The Golden Soldier (Call of Duty: WW2 Fanfiction)

Chapter 23

The walk home was long and mostly silent except for footsteps and occasional coughs or sneezes. I felt so drained by the time we came into view of the camp in Aachen that I thought I was going to drop on the spot. I refrained of course, because Pierson carrying me was unimaginable and I didn't want to be left.
    My hands were stained with dried blood and I tried so hard to not look at them. Not looking didn't make the sticky, stiff feeling disappear however. I imagined the man who had managed to bloody my hands. Had he a child or two? Maybe a wife? Perhaps he had even been a grandfather. He'd had blue eyes that passed through the generations and a solid build. Surely his hair had curled just slightly at the back of his neck. Underneath the mud and dirt of battle had been a soft face, a face that may have seemed welcoming anywhere else.
    I took an inward sigh and allowed my chest to tremble. My throat felt tight thinking about the other men I had mindlessly killed during the mission. I told myself to stop...that it was about survival like I'd been told before. If I died then America would lose another person. It could even affect the future.
    I wasn't supposed to exist during this time. Dying could mean a slight change in the future...yet so could living. How I was supposed to avoid dying without living? It was impossible to be that neutral.
    Part of me now understood Turner's original idea of sending me back home. Being out of the war would influence no part of the future. The boys never would have gotten to know me and vice versa. I would have become just another citizen in the United States.
    But being alone in a world I didn't exactly know scared the shit out of me.
    "We'll report to Turner," Pierson spoke for the first time since heading to camp.
    "Of everything that happened?" my voice was hoarser than his.
    "Yes, especially your disobeying of orders."
    "That disobedience saved your life," I snapped, glaring at the back of his head.
    Pierson slowed his walk, but shot me an even more intense glare. "There aren't heroes in war, Baker, so don't go trying to be one."
    I let out a huff laughter. "Heroism? That's what you're trying to pin against me? Pierson, I didn't do that because I wanted to be a 'hero.' I did it because you're my Sergeant and a comrade."
    "We could've died," he hissed, facing me just inside the camp after passing the guards. "One death is better than two."
    "A death is a death!" I argued. "And clearly we didn't die, so what does it matter?"
    "What matters is you disobeyed a direct order."
    I let out an exaggerated groan, gripping my face in annoyance. "You could be more appreciative!"
    "And you more disciplined."
    I let out a disgusted scoff, my face pinched in fury. "You're unbelievable!"
    "Ava, Pierson," a voice recognized us from a distance.
    I released my face to see Turner standing under a canopy in the distance. Behind him was even more of a camp--slightly bigger than the first. He motioned with his head for us to move.
    Before Pierson could take the lead, I stormed towards Turner. Pierson was on my heels, dark eyes on my helmet; his gaze was so heavy that I expected a hole in my helmet. I stopped a respectful distance away from Turner, keeping my face neutral despite my quivering anger.
    "Was it successful?"
    "Yes," Pierson gave a nod. "Base is entirely neutralized."
    "Good," Turner glanced to me. "Looks like you had a bit of a round."
    I blinked multiple times, avoiding his gaze. "I managed sir."
    "Go debrief, clean yourselves up," Turner ordered. "Afterwards, Pierson, I have matters to discuss with you, and Ava, you..." I shot him a dark look, daring him to give me a rest that I didn't want or need, "find the boys for something to help out with."
    I let out a silent breath.
    "Dismissed."
    I turned as Pierson did, moving away from the canopy. I could feel his daggers stabbing into my neck and shot an equal glare over my shoulder.
    I left him in the dust as I veered off to find the boys' tent. It was almost immediately that I ran into Daniels, his face expectant of my frozen glare. He moved to the side to let me past the fire.
    The other boys were sitting, finishing up a breakfast and watching me pass in awkward silence. I stormed into the tent, unloading the unimportant things from my pack to be organized later and then left my helmet on my cot. I exited the tent with a groan.
    Before completely leaving the small area filled with the four silent boys, I faced them. My face was heated, flustered.
    "Pierson is such an asshole!"