Little Hand Grenade

"Master Sergeant O'Connor!" I turned my head and watched a smaller-built woman jog toward me. I recognized her face, but her name slipped my memory. She slowed to a stop and saluted.

"Yes, Captain?" I replied, pacing back and forth through the intelligence tent. Unexpectedly, she dropped her salute and gave me a bone-crushing a hug. "What are you doing, Captain?" It was widely known in the Army encampment that I didn't like being touched, and she was taking a big risk here. Normally, she would be doing pushups until dawn, but her situation was unique.

"Captain Adams has been taken, Master Sergeant," she relayed, her voice tense and full of hatred. "I am requesting that a mission be created to retrieve him. No soldier can be left behind." Dread filled every empty crevice in my chest.

"General, why are we sending Captain Adams? His squad has only been back for a week," I questioned, my back straight and my hands clasped behind my back.

"This mission is simple; the building they're taking is abandoned," General White replied, looking down at his maps.

"We both know that no buildings in Afghanistan are abandoned."

"I understand that you are close to Captain Adams--"

"He saved my life and I won't send him to his death," I interrupted, and General White was at a loss for words. He was my superior, but we always had an understanding. "Sir, if there is anything you can do in your power to send someone else, please."

General White sent him anyway. My complaining was most likely the reason he was sent in the first place.

"Go get some rest, Captain," I ordered. "There's nothing I can do about Captain Adams right now until I can send out some scouts for information." A touch of sympathy showed in her eyes when she gave me one last look.

"Yes, Master Sergeant," she said quietly, saluted, and left.

* * *

That dream was back. It was more of a memory, but it haunted me like a nightmare. Its return meant that I was feeling guilty about something. Today, Alex told me to go to sleep, but as usual, it was a futile attempt. I haven't slept properly in at least two years; not since that day.

I followed him out of the bus, through the parking lot, into the back of the building and stood side stage as he and his band rehearsed. I found myself either tapping my foot or very slightly bopping my head in one direction or another, much to Alex's morbid satisfaction and my irritation. Well, they weren't terrible.

Security was all over the venue, alerted ahead of time of the events in D.C. and at the mall here in Seattle. It wasn't a big place, but that was part of the problem. Teenagers would be filling it to the brim, and any one of them could have a weapon on them. Whoever was behind all of this would be an idiot to try again so soon, but no one accused this person of being intelligent.

After an hour or so, Jack, Alex and Zack put their guitars away and Rian stowed his drumsticks. Now, they were free to roam wherever they pleased until it was time for the show to start. Alex seemed to be getting used to me being around, and didn't show any outward changes to his mood when I stood beside him.

"So, who is Captain Adams?" he asked, a small smile on his face. I narrowed my eyes at him briefly before ignoring him. "Who was the master sergeant?"

"I was a master sergeant a couple years ago," I replied plainly. "I was a colonel when I left. They were going to make me a general if I stayed."

"That's pretty cool," he said lamely, seeing that he was being deflected again. "You must have been good at your job."

"I was excellent at my job."

"Of course," he said and smiled. "Are you going to tell me who Captain Adams was?"

"Is," I snapped at him. "He isn't dead." I refuse to believe he's dead. He was captured, and I couldn't find him. Curse that dream!

"Is that a yes?"

"No."

"At least you're opening up a little," he said, and I let out a long sigh. This was the last subject I wanted to talk about. For now, silence was my best friend. I reminded myself that I would try and talk to him to make this job more bearable, but Captain Adams was a bad place to start.

He stopped questioning me, and I simply followed him and his bandmates around town. They wanted to walk for the most part, and stopped in random shops along the street. I was given a large cup of coffee at a cafe, along with a smirk from Alex, and soon enough we were back to the venue. A long line of fans lined the building walls, and all of them screamed when they saw All Time Low going back into their bus. They waved good-naturedly and I watched them all for signs of premeditated violence. There were none. I brought of the rear of the short line into the bus and closed and locked the door behind us. All in all, a relatively boring afternoon that did very little to distract me from my dream.

* * *

Well, it looked like Captain Adams was a subject that she was far from talking to me about. Vanessa stayed quiet all afternoon. I heard her mumbling in her sleep, almost like orders, and I procured the name "Captain Adams" and "master sergeant". She admitted to being a master sergeant, so I would bet every penny I had that she had feelings for this Captain.

Now that she was back to her snippy self, she ignored me, except for the fact she was watching me. Her expression never changed, and she only nodded or shook her head to answer questions. Maybe I was looking more into her than I should have been. Yes, she has obviously been burying things, and yes, she is basically unable to show affection, but maybe her wall is part of who she is now. I hate walls. I still don't like her, and every time I ask her a question, it adds to the list of things I can't stand. I hate how I can't get along with her. Every kind word and every smile is so forced that I can't believe she hasn't called me out on it yet.

"Alex," she said from her perch on the sofa, "I would like to share something with you." I came out of my circle of thoughts, and looked at her skeptically.

"If it's--"

"Don't make any snide comments right now, I don't want to change my mind," she interrupted, holding up a hand. I let go of the rest of my statement and flattened my lips. "I've decided that the only way to survive living with you is to confide in you. I promise I won't physically contain you."

"What?" What was she doing? Sharing?

"I haven't told anyone any of this before, well, except for--" she stopped herself for a moment, and cleared her throat. I had maybe a half hour before the first band went on, so I didn't say anything and started listening. "Anyway, I joined the military because no one wanted me to.

"My mom was set on moving to Hollywood and turning me into some movie star, I don't know. I went to beauty pageants all the time when I was younger, and I liked them, but one day I was just tired. It wasn't the kind of tired that a fourteen-year-old should feel. My dad convinced her to let me go to high school instead of sending me to a modeling school in New York, and that's where I met my recruiter. I told him everything, and he told me that he could get me into any part of the Army that I wanted. He could have been dishonorably discharged for the exceptions he made for me, but now he's a master sergeant and in charge of the entire state of California for recruiting. Anyway, my mom freaked out when I started packing my bags to go to basic. She said I was throwing everything away, and all these other terrible things I don't care to remember, and I haven't spoken to her since. My dad writes letters every now and again, but I think he just doesn't want to piss off my mom too much. I miss him."

She twiddled her thumbs, and her eyes were darting everywhere as she looked down at her lap. The entire bus felt uncomfortable. Well, there was one layer peeled away from the others. It was a simple story; nothing too terrible, but nothing great either. She was flaunted because she was pretty, and she wanted to be free. If you could call being in the Army free. Interesting. Only one question came to mind.

"If the Army was your escape, why did you leave?"

I thought at first that she was going to break her promise and fold me up like a lawn chair, but she just smiled. It was an unpracticed smile, so it looked more like a snarl, but I guess she wasn't used to smiling anymore. Her presence irritated me a little less now.

"That was the result of a long series of events that I will eventually tell you."

Well, I guess this beats going back to arguing. Has it only been a day? Why has it felt like a week?