Always Gold

by flower1815

It's been five years since the war begun. With the whole world in complete disarray and the Red Army well on it's way to take total global control, all eyes are now set upon the actions of four friends. Reader discretion is advised.

16. Chapter 16

Featuring special guest appearances by Charlotte Hope by chessb0r3d over on tumblr.

And Terrance by ianwoodsisadilf over on tumblr. Hope you guys enjoy and have a great day!

"Why the f#ck are we heading to England anyway?" Reagan asked, leaning forward and resting his arms over the wall as their ferry pulled away from the docks, his eyes observing the waves.

"To investigate the Green Rebellion up close, of course." Dante replied, lounging beside him.

Gone was his Red Army uniform in favor of adorning a simple set of clothes consisting of a black coat, a white shirt, and jeans. If they were going to infiltrate enemy territory Dante couldn't advertise who exactly he worked for.

"What for?" Reagan pressed, mildly annoyed by their circumstances. "You said it yourself back at the hotel; we know who is behind the attacks, and now our work here is done. What's there to uncover?"

"It's all too fitting, don't you think? These attacks go on for months, and just when the Red Leader decides to do something about it, the Green Rebellion reveal themselves and take full blame for these attacks." Dante explained. "Then for whatever reason they are targeting you in specific. Aren't you the least bit curious to learn what they want?"

"Not really."

Dante sighed and rolled his eyes. "Doesn't it frighten you? What if these people have way worse things in store for you than the Red Army-?"

Reagan laughed. "If this is your way to convince me the Red Army is not as bad as they seem, then I'mma have to stop you right there cause that sh#t ain't gonna work on me." He glanced at the Agent over his shoulder. "Secondly; shouldn't you be concerned too? I mean… a Red Army spy traveling to the heart of Green Rebellion territory to snoop around. If they catch wind of it we're both goners."

"It's my job."

"It's a death sentence, it's what it really is." Reagan corrected. "And for… what, exactly? To help the Red Army win this forsaken war. If they want to confront the Green Rebellion so badly they can do it themselves. You shouldn't have to put your neck on the line for their sakes."

Blue eyes narrowing, Dante stared at his reluctant partner impassively. "You are not going to sway me on this, Reagan." He said cautiously. "I know you're eager to be rid of me and go on with your freedom-"

"Yeah, no sh#t!"

"But as long as there are loose strings for us to investigate I am going to need your help. Especially since there are people seeking your capture I need to keep an eye on you now more than ever."

With a derisive snort, Reagan turned away to keep peering out towards the ocean; not bothering dignifying Dante with a proper response. He barely registered when the agent left his side briefly under the promise to return shortly. Reagan could try to use this opportunity to run away, but at what cost?

They were on a ferry in the middle of the North Sea with a bunch of other refugees seeking shelter from the Red Army within the hopes of the Rebellion taking them in. There's nowhere to go from here. Even his monster form was useless out here, as it has repulsion to water.

Reagan sighed. It seems the more involved he gets with the agent and his stupid little mission, the less chances of escape are presented to him. Is he always destined to be under the mercy of others? Whatever happened to free will and willpower?

"Here."

He slowly pulled away from the edge of the ferry to look at Dante, surprised to find that the agent had returned with the offer of food. It was nothing out of the ordinary; just a regular hotdog wrapped in bacon. But the offering intrigued Reagan nonetheless as he graciously accepted the food given.

"Thanks."

"No problem." Dante smiled before peering at the gray sky. "We should probably head inside now – It looks as though it's going to start raining soon."

"It is."

Dante's eyebrows furrowed. "How can you be sure?"

"I can smell the rain coming."

"You can smell the rain?" Dante echoed dumbfounded as they retreated indoors. "I didn't realize your nose was that good."

Reagan shrugged. "One of my many talents of being part monster. Since I took the serum all my senses have been heightened."

Entering the main cabin, they quickly found a pair of vacant seats by one of the windows. More and more people seemed to have realized the weather was worsening and followed them inside to take shelter as well.

"Wait, so… did you happen to catch the scent of your captors when you were in their custody?" Dante whispered.

