Author's Note: This chapter contains non-graphic descriptions of nudity and some light gore.

Chapter 15

Alfred still wasn't sure how he felt about being here.

The inside of the jjimjilbang was something akin to the lobby of a high class New York hotel. Highly polished stone floors gleamed up at him from under his feet. Anything that wasn't made of stone was made of a deep red wood, also polished. The modern lighting gave everything a soft, inviting glow that seemed to emanate from everywhere and nowhere all at once. Nothing about the place seemed to suggest that he was anywhere but a contemporary resort hotel.

But as Yong Soo handed off the voucher to the lady at the front desk, Alfred was reminded that he was essentially about to strip naked in front of a bunch of strangers.

Yong Soo did not seem troubled by this at all, turning back to Alfred with a pair of keys and a couple of pairs of sauna clothes. "Okay, let's go!"

Yong Soo led Alfred around the corner and through a door marked 남—men. The Korean removed his shoes, and Alfred, taking all his cues from the native here, did the same. They stowed their footwear in little lockers which matched the numbers on the keys they'd been given, then moved through the door to the next room.

…Which turned out to just be another locker room. Why have separate lockers for shoes and clothes? It didn't make sense, but Alfred didn't feel like he had a right to question it. Spas weren't even a thing guys did in his country. How could he be expected to understand it?

Yong Soo handed Alfred one of the sets clothes he'd picked up at the front desk. "Don't put them on yet. Just put them in your locker for now."

"Why do we even have these?"

"Just take your clothes off, Alfred."

"Oo-oooh," Alfred sang in a jokingly seductive tone. "I see how it is."

But the truth was, he was a little uncomfortable. It was one thing to be naked in front of a bunch of strangers he would never see again. But to be naked in front of one of his best friends? Every time he saw Yong Soo now he was going to think about what he looked like under his clothes. Would he ever be able to see Yong Soo the same way after this? He glanced over at the Korean.

The quickness with which Yong Soo was stripping down made him think he was just being a big baby about the whole thing. The Korean was clearly not shy about this at all.

Determined to not be made a fool of, Alfred started by pulling off his shirt before moving on to his pants and underwear, making a point to keep from looking in Yong Soo's direction the whole time. The last thing he needed was for Yong Soo to notice his embarrassment.

Once he'd pulled off the last of his clothes, Alfred stuffed them into the locker he'd been assigned, only remembering just as he was about to close the door to take off his glasses as well. When everything was stowed away, he went to Yong Soo to retrieve the key, which the Korean handed over as soon as he saw him approach. The key was tied to an elastic strap so that it could be worn on the wrist, so Alfred slipped that on too. Once Yong Soo had put away his things, he turned back to Alfred.

"You're not really friends until you've seen each other naked, right?" the Korean grinned, just as Alfred realized once again how awkward he felt. He was so exposed, just standing there with the air blowing against places it normally didn't, things hanging out that really shouldn't, the bit of chub that hugged his middle and hid that six pack everyone thought he had flapping out for everyone to see… Suddenly he felt very, very self-conscious.

"Yeah…!" he agreed hesitantly, keeping his eyes on Yong Soo's face and hoping the Korean wouldn't notice how hard he was trying to avoid looking down.

He may have taken a peek anyway.

Yong Soo didn't seem to care though, and just smiled and led Alfred along through the next door.

The next room was a community shower, made of the same dark, polished stone that the lobby had been. It was lit dimly, just light enough to illuminate the shower areas. The showerheads were dispersed among smaller, sectioned off areas with a few showerheads each, supposedly so groups of friends could all shower together without having to interact too much with strangers. A cabinet near the door held neatly folded towels as well as soap, shampoo, and individually packaged sponges. There were even disposable toothbrushes and tiny tubes of toothpaste.

"First, you have to wash," Yong Soo said, grabbing a towel and bathing supplies from the cabinet. "…Everything. To keep the pools from getting dirty, you know?"

Following Yong Soo's lead, Alfred grabbed some bathing supplies for himself and followed the Korean to the showers, where he took what must have been the most thorough shower of his life. Yong Soo assured him that he had to wash literally everything, from behind his ears and between his toes to the area between his butt cheeks (surely, surely Yong Soo was just toying with him). Despite his doubts, he did it anyway, scrubbing away with the sponge for most of his body and just using his hand for more sensitive areas. It took all his willpower to keep from looking over at Yong Soo. Geez. Yong Soo had clearly done this a thousand times and had no problem with being naked in the presence of his friend, but Alfred was still having a hard time with it. Eventually, he did glance over, just long enough to notice how muscular Yong Soo actually was. It made sense. Lots of military training tended to make a person stronger after all. When Alfred noticed that he'd been looking for just a tad too long, he quickly averted his eyes again. He just tried to stay focused on washing himself, and soon he was as soft and pink as a baby.

