Happy Holidays everyone! ;)

Paul was in the cockpit of the plane, arms crossed over his chest and making sure the pilots were doing their job properly. He knew he wasn't allowed to fly planes anymore due to his past track record of crashing them, but he still wanted to be sure everything went smoothly. Red Leader would personally execute him if anything were to happen while they transported his most precious cargo back to the main base.

Speaking of which; he should probably check up on them.

Paul excused himself and went up to Red Leader's private compartment and knocked on the door. "Come in." At his leader's permission, Paul entered the room and stopped in his tracks.

Red Leader was lounging on a loveseat with Tom, still unconscious, draped over him and lying on top of his chest. His robotic hand was holding a book out in front of their face, Paul wasn't surprised to recognize the communist manifesto, while Tord's organic hand was gently caressing the top of Tom's head; fingers carding through his spiky locks. It was a rather charming sight, in a weird way.

Tord glared at Paul. "Yes?"

"Just checking in to see how you're doing and if you need anything." Paul said.

"Everything is quiet here… too quiet." Tord glanced down at Tom with a frown. "He better not have a concussion from this, Paul."

Paul gave a nervous start. "Would you like me to contact Yanov to be on standby for when we land, sir?"

"Actually, I would like to schedule a full checkup with him. For Tom." Tord explained, continuing his ministrations over the sleeping Brit. "I mean, who knows what sort of health risks he currently poses in his condition? Tom has always been pretty lousy when it comes to taking care of himself."

He stared down at Tom's peaceful sleeping face pensively, thinking back to his success in acquiring him. It had been so easy. Tom practically delivered himself to him on a silver platter. All because the little blue bird desired to spread his wings, and strayed too far from the nest. Tord had kept an eye on him the whole time; luring Tom into a false sense of comfort, making him think he wouldn't come for him until he felt confident enough to go off on his own. Now his foolishness had him clutched in Tord's grasp. It's probably for the best, too. Tom will be safe, with him, where he belongs.

Yes… Tom belonged to him… more than he'll ever know. Well, he will know soon enough. And only then will he truly accept Tord for who he is.

But first, it's best to start out with baby steps. Tom has no clue just how important he is!

"I'll prepare the arrangements for his checkup myself, sir." Paul complied with a nod of his head, breaking Tord out of his musings. "Tord… with all due respect, I have a question that I can't put off any longer."

Tord faced his Commander. "Yes?"

"Why him?" Paul motioned for Tom. "Why? Out of everyone in the entire world you could have chosen, why did it have to be him of all people? He who foiled our plans, and cost you your arm and nearly your life."

Paul shivered when he heard his leader chuckle darkly. "That's precisely why he's perfect." Tord smirked. "I don't expect you to understand the intense connection that we have, but he is the only one for me. The only one… who can defeat me. And that makes him my equal."

Excusing himself, seemingly satisfied but honestly still confused by his leader's response, Paul promptly left his leader be.

Alone at last once more, Tord resumed combing Tom's hair with his fingers. His hair was a lot softer than it looks! Tom shivered in his sleep, responding to his touch. It's truly a shame that Tom did not seem to enjoy the contact nearly as much while awake. Oh no, his precious Tom thought he was too good for his affections. That's perfectly fine for Tord though. They have all the time in the world to get Tom accustomed to his touch.

Tord grinned down at him. Tom was so small and feisty… and handsome. Yes, very handsome indeed. Toasted creamy skin, gravity defying brown spiky hair that was always disheveled, and black bottomless eyes; he was an exotic beauty - truly one of a kind. It's impressive how he managed to stay alive for as long as he had! He lowered his hand and stroked Tom's cheek with the back of his fingers. Yes… an extraordinary gem with lovely proportions. A rarity that he would treasure and protect, and keep far away from the rest of the world for only his own eyes to witness.

Tom was all his.

But Tord knew he had a long way to go before Tom could start trusting him. He can threaten his life and that of his friends all day long in order to get him to comply, but it will mean nothing in the long run if Tom doesn't willingly reciprocate. Tord wanted his love for him to be genuine. He can't afford to have Tom hate him.

He must love him. He will love him in due time. It's the only way they are going to live happily together.

Tord purred and brought Tom closer to kiss the top of his hair before resuming with his reading.