Reagan hesitated taking a bite of his hotdog. "Hmm… no. They covered my head in this awful smelling sack. I couldn't really make anything out other than their voices. And even then it's not a whole lot to go off of."

"So whoever is after you must have extensive knowledge of your powers." Dante scratched his chin pensively. "What can you tell me about their voices then?"

"Nothing much. Both voices I heard were male, gruff, and one of them definitely smokes. That's about all I could gather."

"Reagan, if whoever wants you for their plans knows what you are capable of then you might be in even bigger danger than I realized." Dante observed, shocked. "If the prevailing theory that there is a traitor within the Red Army is true, then it must be someone who has extensive and first-hand knowledge of you."

Reagan paused mid-bite. "Red Leader definitely knows a lot about me."

"Why would the Red Leader betray his own organization?" Asked Dante.

"Beats me. Maybe this is all just some big conspiracy and the Red Leader is secretly in cahoots with the Green Rebellion all along to put on a show and make the Red Army look better for the rest of the world."

Dante considered his words at length. "The media does hate the Red Army a lot…"

"See?" Reagan interjected, waving his half-eaten hotdog at Dante.

"But still, it's a pretty convoluted plan just to garner positive media attention." Dante pointed out. "And why would he go to such great lengths to acquire you when he had you right where he wanted in the first place?"

"To get rid of me, of course." Reagan continued. "He hates my guts after I tried to murder him. And if he is the traitor and the Green Rebellion is a part of his schemes he wouldn't want his Generals sending me after them and ruin his plans."

Dante frowned. "You… put on a compelling case, Reagan. With that said, I just can't take it seriously." He murmured apologetically. "It's not that I don't believe you, it's just… you hate the Red Leader, you made that perfectly clear before, and I can't put my own leader in the suspects list based on a biased opinion."

To his relief, Reagan didn't appear offended by his distrust.

"Larry and Bing are also pretty suspicious." Reagan offered mildly. "They experimented on me for the last five years. If someone knows how I tick, it is definitely them!"

"Yeah… if I remember correctly, Bing was in charge of creating the Red Army's firewall encryption system. He is supposedly a brilliant inventor, and yet… the rebellion hacked our systems effortlessly."

"There is something else, too." Reagan continued. "Before this whole investigation started, the Red Leader had organized a meeting with the Generals and Bing. He seemed pretty jittery when the attacks were mentioned and the implication I had any connection to them. I know because I was present in the meeting."

Dante pursed his lips. "We should definitely put him under careful surveillance. Even if we turn out wrong and he is not the traitor, he is still too unhinged to roam freely."

His words startled a laugh out of Reagan, and Dante allowed himself to be proud of that.

"There's also the case with the radar systems being tampered with." Dante went on. "We don't know for sure if they were hacked by outside forces or someone willingly turned off the automatic relay from within."

"Good point. Too bad you don't have any names to give." Reagan took another bite out of his hotdog. "'Sides, what about the other blown up bases? Were there anomalies detected in their radars that went unreported as well? Are all the nerds in the Communications department in on this conspiracy? General Erica mentioned nothing unusual was found when she reported the explosion to the Red Leader. Maybe she is involved-"

"Stop it!" Dante clutched his head. It couldn't be true. His own General? "Maybe the soldiers who first reported the destroyed bases didn't cover everything. Our idea to check the radars was the first ever breakthrough in this case as far as I am aware."

Reagan eyed him pitifully. "You know, you aren't going to get very far giving every suspect the benefit of the doubt."

Dante rolled his eyes. "I will take the risk. Point being; we need to send a formal request back to HQ to put all Stavanger personnel working in the Communications division under careful monitoring. As of now, they are all officially suspects."

"If they are even alive, anyways." Reagan muttered under his breath.

Dante nodded, leaning forward to stare at Reagan intently as he watched the Irishman gobble down his meal. He wanted to learn more about him. Getting him food was a good strategy to earn his trust and have him lower his defensive walls, but would it be enough to earn his collaboration?

Nervously, Dante shifted in his seat and lowered his gaze. "What else are you capable of?"

