Thank you to LilaGrace and rubydoo for your last reviews

And this is for Deppfreak if you read this... I got your review for The Game and I just wanted to say thanks for the review... I tried emailing you, but that didn't work. And I couldn't find you on ffnet, so here's my thanks...

Disclaimer: I own nothing

Tom had no idea where he was, or why he was there. All he knew was pain. Pain was everywhere; it seemed to taint every inch of his body, burning and scorching hot. He realized then that there were actually parts of him that did burn; his stomach, his head. And he had no idea why it hurt so much. Where was he? Where was Doug?

Doug.

Tom remembered them talking about something; something in Spanish. Then the term tu amigo had come up and Tom had realized they were talking to him. Talking about his friend.

Tu amigo; your friend. Doug.

Tom hadn't told them what they had wanted to hear, and now they were going to go after Doug for the answer. But Tom had been tortured, and he still had said nothing. How could they get anything out of Doug? He was stronger and could withstand a lot more pain than Tom could, and the younger man knew then that if he wouldn't tell, Doug wouldn't either. Because neither was going o betray the rebels, not for anything. They had helped them, and now it was time to repay them. No matter how much they were tortured; no matter how much pain they had to endure.

The pain in his head seemed to disappear and Tom slowly blinked his eyes open. He had been asleep, or unconscious. Now as he opened his eyes he realized he was back in his cell. Why had they brought him back here? They had tortured him, threatened him with Doug's life, and gotten nothing. So why was he back here? What were they doing? Tom had thought they were going to kill him because he hadn't given them an answer, but here he was, alive. For the most part. He heard movement beside him and nearly jumped up and ran, but the startled voice that he knew too well came to him and he calmed down. A little.

"Tommy?" Doug asked, surprised. "Oh god Tommy, I thought. I thought they had killed you."

"Me too," Tom responded with a small chuckle. "Guess we were both wrong."

"Yeah. Good thing. Are you okay?"

Doug turned so he was facing his friend and wasn't surprised at what he saw; Tom's right eye was nearly swollen shut and his entire left cheek was swollen and bruised. His lower lip was split open yet he was still smiling. A very weak grin, but it was there nonetheless. "Just peachy," he mumbled. "How do I look?"

"Like shit."

"So do you." Tom leaned closer and looked at Doug's face. "They came after you?"

"Yeah. Think I pissed the guy off, though."

"I can see. Nice bruise, man. A little more of that and you'll just like me."

Tom started coughing violently and Doug reached out yet again to hold hold his friend until the attack slowed and then ceased to exist. "You okay?"

"Not really, man. Everything hurts."

"Can I check for bruises now? I mean, you kinda freaked out earlier and-"

"No," Tom stated firmly. "You don't - I'm fine."

"Tommy, please. You can trust me. I won't do that to you."

"Just leave me alone, okay?"

Doug stared at Tom incredulously. "Would you just stop and think for a second Tommy? Please. They hurt you; I know they did. And all I want is to help. Whatever they did to do, fine, that's your business. But I have a pretty good idea at what it was, and I swear I am not going to do that to you. You know I never would."

The younger man's face clouded over in anger, then slowly changed to fear. "I-I know that. It's just - I don't you to touch me. I don't want anybody to."

"Okay then," Doug started. "I won't. Just lift up your shirt and I'll look from here, 'kay."

Tom looked nervous, then spoke slowly, "I-I don't-"

"Please. We gotta see where the damage is at. Ya just gotta lift your shirt; I'm not gonna touch you, okay?"

"You won't?"

"You know you can trust me, Tommy. Now c'mon, I'll give you a cookie if you do."

Tom laughed, "Where the Hell are you going to get a cookie around here?"

"I don't know. But I'll give you one when we get back home."

"Make it a six-pack?"

"I'll be getting' a couple of those, yeah."

"Okay. But just. Just look, okay?"

"Yeah, just lookin'."

Tom stood and slowly pulled his shirt off. It wasn't hard, with the material being thin and half already having been torn by the torture. Tom still pulled it off slowly, grimacing as the material rubbed against bruised skin, then held it in his arms, slightly shaking.

"Shit Tommy," Doug hissed angrily. "Did they kick you?"

"Just a little. But they got boots."

"Yeah..." Doug was staring at his friend's chest; it looked like they had continuously kicked one spot, because the whole left side of Tom was bruised a splotchy green-brown, with little red dots indicating a blood break.

"It's not that bad, 'cept I think they broke a rib or something."

Doug looked again and realized Tom's statement could be true; part of the bruise covered where ribs were hidden underneath the damaged skin, and if they had kicked there long and hard enough...

"Turn around," Doug quickly spoke, breaking apart his own thoughts. He needed to see how badly they had hurt Tom; he also needed to know where.

"They didn't kick my back," Tom replied quickly, nervously. They had a few times, but not as much as the front, but he didn't feel safe turning his back on anybody. Not even Doug, even though he knew he could trust the older man.

"Okay," Doug replied, not quite believing his friend. "Then we're done," he continued. "So that's a cookie and a six-pack for you."

Tom, mumbled something as he pulled his shirt back and Doug noticed he had gone pale.

"You okay?"

"Just tired."

"Yeah?" Doug questioned. "Then go to sleep, okay? I'm gonna stay awake and keep watch."

"What for?"

"Soldiers. No way they're grabbin' you again."

"Yeah," Tom mumbled, then he lay down in the corner, back facing the wall, and closed his eyes. "Yeah," was mumbled again and soon Doug could make out the soft snores indicating his friend had fallen asleep.

The older officer took a stand at the door, arms folded across his chest. He was ready to strike at anybody who came into the room. Nobody was getting Tom again. He would make sure of it.