist and cut open Amelia's shirt sleeves from wrist to armpit. As she pulled the bandage away he bit down hard on the inside of his cheek to stop himself from swearing out loud.
He wasn't a doctor, but even he could see that wound was definitely infected.
"It's not that bad," Renée whispered to Amelia, but the look she shot Gene over her shoulder said otherwise.
"We need to clean it," Gene replied.
"Get me some warm water from there," she pointed in the direction of a fireplace with a large metal pot standing over it. He obeyed without hesitation and filled one of the smaller jugs that stood close by with the hot water.
When he got back Gene was holding Amelia's arm out while Renée held a scalpel in her hand.
"Put it down here," she ordered and he placed the jug next to her.
He took up the open spot on Amelia's left and intertwined his fingers with hers.
"Amelia, I have to open up the wound so we can drain it and clean it. This is going to hurt," Renée said as the metal of the scalpel glinted in the light of a nearby candle.
Amelia locked eyes with the nurse and gave her a firm nod.
She turned her head away from the approaching blade and held his eyes with her own, but when Renée opened up the wound and poured warm water over it her eyes snapped shut and her lips pursed together.
"Sulfa," he heard Gene say and tearing his eyes away from Amelia's face he watched as the medic sprinkled sulfur powder all over the open wound before Renee bound it in a clean bandage.
Amelia's grip on his hand relaxed and her eyes fluttered open. She turned her head to look at Gene and Renée, waiting to hear the verdict.
"You're lucky. It could have been worse. It'll need to stay open for a while longer until it's clean. I'll have to rinse it again. Then we'll stitch you up. We got penicillin today, I'm going to give you some now and then again later."
"When can I go back?" Amelia asked.
"Jeez Amelia, just rest for a little while would ya?" he exclaimed, finally having enough.
She shot him a dirty look which he met with one of his own.
Goddamnit, I never should have made that promise. She's gonna be impossible to keep alive, he thought to himself.
"We'll have to see. Maybe tonight already," Renée answered and Amelia shot him and Gene a triumphant little smirk.
Renée jabbed Amelia with a syringe of what he assumed was penicillin before getting back to her feet. "You need supplies?" she asked them.
Gene, who was still holding Amelia's right hand, nodded and she cocked her head in the direction of the closest side room where crates were stacked haphazardly.
"Gene," Amelia said in a groggy voice.
The sullen medic turned his full attention back to her, waiting for her to continue.
"I'm sorry."
He shook his head before reaching down to place a soft kiss on her forehead. "Do as Renée says. We'll see you soon."
"M'hm," she replied as her eyelids fluttered closed.
"We can't stay. We need to get the supplies back to the line," Gene told him reluctantly.
"I understand Doc," he said but didn't make a move to get up.
As Gene got to his feet he said, "One minute."
He gave a nod in understanding.
"You called me baby," she whispered, her eyes still closed but a soft smile on her lips.
"I did. I hope that's OK?"
Her eyes opened a fraction and she said, "As long as you're the one saying it, it's fine by me."
He so desperately wanted to bend down and place a lingering kiss on her lips. But they were surrounded by soldiers and he'd be damned if their first kiss was in a makeshift aid station in some frozen hell. So instead he settled for kissing her forehead as he stroked the top of her head.
"I'll see you later," he whispered as he braced himself to let go of her and leave.
"See you later," she murmured in reply.
Walking towards the stairs minutes later, his arms filled with supplies, he allowed himself one glance over his shoulder. She was sleeping and someone had attached a plasma drip to her arm, the late morning light from the windows casting a soft glow on her face. The worry lines that seemed permanently etched into her forehead were smoothed over and it struck him how young she really was. His chest constricted and a heaviness settled over his heart. She doesn't belong here. God, please keep her safe, he said a silent prayer.
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Amelia POV
Her eyes fluttered open and immediately snapped back shut when hazy sunlight stung them. She felt disorientated and tried desperately to remember where she was and what had happened. Then the familiar smell of blood and death infiltrated her senses and with that her memory returned.
She was in the aid station in Bastogne because she'd been stupid enough to almost get herself killed by a graze to the arm. What an idiot, she scolded herself.
Taking one deep breath through her mouth she mentally prepared herself to move. With a groan she sat up slowly and her head started to spin. Taking deep, deliberate breaths she waited for everything to stop moving before she dared to open her eyes. She reached up to run her left hand across her face but stopped short when a sharp little pain pulled at her arm.