Finishing his hotdog, Reagan licked his lips and sucked the ketchup off his fingers before replying. "Hmm… when I am in my human form, like right now, I only have enhanced senses like smell, hearing and seeing. In my half-shifted stage I am capable of great feats of strength and speed. When I am a full monster though, I have access to acid breath and poisonous spurs. That about sums it up, I guess."

No wonder everyone is so eager to have Reagan fight by their side in the war. Dante mused to himself. "It's probably a good thing you're not out in the frontlines anymore then."

"Perhaps." Reagan conceded dryly. "But even in my absence the war still continues. It's just now, the number of casualties will have lessened considerably with me gone."

Dante's eyes widened. "Oh, I'm sorry! I-I didn't mean to imply all those deaths so far were exclusively your fault - I'm sorry. I'm sure you must feel guilty enough as it is."

Reagan laughed, startling Dante out of his profuse anxious apology. "Kid, relax. I don't feel guilty that easily." He murmured. "I know I am responsible for a lot of deaths in this war, but I don't hold myself accountable for any of them. Red Leader and the Generals are the ones who deployed me to the frontlines. I had no choice in the matter, so those deaths aren't in my bill."

"Wait, really?"

"Sure! I mean, if someone shoots you with a gun who are you going to blame? The weapon, or the person who pulled the trigger?"

Dante shrunk under his intense gaze, rubbing one of his shoulders. "Gosh, I… I never really thought of it like that." He mumbled uncomfortably.

Truthfully he wanted to disagree with Reagan. Badly. Even though he may not have had a choice in the matter and was just following orders, who doesn't feel an ounce of remorse for all the lives you took? And sure, Dante has no idea how his monster half works in terms of control so he could be interpreting the situation completely wrong, but given the way how proudly Reagan speaks of his power it is clear he has some control in the matter.

The thought that a cold-blooded killer was sitting right next to him made Dante's stomach churn and drop, and he couldn't bring himself to finish his hotdog.

"Hey, are you going to eat the rest of that?" Reagan asked, eyes bright as he looked at the food in his hands.

Dante shook his head and passed the remains of his hotdog to the Irishman.

He observed Reagan eat his share of the meal perplexed. There has to be more to him that he lets on. The image of Reagan back in that decrepit old hotel staring intently at a grand piano with a hint of sadness in his eyes keeps replaying in Dante's head over and over again. Surely anyone capable of grief has the capacity to feel some level of empathy?

I want to learn more about him. Dante thought determinedly, feeling an incredible and powerful urge to belch out all the questions that roamed around rent free in his head like the DVD idle screen to the reclusive Irishman. I need to!

But how to go about this? They had a few conversations, sure; however they were nowhere close to being friends and other than letting his mask slip briefly back at the abandoned building, Reagan wasn't going to willingly open up to him any time soon.

He's such an interesting individual. Complex.

Dante wants to be on good terms with Reagan so badly it's starting to make him go insane.

The ferry's horn sounded loudly above their heads, drowning out all conversation within the cabin, announcing their arrival to British soil.

"Let's get going." Dante sighed, nudging his partner to his feet. "The sooner we can resume our investigation the better."

They followed the crowd of Norwegian refugees that flowed out from the cabin onto the pouring rain outside, heading for the docks. Reagan was by Dante's side the whole time, catching a glimpse of perplexed looks cast his way as some people eyed the chain still around his neck with suspicion.

"Oh, I'm his boy toy." Reagan grinned, pointing at Dante as the latter's face flushed a deep red at his words. "Man, best ride of my life, I can tell you that much-!"

"Okay. Let's mosey along now!" Dante began pushing Reagan forward with all his might through the crowd, eager to leave before more inappropriate words could come out of his partner's mouth.

Reagan's body rattled with silent laughter.

"STOP RIGHT THERE!"

The crowd came to an abrupt stop. Dante accidentally slammed into the side of a white older gentleman who grunted in surprise and glared at him. Holding Reagan's arm firmly in his grasp, Dante tried to push his way to the front to see what all the fuss was about, but a floundering wall of people kept them back.

In the dim lighting of the rainstorm, the entire dock seemed to be seething with people. Cries and shouts drowned out the sound of the raindrops thundering down on the ground around them.