When they were finished, they dried off and returned their bathing supplies before grabbing a couple of fresh towels and heading off to the next room, where four large baths bubbled and steamed, one in each corner. Each bath had a fountain on one side—a statue of various fish, toads, and turtles—dribbling water down into the pool. The walls were covered in large, elegant murals, while the floor was an intricate mosaic of colorful stones that had been arranged in a variety of looping patterns that seemed to swirl and bubble like the water in the pools. Despite the presence of several other spa-goers, it was quiet, everyone perfectly content to relax in silence.

Alfred and Yong Soo chose an empty pool and lowered themselves in, letting the bubbles and heat ease away the tension in their muscles. Alfred couldn't help but think about how in his own country, this activity would be considered unmanly. But why? The mere act of sitting in what was essentially a large Jacuzzi bath? If more people would just try it, Alfred thought, surely the girly connotation wouldn't stick. After all, it really was making Alfred feel more relaxed. Why should only girls be able to relax like this?

He wasn't sure how long they soaked there, but sometime later, Yong Soo nudged Alfred out of his trance to bring him along to the next activity.

"You don't have to do this," Yong Soo said as they approached a door leading off from the bathing area.

Alfred already wasn't too keen on doing anything that started with that particular sentence, but Yong Soo hadn't exactly said what it was that he didn't have to do yet.

"It's a body scrub," Yong Soo continued, imitating a scrubbing motion with his hand. "They scrub all the dead skin cells off your body. You'll feel like a baby's bottom when they're done with you."

Well, that couldn't be so bad, could it?

Oh, how wrong he was.

Alfred was now face down on a padded table in a small room with one of the bath house attendants. Yong Soo had gone off to a different room, supposedly to do the same thing.

Or maybe he was standing outside the door, snickering quietly every time Alfred yelped or complained.

He'd agreed to the body scrub, not realizing how much it would hurt. Even for someone like him, who'd had limbs blown off, been shot more times than he could count, and died and resurrected so many times he wasn't sure which "life" he was even on anymore—it hurt more than he'd like to admit.

The attendant doing the scrubbing, Mr. Lee, seemed very proud of his skin scrubbing abilities—and he made sure to give Alfred the most thorough treatment possible. Mr. Lee scrubbed everything—from the back of his neck to the bottom of his feet and even between his legs—hard. It was like having sandpaper taken to his skin, and every time Mr. Lee hit a sensitive area, Alfred flinched, squirmed, and winced, despite how hard he was trying not to. Every once in a while, he would catch a glimpse of exactly what he was being rid of—tiny, rice shaped rolls of dead, gray skin. It was honestly disgusting. But Yong Soo hadn't lied, and by the end of it, he was indeed as soft as a baby's bottom.

Finally, Alfred felt like he had been as thoroughly cleansed as a person could possibly be, and Yong Soo showed him back to the locker room, where they changed into the clothes they'd been given by the front desk. The clothes somewhat resembled scrubs, like the nurses might wear in a hospital, but were much softer. They were also orange, which Alfred felt made them look like they were in a prison rather than a spa, but he didn't mention it to Yong Soo.

Once they were all dressed, they walked back through the shower and bathing area to a large, open communal area where people of all genders gathered in their orange scrubs. The floor was highly polished wood, arranged in a checkerboard pattern that almost made it seem woven. Against one wall were four igloo shaped sauna rooms, each decorated with an elaborate mosaic of colorful rocks and labelled with a different temperature. A waterfall babbled in one of the corners, surrounded by small trees and statues of different animals and Korean mythological figures. Against another wall was a series of man-sized cubby holes, which spa patrons could crawl into for a nap. Branching off from the communal area on one side was a room labelled as a movie room, and on the other, a restaurant.

"I know where I'm going next," Alfred smiled, grabbing Yong Soo's arm to pull him towards the restaurant.

The two ended up getting a large bowl of patbingsu, shaved ice topped with sweet bean paste, fruit, whipped cream, and all sorts of other goodies. Nevermind that it was January—it was warm enough in the building that frozen treats had suddenly become a viable option. They sat on a pair of cushions at a low table with a pair of spoons and their dessert in the middle.

"So, are we real friends yet?" Alfred asked, digging out a spoonful of ice and syrupy goodness with his spoon. "We've seen each other naked, we've bathed together, and now we're sharing a bowl of ice cream like a couple of high school sweethearts."

