A/N: Number three. I'm trying to write one everyday or two every other day now.
003. Battlefield.
This wasn't the place he pictured meeting her again. In fact, he actually really never wanted to see her after the night he saw the tattoo on her back. You can't run from the past though. He knew that now. This wasn't a place where you were supposed to have emotion. You weren't supposed to cry because a comrade died. No, there was no emotion for a solider.
When he asked her why she had come her, she couldn't answer. She just sat there in his tent and gave him a pathetic look. He knew that she was built for war. If soldiers, he wondered, weren't supposed to have emotions at times like this, then why was he feeling the things he felt for her. Why did he find himself with her every night, stripping her of her clothes.
The battlefield wasn't a place to worry if she was still alright or not. He would lie down on his cot, the nights she couldn't come and wondered if this would end soon, because he couldn't bare to hide his emotions anymore. Who was he fooling? He was no soldier and neither was she.
A/N: I'm rather fond of this one.