Disclaimer: I do not own Swing Kids. (If I did, Christian and Robert would be a couple.)

A/N: I'm sorry for any errors.

My mind was blank. I didn't have much time to dwell on it; soon my mind was rushed by loud bangs and senseless shoving. It was becoming a hopeless cause to resist their attacks, and I have become an emotionless being.

I can see him from across my camp. How he was transferred to be the guard here was pure fate, (or perhaps sheer dumb luck?). He avoids me, but I know he's watching my every move. He waits until I am so weak that I could collapse under the weight of a feather to look at me. I look into his eyes knowingly, his silent voice apologizing.

I still love him.

Thomas never smiles, I've noticed it more than ever. When former HJ students I have known laugh at our misery, he doesn't respond. He can feel it: that pain in his heart. It almost lifts my spirit, in a way, to think of it that way. Maybe his mind is rushing as much as mine...

I think about our nights from years past... Does he think about them as well?... I'm certain he does...

He is moved to guard our area of the camp. I can tell he is looking at me, and only me. I feel a strain on my heart when he yells at me, telling me to pick up the pace. Why are we marching in place? I don't even remember the cause they gave us. He smirked. Damn that smirk I know so well. I oblige however, and lift my feat higher and at a faster pace. I'll show him; all of them. I WILL make it out of this hell alive.

It's finally over; the darkness of night has fallen and all the prisoners return to their quarters. Except me. We're staring straight at each other and I can feel almost an unnerving feeling wash over me.

"I want a moment with him. I want to break him," Thomas's voice... I missed it. It's now commanding, in charge of what's around him. I have to hold back a chuckle at the insanity of it.

The other guards nod, quite pleased with his decision, and return to their own destinations. I watch them go, letting my shoulders droop a tad.

"You really--really--shouldn't push me like that," I smile weakly, it represents how I feel.

"Really?" He questions me, his tone neutral now, "Follow me."

I do as he asks, humming a silent jazz tune as we walk. Between two rather large buildings, there is an almost alley-like space: dark and used for storage of sorts. He leads me down it, all the way to the end, where the surrounding brick wall stops the alley abruptly. He places a hand on my tattered clothing and grips it, pulling me close. His lips touch mine briefly, a soft smack of suction following. He smiles and presses me against the wall, running a hand through my mangled hair. I let my eyes close, almost sure of what's to come--he surprises me by pulling away. I grunt in disappointment.

"Relax," he whispers. Thomas's back is turned towards me as he reaches for a wooden box and lifts its lid. Inside I can see potatoes and bread, and my mouth begins to water. He pulls them both out, looking up at me. I know he can see the ravenous look in my eyes. He tosses me two potatoes and a small loaf of bread. Immediately I begin to tear into them, my stomach aching for all it can devour. His shoulder presses into mine gently as he stands with me against the wall. I slide down, tired and sore--mentally and physically; he follows and I lay my head on his shoulder.

Munching on the potato, although not my favorite food, I almost want to cry out, break down before him, and have him hold me. But his presence is enough to keep me sane, even if it's for only one more night.