Imagines. | Band of Brothers [𝗥𝗘𝗤𝗨𝗘𝗦𝗧𝗦 𝗔𝗥𝗘 𝗢𝗣𝗘𝗡]

guardian angel. | floyd talbert

for vogueliebgott who requested protective tab

***

After leaving the forests of Bastogne and Foy, Easy Company had found their way to Haguenau. As the company's medic, you had seen far too much bloodshed-- You all have. It was an odd situation to be in, considering just across the river, Nazi soldiers were also setting up camp at the other side of town. None of the sides made any movements, as it was the first time in months they had actual beds to sleep in.

Last night, Major Winters had received orders to send soldiers across the river to try and capture enemy prisoners. The mission was successful, they had returned with three German prisoners, but had lost a fellow soldier, Jackson, in the process. It was one loss too many.

You tried your best to save him, you and Doc Roe had begged him to hold on, hoping for a miracle. But it was far too late. Months fighting had put a terrible toll on the men, and even yourself. That night, you had cried, curled up at the corner, Floyd Talbert's arms wrapped around you, whispering soothing words in your ear til you fell asleep.

Floyd Talbert was special. Your relationship began the night of the bayonet, when he had gotten stabbed by Smith who had gotten spooked thinking he was a German soldier. You tended to his wounds under the light of a flickering lighter.

"Doc," he whispered, as he lay in a stretcher, his hand gripping yours so tightly you worried they'd had turned blue, "Stay with me." That was all he managed to say before passing out, and it was enough to get you to do exactly that. Throughout the war, he had looked out for you, making sure you were safe. It irked a few men, but Floyd was protective. He owed you one for saving him.

Now, sitting in a musty basement, there had been rumours that Colonel Sink wanted to send more soldiers across the river that night to repeat yesterday's success. You all dreaded it. Jackson's passing left a heavy burden on everyone's shoulders-- It was supposed to be a simple mission, and no one was supposed to die.

You wrapped your arms around yourself, Floyd's arm around your shoulders, staring blankly at the man in front of you. You were all just waiting for someone to come brief you for tonight. The room was silent, the only sound coming from Roy Cobb, who was scrounging for god knows what behind you.

Lieutenant Jones lit up a cigarette beside you, dark circles around his eyes, it made you think of what he looked like when he first arrived-- Excited and hopeful. Now he looked just like the rest of you.

"What you lookin at, Y/L/N?" Cobb suddenly said when your eyes caught his for a mere second, a bottle in hand. His words slurred against each other, his tongue rolling drunkenly. You quickly looked back down on your lap. If you were being honest, Roy Cobb scared you. He had a terrible attitude and was argumentative, making it hard for you to focus on your work. This wasn't the first time he had called you out like that. "Yeah? That's what I thought."

Lieutenant Jones turned to face him, his face serious. "Are you drunk, trooper?" he asked, his superiority evident in his tone.

Instead of facing him, Cobb stared in front of him, his shoulders bent forward. "Leave me alone."

"Answer the question," their lieutenant responded, and your eyebrows quirked up, glancing at Floyd who just shrugged. You scrunched your nose at him, and he rubbed your shoulder gently, watching the situation unfold.

"Sick and tired of fucking patrols, taking orders," Cobb rambled on, his eyes once again falling on yours, "Sick and tired of good ol' Doc Y/L/N, who apparently does everything she can and yet couldn't even save Jackson." Your eyes widened, and Christenson, beside you, gasped audibly. You felt Floyd stiffen beside you, his arm dropping from your side.