"Stand back, scoundrel!" A man wearing green and black at the front of the crowd, facing them with a sneer on his face, commanded. "I am speaking now!"

Several refugees muttered under their breath; confused, terrified, and bedraggled. Dante and Reagan forced their way closer to the front when they caught sight of the man, along a line of rebels on either side of him, stopping the crowd on their tracks.

"You Red Army scum are not welcomed here." The man continued firmly. "This is Green Rebellion territory now, and unless your nations decide to join our side we won't take any of you in. Turn back the way you came and don't come back here ever again!"

"We are not part of the Red Army!" A woman cried out, hysterical.

"Please don't send us away!"

"SILENCE!" The rebel shouted, and the rebels beside him seized their weapons and aimed at the civilians. "By the order of the Green Leader, no outsiders are allowed in our land unless they belong to an allied country. We can't risk spies in our midsts."

More outraged cries rippled through the crowd as they tried to reason with the rebel to take them in. Dante glanced around, his heart breaking. He could see how desperate these refugees looked; most of them badly shaken and subdued. Even though he knows the Red Army is only trying to help and they would gladly take back the refugees with open arms, it wasn't Dante's place to judge these people for switching sides with the enemy. Seeing their home be invaded and taken over must have been a pretty awful shock.

Now their only hope is threatening and turning them away.

And it's all because of him!

"Reagan, we gotta do something!" Dante hissed in Reagan's ear. "These people are desperate. If we don't do something now I'm afraid the rebels will open fire on them."

"On us, I think you mean." Reagan corrected impassively, narrowing his eyes at the turmoil surrounding them. "I don't see what we can do here. You heard the guy. Association with the Red Army grants you no entry in the UK."

"Reagan, please." Dante begged, on the verge of tears. He became a spy to avoid conflict, not to witness this injustice first hand. "T-think! If we get turned away now, our mission will take even longer to fulfill and you won't be free for a long time."

That made Reagan pause and reconsider. "Okay. Fine, you're right. Chin up, kid – I need you looking your best here. Follow my lead here, okay?" He pushed his way through the crowd until he was directly in front of the rebels. "Excuse me!"

The rebels pointed their guns at him.

"Stand back, citizen!"

"Pardon me, but I couldn't help but wonder what you stand to gain from turning us away." Reagan began, lowering his head submissively as he let his silver tongue come into play. "We are but mere refugees seeking sanctuary from the dreadful reds here. Surely you of all people can understand our plight?"

"Should have picked a different country to run away to." The lead rebel snorted. "Russia shares a border with Norway, does it not? They have yet to be taken over. Go there if you are so desperate to run away."

"Oh, but we came such a long way to get here!" Reagan went on. "We all watched your leader hijack the Red Army's broadcast, you know? Impressive! We were all so inspired by your leader's speech we figured we might stand a better chance with you. Frankly, turning us away now seems more like a disservice."

"What do you mean?" Reagan's words intrigued the rebels.

Reagan held back a sh#t eating grin. "Well, you guys talked big about standing together to face the Red Army's tyranny, and yet when we come to you for aid you turn us away in our time of need. How do you think the other nations will react when they learn about this incident? Are you really any better than the reds if you are willing to sacrifice innocent people for your goals?"

The crowd behind was murmuring quietly amongst themselves, while the rebels suddenly seemed to falter in their stance.

"We are following orders from our leader." The lead rebel growled. "We can't risk unauthorized citizens waltzing into our domain and leaking information back to Red Leader!"

"I'm sure your reasons are noble! No one here doubts that." Reagan carried on with more confidence now that he garnered everyone's attention. "But currently we are in a dire situation and we are at your mercy asking you to help us. Our home is gone – we left everything behind to come all the way here, and we are wasting time standing in this forsaken storm when we could've avoided all of this drama by going along our merry way and finding a safe space to take shelter." He reasoned. "Why don't we compromise? You take us in, and we find a nice warm little shelter with food far away from your HQ? We will keep out of your way; you'll barely even know we're here. It's only the least we can do for your kindness."

Everyone waited in bated silence. Only the thundering of rain could be heard. The lead rebel gave Reagan an appraising glare.

