Archive of Our Own

Paul was used to working under high stress situations.

He had to, after all; being the Commander of the Red Army means dealing with a lot of stressful situations and decision making. But dragging his wounded and bleeding leader through the Red Army hallways on a gurney, surrounded by shocked and worried soldiers all around them, dripping blood everywhere all the way to the infirmary was slightly more panic inducing them he was prepared to deal with.

The mission to retrieve the giant robot, the army's second secret weapon after various attempts of creating their first one went nowhere, had been a total disaster.

Paul and Pat had accompanied their leader to where the robot was being kept but were strictly told by Tord to stay put a few miles away in case things went south. And south it did. The robot, and by extension their leader, were shot out of the sky. Red Leader barely dragged himself out of the wreckage in one piece. Patrick mended his wounds as best he could until they reached the main base.

"We're gonna move him on the count of three." Lieutenant Yanov instructed urgently after he ushered the three of them inside the infirmary. "Carefully." He added.

Paul braced himself as the medic counted and helped heave his injured leader from the gurney to the cot. The Red Leader groaned with pain. More medics arrived to look over the situation, taking extra care of their leader as they looked him over and tried to stop the bleeding.

"He's… he is going to be okay, right?" Paul asked, looking over his leader and best friend with concern. Patrick joined his side and squeezed his hand for comfort.

Yanov immediately got to work, leaning over Tord and checking his injuries. "It's no good." The Russian man uttered with a shake of his head after removing the bandages. He exchanged a look with the other medics. "His arm is beyond repair now. We're going to have to amputate it."

Paul found it hard to swallow all of the sudden.

"Amputate?" Patrick stared at the field medic with alarm. "Is there no other way?"

Yanov lowered his voice. "The muscles and tissue are too damaged. He's lost too much blood… if he remains this way for much longer, he will die of shock. He's hardly conscious as it is. Amputating it now is our only option."

"D-do it."

The three of them perked up in surprise at the sound of their leader's hoarse voice. The other doctors stepped back. Tord's eyes were hardly open, and yet he still found enough strength to speak. He wasn't looking at them, too dazed by the pain to really focus on anything.

"Cut it off… right now." He rasped. "Don't… bother with drugs. Just go for it."

Patrick seemed to freeze, his gaze fixed on Tord and then on Yanov.

Paul was shocked by his leader's command. He remembered when they pulled Tord out of the wreckage he had insisted on bringing a robotic arm along with them. At the time, Paul didn't understand. He even thought that Tord was just being weirdly attached to his broken creation. But now realization slowly dawned on Paul.

He knew it would come to this. He realized. He knew his arm was beyond saving.

"Red Leader, are you sure about this?" Patrick questioned, desperation edged in his voice. "You're already in so much pain."

"It will be over before you know it." Yanov added urgently. "Think carefully, sir. Once we start we won't be able to stop until it's over and I stop the bleeding. That's my priority. Are you sure you want to go through with this?"

Tord grit his teeth in agony. "Just… give me something to bite down and cut the damn arm off already!" His voice caught on the last few words and he stopped, breathing hard.

Yanov and Patrick glanced at Paul, as though asking for his permission to go through with the procedure. Paul swallowed. At times like this he wished he wasn't second-in-command. "Do as he says." He bowed his head in resignation.

One of the doctors returned and handed Yanov a bone saw. Another doctor went up to Red Leader and strapped a strip of cloth in and around his mouth to bite down for the pain, while another medic tied a tourniquet around his wounded lower shoulder. Trembling, Paul and Patrick approached and held Tord down in preparation for what was about to happen. Wielding the bone saw in his hands, Yanov neared them and started cutting through the injured arm without wasting any time.

With a muffled cry of crazed agony, Tord surged up as though trying to fight them off. Paul and Patrick held him down with all their strength combined, but Tord was fighting back twice as hard.

"Need a little help over here!" Paul yelled, and a moment later the other doctors were there, adding their weight to theirs to secure their leader in place.

