Archive of Our Own

It is said, by whoever it is that tells us these things, that the world was once perfect. There was no pain; there was no hunger, and there was no sickness. Some would say it was a garden, but others, the ones we don't hear as much because they've grown quiet, would say it was a city, a paradise where children never became sick or hurt, and could grow old without fearing death, knowing they could rest when they were ready.

In our world today it is easy to believe that such an existence is not without a price. Most would say that cost was ignorance, that in seeking knowledge, man brought suffering upon the world.

But others, the ones who've grown quiet and tired of speaking, say that there was pain and despair, that the people of this city knew of such things. They were however only abstract ideas and concepts, purely academic to the people of this place, all except one.

He was the one that would know the suffering of the many and made it his own so that the rest could live free of the burden. He was the Ecouter.

"Lord, grant that I shall not seek so much to be consoled, as to console."

In the Civil War it was said you couldn't keep a Cajun in the Confederate Army. They went to fight like they were told, but after a while would just walk home.

Eugene Roe likes to think it was because none of them were with Easy Company, that, or they weren't medics.

Eugene hurts, but it's simply a matter that everyone around him does too. And when the others are hurt and cold he has to fix it. It's just convenient that he's so busy fixing them he doesn't have to think about how much he hurts.

His hands hurts, but he pulls pieces of exploded tree from Sisk's leg.

His feet are sore, but he finds boots for Toye.

He wishes he could just stop, and Gordon gets hit and is paralyzed.

Eugene gets tired and looks up to find Winters staring. He knows Winters hasn't slept, won't sleep until the war ends, but Eugene tells him to anyway.

Even when Eugene has nothing to do, he waits and prays. He knows something will come up.

It was said the Ecouter would simply wander into the city from the unknown, uncharted outside, pass through the streets and be drawn to a small dark room beneath the center of the city, deep enough no one could hear the screams. There the Ecouter would stay, sustained for an unnaturally long time without food or water taking in the pain and suffering of the people, until their life gave out and death came. That very day, another Ecouter would enter the city, pass through the gates and enter that same room, and though every man, woman and child of the city knew they existed they could never offer them comfort, because to do so would bring suffering upon them all.

It could be thought then, that the cost of utopia was not ignorance, but guilt. The knowledge that happiness came at the cost of a human life was what had to be paid by every person of that city, and it was because of that, every one of them would visit that dark room at least once to see the cost of peace.

When Eugene was fourteen years old his grandmother wanted to teach him to be a traiteurs. She would give up her healing powers to him so that he could keep healing after she was gone.

He'd grown up around her. Her home was more home then his home was; it smelled of herbs and coffee. He practiced his letters writing the prayers she taught him. He wrote out each word while she repeated the same prayers over and over, tying them into the knots of a piece of string she held in her gifted hands.

"I want you to carry on for me, Eugene," she had said, almost casually one day while she mashed fresh la mauve into a paste. "You got the right soul for it, plenty-a room to take in the pain."

Eugene had shook his head, "I ain't good enough," he'd said. "I like helping you, but I ain't a healer."

"That's why you should be," she replied, but she never pressed it, and Eugene never agreed. They never talked about it again. She died without passing on her gift to anyone.

Eugene may accept his role as Easy Company medic, but in the end it hadn't been his idea. He'd been chosen to be a medic. Apparently the Army had agreed with his grandmother, and when they asked, he couldn't very well say no.

He imagines his grandmother would have gotten a good laugh out of that.

What she had offered him…he really could have used it now. He prays and prays but he can't pull the men's pain out of them. He was lucky if he could stop the bleeding.

That would not have made his grandmother smile.

Although everyone in the city was expected to visit the Ecouter, there were some that were draw again and again to stand at the door. They did not come out of morbid curiosity, or to gawk, they came to offer silent thanks: the only comfort they could safely put forward

It was said, the last Ecouter was visited by a young woman one day. She did not cry or look away quickly, but stood and watched him with bright open eyes until well past those that came had normally left. She started to speak, but knowing the consequences of her words, turned and left.

She returned again the next day.

"To be understood, as to understand."

The nurse at the aid station, Renee, has Eugene's grandmother's hands. Her hands don't take the pain away, but they calm the men she touches. Familiar French vowels sound better in her voice. Her words soothe as much as her hands. She makes him think of home.

She is beautiful, but all Eugene sees are her hands.

He keeps the chocolate she give him in his vest. He likes to put his hand in the pocket and touch it. Maybe if he touches it enough his hands will work as well as hers.

He envies her hands when he finds Edward Heffron in his foxhole with the other medic, Spina. Heffron was forced to pull back and leave his buddy Julian choking on his blood.

Eugene knows that as a medic it's the bleeding wounds that are his problem. The thing is he knows what it's like to fail someone dying. It was something he was supposed to worry about, not Heffron.

He knows he can't say anything to make it better. He can't take the pain away from Heffron. Instead Eugene offers him the chocolate Renee gave him. He gets Babe to eat it, and it's like Renee had touched Babe herself.

