"Sir."

The man at the desk looks up, eye lighting up in delighted recognition. "Ah, yes, yes, Thomas. I expect you have a report for me?"

Tom tries to swallow down his apprehension, throat suddenly, desperately dry. This report on top of the nonsense that man was spouting before he escaped. Such a great day it's shaping up to be. He clears his throat and braces himself.

"Yes sir. The target managed to escape through a distraction, a flashbang one of the soldiers overlooked. We have five injured to varying degrees after the ensuing altercation. None killed."

The man looks contemplative, leaning back in his large leather chair. A bead of sweat runs down the side of Tom's face. Another failure. Another damnable failure to bring back to his leader. He's so screwed.

However, instead of glaring darkly and doling out the appropriate punishment, Red Leader looks thoughtful, calm.

"Edd's always been such a slippery eel. No matter, I trust the injured are being taken care of?"

Ah, he must've caught him in one of his rare good moods. Tom can't believe his luck, he could almost cry. He nods eagerly, "Yes sir. They were immediately brought to the medical wing."

Red Leader nods to himself, "Good, good. And your secondary target?"

"The bomb was defused before Gold could set it off, sir."

A snort, "Stop that, Tom. You know you can call me Tord in private."

Oh.

Oh my.

He's in a really good mood today. He wonders why, but dismisses the thought almost immediately. It isn't his business, he's just glad to enjoy its effects. His stance relaxes just a bit.

"Yes Tord."

Tord gives him a smile, both pleased and dark with anticipation. It sends a shiver down his spine as the powerful man stands up to circle around his desk.

"In fact, you've done such a good job today, failure to capture aside, I think you've earned yourself a treat." he purrs into Tom's ear, hot breath scalding his skin and tickling at his jaw. He barely manages to catch himself and keep his posture alert after another pleasured shiver, though there is nothing he can do about the growing interest in his pants.

Tord seems to notice his little problem and chuckles, pulling away, although the scent of smoke and oil clings to Tom like tar.

"Such a good little soldier you are, waiting for the magic words." Tord's smile widens, voice smooth and rich and sweet like dark chocolate. "At ease, Tom. Let's have some fun, hm?" His hand, the metal one that could crush him like a twig, comes to rest at his hip, pulling him closer, and Tom melts at the contact, pressing himself into the man before him.

He can feel lips on his neck, slowly working their way down to his collarbone, now exposed and his tie discarded on the floor. Tord chuckles once again into the hollow of his neck, and Tom can feel him speak when they're flush together like this.

"So pliant, no rebellion in sight." a sigh, almost melancholic, as lips move up to rest lightly on his pulse, "Sometimes I miss that aggression, you know." Tord seems to notice him still at his words and sighs again. "Never mind, Tom. You're perfect like this."

But, the words have brought recent memories with them, of his target saying things that made him doubt.

As seems to be the norm, Tord notices his distraction as well and pulls away enough to look at his face with a slight frown.

"What is it?"

Tom hesitates, not really wanting to bring this up in this situation. But maybe it'll work best now that he's in such a good mood...

"I..."

Tord grows impatient, frown deepening and the hand on his hip tightening almost painfully, "Spit it out."

"...the target, Gold." he starts, and Tord raises an eyebrow, intrigued, "He... said something. I know that he used to know me, before. You've told me. But... he, he seemed so... sad, when he saw me. He thought for some reason I wanted to join him, at first. I don't..." He trails off when he notices the steadily darkening look in Tord's eye, quickly backtracking. "You know, it's not important at all. Can't we just go back to-"

A hand around his throat cuts him off, the grip on his hip now bruising. A dark, cold, silver glare bores into him as he struggles to breathe.

"Are you having doubts, Thomas?"

Tom tries to deny it, shake his head, anything, but the grip on his throat is too solid. With a growl, he is slammed into the nearby wall, his vision going spotty for a second.

And then it goes black completely as the visor is ripped away from his sockets, the unpleasant white noise of sensations that come with the disconnect going under over the pain at the back of his head and the burning in his lungs.

That hot breath on his cheek, so pleasant previously, feels like it's burning away at his skin.

"I saved your life." says Tord's voice, so close. Dark and rough and cold. "I took you in. I gave you your sight back. I improved you. I gave you a purpose." he growls.

"P-please." Tom manages to wheeze out.

"I offered you my heart on a silver platter, Thomas. And you dare doubt me because of the words of a wanted criminal?"

"N-no." it's barely a sound, as it slips through his lips.

"No?" Tord inquires in a low tone, the grip on his throat loosening just a tad.

Tom scrambles to snatch the opportunity he's given, "No, n-never. I-I... I love you Tord, please."