"Sir, it's alright! It will be over soon!" Patrick urged, holding Tord down for dear life.

But Tord was in too much pain to hear him. He jerked and trashed around, his blood curdling howls of pain stabbing into Paul's heart like bullets. He closed his eyes and held on. The awful smell of burning flesh assailed his senses and made him choke and retch.

He chanced a look at Tord's arm. Yanov was still hacking away at the injured and continuously bleeding arm, bone crunching and snapping and nearly visible through all the blood, and Paul had to look away quickly before he threw up.

A few agonizing moments later, Yanov said as he backed away, "all done," in an exhausted voice.

"Red Leader?" Pat called out as he pulled away.

Tord had passed out. His remaining arm had gone limp and his head lolled to the side.

"Is he alright?" Paul asked, trying to keep the concern out of his voice and stay calm.

"He's fine." Yanov checked Red Leader's pulse before resting his hands on his chest, which was rising and falling evenly.

Tord's arm had been severed from the elbow down; spewing immense amounts of blood as the doctors made quick work of patching him up. The right side of his face was both scarred and burned, spreading down to the right shoulder and torso. But more importantly, he was alive. He survived the explosion. That was all that mattered.

At that exact moment, Paul and Pat jumped when they both received notifications on their communicators. Paul was the first one to pull it from his belt and check it.

Emergency meeting in the control room. Now.

General Erica.

Paul gulped and exchanged a worried glance with Patrick.

"The two of you go." Yanov dismissed them. "We can take it from here. We'll notify you of any changes to Red Leader's condition."

"C'mon." Paul took Pat's hand in his and gently tugged him away. "They can handle this. We have to go."

Patrick tore his gaze away from Tord's motionless figure and stared deep into Paul's eyes, and he could see his own concern for their friend's wellbeing reflected back at him. Paul leaned forward to rest his forehead against his. "Everything is going to be okay."

But as they left the infirmary, Paul could only hope he was right.

By the time they reached the control room the other Generals were already gathered there, seated in their respective places. Paul took his usual seat with a pang in his heart, noting that the seat between Pat and himself would be empty this time around with the absence of their leader and friend.

"Commander." General Erica dipped her head respectfully. "What is the status of our leader?"

"And what of his mission?" General Keaton added reproachfully. "Given the sorry state he was in when he arrived, I assume he failed, yes?"

Paul glared at the older man seated across from him, but reigned in his temper as he answered as diplomatically as he could. "Red Leader is critically wounded and resting in the infirmary as we speak." He began. "In the mission, he'd been initially successful acquiring the mecha." Paul hesitated. How can he explain the next part to the Generals without risking Red Leader's private life? "However, there were… unexpected complications to the plan, and the giant robot was destroyed."

General Erica narrowed her eyes. "What kind of complications?"

Paul glanced briefly at Patrick. "We are… unsure." He replied. "It all happened so fast, and Patrick and I were too far away from the action to make out the precise details."

He wasn't lying, technically. Paul was just… omitting some of the finer details. While he and Pat know that Red Leader had been impeded by his former friends and shot out of the sky with a harpoon, they were not quite sure how everything went down. They also know that Tord would want his friends' involvement in the story erased, regardless of the consequences. No one outside of his trust circle must ever find out about the details of his personal life.

"I see…" Paul broke out of his thoughts by Erica's voice as she considered the matter carefully. "Truly a shame Red Leader's plan came to this. We'll be praying for his swift recovery, so that we may soon learn the whole story of these events from him."

"But now we are left without a leader and still no secret weapon." General Helene pointed out, mildly aggravated.

"After all his past experiments failed, Red Leader promised us a weapon that would help us win the war for total global domination without fail." Keaton hissed. "I knew the giant robot idea was too good to be true."

"At least he had an idea." Patrick broke in, annoyed. "I didn't see you make any helpful suggestions in our last meeting."

"Regardless," Paul cut in before an argument could break out. "Life must carry on as usual. There's no sense in mulling over our loss when there is still so much to be done around here. Until the Red Leader gives out the order, we carry on as usual."

