Paper Cranes

Truth

Teague's POV:

It is her or me.

Her or me.

I think of my mother, how it would break her if she lost her son at war, lost her son to the same women he was fighting to save.

I tighten my grip on her hands, making sure she has no range of movement to be able to attack me.

She doesn't have any weapons on her, but I saw how much fight she has, how she attacked armed soldiers with nothing more than a cooking pot.

Who knows what the men of her people taught her to do with a weapon if she got a hold of one?

She is my enemy, a threat, no matter how innocent, or weak, or frail she looks.

I purse my lips, continuing to remind myself what she is.

Dammit, she just seems like a submissive. It's not like that changes her position, or the fact that she is still my enemy. It just means every instinct inside me is fighting to coddle and comfort her.

She keeps quiet despite my somewhat invasive washing, allowing me to clean the urine from her legs and intimates without much of a fight.

She is my enemy.

Damn I need to just go home and get a sub already. I can't tell you how much I would pay to just have a sub, any sub, it could even be my mother, just come and curl up on my side, rest on my chest for a bit.

I can tell I am not the only one being driven crazy by all the woman's submissive characteristics, Callen watches from the other side of the cell as I wash her off. His gaze is locked onto a very exposed and highly intimate place at the moment, but he still ogles her the same.

"Are you going to let me wash your face, or are you going to make me dunk your face in a bucket of water?" I question her, for some reason expecting an answer.

She just shifts ever so slightly and I suck my gums, having gotten my answer.

I gave her the option to do this the easy way, but I suppose we can do this the hard way.

Grasping her by the back of her hair with one hand, and still holding her hands behind her back with the other, I make her crawl over to the half full bucket of water left over.

She doesn't make me use much force with her when I direct her face first into the bucket.

This isn't to drown her or asphyxiate her in anyway, so I just have her dump her face quickly, so that she can wash up.

Releasing one of her hands, I give her the rag. "Wash your face. If you try anything else, you'll regret it."

She nods, pausing in a wince as she pulls her own hair, my fist still wrapped in her locks.

I expect some sort of a fight from her. She doesn't seem to want to obey at all. The woman doesn't make me ask twice though, quickly scrubbing to get the blood and dirt from her face.

I want to ask her why she was covered in blood when we found her, but I know she won't answer me.

"She seems to behave a little at least," Callen muses.

I shrug, keeping a close eye on her encase she tries for the baton at my hip or something.

"She still doesn't want to talk though," I grumble, troubled by her refusal to comply when we ask her things, but obedience when we demand her to do something.