#speiroe

“Sorry, I didn’t-”

“Tab was asking about any girls we got back home,” Liebgott interrupted. “So, what about it, Doc?”

Gene tilted his head in confusion.

“We’re askin’ if there’s any girls you’ve got your eye on back down south.” Smokey grinned.

Gene looked around the table. The five of them were all staring at him.

“I don’t know. I haven’t really thought about it.” Doc moved his eyes down to his plate.

“Aw, come on Doc.” Talbert practically whined.

“Leave him be, Tab.” Chuck glanced at Talbert in mock exasperation.

“Yeah, but there’s got to be someone.” Smokey leaned in closer, until Alley kicked him under the table.

“Lay off, Smokey.” Alley spoke, softly.

The conversation died and Chuck changed the subject and soon they were back to complaining about Sobel, and when Gene left the table Christenson was saying something about Sobel definitely hating him more than any of the other men, and when he walked towards the exit of the tent Christenson was now leaning back into the table behind him, grinning at Shifty.

Gene stepped outside the tent and instantly felt calmer. It wasn’t that he didn’t like being around other people, he was fine with that. It just got a bit too much sometimes.

He never felt like he was part of the conversation. He stayed quiet, and that was fine, but was often worried that the others would think he was being ignorant.

And then there was the conversation topics. He knew he wasn’t the only one who wasn’t interested in women, or who wasn’t solely interested in women, but that didn’t mean he was comfortable telling people that.

He was glad to have those that don’t mind his quiet nature. Those who wouldn’t force him to talk. Chuck was one of those people. If he sensed Gene was uncomfortable (and he really good at telling when Gene was uncomfortable), he would steer the conversation away to another topic. Others like Alley and Shifty, would be comfortable to just sit with him and not say anything, and not feel like they had too. And, quite unexpectedly, the men were becoming protective of him. A few weeks ago a guy from Fox had been a bit drunk and started making fun of Gene, and before Gene could say anything Skip Muck had come out of nowhere and punched the guy square in the face. For all their teasing, it turned out Skip and Penkala where really quite fierce.

Sot it wasn’t like he was alone. There were plenty of men around him, and some that he was becoming quite comfortable around. And yet… And yet things still felt awkward.

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Ron was a man of few words. He wasn’t chatty, and he hated gossiping and rumours. He said what he needed to say, gave the orders he needed to give, dealt with his men as quickly and efficiently as he could, but never said more than what was needed. And that was fine.

The other COs in Dog Company thought he was standoffish and didn’t often speak with him, but so what? Ron wasn’t here to make friends. He was here to do a job. He was here to be the best he could he, and stopping to chat was only going to waste his time.

And besides, Ron liked the quiet, the silence. The desolation was almost comforting to him. Ron had always found that there was something about that silence, the kind you get at two in the morning when everyone is asleep and the roads are empty, that that kind of sempiternal silence satiated something within him.

He stood in that silence now. The night air was cold and the wind scrapped through his hair and pulled at tent behind him.

He could hear sounds in the distance now. Boots on soil, bags lurching up and down with the heavy steps. Ron didn’t have to look to know who’d be walking by him soon.

God, it was getting ridiculous.

Don’t get him wrong, Ron is all for pushing yourself and your men to their limits, but even he couldn’t help but feel something about Captain Sobel’s treatment of Easy Company.

It was working. Clearly it was working. But did you really want to push you men to the point that they’ll gladly push you out of the plane before the light turns green? It doesn’t matter if your men hate you, but it damn well matters if they don’t respect you.

And to think that Sobel brags so much about how Fox and Dog have no standards. That Easy are the ones who he expects to be the pride of the airborne. Then again, is that want he wants for Easy, or is that just what he wants for himself?

Ron sighs and lets the crumbling stump of his cigarette fall to the ground, and he crushes it under his boot.

Why the fuck is he even thinking about that anyway? Why does he care what Sobel thinks of his company?

Ron forces himself back inside the tent, out of the quiet night and back to his barracks. He hears Easy pass as quietly as they can, and then one of them says something that sets them into laughter. And all Ron thinks about is how unnecessary and unprofessional that it. He doesn’t wonder about what was said to trigger that laughter. He doesn’t for a split second think about what being part of that laughter would be like.

No. Not one bit.

 Chapter 2

Gene was aware of Lieutenant Speirs, everyone in Easy was vaguely aware of him. They’d heard stories about Speirs being tough on his men. Not brash and shouting like Sobel, but glaring and intimidating. Some of the men from Dog said you could feel when his eyes were on you. Some of them joked about Speirs not being human.

Gene wasn’t one to pay attention to rumours. He’d seen Speirs around the camp, and he seemed very confident in himself, and he was an impressive soldier, even if he was a bit careless about his well-being.

Gene tried not to think about that. He had enough worrying to do with his own men, he didn’t need to start worrying about men in other companies.

He had once mentioned Speirs to one of Dog’s medics. He’d asked if he was difficult to look after.

“Oh no, no one looks after the Lieutenant,” Olson squirmed. “If I tried to ask if he was okay… Well, he’ll come to me if he needs anything.”

No he won’t. Gene had thought. Speirs was not the kind of man to ask people for help.