"I agree." Erica affirmed. "While the failure of our plan B is truly unfortunate, we mustn't let that impede us from fulfilling our duties." Her gaze rested on Paul. "Red Leader would want us to carry on until a better alternative can be found."

Her cool posture and complete control over the situation reminded Paul exactly why the Red Leader had chosen her to be left in charge of the base while they were gone in their mission, and he felt all the more grateful for her support in that moment.

"One thing is certain. While we wait for further news from our leader, his responsibilities fall to the next in line for the title." She went on. "His second-in-command."

Everyone's gazes fell on Paul. He froze. He felt as though a bullet had pierced his chest. He was to be leader now? It's one thing being Commander of the Red Army and have a say in all the army's activities, and still have someone more powerful than himself to override his commands if needed and control the more intricate details he doesn't need to worry about. But to actually step up and stand-in as leader in Tord's absence? That was a whole 'nother ball game.

Truthfully, Paul didn't feel apt for the task. Uncertainty and fear flooded his thoughts.

But one glance at Patrick, finding the strong conviction and belief in his soft honey-green gaze was enough to put Paul at ease for now. Tord was counting on him to run the army in his absence now. Surely he wouldn't have named Paul his Commander if he wasn't sure of his leadership skills?

Lifting his head, Paul looked around at each and every General in the room. "Until Red Leader recovers, I will take the temporary position as acting leader of the Red Army." He declared, making sure his voice was strong and clear. "And as acting leader, I hereby decree that all army activities proceed as normal and that no information regarding Red Leader's mission or current condition leave this room. Are we all clear on that?"

Patrick and Erica nodded in unison. However, Paul noted the disapproving glare on Keaton's face – though he was fairly certain the old man did not have the capability to be happy with anything ever – Helene appeared neutral with an expressionless face, and Yuu looked doubtful of the situation as well. There was nothing more Paul could say that would make everyone happy now. It's just what it is, and until Tord is ready to take the mantle of Red Leader again he is going to have to show the Generals and the rest of the soldiers' that he is in charge now.

"That's all well and good." Yuu cleared his throat, hesitant to speak. He was the youngest General among them, and was promoted to head of engineering not too long ago; after the previous General before him met an untimely fate with one of their creations. "But what will we tell the soldiers? Most of them saw the state Red Leader was in when he arrived, and they're all expecting a formal statement from us."

"We'll tell them only what needs to be said." Paul tried to force authority into his voice, tried to at least sound decisive. "Red Leader returned from a mission. He is injured and recovering. And I am the acting leader until further notice."

"That's it?" Helene prompted, her eyes narrow. "Won't that raise even more questions?"

"It's all we can say at this point without Red Leader's proper input on the matter." Paul explained. "When he recovers he can mend the statement himself if he sees fit."

"If he recovers." Keaton muttered under his breath.

"Yes . . . now . . ." Paul began, frantically trying to think what the most urgent priorities would be. With a jolt, he realized that he was trying to imagine what Tord would have done. "Let's assemble the soldiers in the Great Hall and break the news to them right away."

And so, he and the Generals gathered all members of the Red Army in the Great Hall for an urgent gathering.

Paul felt his stomach churn with nervousness as he stepped up to the podium, wondering how his comrades would react when they hear what had happened. He sensed murmurs of surprise from some of the soldiers gathered in front of him. They weren't expecting to see me here—they were expecting to see Red Leader. He had conducted gatherings in Tord's place before, but this is the first time he does as acting leader and because of that he felt more nervous than usual to address the crowd of thousands of soldiers.

Paul looked away briefly. Patrick nodded at him from the side-lines, encouraging him to speak.

Taking a deep breath, Paul began. He explained Red Leader's plan for a secret weapon, how he had gone off on a secret mission in order to retrieve it for the army's use, and how he came to be injured. The soldiers listened in stunned silence. Paul was acutely and uncomfortably conscious of all their eyes fixed on him. In particular he was aware of Pat's pale green gaze, where he sat among the other Generals to his right, but he could not bring himself to look directly at him right now as much as he wanted to. He just hoped that he was saying enough to satisfy everyone's worries, and not exposing too much at the same time.