He isn't fixed, but he's talking, and then he's sleeping.

But even in his sleep Heffron is twitching and groaning. Eugene wishes not for the last time he'd said yes to his grandmother. If he had, maybe Heffron could have had one good night's sleep in Belgium.

Renee offers him the rest of another chocolate bar when he sees her again.

"I gave the last one ta one of the soldiers," Eugene admits.

Renee shrugs and breaks the bar into smaller pieces, "Did he like it?"

Eugene shrugs too. "The only thing I got him to eat."

Renee nods, "Well, that's good then."

"I think the only reason he did was 'cause you touched it," Eugene says. He looks at her hands again.

Renee notices and curls in her fingers, "I doubt that."

"I told ya before, your touch, it's a blessin' from God," Eugene says.

Renee tucks her fingers under her armpits. "And I told you, it's too painful to be a blessing." She shakes her head, "I never want to touch another dying man again."

Eugene wants to reach out and pull her hands free. He wants to hold them in his own and maybe take some of their blessing or curse into him. Instead he stands up, "I have to get back."

"Take care," Renee says and smiles. It's a beautiful smile, she is a beautiful person, but all Eugene can see are her hands.

Everyday the young woman came and took up her silent vigil. Some days she would stay longer than others, but she still she came. She visited so regularly that some of the people of the city grew concerned that she was tempting fate. That her presence alone would be too close to offering relief, would distract the Ecouter from his purpose and they forbid her to return. She did not want to bring suffering upon others because of her guilt so she conceded.

She went to the room one last time, then without a word to the Ecouter, or any of the people of the city she left. She walked past the gates into the unknown world beyond and she did not look back. She would not loose paradise for the people of the city, but she would not live in such a paradise any longer.

Renee is gone. Crushed beneath a bombed out church with the men she tended. All that's left is the blue kerchief in his vest. Eugene thinks about this on his walk alone back to the line.

The last time he sees her alive is when he brings in Gordon. Gordon will likely never walk again and Eugene feels numb. He can't save Gordon. He can't comfort Gordon. All he can do is turn around and go back to the line. There someone will be shot again and even he can fix them, he can't stop it from happening.

Renee sees him before he sees her.

She calls his name and her familiar voice warms him.

He wants nothing more then for her to touch him with her hands. Her hands could reach through the numbness and make him work again. He can't ask her. He won't ask her. But he wants to.

He wills her hands that are already held out to reach for him.

For a second he thinks she will.

Someone calls her name and she hesitates. She stills, and turns to look where it's coming from. "I have to…" she starts and turns away completely.

Eugene doesn't stop her. She doesn't look back as she leaves to help someone else.

Now she never has to put her hands on another man again, dying or otherwise.

The snow falls like ash and he takes mental inventory of medical supplies the rest of the way back to the line - twelve bandages, three bottles of plasma, five boxes of morphine syrettes….

He finds himself at Heffron's foxhole.

He shreds Renee's kerchief to bandage Heffron's hand. The hand, Eugene realizes, that reached for him when Renee's had not.

Even after the woman had left there was still a feeling of unease among the city, it was perhaps for that reason that a young man choose that time to go and see the Ecouter.

Much like the young woman he did not cry, he did not look away, instead he curled his hands into fists and felt anger as he'd never felt before. In a move capable of only the boldness of youth he demanded of the Ecouter, "Why do you have to do this?"

The Ecouter was shocked by the question, perhaps more so because he'd even been spoken to at all. It didn't seem likely he would answer, but the young man kept standing there clearly expecting one so finally he replied: "Because someone has to."

That only seemed to make the youth angrier. He gnashed his teeth and stomped out of the room.

Though the Ecouter was confused, he forgot the incident shortly after it happened, at least until the young man returned and sat outside the room again. "Why do you have to do this?" he asked again.

The Ecouter replied the same. He did the next time, and the time after that, his answer was unwavering, but so was the young man's question.

After Toye and Guarnere are hit Eugene goes to find Babe again. Babe hadn't been nearby when it happened. He had in fact been stuck in a foxhole under a tree, but Babe and Guarnere are close, and Eugene wants to check on him. He wants to make sure.

Babe is in his foxhole. He's been sharing with a couple of the other guys from 2nd Platoon since Julian died. Neither of them is there.

Eugene slides down into the frozen earth next to him, "You doing okay, Babe?"

Babe makes a short bitter sound, "I still got both my legs don't I, Doc?" he asks.

"How's the hand?" Eugene asks. He holds his own hand out expecting Babe to give him his.

"It's fine," Babe sighs but holds it out for Eugene anyway.

Eugene runs his fingers over the healing skin. The bandage made from Renee's kerchief has been removed, and a small part of Eugene tightens at the thought of it being discarded. Seeing the strip of blue wrapped around Babe's hand seemed right

"He'll be all right," Eugene finds himself saying. He turns Babe's hand to get better light.