"Fine. You may pass."

Reagan dipped his head. "A noble decision on your part, and we are thankful for it."

The rebels lowered their weapons and began to lead the refugees away and into the city. As people passed by Reagan, he was shocked by how many of them actually stopped to thank him profusely; shaking his hand with tears of joy in their eyes. It was… odd, to say the least.

"Well done!" Dante hugged him, wrapping his arms around his middle only for Reagan to stiffen and freeze in his embrace. "Oh, I'm sorry! Too personal, right? Boundaries, Autumns." He whispered the last part to himself.

Reagan cleared his throat and swept his arms sideways to beckon the agent to walk ahead of him. "Shall we, then?"

As they headed into the city, the pair was oblivious of the rebel that stared after them with narrowed eyes as he spoke into the communicator in his chest. "Keep an eye on those two."

(Meanwhile…)

"There! Just keep pressing that ice bag to that bump and your head should be good as new in no time!" Matt stepped back to look his patient in the eye.

It's been a few days, and while he still wasn't allowed to actively treat patients along with the other staff, Matt had been granted clearance to treat minor cases without supervision.

"Thanks!" The patient in question was an incredibly tall soldier with long gray-white hair, light tan skin, and naturally closed eyes by the name of Charlotte. She addressed Matt with a grateful smile. "Well, suffice to say I'm embarrassed; tripping over and falling on my head like that. I'm never gonna hear the end of it from our comrades."

Matt leaned forward and tapped her shoulder in what he hoped was a comforting gesture. Even sitting down and slouched they still effortlessly towered over him. "Hey, accidents happen. I trip over myself constantly!" He soothed. "Thank God I at least have a metal chin to break my fall now, huh?"

"Lucky you." Charlotte conceded with a low chuckle. "Guess that means no more training for me today, eh?"

"Yup! You can just lean back and relax. Doctor's orders!" Matt winked at them.

"Sweet. Any chance I can have that in writing?" Matt helped her to her feet. "I might just take the opportunity to hang out with AK. The little guy owes me a rematch in Smash Brothers!"

"Sounds like fun! Just try not to overexert yourself in the excitement, alright?" Matt led her out of the room and to the Infirmary's exit. "The swelling should go down by morning. Enjoy your day off!"

"Thanks, bye!"

"Good-bye!" Matt waved Charlotte farewell at the Infirmary entranceway. Even though his job had only required him filling a bag with ice for their head, he still felt exhilarated helping with the bare minimum. Soon I will be doing plenty more around here!

With an excited skip in his step, Matt returned to his post in the nurse's station.

"Good job, kid." Yanov acknowledged him with a polite dip of his head. "I know it may not seem like much but every help around here counts, and I am grateful to have taken you under my wing."

"Thank you, sir." Matt dipped his head back, elated by the soft praise.

The Russian doctor turned to him, gazing at him steadily with an inquisitive glance. "Say, how do you feel about drawing blood and starting an IV for one of the patients?" He prompted. "Think you might be up for it?"

Matt's eyes brightened. "Really? You'll actually let me do these things now?"

"Gotta start someday, and with the war currently going off the rails now more than ever I am going to need every able hand ready to help should disaster strike again." Yanov murmured, handing Matt a tray with a set of needles and an IV bag. "But if you don't feel like you're ready for this yet…"

"No, I'll do it! Leave it to me."

Yanov smiled. "That's the spirit, kid!" He clapped Matt's shoulder. "It's the soldier in treatment room 5. Set the IV, draw the blood and send it to the lab; just like I showed you."

"Got it!"

Matt had to fight to keep himself composed so as to not to rush over to the room where his first real patient awaited him. It would be very improper of a nurse of his caliber to run around the infirmary with needles in his hands.

He opened the door, and entered the room with a big smile on his face… only for the tray to fall from his loosened grasp, cluttering to the floor loudly; needles shattering in the process as Matt fought to maintain hold of himself as he stared at the patient that awaited him with huge eyes full of dread.

A blond man sits up on the bed, staring at him with impassive green eyes as he cocks his head to one side, watching Matt crumble right before him with short, quickened gasps for air.

