Babe/Roe Fanfic - Pulse
Title: PulseAuthor: daisukikawaii
Rating: PG13
Characters/Pairings: Babe/Roe, Lipton, mentions of Malarkey
Words: 1456
Summary: Three days had passed since Babe's fever set in. Roe could do nothing but sit by and listen to his heavy breathing and cool his burning forehead with his own frozen hands.
Warnings: Character death, sickness
Three days had passed since Babe's fever set in. Roe could do nothing but sit by and listen to his heavy breathing and cool his burning forehead with his own frozen hands.
He and the others took turns watching Babe in his foxhole, but most of the time it was Roe. They all stared at him on the rare occasion he left the hole. They stared because he was supposed to make Babe better again. He was supposed to save him. But Roe couldn't. He had nothing left but some shots of morphine and a few bandages. No medicine would drop from the sky. No miracle either.
He slipped down the hole, relieving Malarkey from a few hours watch. He had a look of devastation upon his face. Roe patted him on the arm as he passed. Malarkey nodded, his cheeks a mess of dirt and tears.
“Babe?” Roe scooted under the three layers of blankets. He could feel Babe tremble uncontrollably against the side of his body. He slowly opened his eyes. His gaze aimlessly wandered over Roe’s face until it settled on his eyes.
“Not you again,” he said with the faintest of smiles. His voice was barely a whisper. “You gonna make me drink ‘til I puke again?”
Roe’s lips turned into a hard line. He fumbled with the canteen beside Babe’s hip; it didn’t freeze in his radiating presence.
“Yes,” Roe replied. “But leave out the puking, will you?”
He put the bottle to Babe’s lips and slowly poured out a mouthful of water. Babe was gracious about the treatment, having faith in what Roe did was right. He tried to swallow, but his swollen throat gave him grief. He coughed and coughed in what seemed like ages. Roe feared he might be cracking some ribs, but could do nothing but wait it out.
As Babe struggled for breath, he desperately clutched the front of Roe’s shirt with knuckles turning white. His eyes were filled with so much fear.
“Easy,” Roe commanded, his voice a low hum. He stroked the side of Babe’s neck, making lazy circles with his thumb. Babe relaxed, but kept a half-desperate grip on Roe’s shirt.
“Gene?”
Roe cringed at the sound of Babe’s broken voice.
“Yes, Babe?”
“Can I sleep now?” He pleaded. “I’m so tired.”
“Sleep,” Roe said, tucking him in under the many layers of fabric, stroking his chin assuringly.
“Stay, yeah?”
He drifted off, and Roe loosened Babe’s grip on his jacket. He tucked his hand in under the blankets too.
“I’ll stay,” he whispered.
He made himself as comfortable as he could. Babe was like a living stove beside him. Roe currently inhabited in the warmest foxhole in the entire company. He was warmer than he had been for weeks.
The long night just kept going on and on. Babe talked in his sleep, naming places and people from his home. Occasionally he mumbled nonsense and threw himself around in their confined space, trying to scratch his swollen throat with his nails. Roe had to hold him down until he drifted deeper into sleep and calmed down.
People dropped by from time to time, lifting the ceiling a few inches and peeking in. Roe indefatigably answered their questions. No improvements. He’s been sleeping for a while. Yes, I gave him water. No, his fever hasn’t dropped. They all worried to no end.
Roe probably worried more than all of them combined, but he couldn’t show anyone. He didn’t allow himself to even wrinkle his forehead in concern around the men. Even though his behavior was a charade, it seemed to calm them significantly. He worried every single minute. He had seen men die from a lot less.
When they were alone in the hole, Roe held on to Babe’s shivering hand, pressing his fingers against his wrist. He could feel his pulse at all times. It made him a bit calmer.
For the first time in three days Roe managed to fall asleep. He didn’t intend to, but the warmth under the blankets, and the comforting weight of Babe’s hand in his, made him slip away. Before he knew it he was lost in a deep, dreamless sleep.