Tom's eyes fluttered rapidly. He grumbled and tried to turn in on himself. Eyebrows furrowed as he nuzzled into the rough material. Black sockets squinted open, and blinked awake. He stared at the large rather expensive looking room with tiny little windows. Wait… What?! His eyes flew open in a panic. "Where?!" The events of prior filtered across his brain, and his eyes widened. He had been taken. Commie had come for him like Edd had tried to warn him. His breath hitched as he observed his surroundings. His hands brushed against a metal buckle strapping him down, and he frowned in confusion at it.

An amused chuckle got his attention.

Tom looked up, and standing directly behind him, peering down at him over his seat was none other than Tord.

"YOU!" Tom's shock turned to anger as he clenched his fists until his knuckles turned white.

"I am glad to see you awake at last. Did you sleep well? You seemed so at peace I didn't want to risk bothering you." Tord murmured.

"Sleep? You slammed the back of my head to knock me out cold! Nothing about that was peaceful!" Tom grimaced as a lingering pain shot through the back of his eyes and flooded his head.

Tord rolled his eye and set down an aspirin and a glass of water on the table next to Tom. He'd predicted that Tom would wake up grouchy with a migraine, so after finishing his reading, Tord had carefully maneuvered Tom to sit up, buckled in his seatbelt, and left to get the necessary components to care for his precious cargo.

Tom held his head high and glared at Tord. The Commie knew his head was killing him. But he wouldn't take anything from him. "I ain't drinking that." He bared his teeth.

Tord's lips twitched into a smile. "Then I suppose you're just going to have to manage that painful headache of yours until we get home." He strolled away, glass of wine in hand as he circled Tom's seat.

"Home?" Tom parroted, resuming with his attempts to fiddle with the seat belt buckle restraining him. "Your base?"

"Yes." Tord drawled peering out one of the little windows. "We should be landing in about ten minutes or so. I advise you to stay seated."

Not gonna happen. Tom thought as he finally managed to free himself from the seat belt. He quickly scrambled to his feet, keeping his eyes on Tord the whole time. Thankfully the Norwegian had his back turned to him. Now to find a parachute and get out of this joint.

"Don't even think about it, Thomas." Tord hummed and placed his wine down. "Even if you did miraculously escape me, how long do you think you'll maintain your newfound freedom when I send the whole world to hunt you down for me? I have quite the list of contacts, and I know a good number of people who would be dying for an opportunity to get in my good graces. People who might not know how to handle you properly."

He straightened up and brushed any specs of dust off his finely tailored navy blue uniform. He adjusted the collar of his red hoodie underneath and stalked closer toward his captive. His grin widened at the lack of fear in Tom's elusive dark eyes, even as he stepped back to put as much distance between himself and Tord.

Eventually though, Tom found his back pressed against the curved plane wall and he developed a more defensive stance; squaring his shoulders and baring his teeth as Tord reached him… offering the glass of water and aspirin again.

"Take it. I promise it hasn't been tampered with in any way." Tord whispered. "Believe me, I need you wide awake and fully sober when we get home."

Tom still did not take it, even though the migraine made it hard for him to look up at Tord's towering figure. "You won't get away with this. I may be in your custody now, but I will find a way to escape and destroy you once and for all! Mark my words, Commie; taking me was the worst mistake of your life."

Tord chuckled, delighted and not at all threatened. "I expect nothing less from you." He handed Tom the glass of water and aspirin and stalked away, returning to his original position by the window and finishing his wine.

Tom hesitated. Commie already has him exactly where he wants. What would drugging him now accomplish? He already made it clear he wants him fully conscious for whatever reason.

Shrugging and taking his chances, boy that headache was really getting on his nerves now, Tom popped the pill in his mouth and washed it down with a backward tip of his head. Tom wiped his mouth with the back of his sleeve. His dark eyes locked with Tord's amused grin. He would never admit it, but that really helped clear his head. He was hydrated and more focused now.

"That wasn't so bad now, was it?" Tord prompted.

Tom flipped him off and begrudgingly took his seat again.

A soldier entered the cabin, and Tom recognized the man with the bushy eyebrows. He was present in the pub at the time of his capture, and is most likely the one responsible for knocking him out. Tom scowled, his dark eyes flickering briefly toward his nametag on his chest as Paul saluted his leader. "The pilot has told me to notify you we will be landing shortly and to remain in your seats, sir." He turned his gaze on Tom and dipped his head curtly. "Well met, Thompson. My sincerest apologies for our previous treatment of you. I hope your head is fairing well."

