Band of Brothers Imagines

Ronald Speirs

IN YOUR HEAD
be ready to cry. sorry.
-
You were in another argument. Why in the blue FUCK did he think it was a sane idea to run across Foy like a madman? A number of things could've happened. And then there was your dumbass. You ran after him like you too were invincible. Thankfully Lip pulled you to safety and Ron, this little shit, he had the nerve to be mad at you for trying to run after him.

"Damnit Y/n! Did you even think about what would happen if you had been shot. I can't live without you!"

"No but apparently you can just sacrifice yourself without thinking about how I would feel! This relationship is not a one way street. It takes two to tango!"

"Just think about the consequences of that. I was following my orders as a leader! You were just being-"

He was cut off abruptly by a gunshot. Your panicked eyes met his and you began to push him to safety when a bullet found it's way into your side. Ron stopped immediately in his tracks. Your body fell right before his eyes and his arms jerked out to catch you before you hit the ground falling to his knees. He didn't remember the word medic being ripped from his throat but Gene was there anyways looking for the wound and hopefully an exit wound.

"How are you feeling Y/n? C'mon babygirl talk to me. Please!" Nobody had ever seen Speirs like this. "It hurts Ronny. You know when I said I'd take a bullet for you, I didn't mean that literally..." Ron chuckled darkly at your attempt of a joke. But you could read him like an open book. His attempt to cover up his pain with a laugh and smile that did not reach his eyes was no exception. You heard the unmistakable sound of his heart falling to the floor and shattering.

He brought his hand up to wipe your tears  but he was met with your cold face and lifeless eyes. He looked at Doc who was also crying. "I'm sorry. The bullet ripped through one of her major blood vessels." His whisper was soft and broken. All the men surrounding you felt their hearts break simultaneously. Ron felt as if it were a cruel joke. Your eyes still open and hand still clutched in his own. Your lips barely closed. He longed for you to spring up and laugh, telling him it was a prank. Or to be jarred awake from the nightmare by you and to be perfectly safe from the war.

But subconsciously he knew, you were gone. If that wasn't enough, he would get to write to your family. From that moment forward if Ron wasn't in combat he was in his head. Trapped in a war -a losing war- between himself and the monster you kept at bay. When you were around you suppressed the darkest parts of him. Shinning a light on all the good. Now that you were gone. That he had lost you. In his arms. All that darkness was bubbling to the surface. His temper was shorter than ever. As much as the men wanted to fix it they couldn't. The only person who could was you.

You were gone. Wiped from everyone's lives as if you were never there. Never to smile or grace their morning with a laugh or joke. Never to play poker with Luz and Perconte. Never to discuss Shakespeare with Webster. Or boxing with Guarnere and Toye. Never to beg Lieb to cut your hair or to drink with Nix. Never again would Ron feel your soft lips against his own.

Now he was left to suffer his torturing thoughts in his head.