"So Red Leader is going to be out of commission for a while," he finished. "And until he recovers, I will be acting as leader in his place. Any questions?"

Everything about playing "leader" at this Gathering felt strange and wrong. Carrying the title of leader here today made Paul feel oddly out of place. And he is going to have to carry it for the unforeseeable future until Tord can take up his rightful place as Red Leader again.

A deafening silence met his words. The soldiers appeared to exchange concerned looks but remained quiet for the most part. Paul decided to take that as a win; seeing that no one was objecting anything and quickly ended the gathering.

Paul huffed a sigh of relief as he left the stage. He finally let his shoulders relax.

"Well done, leader." Patrick appeared next to him, his eyes glinting with pride.

"Don't call me that, Pat." Paul chuckled nervously. "I am only acting leader. I am still the Commander first and foremost. You know that."

"Of course." Pat leaned forward to place a peck on his cheek. "And you're already doing a great job so far. Tord will be relieved to know he left the army in such good hands."

Paul blushed, ducking his head in embarrassment. "Yeah… I hope so too."

He could still remember the day Red Leader had appointed him as second-in-command as though it happened only yesterday.

(Flashback!)

Snow sprinkled down delicately from the sky as Paul waded between the army vehicles veering out to town to gather more supplies, inspecting each one thoroughly before giving them permission to head out.

The main structure of their base was still being renovated to accommodate the Red Army members after being left abandoned for so long. They will need to expand it even farther into the mountains to make space for all the new members they receive almost on a daily basis.

Paul sighed and surveyed his surroundings, his hot breath visible in the air as he snuggled deeper into the coat of his uniform.

Right at that same moment he caught Patrick's gaze from across the hangar.

The Polish man looked up, smiled, and waved at him.

Paul blushed under his scarf and waved back.

Ever since he first joined them, Patrick has been an asset to their organization. He worked hard to keep up with the rest of them, even if he is just a trainee still. He will make an excellent soldier one day.

Red Leader had been so impressed by both him and Paul's unintended achievement of recruiting more soldiers into the army that he created a new division. The Recruitment Program. To send out their best and most social members out into the world to gather more members for them.

Paul was proud of himself to have contributed in such a big and meaningful way.

Sure he was one of the founding members of the Red Army, and he does his best to help out in whatever way he can, but sometimes he couldn't help but feel as though he were out of his element here.

Lacking a real purpose, so to speak.

Red Leader only called on him to join him in his ambitious endeavors because he needed someone with better social skills to introduce him to the right people and get the ball rolling.

Now that the Red Army is a real organization, though small still, he can rest assured that the Red Leader has everything under control.

His usefulness has reached its end.

A bone cold chill reached deep into Paul's core and he shivered. He never considered the idea of leaving before. This was his home for so long, with wonderful people he got to know. He had nowhere else to go.

But what other use will he be to be the Red Leader now? He is a clumsy goofball that always messes things up. The Red Army will be better off without him. And if he doesn't leave on his own accord, then sooner or later Red Leader will realize his true worth and kick him out himself.

Paul frowned. He thought he could hear the faintest shrill in the cold bitter wind sweeping around him.

Yelling at him.

Reminding him how incompetent and useless he is at anything he does.

He had so many jobs in the past, and somehow he found a way to get fired from all of them. Why would this time be any different?

"To me, Red Army!"

At his leader's call, Paul snapped out of his self-degrading musings and back to reality. The Red Leader stood on top of some crates so that everyone could hear and see him as he summoned his soldiers to him.

"Gather around for a very important announcement!"

Paul left to join them. Everyone was already turning toward their leader, and the hangar fell chillingly silent as they waited for Red Leader to begin. To his surprise and joy, he found Patrick standing beside him amidst the crowd.