"No thanks to you, dick." Tom spat, fixing the Commander with a deadpan stare.

Humming, Tord poured himself another glass of wine. His brow rose at his soldier.

Paul cleared his throat. "Please buckle your seatbelts. We'll be arriving at the main base soon." He turned around and promptly left.

Tom scoffed, but complied anyway. Norway! He's in deep trouble now. As much as he hates to admit, Tord is right. There's no way he could escape long enough to achieve anything. The moment he tries anything he will undoubtedly get swarmed by soldiers and delivered right back into Tord's hands again. So really, the best thing to do in this situation is to play it cool, learn as much as possible, and find a way to leak that info to someone who can actually do something against the Red Army. Be it the British forces, some other nation, or Matt and Edd.

My friends!

"What happened to Edd and Matt? What did you do to them?" Tom demanded as Tord sauntered over to sit next to him.

Tord paused in his tracks and his expression soured considerably. His eye narrowed. "Does it matter? They are safe. For now." He sipped his wine as he sat down, crossing his legs. "Your compliance will determine their fate, may I remind you."

"So you took them? Yes or no?" Tom pressed.

Tord shrugged and smirked.

"This is just a big game to you, isn't it?" Tom droned.

"Of course not. As entertaining as you are, you are so much more than just an object for my amusement." Tord purred, leaning closer to Tom with a half-lidded eye. In turn, the eyeless man leaned away to keep his distance from the Norwegian; a shiver of dread running down his spine and causing him goose bumps all over.

The plane began its descent, and Tom found himself breathing rapidly, trying to calm himself down. The reality of the situation just hit him head on, and his fate was drawing closer and closer. Whatever Tord wanted to do to him, Tom would be expected to comply. He's not gonna kill him at least. That's the whole point of going with him in the first place. But he was wanted here for some reason and something tells Tom it isn't for his charming company.

Tom stiffened and clutched the armrests of his seat as the plane jerked onto the runway. The landing was always the worst part.

He heard Tord chuckle under his breath at his reaction, and Tom shot him a glare from the corner of his eye.

Once the jet came to a stop, Tord unbuckled his seat belt, and elegantly stood up. Tom followed suit more slowly, on edge for what's about to come next for him.

Suddenly Tord grabbed him by the arm and jerked him forward rather harshly. Before Tom could even fight it, Tord had fastened a rope around his wrists; binding them together while the Norwegian held on to the leading end of said rope and began to lead the way out.

"Come along now." Tord cooed, tugging at the rope for Tom to follow. Like he was some sort of puppy! "We need to get going right away if we want to be on schedule."

Tom scowled, baring his teeth.

"Oh cheer up, Thomas." Tord rolled his eye. "Be grateful I didn't tie this around your neck like a dog instead. As tempting as the idea may be, I graciously decided to keep your dignity! Wasn't that nice of me? Now follow."

The plane's exit door opened, and the stairs connected to the exit assembled underneath. Commander Paul and some other soldiers entered the cabin. "Yanov is ready for you, sir."

"Excellent!"

Tom didn't fight as he was led out the jet's exit. Stepping outside, he stopped and gaped at the sight of hundreds, maybe thousands of soldiers, marching about the damn place. If he ever wants to escape he'll have to go through all of them in order to get away. Tom eyed the rest of the courtyard, studying the base from afar. The whole perimeter was fenced with barbed wire, there were cameras in every corner, and watchtowers on the lookout.

In the back of his mind, Tom wondered how many security improvements were made just to keep him contained before he arrived.

Looking around Tom caught the eye of many soldiers staring at him. He bared his teeth at them and they nervously moved on.

Sweating nervously, Tom found himself unconsciously trying to move back to the safety of the plane. However, Tord's grip on the rope binding his wrists prevented him from doing so. He quietly chuckled at Tom's pitiful attempts and gently tugged him forward.

Tord guided him across the military courtyard, toward a tall and imposing building straight ahead. Tom clicked his tongue in annoyance and took his time observing his surroundings. Yup! Definitely can't escape right away. There were too many variables; mainly armed soldiers at every corner and Tord. But Tom refused to let his fear get the best of him. Lifting his chin and holding his head high, he glared at everything around him as he unwillingly made his way towards this building.