Reagan?! Matt thought with a strong burst of fear kicking in throughout his body. He is supposed to be dead. Tom said he killed him! How is he here now?

"Matt, what's the matter?" Yanov and some of the other nurses came up to him to investigate the commotion. "Do you know Terrance?"

Terrance?

Matt's immediate sense of danger and dread at being face to face with the ruthless Irishman completely dissipated and he found he could breathe normally again. Blinking dumbfounded, Matt took a second glance at his patient.

He still looked horribly like Reagan, though. He had the same scruffy stubble under his chin and lidded green eyes. But his hair was a tad darker than Reagan's, and he bore no facial scars either.

"Oh." Matt immediately crouched down to try and pick up the tray he dropped, embarrassed of his dramatic reaction over a false alarm. Of course it's not Reagan – he's dead you idiot! "I'm so sorry, I'll clean this up right away. I'm sorry!"

"Kid, relax." Yanov soothed. "You okay? You looked like you were on the verge of fainting or something."

"It's nothing, I- I just thought I knew him."

"You thought I was Reagan, didn't you?" Terrance cut in, eyes narrowed. Even his voice was different. He had a distinct British accent instead of Irish. He rolled his eyes and tsked. "Figures."

"Don't worry, Matt." Sarah giggled knowingly. "You're not the first one to make that mistake. Isn't that right, Terrance?"

The soldier in bed groaned. "God, tell me about it! Even though that rat is probably rotting where he should be, I still get compared to him on a daily basis and it's BEEN FIVE F#CKING YEARS!" He dragged his hands down his face. "What's worse still is that I could've sworn Bing and Larry were eyeing me up these last few days. I think they plan on making me their next guinea pig!"

"That ain't gonna happen." Sarah retorted. "We all know Red Leader wouldn't let Bing go that far. I mean… not unless you do something to personally piss Red Leader off. Don't do that and you should be safe. Maybe."

Far from quelling Terrance's fears, the soldier just shrunk further in bed with wide eyes.

"Sarah, quit freaking out our patients. Don't worry everyone! Get back to work now – there's nothing amiss here. Go on." Yanov admonished her then turned around to address the other worried nurses. Once the crowd dissipated he addressed the patient in bed. "Anyways Terrance, what brings you in here today?"

"I got snot pouring out of my nose all the time. It's annoying. I think it might be a sinus infection?"

"We'll have a look and get back to you. Now, Matt, if you may set things up for our patient please?" Yanov nodded to Matt.

"Y-yes! Right away, sir!"

Having cleaned up his mess, Matt swiftly went back to work to make up for his embarrassing mistake. Terrance remained quiet as Matt set up the IV bag next to him, he was barely paying any attention to him and yet the nurse remained unnerved; his movements clumsy and jittery.

By the time he was finally done tending to the patient and sending the blood sample to the lab, Matt felt breathless and light headed, though he tried hard not to show.

After fulfilling a few more minor tasks around the Infirmary, Yanov granted him the clearance for a break. Matt sighed with relief and swiped the sweat from his forehead. Even though the job of nurse was demanding and hard, Matt found it extremely rewarding.

He headed for his usual break spot deep in the Scarlet Wing. Matt strolled through the corridor, chin lifted as though he owned the place and he approached the great mahogany door. Before he could knock and announce his presence, however, he heard loud voices coming from within.

"There's nothing left to tell." Tom's voice was icy and strained. Clearly this conversation has been going on for a while.

"But there is! I can tell something is bothering you." Tord's voice rose desperately. "What you said the other day. You were wrong."

Tom's gaze flitted over Tord and away. "What makes you say that?"

"You said nothing had changed between us. But I've changed." Tord placed one hand over his heart. "All those years spent away from each other, I couldn't stop thinking of you… don't you feel the same way? It's been a long time since we last saw each other."

Tom sighed, dropping his gaze. "Tord…"

"Please, let me finish." Tord took one step closer, grabbing Tom's hands and staring at him meaningfully. "Not a day went by where you weren't on my mind. Where I didn't want you by my side. I've missed you so much, Tom. A part of me was terrified we'd never meet again."

