We have literal enemies in this one here ;)

Requested by wHenReAliteAhItS

ENTJ (male) x INFJ (female)

It was the rustling of leaves and the sound of ragged breathing that caught her full attention. Though, everything in the forest - everything before her sight and every sound she encounters, even the sound of her boots crunching the ground beneath them - has caught her attention. Is this what being in a war is like? Mala never knew until now.

But these new sounds were something else. It heightened her hearing all the more.

Mala does not know how long she's been in the forest after losing the rest of her squadmates in a sudden ambush. Though she is not one who wields a gun, she is a combat medic. Her squad must have gone north, just like how the plan was supposed to follow. They managed to fight their way, but she must have been lost with time and direction. She was never that good at tracking any of those. But she's a damn good healer.

She never wanted this kind of life that forces her to be in stressful situations all the time, to the point that even sleep is scary on its own. But the pay and the rest of the benefits were promising. It was what her family needed to get by in such hard times. After finding out that her brother was diagnosed with pes planus, flatfoot, she knew she had to step in and help serve the country even if it is terrifying as heck. But she needs to survive. Her brother and father are the only ones waiting for her back home and she'll do anything to stay alive and come back home to them.

How many hours has it been since she's seen anyone alive? The smell of dead bodies is starting to get to her, but she is slowly growing to get used to the putrid smell. It's been months since she hasn't been around them. Of course, her job as a medic does not exempt her from the reality of being surrounded by happy and alive people all the time. She is the person the soldiers go to when they are nearing death's door.

Mala continues to walk stealthily, weaving through the trees with each careful step. Is she on the enemy ground? She wouldn't know. She heals yet does not pay that much attention to maps. It's one of her weaknesses.

A low, pained groan forces her to stop in her tracks. Someone is here. Just like how she was trained, she grabs her gun from her side and holds it with both hands, though they were trembling like no tomorrow. Making sure that the sling of her brown messenger bag with her first-aid supplies is fastened tightly around her, she continues to walk slowly while constantly looking around with her gun raised.

She has heard of what her enemy is like. They can be ruthless at times, but she, along with her squadmates, fear one name. A man that goes by the name of Lieutenant Walt. She does not know much about him, but she's heard how he has shot down at least seven of her fellow soldiers in a span of 12 seconds. And that man's not even a captain or commander, but he can demand the obedience of the men with him. Mala does not know if it's a mere rumor, but it still scares the crap out of her.

Whatever, she thought, now is not the time to let your fears get the best of you. What matters now is that someone is here.

She presses her back against the trunk of a huge tree, knowing that she's near the other person in the forest. Another groan is uttered, sounding more painful than usual. The voice is deep and raspy, very similar to a man's. Mala peeks through the side of the tree trunk and notices how some of the fallen branches of a tree in front of her are moving a bit.

She breathes out slowly through her mouth, narrowing her eyes at the tree in front of her. She needs to go check it out now. Letting out another deep breath, she rushes to the other side of that tree and points her gun at the person lying on his back on the tree trunk.

Without any shock, the man is also pointing a gun at her. "Back off!" He instantly shouts in a commanding tone of voice. The accent of his foreign language is thick. Mala almost jumps in place with how loud his voice was, but she keeps her stance and continues to point her gun at him. With eyes wide out of shock and fear, she couldn't find it in her to reply.

"I said back off!" The man shouts in a gruff voice this time in Mala's native tongue. It scares her all the more. This man must be smart since he knows not one but two languages from the five seconds she's met him.

They keep their guns pointed at each other, though none of them proceed to pull the trigger. Mala's arms were shaking, but her eyes noticed a dark patch of blood on the man's upper right thigh. She sees how some of his blood seeps through the darkened cloth. He clearly is in pain and the humane side of her is begging to help him, enemy or not.

"Y-You're hurt-" Mala shakily begins but is interrupted by the man's shouting once again.

"I will shoot you!"

She gulps down a huge lump in her throat and gingerly takes a small step toward him. This prompts the man to clench his jaw even tighter and hold out the gun more. "Woman, I will shoot you!" He warns her, the opening of the gun's barrel pointed directly toward her face.

Still, Mala stays strong...though she was clearly pissing herself internally. She chooses to be the bigger person, slowly bringing her gun down to the ground then standing straight again while raising her hands in surrender. "Go ahead," she levelly tells him, "but...but I want to help you."

"Stop," the man utters as she takes another step forward.

Mala shakes her head carefully. "I'm a medic," she informs him and points at the white band around her arm. Sewn on it is a patch of a red cross. "I don't want to hurt you."

"Yet, I want to."

"Then, go. But let me help you first, then you can kill me."