Paul tried hard not to focus on their close proximity as he paid attention to Red Leader's words.

"I am grateful to have such hard working and determined soldiers in my army. I am both pleased and proud by everyone's efforts to take us every step closer to achieving our global domination goals." Red Leader spoke loud and clear, his voice reverberating with a hint of a sly purr in his voice. "However, a leader can't rule on their own. They need a careful watchful eye to rule beside them, help maintain order and unity in our midsts, and make sure everything runs smoothly in our operations. There is no order without proper leadership; and with that in mind, I have come to the decision to appoint a second-in-command."

All around them, the soldiers started murmuring to each other.

"Hm, odd." Patrick said unexpectedly next to him.

Paul blinked. "What is?"

"Deciding a second-in-command out of the blue, I mean." The Polish man elaborated. "You would think he was glad to have all the power to himself. I wonder if some of the Generals have been giving him a hard time, or he finds the position more draining than he'd imagined?"

Paul stared at him in stunned silence.

Tord wasn't the type of person to admit he needs help, even in the most dire of circumstances. He's hot headed and stubborn that way. Paul's gaze drifted toward the Generals standing to the far right, just below the Red Leader from where he was making his announcement. Their faces gave nothing away, and yet Paul could tell that this decision was exactly what they wanted. Do they doubt their leader's judgment to make the best decisions for the army? He's young, and reckless, and inexperienced, sure. But he's brilliant, calculating, and fierce. He is a fine leader.

Although, Paul supposed, a little extra help running the place can't be all that bad if Red Leader agreed to it. Even he can't keep an eye on everything – especially when he expects the army to grow to global domination equivalent!

By now all the soldiers had quieted down and turned their faces up to Red Leader; waiting with bated breath to hear his choice.

Paul wondered that decision himself. One of the Generals, surely? It has to be. They are the more qualified and organized members despite running their own individual operations. But the Red Leader could always easily name someone else General in their place.

To Paul, all the Generals looked worthy to become second-in-command. He raised his head and looked around the hangar.

General Erica would be the most obvious choice. She was cool tempered, clever, fair, and takes sh#t from no one. She would make for a nice balance against Red Leader's brash nature.

"I hereby declare Paul Terbush as the official Commander of the Red Army." Red Leader announced clearly.

The whole army froze. For a heartbeat there was silence. Paul stiffened and felt as though he'd been shot in the stomach at point blank range. He was to be second-in-command? He opened his mouth, as if to ask if there had been a mistake, only to quickly shut it as Red Leader stared at him expectantly.

Patrick nudged him. "Go on. You need to accept your role." He murmured encouragingly.

Paul stared back at him, numb with shock. He gulped and forced himself to make his way through the crowd to stand before his leader.

He stared at Tord solemnly. Silently asking "Are you sure about this?"

The Red Leader stared back evenly without breaking away his gaze and gave a tiny nod, smirking.

Paul tried not to hear the murmur of shock that swept around the army, or their urgent hushed whispers. He stared past the Red Leader, confusion clouding his thoughts. Slowly gathering his bearings Paul turned to face the crowd and took a deep breath.

"Red Leader. My comrades," He began, glancing around his peers. "I… I never expected to be given this honor. Truly. I vow to do all I can to serve you from here on out. I hope you can count on me for anything, come what may."

Patrick met his gaze. His honeyed-green eyes shone, unblinking at him. With a rush of hope, Paul lifted his chin.

As he finished speaking, sound gradually swelled from the assembled soldiers, a mixture of cheers and voices calling, "Paul!" All the army began to press around, congratulating him. Red Leader and Patrick were among the first.

But other soldiers, Paul noticed, slipped quietly away, and did not speak to him at all. It was clear that they were as startled by Red Leader's choice as Paul was himself. Then his eyes found General Keaton. From the edge of the hangar, the general's icy blue gaze seemed to mock him.