A man with slick black hair and dark eyes was standing by the entranceway, hands folded neatly behind his back, patiently observing them draw closer. Tom noted he wasn't wearing the regular Red Army uniform either. Instead he was adorning a white coat and pale blue scrubs.

"Welcome back, Red Leader." The doctor dipped his head and beckoned them inside. "Please, come in. Everything is ready for you."

Tom was led inside the building, and he noticed the clinical white and pale blue interior design where people in white coats and scrubs rushed to and fro. This must be the medical wing! He deduced, judging by the hospital-like setting.

They were led into a treatment room, the doctor attending them gesturing for them to take a seat when a soldier appeared by the doorway. "Excuse me, Red Leader, Bing has requested a meeting with you the instant you arrive."

Tord scoffed. "Tell him to wait. I am off duty right now, and currently occupied with more pressing matters."

The soldier dipped their head apologetically. "I'm sorry, sir, but Bing says it's urgent; I wouldn't have bothered you for anything less."

Boot licker. Tom wrinkled his nose at the soldier, glaring daggers at them.

Thinking the situation over, Tord released an exasperated sigh and stood up to follow. He turned back to the doctor. "Go ahead with the check-up. I want an in depth examination and a full detailed treatment. Test his blood, perform any necessary exams you want on him - I want him fully taken care of by the end of the day, do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, sir!"

"I'll be back to pick him up later. Be careful with him, though. He is not to be underestimated." Tord shifted his attention to Tom, his gaze softening. "Try to behave while I'm gone, okay?"

His disgustingly deceiving soft demeanor made Tom's blood boil, and he felt the sudden urge to lunge forward and bite him anywhere he could sink his teeth in.

Letting go of the rope that he used to guide Tom around with, Tord excused himself and promptly left the room, leaving Tom alone with the doctor.

"Hmph, now… Thompson, was it?" The doctor cleared his throat politely, glancing up at him over his reading glasses. "I am Doctor Yanov. Pleased to meet you! I will be your personal physician from now on. While from my understanding you are here on less than ideal terms, I hope you will lend me your collaboration here today so we may end this… unpleasant ordeal as soon as possible. If not, well… I'm afraid we're going to have to settle things the hard way, hm?"

While he spoke, Tom hadn't let up his glare for even a second. He eyed the man standing over him impassively, unwilling to cooperate with this schmuck at all. He didn't look like much. Slim figure, works in the medical field, clearly not a soldier of any kind that he can identify. Without the Commie around to relay his threats, Tom might as well have some fun here.

Yanov cautiously approached Tom with a stethoscope around his neck. He pulled down the front of Tom's hoodie to reach his chest, but before he could place the chest piece down Tom yanked at it and screamed into it at the top of his lungs.

The doctor jumped away with a startled scream of his own, his head ringing as Tom openly laughed. Some nurses even dared peek their heads into the room, blinking wide eyed as they surveyed what happened.

Yanov recovered with a groan and a shake of his head, his slate eyes narrowed into slits as he stared pointedly at Tom. He sighed. "Hard way it is then."

He beckoned the nurses into the room and ordered them to restrain Tom as he performed the necessary exams Red Leader asked of him. Tom did not take any of it lying down. He screeched, thrashed, clawed, spit, and bit anyone within range as Yanov tried to complete his designated task. He tried to listen to Tom's rapid heartbeat, measure his pressure, weight and height all the while he avidly struggled against them, but it was no use.

In the end Yanov had no choice but to give him a mild sedative. It wouldn't knock him unconscious, but it would just numb him enough for Tom to remain disorientated while they performed the last few tests.

Tom's head pounded and his vision went blurry as a needle punctured his arm and drew blood from him. He tried to swat the needle away but his hand felt heavy and foggy, like ants crawling up his arms and biting him all over, leaving him numb. His head swayed from side to side, blinking sluggishly as Yanov looked into his eyes, ears, and the inside of his mouth.

Next thing he knew Tom was in a dark room, something cold and gelatinous being applied to his belly and torso. He blinked, and the scene changed. The room was still dark but now he found himself inside a tube-like machine.

His sluggish mind couldn't keep track of everything that was being done to him. He hardly even registered the voices that spoke over him, sounding strangely like gibberish. He closed his eyes for just a moment, only to blink them open again and get nearly blinded in the process as a harsh white light shined directly onto his face.