The man grits his teeth, ready to shout another warning at her, but is cut short when he grunts out loud when hit by another wave of absolute pain. This causes Mala to rush over and kneel by his side, instantly checking his wound. "Get off of me!" The man then hisses when Mala delicately exposes his wound, moving a bit of the singed cloth away.

"Oh, God," Mala mumbles worriedly under her breath, turning the flap of her bag over to grab the necessary supplies she needs.

The man keeps his hold on the gun, still pointing it at Mala. But as she gets to work, tying a piece of cloth to act as a tourniquet around his leg and proceeding to inject him with morphine, the man starts to lose consciousness. His body was welcoming sleep for the first time in days.

------------

"Shit."

Mala instantly shines the light from her flashlight towards the man who is now groaning, being roused from his sleep. From lying down, the man gets on one of his elbows, swearing under his breath, and tries to move his leg but is met with another sharp utterance of a curse. His gaze flies to the now cleaned-up wound on his leg.

"What the-" He raises a hand over his eyes, the light somewhat blinding him as he looks towards it. Still, the man manages to meet Mala's wary gaze at him. "Woman, it's you," he grunts.

Mala brings the flashlight to the ground to spread a bit more light around the dark place.

Breathing heavily, the man looks around, clearly inspecting the new place he was brought in during his unconscious state. "Where the hell am I?"

"An abandoned dugout," she answers softly, bringing her knees to her chest as she sits on the ground by the opening of the small place her squad managed to make as they used this specific dugout before.

"Your dugout," the man hisses, narrowing his eyes at her. "You sneaky woman, I know your squad is coming!"

"My squad is not coming," She declares sternly. "I'm lost...like you," she finishes, her voice trailing off.

The man sets his lips into a tight line but does not say anything more.

"I don't see any comms on you," she continues, "You only have a gun...not even a tag around your neck."

"You made a grave mistake by choosing to help me. Your kind does not care for mine and the feeling is clearly mutual."

"But we're both human, you and I," Mala counters softly. "Man, woman. Foe, ally. We are still human."

"Yet you forget that this is war, woman," the man scoffs, "If you think morality and humanity will get you through this war, then you should have never enlisted in the first place."

It was hard spending her days and nights alone with him in the tight dugout.

Mala thought that her squad or any of her allies would have found her by now, but maybe they have forgotten her. It left a hole in her heart to know that she is not of importance to them. Though, she has realized that there is not that much difference made if she's not with them. They merely lost one combat medic, not a whole squad or troop.

She always offered him most of her packed meals, mostly consisting of canned goods and a few crackers. Not even speaking much to another, they let the days and nights pass by. He never threatened to kill her after that, and she never found any reason to start a conversation.

The man is not able to move as much as he hoped he could. One time, he tried to change his position as he laid on the ground but was only met with pain shooting through his body from the wound. Mala berated him that day and he grunted at her in return.

She would also notice how at night, when the man's asleep, he would mumble incoherently under his breath. Her curiosity got the better of her that she sat beside him one time as he was sleep-talking, his eyebrows scrunched tightly together. Sometimes he would pant heavily in his sleep and Mala would find out that he has a fever.

In the morning when the man wakes up, he acts like nothing bothered the hell out of him during sleep. He would spit out his normal snarky remarks at her and continue the day as if he does not clearly look sleep-deprived or shaken at the very least. Mala had a feeling that it was his pride speaking for him.

"The way your country makes beans is different," he comments quietly one day as they share one of the last cans of beans that Mala had with her. After changing the gauze on his wound, Mala made sure that he had something to eat.

Mala hums then busies herself with spooning up the last bits of it stuck on the bottom of the can.

"You're not that much of a talker, are you?" He continues then, to Mala's surprise, chuckles softly. It was different being around him. Mala has always been scared of his kind because of the stories she heard from not only her fellow soldiers but also from people back at home. She was taught to hate their kind, yet now she's sharing a meal with one of them. She's right when she says that they are all human. It saddens her that not everyone can see the same reality.

"You're the one who keeps on opening his mouth," she teases him in a soft voice.

"Okay, first of all, it's not 'you'. It's Ben, short for Benjamin."

She furrowed her eyebrows at him and sharply tilted her head. "Ben?" She mutters carefully, hearing such a weird name for the first time.

"Yeah," Ben breathes out, the right corner of his mouth twitching up as he's amused with how the woman uttered his name with her accent. "Is it your first time to hear such a name?"

Mala nods slowly. "I find it...a bit weird," she utters truthfully.

"It's a common name in my country. What about yours?"

"I'm...Mala. It's a bit common also in my country."

"Mala," Ben whispers, trying out her name. "It's fascinating. I've never heard of such a name before."