So it was hardly a surprise when Gene was walking through the camp one evening, enjoying the quiet, when he saw Speirs leaning against a pole, and Gene saw the red stains on the cigarette and Speirs moved his hand and Gene saw the red gash running down his palm.

Maybe it wasn’t that bad. But he couldn’t just walk past.

“Lieutenant Speirs, Sir, may I take a look at your hand?”

Speirs stared at him with dark eyes. His expression unreadable.

“It’s nothing, Doc.” And he turned his head away, expecting Gene to understand that as the dismissal that it was.

“With respect, Sir, I don’t think it is.” Gene stared back at him.

He has not going to let someone go untreated because of their pride.

Speirs stared at Gene again. Gene got the feeling that Speirs thought if he stared at him long enough, Gene would get uncomfortable or intimidated, or just creeped out, and would leave.

When it became apparent that wasn’t going to happen, Speirs moved his cigarette to his other hand, and held his right hand out towards Gene, raising an eyebrow.

Gene grasped Speirs’ hand and turned it over so his palm was facing upwards. The cut was clearly made earlier that day, and with Speirs doing nothing about it, it was reopening and the blood was seeping through his skin and running towards Gene’s fingers.

Gene reached into his pocket. He’d seen enough guys getting hurt from the most unlikely things and made sure to always carry some supplies with him, even when they were away from the camp on a weekend pass.

“You gonna patch me up, Doc?” Speirs eyed him, almost warily, as Gene took out the bandage and began wrapping it around Speirs’ hand.

“I shouldn’t have too,” Roe gave a harsh tug on the bandage and Speirs flinched. “You have your own goddamn medic, it shouldn’t be me doing this, but you’ve managed to scare him away. What if I hadn’t seen it? What if it had got infected? What would you have done then?”

Gene tied off the bandage and looked up at Speirs, his anger slowly subsiding.

Speirs didn’t say anything, he just kept staring and Gene worried he’d cross a line, when Speirs’ mouth twitched up and he looked almost impressed, almost fond.

Gene realised that both of them had been staring, not saying anything. And he realised that he was still holding Speirs’ hand. And that Speirs hadn’t made any move to pull his hand away.

“Do you speak to your own officers like that? Or was that just for me?” Speirs smirked and Gene pulled his hands away as if burnt.

“You’ll need a clean bandage on that tomorrow. If you don’t have any, you should ask Olson for some.” Gene wouldn’t look at Speirs as he spoke.

He also didn’t look at Speirs as he left.

And he definitely didn’t think about Speirs smiling at him as he stared at the ceiling of the tent, trying to get to sleep.

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So Ron had cut himself, it wasn’t a big deal. It had bled for a while, but had stopped a few hours ago. It didn’t hurt much. Ron hadn’t even noticed it had started bleeding again until he saw the red lines trailing out of the cut and flowing towards Roe’s hands.

He didn’t know much about Doc Roe. Why would he? He knew Roe was good at his job, Winters spoke highly of him. And that was about it. Roe came across as quiet and shy and polite, and Ron had never really thought about anything more.

So it was a shock when Roe’s calm demeanour seemed to shatter and, for the first time in a quite a while, Ron found himself being shouted being, being told off.

He didn’t know how to react. If it had been anyone else he would have ripped into them, made sure they never even looked at him again, but he didn’t know Roe. And when Roe looked back up at him at he saw a fire in his eyes that he felt drawn too.

He hadn’t realised Roe was still holding onto his hand, until he felt the loss of the contact and the cold air on his fingers.

He didn’t know what possessed him to say what he said. He could’ve sworn that if it were day he would have been able to seen a flush in Roe’s cheeks.

Is that why he was here then? To see him? Honestly, Ron was bored, and if trying to make the dark haired medic flustered was going to be more enjoyable then another night of helping Nixon sneak in his drink, then so be it.

That’s why he was here then, stood in the empty tent, next to Roe’s bed; simple curiosity and boredom. It had nothing to do with wanting to see that fire again.

He heard footsteps jerk to a halt.

“Is there something I can help you with, Sir?” Roe looked at him, anxiously.

Maybe Roe was scared of him too.

“You said I needed the bandage changing.” Ron said as he held up his hand.

“I also said that you should see your own medic. Not come to me.”

“Well, maybe I didn’t want you worrying about whether I’d actually done it or not. Would you have really trusted me to talk to him?”

Roe huffed and sighed.

“You might as well sit down.” Roe motioned to his bed, while he pulled out a fresh bandage.

He perched on the bed next to Ron and took his hand, carefully and gently peeling off the stained bandage. The cut had continued to bleed, but not much, it wasn’t going to become anything serious.

The two of them sat in silence as Roe changed the bandage. There was something nice about it. The silence. And yet, in comparison, it made all other silences feel incomplete.

Maybe you’re getting lonely- Ron quickly shut down that thought.

He glanced down at Roe, his hands cupping Ron’s own, his grip so gentle compared to the night before. Ron watched Roe’s eyelashes flutter as he bit his lip in concentration.

“All done, Sir.” Roe spoke, and they both seemed surprised by how quiet he was, but even so it snapped Ron out of his thoughts.

They both stood up and Speirs made his way to the front of the tent.

“Sir,” Roe called. “In future you might want to save yourself the inconvenience and talk to your own medics.”

Speirs turned around and grinned.