What the hell now!
Turning her head in the direction of the culprit she opened her eyes just a fraction. A thick needle was stuck into her arm, and she followed the path of the rubber tubing that ran from it to the empty bottle of plasma at the other end.
Oh, not another injury then. Small victories.
She clicked her neck and rolled her shoulders and she tried to release some of the stiffness in her muscles and joints. She was still building up the courage to look at her right arm so any distraction would do.
OK Amelia, stop procrastinating. Just look at the damn arm and see what the damage is.
With one final inhale she looked to her right. Her upper arm had a clean white bandage wrapped around it, but she couldn't see any bloody veins running to her heart and the skin no longer felt hot to the touch. The feeling of relief that swept over her was quickly replaced by one of dread when she remembered she'd have to face Gene soon.
He's gonna kill me. I may as well stay here and save everyone the trouble of having to bring me back.
Reaching over she was just about to pull the needle from her left arm when a pair of blood stained hands took her place. Her eyes darted up and were met by the deep brown ones of Renée. Her forehead was creased together and her lips were pursed. God, she looks almost as disapproving as Gene does. I'm in so much trouble.
"You're going to hurt yourself. Let me," the nurse scolded.
She studied the other woman as she gently pulled the needle from her arm and put a peace of tape over the entry point to stop the bleeding. Renée was pretty, she had soft features with a delicate nose and large, brown eyes that held the same look as Gene's always did. She wore a blue scarf over her brown hair and her hands were so stained with dried blood Amelia couldn't imagine them ever being clean again.
Renée walked around to her other side and gently undid the bandage wrapped around her arm. Somewhere while she'd been in her stupor someone had stitched her up beautifully. Renée gently touched the wound and nodded approvingly to herself.
As she expertly replaced the bandage she said, "It looks good. You were lucky the infection hadn't spread more and that we had medicine for you."
"I know. I'm still waiting for the day that my luck runs out," she spoke the words without thinking. It was one of those things she always thought but never said out-loud.
Renée looked up to meet her eyes and Amelia's breath was taken away by the amount of anguish they held. This was a woman that was surrounded every day by people whose luck had run out and she had to bear witness to the devastating consequences.
"Let's hope it never does."
Amelia gave her the faintest of smiles and watched as the stress briefly lifted from her features.
Looking around the large space she noticed most of the men were still sleeping, with only a few low groans littering the air. "What time is it?"
"Early morning. Eight or so."
"Shit, how long have I been asleep?"
"One day. Eugene and that other soldier was here during the night to take you back to the line, but you were in such a deep sleep I told them to leave you. You needed the rest."
"I guess the infection really took it out of me."
"Maybe, but I don't think it was just that. A bomb could have gone off and you wouldn't have woken."
Amelia looked around to the wounded and dying men and then back to the nurse. "I guess this place, this war, has a way of wearing you down."
"War is a terrible thing," Renée said and for a moment they both just sat there in a contemplative silence.
"I should get back to the line," she finally spoke, already reaching for the two jackets that were neatly folded and placed on the floor beside her.
"You need two new shirts," Renée casually pointed at the missing sleeves of her right arm.
Amelia waved her off. "No, it's fine. I have the two jackets."
"We got some clean clothes in the supply drop. I've kept two shirts aside for you. They're in there," she looked in the direction of a small back room, "with some warm water and an old cloth."
A smile made its way across her lips and tears stung her eyes, blurring her vision a little. "Thank you," were the only words she could coherently form.
Renée's tired eyes lit up for the briefest of moments as her own smile reached them. "I'll wait out here. I need to eat something before the first soldiers arrive. We can eat together."
"That sounds amazing."
Standing on shaky legs she made her way over to the small store room. It didn't have a door anymore, and she guessed it had been repurposed as a gurney or bed a long time ago, but none the less the room provided her with more privacy than she'd had in weeks.
Quickly stripping off her filthy shirts she used the cloth and water to wash her face and body as well as she could. By the end the water was a dark mud brown and she was just less filthy and nowhere near clean, but after putting on the clean shirts she felt more human than she had in days.
She did feel naked though, without her rifle, pack or helmet. So when she entered the main hall she instinctively crossed her arms over her chest and searched the room for a familiar face.
"Amelia," Renée called from the foot of the stares which led out of the basement and she walked over to her as quickly as she could without actually running.
She followed the nurse outside into the cold morning. Now that the fog had cleared and the clouds thinned the sunlight reflected off of the snow covered buildings and rubble, forcing her to squint and hold her hand out in-front of her eyes while they adjusted.