Tom shook his head. "This isn't about us, Tord." He pulled away.

"I just want things to go back to the way they were." Tord insisted, trying to catch Tom's eye again. "What happened out there that made you so… distant from me?"

Tom sighed, his eyes clenched shut. "I wish I could tell you, and I hope you know that every time I don't… I almost do." He opened his eyes and turned to look at Tord with a hollow expression. "Not right now. I- I can't do this right now."

"No, you just won't." Tord muttered bitterly.

Their conversation came to a close and Tom took his leave unceremoniously. He pulled the book on the bookshelf and descended to Paul and Pat's quarters below, leaving Red Leader to lick his wounded pride.

Matt frowned from behind the door and went to knock.

"Come in, Matt. I know you're there."

Gingerly, Matt opened the door and peeked his head inside. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to eavesdrop on your conversation."

"It's fine. Strangely I am sort of glad that you did." Tord cleared his throat and beckoned Matt forward. "Please, come in. Take a seat."

Doing as he was told, Matt fully entered the room and took a seat across from Tord.

Ever since their first proper interaction, Matt made it part of his mission to come and visit Tord in his office as often as he can. He needed a friend to vent and bounce ideas off of, and maybe have a little bit of fun once in a while. Being stuck with only soldiers 24/7 can't be doing good things to his mental state if their last conversation was anything to go off of.

Someone needed to keep the Red Leader grounded whenever Tord started acting like the grumpy boss of everyone, just to make sure Tord's head didn't get too big for the rest of him.

Matt hoped his companionship could perhaps balance out Tord's tyrannical persona with his own dorky self; show Tord he didn't need to put on an act in order to be a great leader.

"How is training coming along?" Tord asked, walking around Matt over to his own seat.

"Oh it's going great!" Matt didn't want to mention his embarrassing mishap with his most recent patient. "Yanov is gradually letting me do some of the more important stuff around the Infirmary. It's a lot of hard work, but I enjoy it. I treated a couple of patients today!"

"That's good to hear." Tord murmured, suddenly looking very tired. "Matt, be honest with me now, what do you think of Tom?"

Matt blinked. "He looks… fine? Sometimes he seems more reclusive than I remember, and other times he appears to be way friendlier. It's hard to tell what's going on through his mind at times, but then again, it's not everyone who has their own personal voice talking to them inside their heads all the time."

Tord nodded, looking thoughtful.

"He is still avoiding you, huh?" Matt asked bluntly. "Is this still about the whole memory gun mishap? I already told him I forgave you and I'm even grateful to you for what you did to me."

"That's part of the reason, but I am afraid it goes much deeper than that." Tord sighed, leaning forward and interlacing his hands over the desk. "Tom is clearly hiding something. He is good at keeping secrets. I tried to get Patrick to coerce the truth out of him but Tom remains locked up tight."

"Why don't you ask him directly?" Matt questioned.

"I tried, but he's evasive all the time. You heard our conversation just now! He clearly has something to say to me but for some reason he won't." Tord ranted. "What's worse is that I feel every moment with him drag by and force him further away from me. I don't know how else to help him."

Matt tipped his head. "I can try talking to him if you want? I mean, we still have plenty of catching up to do and maybe I can get him to lower his guard down enough for him to spill something."

Tord looked up at him. "How are you two doing these days?"

Shifting in his seat, Matt's gaze lowered to his hands pressing together anxiously on his lap. "Honestly, I don't know anymore. It was such a great feeling seeing him again! I missed him so much, and Tom told me what happened to him, and I loved being near him after thinking him dead for so long." He paused, his tone softening. "But… while he is keen to let me know he's changed, it doesn't seem like he is interested in knowing how much I changed since he's been gone. Heck; since the whole memory gun incident!"

Tord narrowed his eye. "Go on."

"Tom still treats me like an idiot. He was completely baffled when I expressed my desire to become a nurse! He probably sees me as the soft, innocent, and gullible Matt I portrayed all those years ago." He murmured resentfully. "I just wish I could give him a piece of my mind and show him I am not as helpless as he thinks I am. We're not, like, on bad terms with each other now. Far from it! But it's hard to be around him when; A- he is holding too many secrets, and B- he keeps belittling me in everything that I do."