Paul looked away hastily as the commotion died down. Patrick continued to stare at him with undisguised pride, but Paul failed to be warmed by the notion. A feeling of foreboding crept up his spine. He wanted to be a good soldier and a great Commander more than anything else, but it seemed painfully clear that not everyone has such high hopes for him, and Keaton most of all was just waiting for him to mess up.

And secretly, Paul couldn't help but agree with him.

"Well, leader?"

Patrick's voice stirred Paul out of his thoughts and he turned to his partner perplexed.

"What would you like us to do now?" He asked softly in his ear.

Paul smiled, gathering his bearings he flashed his partner a grateful glance. His support will be most pivotal in the following days to come if he is to stand-in for Tord in his place.

He cleared his throat. "I think I'm going to check the status of the Red Leader in the infirmary. Later I will head to the training room to inspect how the new trainees are doing."

"Sounds good to me." Pat dipped his head. "Mind if I accompany you?"

"Not at all." Paul smiled, holding his arm out as an offer.

They linked arms and fell in step together as they made their way out of the Great Hall and onto the hallways.

He really is so lucky to have Patrick as a boyfriend. He is so supportive, kind, understanding, and wise. Not to mention extraordinarily handsome to boot! Paul couldn't understand what he ever saw in him – to want a relationship with him of all people!

"You're tense, sweetie." Patrick murmured softly. "What's wrong?"

Paul snorted. "Lots of things, actually. But I'm too tired to deal with all of it today." He answered. "Let's just see how Red Leader is doing, check on the trainees, and then call it a night. It's been a really long day!"

Patrick thinned his lips but said nothing more. Though Paul knew this conversation was far from over and he will need to think up a clever response later when the subject is brought up again.

(Six days later…)

Paul stood on the balcony overlooking the training room, watching as the Sergeants mentored the trainees through obstacle courses. He was enjoying the peace of the Red Army. Ever since Red Leader's injury everything has been running surprisingly smoothly. Everyone was hard at work in carrying out their duties, the trainees are well on their way to becoming soldiers by the end of the season, and there haven't been any problems whatsoever.

The base was tranquil now; the border patrol has just returned and reported no signs of trespassing, the watchtowers have confirmed no signs of any suspicious activity, the trucks of supplies have set out in the morning and will be back stock full of food and other commodities for the whole community, he'd been addressing the army in the mornings every day, and everyone knows what their duties for the week are.

Paul was more than pleased to see the entire base functioning as intended.

As he headed out of the training room he saw many soldiers rush in and out through the hallways. Some were heading for the training room, others were going to the Mess Hall for lunch, and many were most likely heading down the Entertainment Hall in the bottom level, if Paul had to guess.

As he made his way to the Infirmary Paul spotted two soldiers carrying books from the Archives as they chatted. He was just close enough to hear their voices as they crossed paths, and a worm of uneasiness began wriggling deep in his gut as he realized what they were talking about.

"Red Leader has been out of commission for a very long while now." A girl with wavy brown hair uttered sadly.

"I know. Things are strange now." The boy with dirty blond hair and moss green eyes agreed. "I heard from one of the nurses that Red Leader's health has taken a turn for the worse, and he is going to need several more days to recover."

"You don't think he's going to die, do you?"

Dread hollowed Paul's stomach as he listened.

Watching the two soldiers leaning closer together, their voices too soft now for him to overhear as they walked away, Paul realized how swiftly, with how few words, his peaceful mood of a few moments ago had been shattered. Still, he knew that, inevitably, peace could not last for long until the real leader returned.

Paul continued along his merry way, trying to shove aside the words he overheard from those two pesky soldiers. What do they know? They aren't even Officers yet.

But to no avail.

Despite his best efforts it seems that there is only one question in everybody's mind.

When will the Red Leader recover? If at all?

Paul and Pat have been visiting him in the Infirmary whenever they could and even asked Yanov to keep them updated on the situation. Tord still wasn't in the clear to be up and about despite his insistence to tinker with something. Anything! He was bored and restless being cooped up in bed, but Yanov knew best and that's how things go.