Renée led the way over to two wooden chairs which stood in stark contrast to the pile of broken ones lying off to one side.
Taking a seat, she handed Amelia a small piece of stale bread and some hard cheese. "It's not much."
"It looks like a feast," she assured her.
Renée smiled as she took a bite of her own bread before washing it down with a sip of warm, strong coffee from a dented tin mug. She handed Amelia the mug and her eyes followed the wisps of steam which rose from its surface.
Taking a sip, the warm liquid burned her tongue and all the way down her throat. She savored every second of it.
"How did you end up here?" Renée asked and she turned her head to look at her.
Passing the mug back to her, she shrugged. "I wanted to help. Joining the army was the only way I could think of."
"You didn't want to be a nurse?"
Swallowing a mouthful of bread, she replied, "I'm not strong enough to be a nurse. My sister was one. Back in London she worked in the field hospital and I'd help her some days. I was never any good. You?"
"I wanted to help. Some days I don't know if I can help anyone anymore," Renée said before handing her the mug.
"You save lives. You help."
"So do you."
"Maybe, maybe not. I try and keep my friends safe and alive by killing other people's friends, but they still die."
She hadn't admitted any of this out loud, not even to herself alone in the dark, but for some reason she felt like she could trust Renée. She could tell her all these doubts and nagging fears, because this wasn't a woman she needed to put a brave face on for.
"It must get lonely, being the only woman with all the men," Renée skillfully changed the subject.
"Well, I'm never alone. I mean ever. And trust me those men can gossip and moan more than any old lady you will ever meet."
Renée giggled and took the mug back from her to finish the last few drops.
"But, you're the first woman I've spoken to in weeks. So in that way it is quite lonely. You can imagine there are some things I just cannot talk to the men about. They'd actually die," Amelia said with a fond smile.
"I can imagine."
Glancing at Renée she could see why Gene liked her, even though he'd never admit it. "I'm glad Eugene met you. It's good for him."
A small little smile turned up the corners of Renée's lips and a feint blush crept into her cheeks. "I'm glad I met him too. He's a good man."
"M'hm, and not too bad on the eyes either," Amelia teased and Renée's smile widened.
Quickly changing the subject, the nurse handed her a piece of chocolate and asked, "The redheaded soldier that was with you yesterday. He was the one that visited last night again. He was very worried."
This time it was her turn to blush and a shy little smile pulled at her mouth. "Edward. He's um…..well I'm not quite sure what he is to be honest."
"What do you want him to be?"
"Mine," she admitted.
"I'm no expert, but I'll say he already is."
A silly schoolgirl giggle escaped her lips and seconds later they were both laughing. It felt so good to just be silly for a brief moment. To worry about love and men instead off war and dying.
Waving a finger at Renée in warning she said, "You cannot tell Gene I said that. He'll worry and I'll never hear the end of it!"
Renée mimed sealing her lips and they both smiled at each other.
"Renée," a call came from behind them and they both turned around in their chairs to find a doctor standing in the church door.
Renée waved at the man and he disappeared back inside. "I need to get back," she said as she got to her feet.
"Me too. Thank you again for everything."
"My pleasure. Keep it clean and Gene has another penicillin shot to give you."
"Oh, he is going to enjoy giving me that far too much."
"Hopefully I'll see you again. Just not as a patient."
"I'll come visit with Gene."
They shared one last look of understanding before Renée turned and jogged back to the church, Amelia watching her until she was out of sight.
Peering around she spotted a jeep standing off to one side, the driver checking supplies. She walked over to him and he looked up at the sound of gravel crunching.
"Hey, you going back to the line?" she asked.
"Yip, you need a ride?"
"Yes please. If we could drop me off as close to Easy Company as possible that would be much appreciated."
"2nd Battalion?" the man clarified as he strapped down the last of the supplies.
"That's the one."
Jumping into the driver's seat he said, "Well today's your lucky day miss. That's where I'm heading."
She climbed into the passenger seat and watched the broken town pass her by in a blur of grey, brown and white as they sped back towards the forest and the fighting.
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Hope everyone had a good week. After chapter 22 and 23 I really needed a bit of a break, so decided something a bit "lighter" would be in order (well as light as you can get considering where they are.) I also really wanted Amelia and Babe's relationship to start moving forward. I know I say it often but I mean it every time, thank you all so so so much for the continues support!