Something in his words seem to click inside his leader, and his features soften just the slightest bit. He sighs, finally releasing his throat and loosening the grip on his hip.

"Forget whatever he may have said to you, min kjærlighet." he orders, voice firm but gentle, and Tom couldn't be more eager to agree if he tried.

He's rewarded with a kiss, almost chaste. It's the only comfort he can take in the darkness and he chases those lips even as they slip away, so far, far away.

Unreachable.

It was dark.

It was dark it was dark why was it so dark.

His visor had night-vision, it shouldn't be dark. It was never dark for him, why was it dark now?

Was he blind blind blind again dark dark please help I don't want to be alone I'm lost it's too dark

His hand groped around erratically until a familiar shape was suddenly shoved into it, and he immediately grabbed it, gripping it like a lifeline. He fumbled with the object until he'd oriented it properly in his hands and finally slipped the strap around his head, placing the attached object over his unseeing sockets.

The device connected with his nerves, a disconcerting feeling at the best of times, and with a small beep the world came back into view.

The world was apparently redhaired and exceedingly concerned.

"Are... you alright, Thomas?" Matthew asked after a pause.

He breathed in, one, two, three, out.

"I'm fine."

Matthew stared at him disbelief and yeah, okay, shit. He'd collapsed. Not one of his best moments.

"You're obviously not fine." another voice pointed out and his gaze shot to the doorway, where Edward stood in all his grouchy, perpetually tired glory, dressed in a T-shirt and sweatpants. And now that he'd noticed that he couldn't ignore the fuzzy lavender sweater on his colleague.

How surreal.

The sight of Edward leaning so casually against the doorframe made something ugly and hot and poisonous rise up in his chest, a kind of irrational anger that came from nowhere. However, it was gone almost as soon as it had shown up. He just didn't have the energy for it.

He stared instead at Matthew's face without consciously taking it in, pointing out absently, "That's really sharp eyeliner."

The incredulity was almost radiating off of the ginger, seemingly in conflict with his long buried but now apparently resurfacing need to preen.

"...yeah okay, you're really not alright."

"I'm fine." Thomas repeated, retreating further into himself.

Matthew frowned worriedly, one hand grasping his shoulder in an attempt to anchor him to reality. "Hey, hey, look at me, Thomas. Tom. Come on."

Thomas wished he'd stop calling him so he could disappear in peace. He decided to keep up the pretense of a conversation to appease him, maybe then he'd leave him alone.

"How long was I out?"

Matthew hesitated and Edward answered for him, "A good twenty-one hours."

That... didn't sound good. It may have been reaching the general area of a coma? Maybe?

Matthew made an aborted attempt at biting his lip. Was he picking up old habits here? How impractical.

"How much caffeine did you actually take in to stay awake for so long, Thomas?"

For this one he actually had to go back to reality a bit to make his brain work. Ugh, math. It took him much longer than it probably should ahve, possibly because a lot of the last day or so was very blurry and he was relatively sure he was missing a few hours in-between.

"...a lot?" was his final estimate. An unimpressive estimate at that, judging by Matthew's raised eyebrow and Edward's snort of suppressed laughter.

"Yeah, we guessed as much. Patryk would absolutely kill you if he were here, you know."

"I'm sure Paul wouldn't let him, I'm kind of important." he replied absently. He really, really needed a change of subject,"Where are... those three? The young ones?"

"Grocery shopping." Matthew answered, entirely onto him but willing to play along.

Edward let out a small chuckle, "We're all under strict orders not to burn the house down in the meantime."

Matthew grabbed a glass of water that had apparently been standing beside the mattress this whole time and offered it to him.

"You need water." he said and then wrinkled his nose, "And a shower."

Thomas stared at the glass, feeling a certain disconnect. They were having a civil conversation, no threats, no violence, no underlying tension. He was living in a house with Matthew and Edward and all their past selves.

There was no army.

There were no sides.

What the fuck was his life?

He grabbed the glass. "Thanks."

AN:

haha ao3's down

hey hey heeeeeeey lets talk shipping and toxic, abusive relationships. the memory sequence above? not good. bad. terrible horrible thing going on there. its there for story and character development and general suffering purposes, not to be romantisized. actual, somewhat healthy tomtord might still be a thing in this fic, thres a good possibility at least, but that up there is not it. ok? ok. glad we cleared that up.

talking about ships, i'm currently awfully tempted to make mattmatt an actual thing...

also heeeeey i need validation, your comments give me life and the only motivation i have to keep writing, you people are so lovely. LemonLady, many thanks for that scream, it made my day.