Yong Soo nearly choked on a spoonful of fruit and whipped cream. "We're only sharing because there's so much!"

"I know," Alfred replied with a grin, going back in for another scoop of ice and fruit. "But I wanted to see how you'd react to that."

Was that red on Yong Soo's cheeks?

The Korean cleared his throat. "Why don't you tell me how you're enjoying it so far? –The spa I mean. It was my gift to you after all."

Alfred decided that, despite how uncomfortable he was at first, this had turned out to be a pretty good day so far. "I won't lie, I was kind of nervous at first. Spas are kind of a girl thing in my country."

"Well, that's a shame," Yong Soo said through a mouthful of fruit. "I promise I won't find you any less manly after this."

"I would hope not!" Alfred said, wiping a stray glob of whipped cream off the side of his mouth. "Anyway, it has been really relaxing. I feel all pink and fresh."

He really was pinker than when he'd come in.

"Well, there's still more to do," Yong Soo explained. "There's the saunas, massages, a movie room… No rush of course."

They ended up hitting the saunas next. With some further reflection, Alfred decided it probably would have been better to do the saunas first, then ice cream. The saunas, besides having different temperatures, also had different interiors. Each had a floor covered by a different mineral—clay, salt, or jade—and walls decorated to match the atmosphere. They smelled earthy and alive, despite the fact that if a person stayed in one long enough, it would start to feel like a little piece of hell. Eventually, Alfred had had enough of the heat and got Yong Soo to go with him to the fourth sauna, which was actually a cold room. Once their sweat had evaporated and their skin started to rise in goosebumps, they left and found space on the floor of the common area, where other spa patrons had settled down for naps.

Actually, a nap sounded pretty good.

The side of the room with the cubbies had a few spaces vacant, so the two of them crawled into adjacent compartments for a nap. They were in no hurry to do anything after this, so what harm could a few extra hours sleep do? The floor was covered by only a thin mat, but Alfred was relaxed enough that he didn't have any trouble drifting off.

The air was filled with smoke, blowing down from the higher inland ground, where fires still burned from napalm canisters and artillery fire that had been meant to clear the way for the American troops. It had seemed like a good idea in theory. Now it was just an annoyance, bringing choking fumes down to the beach and blocking out Alfred's view of the enemy.

And as far as warfighting went, being able to see your enemy was just a little important.

Alfred clung to the ladder above the beach, safe, for the moment, below the seawall from the gunfire spraying down from the hills above. Less safe, above, young men barely 19 and 20 were popping up over the seawall and taking off towards the enemy, guns ready.

There was a chatter of machine gun fire and the young soldier above Alfred on the ladder went down in a spray of blood, tumbling off the ladder to the sand below.

Alfred's heart clenched with grief. He hadn't even known his name, but the boy had been one of Alfred's people nonetheless, fighting for the freedom of a country that wasn't even his because he'd believed every country deserved to have it. It made Alfred's blood boil to see his life cut short so quickly, and by an enemy that was concealed in the haze of the smoldering fires nonetheless.

A few seconds later, Alfred had scaled the ladder and flopped down face first at the top, pressing himself down as close to the ground as he could before starting to crawl. He peered through the smoke, waiting and watching until, finally, he could just see the flashes from the machine gun through the haze.

As more troops made it to the top of the seawall, Alfred got to his feet and made a run for it, aiming to run around the side, take out the gunner, and prevent any more unnecessary deaths.

But, as he got closer, it became clear that it would not be so simple.

As he approached, Alfred saw that it was not just one gunner in the machine gun nest, but several. And on top of that, he saw the gunners were actually defending a huge gun—a Soviet howitzer—aimed down at the soldiers scaling the seawall and the landing boats beyond. The gun went off, jolting backwards and shaking the ground with the force of the blast.

But he had to go in. If not him, then some young men with their whole lives ahead of them would, and there was no reason for them to die when Alfred could take several bullets before going down. After adjusting his grip on his rifle and making one last check to ensure it was loaded, he was charging at the gunners, firing at the nest, hoping to hit at least one of them as they poked their heads above the makeshift sandbag shelter they'd built for protection.

Something struck him in the knee and he felt his leg buckle beneath him as the pain shot up and down his leg in waves. He stumbled, hands planting on the ground in front of him to keep from getting a face full of dirt. No, no, no—not now, he thought, willing his body to heal the shattered joint faster, to pull the bone fragments back into place and regenerate the destroyed ligaments. He needed to go, but all he could do was pick up his gun, hunker down, and shoot at anything that didn't look friendly. Hurry up, hurry up, hurry up, he thought.

