Uncleanse Me

Part 1

I needed a fucking shower.

Not just one that I just lather some soap on me, scrub it in some, and rinse it off. No, I needed to scrape the grime and blood off of every crevice and hollowed curve of my body that the traces of war discovered. It felt like all of it had slithered underneath my long sleeves and dipped into every pore, replacing my hair follicles with pillars of pollution.

I was the epitome of war's contamination.

The flight back to KorTac felt agonizing, painstakingly slow with the weight of a shitty mission flattening the atmosphere amongst every single person in the Black Hawk's cabin. Granted, there were four of us altogether, but the silence was still just as deafening as if it had been a crowd's unamused stillness.

And I couldn't meet the gaze that bore craters into my very being. The same eyes that held such contempt since I almost got all of us killed.

"Watch my six," he'd commanded as he aimed around the corner, bullets flying from each direction as we were mercilessly being ambushed. It'd been pretty much my fault for two reasons. I'd not only stated the area was too 'quiet' of a place for a prisoner to be located, and I'd also stupidly walked down a hall without a partner for a final sweep of that sector, too confident no one would be around.

The trip of a wire connected to a grenade, shrapnel narrowly missing me, said otherwise. Left there as a signal for intruders, I'd accidentally set us up for failure, and our enemies flooded the area, the sound of quickened footsteps flanking my running frame as I scrambled to recollect the shaken equilibrium from the blast.

"What did you do?!" He'd screamed at me as I sprinted out of the building, retreating to the rest of the team where they had regrouped, waiting for me with bated breath. I'd made it just in time before they decided to leave without me.

"There's definitely people still here," I strained out, breathless and panicked.

And then all hell broke loose from the door I had just exited, a flood of hostiles pouring out with their guns already drawn and causing us to disperse. Scattered in different directions, König's yank on my upper arm would undoubtedly leave a bruise as he tried to get me out of the way of our opposing team's defense, shooting at them simultaneously.

Backs pressed against the other's – well, his ass was more into the small of my back than anything from our comedic height differences – not another word spilled from our dry mouths as sweat slid down tense jaws.

Because of my idiotic move, we were forced to retreat. Too many combatants rushed after us, and with the burning soles of our feet, we fucking booked it out of there with the silent promise of returning.

Somehow we didn't have any casualties, but we had no choice but to leave empty-handed.

And it was my fault for not being more careful.

Practically sulking in my seat, his piercing glare relentlessly digging me further into my own grave, I looked straight ahead of me at an unoccupied seat. I was going to let the buckled straps, holding nobody in, fascinate me for as long as I'd let my tempted eyes captivate me. I didn't dare to look over at König, but simultaneously, I needed to see how mad he seemed underneath his sniper hood.

With a racing heart that felt as though it was about to leap right out of my thick chest, my eyes flickered to the next seat and returned to the original one I had been fixated on.

Chicken shit, I cringed at myself.

Taking a deep inhale, I forced myself to at least glance his way. Three seats over, my gaze crawled over to where the Colonel fumed.

I-

Welp.

Grey daggers, no scratch that, silver longswords plunged right into my own irises, perforating whatever poise I had hanging on, and I immediately went back to avoiding his fixed scrutiny by completely turning my head to face the cockpit.

Right into my dust-coated ear, he buried his disdain, and I didn't need to look again to see the persistent disgust. I could feel it barreling from across the aircraft. Sooner or later, I was physically going to be on the receiving end of his wrath whether it be in a screaming match or relief in the form of aggressive assertion.

Either way, my throat was going to be sore.

I barely even let the chopper land before I wrenched the door open and climbed out, not giving anyone else a second glance. Especially him.

Speed-walking inside, I headed toward the barracks to grab all the necessary bath products to ensure the disappointing mission was entirely washed off of me, and maybe I could avoid Kön-

Heaved right out of my musings, my intended destination was redirected by a tight grip encircling my wrist, yanking me down the other side of the hall.