The Golden Soldier (Call of Duty: WW2 Fanfiction)

Chapter 17

"I have a feelin' those Paris girls are getting closer for you Zuss."
Zussman took another swig of water. "I sure hope so."
"Paris girls ain't even the ones you want," Aiello came up next to me, his voice an amused murmur. "It's the Russian ones back home. Feisty, rou--"
"Aiello," I shot him a sharp look. "I'm a girl...I'd prefer not to hear whatever you're about to say."
He smirked and then looked back at the two buddies exchanging lists on supplies. I allowed my emotions to drop off my face once more, my eyes going back into narrowed, pained ovals.
"Something got your tongue? You're not this quiet," Aiello didn't look at me while he spoke.
"Yeah, I'm just...tired."
My voice must have been unconvincing as hell because Aiello tilted his head to look at me. He raised an eyebrow as his brown eyes dug into my stony features. I tried so hard to ignore his pressuring gaze, letting out a silent sigh.
"Did something happen while you were on your own?"
"No, I just..." I felt my voice shake and closed my eyes to fight back the burning of tears in them. "I killed someone...two people."
Aiello was quiet, his mouth opening and closing in an awkward way.
"And it wasn't as I imagined," I opened my eyes, looking at him more fiercely. "I-I expected from a distance with a rifle, not...with my hands."
I looked down at my palms as if I didn't even recognize them. The lines were free of blood--I'd made sure to wash them throughly as soon as we'd reached the hidden bunker just outside of Paris--but I could still feel the skin and bloody uniform of the German soldier. My lips sucked inwards as Aiello rested his hands over them, gently and subtly squeezing.
Looking up into his calm brown eyes, I could make out sorrow and borderline regret. He had been through it too, everyone in the bunker had. In his mindset, it just had to be that much worse for me than him. I did and didn't appreciate the comfort.
He released me as soon as he'd touched me, looking to where Zussman and Daniels were walking over. I straightened and blinked multiple times.
"What's with the frown?" Daniels looked at me, cheerful.
"Little Ava here killed for the first time back a few days ago," Aiello responded for me.
The air grew tight once more, my throat following. I swallowed and raised my head, looking strong when I wasn't even near such. Zussman and Daniels both had similar sorrow to Aiello.
"It's a part of this whole thing," Aiello suggested. "Gotta kill to stay alive."
"Finally killed a Kraut..." Daniels kept his voice low. "You look very grave."
"I did it with my own hands," I found my voice shaking again.
"I did too," Daniels murmured. "With my helmet."
I looked away, sucking in a breath.
"They deserve it," Aiello shrugged.
I felt something flare inside of me, a spark that I felt frequently when studying the discrimination in history, the false facts and statements. "They aren't all bad. Some have families and don't have choices."
"She's not wrong," Daniels looked at Aiello as if they'd had the discussion before.
"Better them than us," Aiello murmured.
"You're on!" there was a playful holler behind me and I glanced over to see Stiles sitting down to play chess with an S.O.E. soldier.
"We should watch College," Aiello suggested.
The three boys trotted off, shooting jokes at Stiles. I sighed and turned, going through the double doorway to the separate room. I leaned on the doorway, crossing my arms, as I watched the game begin. The boys were shoving each other, laying down bets as other S.O.E. members did the same. My shoulders bounced as I huffed in amusement.
I found myself bored within seconds and made sure I was clear to slip away. My feet backed up until I was around the corner, then I spun around to leave the premises. Except my throat sunk to the floor as I turned.
Pierson stood like a giant in front of me, his body so close I could feel the restraint of his muscles and heat from them. His dark eyes glared down at me and I swallowed, taking a half-step back. My back straightened as I held his gaze steady.
"Sir..."
"Not going to join?"
"No. Chess isn't my...thing."
His eyes narrowed as they flickered downwards towards my clenched fists. He circled around my face, slowing over my eyes. I blinked, finding myself doing the same back. His jaw was tight, clenched in constant anger, maybe frustration. Grime was still covering his face, scruffy cheeks especially.
"Sergeant, I have a question."
"Hm?" he broke out of his observing spell and glared even harder.
"Why did you tell Turner that I could shoot? You could've had me sent to the last wave of support if you would've lied. You would've gotten what you want."
"How do you know what I want?" his voice was hissy like a cobra.
"I think you've expressed it pretty clearly what you think of me."
His face grew tight again and he glared at me in silence. I lowered my eyes in temporary submissiveness and then gazed back up at him more determined. Pierson seemed to ignore my existence entirely, jutting his chin over to where Turner was at a table looking over papers in the main room of the bunker.
"Turner wants to talk to you."