"I guess our names in some way are uncommon after all." Setting the empty can of beans on the ground, Mala shifts a bit to hug her knees to her chest as always. "Ben...how do you know my language?" She asks. She's always been curious. She thought maybe he learned it in their schools or that he knows someone else that is fluent in her language. Mala never got to learn much. Her father wanted her to help out at their farm with her brother so school was never something to worry about.

Ben chuckles under his breath. "I was waiting for the day you would ask me." Even the way he pronounces words is similar to a native speaker's. "Would you believe me if I said that I was a librarian before I enlisted?"

Mala raises an eyebrow at him. "Librarian? Meaning...you worked at the library every day?"

Ben nods. "Every single day. I worked at the public library and was surrounded by books of all languages and all topics."

Unconsciously, Mala scoots a bit closer to him as his new sharings have piqued her interest. She has never visited her public library back at home, but it has always been a dream of hers. Is it fate that the man she is stuck with is a librarian out of all professions?

"To kill most of my time," he continues, "I kept on reading books. When I had to fix some of the books, I would read them as well. A book about your language was one of them. I enjoyed learning about your language and your culture."

"When did you start learning my language?"

Ben hums, leaning back on the makeshift wall behind him. Looking up, he answers with a small smile gracing his features. "I was 20 years old when I encountered that language book."

"And how old are you now?"

"28," he answers simply. "I've been learning your language for eight years."

"Wow," Mala sighs. "I never went to school seriously. Maybe I did a bit of elementary school but I started working at our family farm at around 12 years old. I haven't gone back to school since then."

"And how young are you now?"

"Young? Shouldn't it be 'old'?"

Ben shrugs nonchalantly. "I was taught to never call a woman old."

Mala titters at that. Smiling widely at him, she answers, "I'm 24 years young."

"See? And you wanted me to ask how 'old' you are. If you think you're old then I should be walking with a cane by now."

She bursts out into louder laughter before clasping her hand over her mouth, conscious of her sudden action that is clearly unbecoming for a woman. "Sorry," she timidly murmurs against her hand.

Ben shakes his head, the clear smile still evident on his face. "Don't be. I like hearing the sound of happiness. It's refreshing from what we've been through for the past months."

Mala's hand slowly drops down, back on her knee. "These past months have been difficult."

"You could say that louder," he scoffs. "Is it your first time meeting someone like me?"

"Yes."

"Are you still scared?"

Mala shakes her head. "Frankly, not that much anymore. I heard rumors about your people."

Ben raises an inquisitive eyebrow at him. "What kind?" he genuinely asks.

"Only a name. The name of a lieutenant. Walt," she whispers, even uttering the name sends shivers down her spine. Thoughts of those rumors play in her head and she could feel the goosebumps rise on her skin.

"Lieutenant Walt?"

"Do you know him?"

"Of course," he breathes out, averting his gaze from her, "I've seen that man around."

"Is he..." She trails off, waiting for Ben to hopefully get what she's trying to say.

"Like the rumors?" He continues for her and Mala nods. "I wouldn't know," he mutters breathlessly. "I've heard the rumors, too, but we're not that close for me to ask. You don't have to be scared of him. He is not assigned to this area."

"I can't help it. I was brought to this war out of impulse."

Ben sets his lips into a tight line. Showing a bit of hesitance as he carefully asks, "But if he were injured and in need of a medic...would you have helped him?"

"Of course," Mala, to his surprise, answers almost immediately. "No one deserves to die in war. I'm sure Lieutenant Walt acts in such a manner because he is at war, but inside, he's still human."

Caught off guard with her answer, it made Ben think. He too was fed with things regarding her people even if he read a lot about their culture. At first, he refused to believe all those things he was taught by his fellow soldiers, but sometimes one can't help it. If everyone is thinking of one particular thing at the same time, it's human nature to follow through. And it showed how he treated her when they first met. "You're odd," he utters above a whisper.

"Is that a bad thing?" She warily asks.

"No...but if you're not careful enough, it could get you killed."

"Not by you, though," Mala points out without any reluctance.

Ben coughs out an amused laugh. "I envy your confidence. Maybe when we survive this and things go, hopefully, back to normal, you could teach me how to farm."

Mala smiles softly at that suggestion. "And will you take me to a public library?"

He puffs out his chest and juts his chin at her, a confident look displayed on his face. I'll even let you place stamps on the book cards," he haughtily declares.

Mala giggles. "I can't wait."

"For now," he grins at her, "I don't mind being stuck with you, Mala."

"I don't mind being stuck with you either."

~~~~~~~~~~~~

A part two is in the works ;) though I'll be taking a break since work is piling up.

I did my best to not place too much specific details of a war that really happened in our world.

I hope you liked this chapter!

Thank you for requesting and waiting ♡