Fic - Je me souviens.
Title: Je me souviens.
Author: Lysa
Characters/Pairing: Roe, Heffron.
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction, no disrespect meant to the real men of the 506th.
Summary: It's the hardest job. One he didn't even want.
A/N: Not really a pairing, just musing after watching "Bastogne."
I do not remember what my hands used to look like. They are forever stained with blood and dirt, never to be cleansed the way that they should be. My fingernails are permanently painted, a brown colour that reminds me of that moment between life and death, that moment where it is no longer a choice to keep going - it is an ugly necessity. Snow does nothing to wash my hands of this bodily ink, pristine crystals simply melt into amber droplets that slide off my palm, dripping patterns onto the tundra below my boots.
I do not remember the names of those I could not save, only their faces. Time and time again, features twisted from pain to agony to defeat, and each time I could not look away. I would meet their eyes and nod, as if to say that it was all right to let go, but knowing in my heart that it was only an easy way out. There was no glory in death, I had learned, only a discomforting feeling of failure. Not only could they no longer try, I could no longer make sure that they could.
What do they need me for? I had asked, as if it were a question worth answering. There would always be times where they did not need me, times where they cared enough to hold me back so that I could be ready to help, but those times were few and far between and were the antithesis of relief. They would move forward, ready to fight and to win, but never had I ever seen them all come back without a casualty. Blood splattered across their faces, they cried to me, beckoning me to place my hands upon another defeated fighter and lull him until death became a comforting option.
I hated only few things more than the feeling of failure.
One of these was loss.
I had lost Renee. I was soon to lose Toye and Guarnere. Their memories would be fresh for too short of a time before beginning to slip away, joining the other nameless faces that are trapped behind the glass of the past.
I sat there in that foxhole with Heffron for an amount of time I could not calculate, wrapping my dirty fingers around her headscarf to soothe him, to fix him, thinking only one thought: ‘I will not forget you.’
comments?
Author: Lysa
Characters/Pairing: Roe, Heffron.
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction, no disrespect meant to the real men of the 506th.
Summary: It's the hardest job. One he didn't even want.
A/N: Not really a pairing, just musing after watching "Bastogne."
I do not remember what my hands used to look like. They are forever stained with blood and dirt, never to be cleansed the way that they should be. My fingernails are permanently painted, a brown colour that reminds me of that moment between life and death, that moment where it is no longer a choice to keep going - it is an ugly necessity. Snow does nothing to wash my hands of this bodily ink, pristine crystals simply melt into amber droplets that slide off my palm, dripping patterns onto the tundra below my boots.
I do not remember the names of those I could not save, only their faces. Time and time again, features twisted from pain to agony to defeat, and each time I could not look away. I would meet their eyes and nod, as if to say that it was all right to let go, but knowing in my heart that it was only an easy way out. There was no glory in death, I had learned, only a discomforting feeling of failure. Not only could they no longer try, I could no longer make sure that they could.
What do they need me for? I had asked, as if it were a question worth answering. There would always be times where they did not need me, times where they cared enough to hold me back so that I could be ready to help, but those times were few and far between and were the antithesis of relief. They would move forward, ready to fight and to win, but never had I ever seen them all come back without a casualty. Blood splattered across their faces, they cried to me, beckoning me to place my hands upon another defeated fighter and lull him until death became a comforting option.
I hated only few things more than the feeling of failure.
One of these was loss.
I had lost Renee. I was soon to lose Toye and Guarnere. Their memories would be fresh for too short of a time before beginning to slip away, joining the other nameless faces that are trapped behind the glass of the past.
I sat there in that foxhole with Heffron for an amount of time I could not calculate, wrapping my dirty fingers around her headscarf to soothe him, to fix him, thinking only one thought: ‘I will not forget you.’
comments?