Tom blinked a couple of times, trying to dispel the sluggishness from his body and get a bearing on his surroundings. His eyes stopped blurring and they snapped open when he realized the situation he was in. He was lying down, mouth forcefully pried open, and an ungodly taste of copper in his mouth. On instinct, Tom tried to scramble away but found his hands were shackled to the arms of the chair.

Noticing his patient was finally lucid, Yanov merely glanced at him. "Unless you want me to stab your gums or tongue with one of my tools, I highly suggest you don't move. I am almost done here." He said, mouth obscured by a mask.

When the initial shock of registering his surroundings finally passed, Tom forced himself to remain calm and assess the situation. He didn't dare move an inch, hearing all kinds of electrical buzzing sounds near his mouth and a slight pressure in his teeth. Is Yanov also acting as a dentist?

The whirring buzz stopped and Yanov unhooked the device keeping his mouth open, turning the light above them off and stepping away. "You may spit now."

Gladly. Without wasting another second, Tom heaved up and spat a mouthful of blood and saliva onto the little sink next to him with a grumble. His mouth felt tingly and weird.

"How is he?"

Upon hearing Tord's voice, Tom immediately tensed up again; whipping around and glowering at the Red Leader standing in the doorway. He was accompanied by a man with wild brown hair and a white lab coat, who would not stop staring at him. His crazed brown eyes made Tom highly uncomfortable, more so than the analytical glance Tord was casting his way as he circled him.

"He is fine, but his overall health could be better." Yanov reported, reading the results from a clipboard he was holding. "Given his poor diet, lack of exercise, and exaggerated alcohol consumption his liver is a little enlarged. His cholesterol is high, he has a vitamin d deficiency, and I took the liberty of treating his teeth while at it, sir."

Tom fumed hearing this, deeply offended and embarrassed of having his personal health being openly shared and talked over him like he wasn't even present. Sure Tom might have let himself go in the past, he hadn't been to a doctor or even a dentist for the last year and a half, but that doesn't mean he didn't care! He just… forgot to tend to himself once in a while. It happens.

"Excellent! And I presume you charted the best course of action for his treatment?" Tord prompted, eyeing Tom with undisguised fascination.

Yanov dipped his head. "Indeed. I have mapped out a strict diet for him, as well as mandatory exercises for him to perform on a daily basis. We can reschedule another checkup in three months time to see how the treatment is fairing him."

"Very well! Send me a copy of the results, I want to make sure I get everything right. You are dismissed. Thank you, Yanov." Tord swiftly moved forward with a rope in hand. Tom tried to fight it, but Tord was quick to grab his wrists and tie them together once again.

"One more thing, Red Leader." Yanov began, shuffling awkwardly as he cleared his throat. "It seems your charge failed to adhere to simple commands and behave properly, thus prolonging what should have been a simple process."

Fucking snitch! Tom's mouth gaped wide open with disbelief as he stared incredulously at the doctor. Then he grimaced, bracing himself for Tord's taunting fury.

But to his surprise, Tord wasn't even looking at him. "So? I warned you he wouldn't be cooperative and not to underestimate him, and yet, you act surprised when he doesn't comply? Honestly you should find yourself lucky all he did was put up a little fight knowing the damage could've been so much worse!"

Tom couldn't believe what he was hearing. Tord was… defending him? To what end? He knew Tord wouldn't pass up the chance to discipline and humiliate him if given the opportunity, so why was he speaking on his behalf?

"If you are expecting me to punish him for your lack of self-awareness than your gravely mistaken, Yanov. Dismissed!" Tord waved his hand with a final motion and turned back to Tom, adjusting the ropes binding his wrists together. Yanov quickly dipped his head with an apology and promptly left the room.

Now it was just Tom, Tord, and the unhinged looking scientist man in the room.

"Such excitement!" The scientist said. He looked vaguely familiar. "If we're quite finished with theatrics, I would love to meet our new guest."

Tord frowned. "Thomas, this is Bing, my head scientist in the Red Army. I'm sure you remember him from long ago?"

No wonder the guy looked so familiar! "Hey, aren't you that evil director?" Tom asked. "Shouldn't you be filming some shitty film in your mother's basement or something?"