Without another word, he pressed past me as if he'd been talking to air. I glanced after him, confusion etched all over my face. He'd acted like he was opening up, starting to talk to me like I wasn't dirt, but suddenly cut himself off. I was still determined to figure him out--I couldn't stand not understanding people--but I now knew it was going to be harder than originally thought. I sighed in frustration and started for Turner.
"Sir," I put my hands behind my back as I made it to the table.
Turner raised his eyes for a temporary second and then finished looking at a map. He pushed off the table with his hands and then motioned for me to follow him. I briskly followed him to a more private area.
"How are you holding up?"
I was stunned he was asking me this and even after it came out of his mouth, Turner looked like he regretted it. My lips pressed into a line and then I stood straighter.
"Pierson said you needed to speak with me."
Turner looked relieved I hadn't pressed the question of why he was concerned for my well-being when I was no longer supposed to be considered anything special in comparison to the boys. "I've decided you will be staying behind for the liberation."
"Why sir?" I held back an outburst.
"There are going to be a lot of wounded," Turner spoke plainly. "You also aren't...I just want you to stay behind on this one."
I shut my eyes and then opened them. "Yes sir."
"I'm trying to protect you," Turner spoke slowly. "I can't find you a way back if you're dead."
    I bit back a smile of remembrance. "Turner..."
    He raised his eyebrows, gazing at me intently.
    "Thank you."
    His lips twitched into a toothless smile and then he dipped his head. "Just keeping a deal."
    I returned the gesture. "So where will I be?"
    "Final wave of support. Hopefully Paris will be liberated by then...if not...you will end up fighting."
    I wanted to say what would happen...how Paris would be liberated. I'd read over it so many times in journals and seen photos. But I didn't want to ruin anything or, worse, change history.
    "Do you know what happens?"
    "Maybe," I kept a straight face.
    "Is there anything I need to specifically do?"
    "Have to let history run its course," I smiled. "That means you go out there and do what you do best."
    Turner slyly dipped his head. "We leave in a few hours."
    "Good luck."
    "Do me a favor and don't try to catch up to us, especially if a battle is still going on. Help the wounded and keep yourself safe."
    "I will," I nodded and then heard footsteps.
    Turning, I found Pierson walking around the corner. His eyes landed on Turner as he prepared himself to give information.
    "Change of plans, Rousseau wants to advance now."
    Turner subtly nodded and then looked back to me. "Remember what I said."
    I quickly nodded and then took that as a dismissal. My feet carried themselves by Pierson, the pressure of his gaze making me want to walk faster. Once out of his view, I let out a breath.
    "Hey you! Do you know anything about first aid?" Vivian popped in front of me as I entered the busy main room.
    "Yes," I kept my voice steady.
    "Great, come here and sort this for our men."
    I felt her drag me by the wrist and glanced to where the boys were gearing up. They all smirked and I gave a little wave, wishing them to be safe.
    "Everyone needs an adequate pack and these two don't know how to properly do it yet," Vivian showed me the messy supplies.
    "I'll help," I moved past her, crouching to start a pack. "Watch carefully guys."
    Vivian left the room as I started making packs, showing the two young men along the way. Soon, they were throwing together med kits as quickly as I was. Both were silent, however, almost ashamed they couldn't get it right.
    "Not everyone gets it right at first," I spoke softly as they glanced at me. "Mistakes are okay."
    "Not in the field," the thicker British male pointed out.
    "No, but you still can't let one mistake eat at you for days on end. It will cause more and worse ones to happen."
    "I've been told the same for kills," the lankier one murmured. "You can't let your first one get to you or you'll become someone else's first kill."
    His comment hit me so hard I felt out of breath. I simply nodded and finished off the med kit I was working on. Standing, I looked over the finished ones and decided the two young men could finish off the rest.
    Walking out of the side room, I noticed most of the main one was empty. My feet carried me to door, where I knew there was a large balcony with railing. I stepped out into the moonlight, the lights of Paris glowing ahead.
    My hands rested on the bar of the railing as I overlooked the city. Below, the platoon and S.O.E. members were moving in towards Paris. My heart ached to be down with the men, but I also knew it would be better for them and myself to stay behind.
    Looking down at my hands, I noticed them glowing in the moonlight. They almost looked like ghosts as I turned them over, reminding me of the two haunting the back of my mind constantly.
    "Let the first get to you and you become someone else's first kill," I murmured, clenching my fists.
    That wouldn't be something I could let happen.

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Shorter chapter, but the next few are going to get interesting! Stay tuned!
Also, Happy Holidays! ❤️
Song: Turns You Into Stone by Tommee Profitt (ft. Fleurie)
~MS~