Another thirty seconds and Alfred deemed the leg acceptable to support his weight, and he was up and running again. By now, many of his own soldiers had caught up and several seemed to have their eyes on the machine gunners as well. Someone yelled to look out, and Alfred caught a glimpse of a grenade soaring through the air, landing and bouncing expertly into the nest, and half a second later it was gone, the guns silenced for good.

But there was something else. More enemies rushing towards them on foot to take over where their comrades had left off. Alfred saw one pulling the pin on a grenade, only to fall to a rifle shot before he'd gotten the chance to properly throw it. It rolled—a dark, grooved egg shape against the sooty brown of the ground—several yards toward the Americans, and Alfred knew it was too late to run—

The blast hurled him backwards, slamming him to the ground with a few more piece of metal stuck in him than he'd had before. Again his body was quick however, and the shrapnel was expelled by the shifting tissues and the wounds began to close up in mere seconds. More worrisome, however, was the ringing in his ears, the blurry vision, and the slow, spinning daze that he seemed to be stuck in. Had it really been only seconds, or had he been killed and was in the process of reviving? Alfred struggled to his feet, swaying as his body struggled to determine which direction was up and which was down.

As he steadied, he glanced around, trying to survey the damage. There were bodies strewn around him, friends and foes alike, but just how many were Americans? He tried to count, seeing one, two—

The breath was punched out of him and he felt himself rocked back again, his legs struggling to keep him upright. What now? He struggled to make his eyes focus, but eventually he was able to make out the shape of a man in front of him. A strange pressure gripped his chest, and Alfred finally realized he was, in fact, being stabbed by the bayonet on the end of the man's rifle. With a rough shove, Alfred threw the man off of him, the pressure almost instantly relieved as the bayonet was pulled out. He gasped for air, but he was not dead yet.

This seemed to come as a surprise to the soldier who had stabbed him as well. As Alfred's vision returned, he could see the soldier staring at him in confusion.

They locked eyes, and Alfred just about had a heart attack.

Yong Soo? But no, it couldn't be. Yong Soo was still in Pusan, holding down the perimeter, fighting for his very existence with his back to the ocean and the near entirety of the North Korean army trying to break through his defenses. No, Alfred was fighting for the sprightly Korean boy with the gleaming smile and the messy hair and the unbreakable resolve that kept him fighting even with things at their bleakest—not against him. No, Yong Soo couldn't be here, at Incheon, wearing the wrong uniform and fighting against Alfred and—

Recognition seemed to click in both nation's eyes—right as an impacting artillery shell sent them both sprawling.

Alfred was unhurt, but still shaky from the impact. He rolled over, trying to get a grasp on his surroundings. Where had his gun gone? He saw it, a few feet away, near North, who was also reaching frantically for his. It was now a race. Alfred's hand shot out, he had a grip on the weapon, he just had to pull it into his grip and point and shoot, end this all before it started, put down the rogue twin and give Yong Soo a chance—

But as he looked up to aim, he was already staring down the barrel of a Soviet SKS, North on the other end with bloodlust in his eyes. There was no hesitation. Alfred could see the second the decision was made and—

He jolted awake with the sound of the gunshot ringing in his ears. He was drenched in sweat—he was sure from the dream and not the temperature of the room. His heart was still pounding a thousand miles a minute, and he was suddenly paranoid that maybe Yong Soo in the compartment next to him had heard all the commotion he was making and would come to check on him. And what would he say? That he'd dreamed he was late to a meeting or something? Yeah, that could work…

He laid back down, knees to his chest, trying to control his breathing. Breathe, breathe, breathe…

To his relief, Yong Soo never came, and Alfred was glad he didn't. He was almost too shaken to speak. It had been years, decades since he'd dreamed about the Korean War. And this had been too accurate to even be described as a dream. It was too real. The events were exactly the same. The soldier above him on the ladder, the machine gun nest, his shattered knee—all of it, every single event right up until the end, with only one crucial difference:

North never shot him at Incheon.

It had been the other way around.

Author's Notes:

- The Battle of Incheon took place in September of 1950. After the start of the war in June of that year, the North Koreans had quickly swept down the peninsula, capturing Seoul within three days and driving the South Koreans all the way to the tip of the peninsula, where they set up a perimeter around the city of Pusan. A daring invasion was staged by the UN forces at Incheon to cut off the North Korean supply lines and provide easy access to Seoul. It was successful and is widely considered the turning point of the war.

- Other than that, I really don't have anything else. I'm curious to read your comments on this one?