Bing chuckled. "You weren't kidding about his attitude, huh?" He swapped amused glances with Tord. "I've moved on from the film industry to pursue the art of EVIL! I for one sure can't wait to work together with you in the future."

Work together? Tom blinked.

"I must say, it's such an honor to meet the man who brought down Red Leader and destroyed everything he worked so hard for!"

Bing's words brought out an unintentional smile out of Tom, and he held back the urge to laugh. Did he just insult Commie to his face? One look at Tord and he could tell the Norwegian man was deeply aggravated, shooting the scientist a death glare. Huh, maybe this Bing guy ain't so bad after all.

"That's enough!" Tord scowled. "I would like to escort my guest to his room now. You are dismissed, Bing." Honestly Tom was surprised Commie didn't outright shoot the man for pointing out he was his biggest downfall. Kind of a tame reaction all things considered!

"Very well." Bing dipped his head with a tight lipped smile then turned his gaze on Tom one final time before he left the room. "Until next time we meet, Tom."

"Good riddance." Tord growled softly under his breath. Then his voice softened as he addressed Tom. "Now, c'mon, I will show you to your room." He tugged on the rope and heaved the Brit to his feet.

Tom had no choice but to trail after Tord as the latter continued to lead him by the makeshift leash on his wrists. Soldiers stared openly at him as they left the medical wing and entered a more formal part of the building. He glared at them all in defiance. Just because he is leashed doesn't mean he is subdued!

The farther they trekked, the less people they saw roaming the halls. Tom couldn't even begin to guess what part of the base this was. The dungeons was the closest thing to mind, seeing as he is a prisoner of theirs now it would make sense; but that didn't add up either. This place was too… nice looking to be a dungeon. White marble corridor with grand archeways, red carpet, blue and red banners along the walls, and fancy dark oak wood doors lining each side of the hallway.

Surprisingly they stopped precisely at one of these doors and entered.

The room was bland, that's the first thing Tom noted. White walls, white bed, with just a wooden desk opposite to the bed next to the doorway, a wardrobe beside the bathroom to the left, and a couple of empty shelves to the right of the bed. Still nicer than most motels Tom frequented in the past.

"Here we are." Tord began to undo the ropes on his wrist. "Your new home-" He stopped abruptly, firmly grabbing Tom's hand with his robotic one. Tom tensed as Tord stared deathly still at the inside on his wrists. "The rope chaffed your skin."

"Uh… what?"

"You got rope burns all over your wrists!" Tord turned Tom's arm back and forth to show him the red bruising lightly decorating his skin. "Why didn't you tell me it was hurting you?"

The question caught Tom off guard so hard he floundered like a fish for a moment, mouth opening and closing rapidly as he processed the situation. "Because… you don't care?"

Like a lightswitch being turned on, the glimmer of anger in Tord's eye died and his shoulders drooped; hanging his head with a small sigh. "I knew I should have chosen a softer material for you." He whispered. "Forgive me, this won't happen again."

Tom could care less about the state of his skin or which type of rope Tord uses to imprison him. There was only one thing on his mind. "Let me go!"

"You know I cannot do that." Tord replied evenly. "You belong to me, remember? Your life in exchange for your friends."

"You do realize it's not me who is imprisoned here with you, right?" Tom argued. "As far as I'm concerned, all of you are imprisoned here with me! I will make your life a living hell. You will pay dearly for threatening me and my friends, and I will take down your precious Red Army and make you watch as you lose everything you worked so hard for… for the second time! Release me, and I will leave you alone. I won't interfere with your plans. The whole world be damned for all I care!"

It was a tough call to make, but if there was any possibility of freedom Tom had to reassure Tord he wouldn't be a threat to his goals if he were to set him free. It's a loss he was going to have to cope for the price of escaping. Clearly Tord only took him to begin with to stop him from defying him again once the takeover starts.

Besides, why should I be the one responsible for saving the world? There are so many people way more capable than me for the job of hero.

Tord and Tom stared at each other in silence for several heartbeats. Tom panted, tired from his heartfelt speech and the severity of his own words.

"Very well." Tord conceded at last.

Tom perked up, eyes wide. "You're letting me go then?"

"Yes." Tord replied, eye narrowed. "After you watch your friends get publicly executed, you are free to go."

"No!"

"That's my only offer, Thomas. Either you stay and submit, or you watch your friends die in exchange for your freedom. What's it gonna be?"