---
“Roe.”
Somebody grabbed his shoulder and shook him. He found it extremely hard to open his eyes. The feeling in the pit of his stomach was terrifying. He reached out his hand under the blankets and found another. He squeezed Babe’s hand while he slowly came back to Bastogne.
“Roe, wake up!”
He opened his eyes and sat up. He bumped his helmet into the knee of the person sitting above him, peering down the foxhole. Lipton’s familiar voice reached him, but he wasn’t really paying attention anymore.
He threw all the blankets off of Babe’s body and felt every little bit of him fill up with fear. He placed his fingers on Babe’s neck and waited breathlessly. Above ground people were stirring, talking to him, but he hardly noticed them. He could feel nothing under his fingers. Complete stillness.
“No, no, no,” he exclaimed hysterically. His words echoed dangerously loud between the trees.
He crawled out of the hole, several people jumping out of the way, and started tugging at Babe’s arm.
“Get him out of there,” he yelled. “Get him out!”
Several pairs of hands reached down and pulled Babe up. He dangled between them like a broken puppet. Roe pushed all the hands away; angry, so very angry.
“Roe, what is happening?!”
“Shut up,” he replied, not caring the slightest about how he was behaving. Fear flickered in the eyes of his comrades. “Babe,” he said, slapping him across the pale cheek. He checked his pulse again. There was nothing.
With a roar of exasperation he placed both his hands upon Babe’s chest and pushed down with all the muscles in his arms. Babe’s body resisted the treatment and his bones cracked loudly under Roe’s palms. The sound made the men pale.
He bent down over Babe’s face and pressed his lips against his. He breathed all the air in his lungs into the man under him, feeling his chest rise in a rapid motion. It made no difference. Babe was as still as before.
The men gathered around, their own protective wall, didn’t care about hiding their feelings. They had lost great men over the past few days, and they refused to lose one more. Near Roe, someone fell to his knees, tears streaming down his dirty face. Someone squeezed his shoulder. They all understood.
Roe kept working; pushing, breathing, until every bone in his body hurt like acid. Tears dripped of his nose and landed on Babe’s face, where they froze like diamonds. He cried because he was scared. He cried because he was frustrated. He cried because he was losing his best friend.
“Roe, you need to stop.”
“No.” He shook a hand of his shoulder.
“Roe, please,” someone said, taking his other arm in a significantly tighter grip.
“I can’t.”
He lashed forward, desperately pressing his lips against Babe’s one last time, giving him all the air he could possibly give.
Their lips parted.
Babe took a long shaky breath. A cloud of fog came from his parted lips as he exhaled.
Roe fell down upon Babe’s chest, leaning his forehead against the rough fabric of his jacket. His helmet fell off and toppled over in the snow. Someone caught it against their knee. Babe’s chest bobbed as he coughed. Roe smiled through a curtain of tears and digged his nails into Babe's jacket. He had never been so tired in his whole damn life.
The air around them was silent. Roe could feel hand after hand pat him on the back. But nothing made him happier than feeling the hand that tangled itself in his hair.
“Gene,” Babe asked, in a weak and strange replica of his regular voice. “Gene, are you alright?”
“I’m fine,” Gene said with an exhausted chuckle. “I’m fine.”
“Tuck them in,” Lipton ordered, picking up the helmet by his leg.
Roe hardly understood how he got back into the foxhole. People carried him while they ruffled his hair, whispered happy words in his ear and squeezed his hands. He was tucked in beside Babe, who was already half asleep. Somebody slid down beside Roe and tucked him and Babe in with tender care. The three of them leaned close together, limbs tangled in a way that would have been laughed at anywhere else. There it was a lifesaver.
Babe slid his hand onto Roe’s lap. He clutched it tightly, squeezed it in the pace of his heartbeats. Babe sighed.
Lipton carefully placed Roe’s helmet on his head and put his arm around his neck. Roe felt as though he could sleep now.