Scrub scrub scrub. Rinse and repeat. His hands would always be burnt onto your skin, every waking memory a nightmare of what had happened.

Footsteps knocked you out of your routine, Price gently sitting down next to the bath you were currently crouched in.

The captain carefully took the scrubber from your hand, cocking his head to the side in permission before scrubbing your back slowly, careful with his movements.

Your skin was raw from your constant scrubbing. “We’ll wash him away.”