"He'll loose his leg," Babe states. It isn't a question.

Eugene doesn't answer it.

There is an awkward silence and Eugene holds onto Babe's hand longer than he needs to. He can feel Babe's pulse under his thumb. It's strong if a little quick. When it's clear there is nothing more he can pretend to do Eugene lets go. Their fingers brush each other.

Babe jerks his hand back a little faster then necessary.

Eugene stands to leave. "Take care of yourself," Eugene says and starts to climb out.

He can barely feel Babe's touch through the layers of clothing, but it's there. He turns to look at the hand just touching his back, then at the man attached to it. Eugene waits for him to do something.

When Babe doesn't make a move, Eugene turns around. When he still says nothing, Eugene slowly sits back down in the dirt next to Babe.

Much as before the city became concerned over the young man's actions, but no matter what they told him he would not be swayed. He would continue to go to the Ecouter to ask why he was there, and the people of the city's unease became fear, and their fear became panic, until finally a number of them banded together and went down into the room where the young man was yet to leave.

They threatened him, and when he wouldn't listen they grabbed him roughly and dragged him from the room.

Their own violence shocked the people and they quickly released him and scattered, assured they had scared the young man properly.

Bloodied and bruised the young man returned to the room beneath the center of the city.

Before he could ask his question the Ecouter asked, "Why do you do this?"

The young man smiled, his lip cracking when he did, "Because someone has to."

"To be loved, as to love with all my heart."

In Haguenau, after Jackson dies screaming in a dark basement, Eugene immediately looks up to find Babe. Babe who is still alive and breathing. He feels a terrible swell of guilt at the thought he's relieved it was Jackson instead. He looks away.

He helps Martin cover the body. He directs the other medics where to take Jackson. He gathers his scattered supplies. He does not look for Babe.

In the end, it is Babe that comes to find him. It is Babe who takes Eugene's hands and holds them to his own face. Presses them to his own chest where his heart is still beating, until Eugene moves his hands on his own. He takes inventory. He touches Babe everywhere, pushing aside clothing when necessary. And when his hands aren't enough, he uses his lips.

There in an abandoned house in Haguenau, while the Germans bomb the hell out of the town outside, Eugene whispers prayers in Edward Heffron's skin, sinks the words into his bone and tissue, seeps them into his blood, soaks him to his very core so that he will live. So that Babe will live.

The Ecouter looked at the young man before him and begged, "Please stop."

"Why?" the young man asked and took a bold step forward.

The Ecouter had meant to say he didn't want everyone to suffer, but flustered by the other man's proximity had replied instead: "Because I don't want to see you hurt."

"Now you know how I feel," the young man said.

The Ecouter stared at the battered man before him and knew he had failed. Not only because this man clearly felt pain, was injured by violence in men he should have prevented, but because he had come to value this man's life above any other. He imagined he'd been doomed since that first woman's quiet kindness, but it was this man before him that had sealed his fate.

"You won't stop, even if they continue to hurt you?" he said, knowing the answer all ready.

The young man shook his head, "I won't stop."

"What if they kill you?" It was not a thought he'd liked to acknowledge, but given the situation it was entirely possible.

"This will kill you," the young man said and held out his hand. "Come with me."

The choice was clear, stay and likely watch the other man get himself killed, see humanity fall into violence and fear to preserve their utopia, or leave with this man to guarantee his continued existence, and hope everything fell back into place with them gone.

The Ecouter reached out and took the young man's hand and the burden was his alone no more.

Eugene Roe and Edward Heffron survive the war. They break off in separate directions. Eugene goes home to Louisiana. He gets into construction. He thinks he understands Renee now. He never wants to touch another dying man again either. He wants to use his hands to build.

Heffron goes back to Philly. The winters there are cold, but never as cold as that winter in Bastogne.

He writes Eugene. Eugene tells him he's always welcome. One winter Babe goes to Louisiana to see him. It's warmer there, so he stays.

Some would conclude -the ones who like to tell other stories- it was an unnatural love that brought pain and sickness into the world. It is because of such people that those that tell this story have fallen quiet, for in the end isn't love itself an unnatural and selfish quality, to place one person above all others? Isn't it inevitable that in love one will not let another suffer alone regardless of the cost?

Besides, the point is, as the story tellers like to stress in weary voices, paradise with a cost is not paradise at all. The cost of their perfect world was not guilt, or ignorance, but to lack compassion. Regardless of who the Ecouter left the city with that night, he did in fact allow pain and unhappiness into the world, but he also brought compassion, and maybe with that there could be a true paradise someday.

"With all my heart."

The men of Easy will never admit it, but Eugene knows they feel Babe seems less damaged by the war. He still has his scars, but Babe's scars don't cut as deep as some of the other Easy men. Maybe it's because Babe was a replacement and saw less war. Maybe it's simply his nature. But in the end it's Eugene who dies first, and he dies with his soul filled to the top. With his pain. With Babe's pain. And with love, so much love.