Tord smiled softly. "Tom is a tough nut to crack indeed. But he means well. Even if his attitude grates on my nerves at times." He leaned back on his chair with a sigh and a pensive glint in his eye as he peered thoughtfully at the ceiling.

"You really do love him, don't you?" Matt whispered.

A chuckle edged out of the Red Leader. "I do. He can rile me up as many times as he wants, I will never give up on loving him."

"Did you always feel this way about him?" Matt faintly remembered Tord picking on Tom, getting into fights with the eyeless Brit, and teasing him every chance he got. Was it just to get the other's attention all along?

"As kids, no. I cared deeply about him, sure, but I cared about all of you the same amount. Well, maybe Edd meant a little more to me way back in the early days." Tord admitted. "I think my fascination with Tom started as teens. When we started hanging out together doing illicit stuff behind your backs. I just didn't fully acknowledge my attraction until… the talent show. Do you remember?"

"Of course! Tom played the guitar and sang." Matt recalled fondly. "He totally deserved to win first place that day. That competition was rigged from the start."

Tord nodded. "Yes. That was when it hit me. His unique eyes, his hair, his voice… absolutely everything about him just ticked me off the right way and, I don't know, I… fell in love with him I suppose?"

Matt smiled. He enjoyed hearing Tord talk about his devotion to Tom, and clearly by the tenderness of his voice, he enjoyed talking about him as much as Matt liked listening.

"It took me a long time to reconcile with him and make things right. I didn't help Tom under the notion that in doing so he might return my feelings, it just sort of happened." Tord went on. "I would've been glad to help him move on with his life if it meant having him around at all. I didn't need him to be strictly mine." He faltered, his Red Leader persona inwardly buzzing with thoughts of Tom belonging to no one else but him. He brushed away the notion. "I was just blessed that Tom felt the same way as me overtime. With all that said; I still deeply regret the way I mistreated him in the past. I can only hope he knows that."

His story made Matt want to help them patch things up and get together again more than ever. "I will talk to him for you, don't worry!" He vowed. "You guys will be back to being a couple in no time. I mean, you have to at this rate! You guys are so cute together I'd hate for you to break up now."

"I appreciate the help, Matt. Sincerely."

A certain understanding sparked between them and Matt felt a little lighter and brighter. He could always count on Tord to understand him the same way Matt will go out of his way to help and understand him with his problems. He didn't know much about running an entire army, but thankfully Tord's problems seem a lot more personal as of late. Plus; Tord didn't belittle him like the others. He knew he could count on Matt for help.

If only Tom and Edd could see him the same way…

"You should let Tom know more often how much you mean to him!"

"Eh?" Tord blinked.

"You know, be more romantic! When was the last time you've taken him out on a date? Given him flowers or chocolate? You said you guys were on a break for the last five years? How about dinner or a movie – just the two of you? Have you considered that maybe that's why Tom's been so cranky towards you lately?"

Tord tilted his head appearing more and more confused. "Flowers? Date?" He parroted and shook his head. "I can't afford to get distracted now with the war going on."

"Why not? You are already distracted worrying constantly over Tom anyway."

"Point taken." Tord conceded. "But… it's complicated. What would my soldiers think if they saw me openly courting Tom?"

"That you're a person capable of feelings just like anybody else? I think your soldiers might even admire you more if you were to come down from your pedestal every once in a while to mingle with them. Be more human." Matt explained. "I mean, if history has shown anything is that people feel more inclined to follow leaders they can easily relate to. No one wants a mysterious, boring stick in the mud to be in charge of them! Who knows what they might do once they gain total power?"

Tord frowned. His friend's words did make a lot of sense, and they were doing things to his strict Red Leader persona who insisted on doing things his way. To make his relationships public is dangerous. He will be susceptible to manipulation. People will find easy ways to hurt him. But… he's just so tired of being alone…

"Mingle, eh?" Tord scratched his head. "I guess I can try your way for once."

Matt smiled. "Take things slow. For starters, try it with Tom first. Just be more romantic with him! See what happens. I will talk to him first, of course – to get a good read on him for you."