He can't win. No matter what Tom does, he will never win. It's over. Tord won. No matter how much his gut twists at the thought of obeying Tord and submitting, he can't bring himself to sacrifice his own friends for his pride. Tord found his weakness and knows exactly where to hit him. Damn him!

"Well?" Tord hissed. "Should I have my soldiers round up your friends for a thrilling execution? I can have it all arranged first thing in the morning!"

"Don't." Tom said softly, his voice barely a whisper. "I'll stay."

His eyes began to blur and Tom turned his head away to hide his tears from Tord, unwilling to give him the satisfaction of seeing him in his lowest moment and just hoping that, with his victory secured, he would take his leave.

But Tord didn't leave.

"Don't cry. I know you are scared, but you don't have to be." He murmured soothingly, stepping forward to place one tender hand on Tom's shoulder. "It's going to take some getting used to, but this is for the better. You'll see. With time you will grow to like it here-"

"Fuck off!" Tom slapped his hand away and whipped around, his face flushed and tears still in his eyes. "All you do is hurt me and ruin my life!"

"That's not true." Tord shook his head. "I haven't hurt you yet, have I?"

"Maybe not physically yet, no!" Tom wiped his face with the back of his sleeve. "But it's just a matter of time. Emotionally and mentally on the other hand-"

"Silence! I will hear no more of this nonsense."

"Why? Because it's true?" Tom challenged.

"Don't test my patience, Thomas." Tord warned, a steely cold glint in his eye. "Maybe Yanov had the right idea after all. You are too bold for your own good, and maybe it's time to nip it in the bud before it really becomes a problem for us. Perhaps a night in your new quarters with below zero temperature and without blankets will make you more appreciative of the things you have, wouldn't you agree?"

Tom kept his mouth shut after the threat.

Swiping a hand through his horned caramel hair, Tord went on. "You will begin working for me starting tomorrow. A soldier will come wake you up, give you breakfast, and hand you your new uniform." He explained. "You will be expected to wear your uniform whenever you leave your quarters, which you will not do unless you have an escort with you at all times. Your job here in the Red Army will be as my personal assistant. You will accompany me to all my meetings, take note of everything, keep track of my schedule, and file down new appointments as you see fit. I expect you to be on your best behavior tomorrow."

In response, Tom gave him a tiny nod. Tense and still on the brink of tears.

"Good." Tord twirled around with a flare of his uniform sweeping past Tom. He paused in the doorway and turned one final glance at Tom. "Goodnight."

When the door closed, Tom's resolve crumpled and he retreated underneath the bed sheets; a luxury that he will probably lose in a few minutes if Tord makes true on his threat. He buried his face on the pillow, fighting back tears and failing miserably. None of this was fair! He defeated Commie - he should have died and end of story. But the bastard just had to survive and come back for revenge didn't he? Edd tried to warn him not to go outside and test his luck, and now Matt and him are somewhere in this base - scared, lost, and confused - and it's all his fault.

"Hold on for me guys." Tom whimpered, fists clenched. "I will find a way out of this. I swear it!"

Unbeknownst to Tom, Tord was still watching him. He didn't fully close the door all the way. He had a tight gap just small enough for his eye to peek inside, watching Tom get into bed in tears.

With a small frown, Tord forced himself to peel away from the sight and quietly shut the door.

Before leaving the room Tord had every intention of carrying out his threat and punishing Tom, but now… he couldn't bring himself to go through with it. He couldn't deprive Tom of all warmth when he was already so miserable. He wasn't ready for that yet.

Tord will let it slide, just this once. Maybe twice if he doesn't find his footing soon. He took him away from his friends and normal routine. Tom was still getting accustomed to all the jarring changes, it's only natural for him to lash out and test his boundaries. Now he must learn to adapt to his new home as well as Tord's constant company.

After all, what did Tord expect? Immediate submission? That was not the Tom he knows and loves.

Tom will come around and comply soon, Tord is sure of it. Hopefully a warning was more than enough to purge any further rebellious thoughts from Tom's mind. Starting tomorrow they are going to see a lot more of each other. The thought alone sent a jittery warm feeling into his heart and Tord smiled. Tom will get used to him. They will work together every day; and see each other every day.

Tomorrow will be a wonderful day for both of them. Because, whether Tom realizes or not, Tord is all that he has left now.