Tord was doing better last time he saw him. He'd been mostly unresponsive since the incident, often staring blankly at the wall deep in his thoughts, which worried Paul and Pat greatly; but recently he became more active and invested, often asking about the state of the army. Paul didn't know his health had regressed overnight. Why wasn't he informed about this? Did Yanov think he was incompetent too so he didn't even bother?

Paul immediately turned his feet toward the Infirmary to confirm whether there was any truth to these rumors. But before he could so much as take a step forward he was halted in his tracks by a cold voice behind him.

"What is our gracious new leader doing goofing off?" Keaton sneered.

Paul whirled around, appalled. General Keaton, General Yuu, and General Helene were lined up together, staring at him impassively. Just his damn luck.

Paul felt hot. "I am not your leader, Keaton. I am your Commander." He corrected politely despite the General's harsh tone. "Still, I'd hoped you would know your place and treat me with better respect than this in the future."

Keaton and Yuu exchanged a derisive glance, as if they couldn't care less what he was saying.

"Well, with the Red Leader gone and still recovering we have no one else but you as our leader for the time being." Helene pointed out slyly. "The army depends solely on you."

"Right. And I for one am not sure that you're up to leading it." Keaton added.

For a moment all Paul could do was stare in astonishment at the older man. He couldn't believe that anyone would challenge him like that. He would have liked to smack the sneering look off Keaton's face, but he knew he had to remain calm.

"Do you now?" Paul retorted. "Why don't you take it up to Red Leader then? I am sure he will be thrilled to hear your complaints on how you are questioning his judgment."

But even while he was speaking, Paul saw the Generals averting their gazes and humming dismissively. He realized that they weren't willing to listen to him in the same way they had listened to Red Leader. He is not their real leader, no matter how much he may pretend to be.

"Besides, that was never your decision to make in the first place." Paul said evenly. "Red Leader chose me as his second-in-command and-"

"We are well aware. Red Leader's word is law, and everything he says goes. We get it." Yuu cut him off. "But you're not exactly suited for the job; much less have what it takes to be a true leader. No offence."

"That's right. You haven't even appointed a second-in-command of your own yet." Keaton put in. "God forbid, what if Red Leader doesn't recover? You can't possibly lead this army on your own."

"But Red Leader is recovering." Paul insisted, though he wondered if he was speaking the whole truth. Did something happen and everyone but me knows? What kind of leader doesn't know what goes on in his own army?

Incompetent. The word resonated deep within himself and he had to hold back a shiver.

"But what if he doesn't?" Yuu was clearly unwilling to let the matter drop. "Honestly, Paul, you need a Commander. Badly."

Paul knew there was nothing more he could say to satisfy them. Part of him understood how shocked the rest of the army had been by Red Leader's accident, and he could hardly blame them for feeling afraid of losing him for good. And be stuck with me for a leader. But they can't just start making demands out of him already expecting the worst to happen! It hasn't gotten to that point yet!

Paul fixed his gaze upon the younger General, more puzzled with him than angry. "I'm not the Red Leader, only an acting leader. If the Red Leader had wanted a stand-in Commander, he would have appointed one by now." With an irritated furrow of his eyebrows, he added. "Why, Yuu, do you want the job or something?"

"I think Erica should be made Commander." Keaton said before Yuu could reply. "There are some folks who think it would be better if she'd been named Commander in the first place, Paul."

Well, gee! I wonder who could it be? Fury swelled inside Paul; it took a massive effort for him to stop himself from rushing Keaton right then and there. But that would only further prove the older man's point. He took a deep breath, and when he spoke, his voice was dangerously quiet. "Who are these folk, Keaton, that are questioning Red Leader's judgment?"

He wondered whether General Erica had any idea what her comrades were saying about her. He couldn't deny the surge of uneasiness growing inside him. Who am I kidding? Erica would have been the better choice for Commander. Way better than me! Then he shook his head, banishing the unwelcome thought. No. Red Leader didn't pick her, and that's that!

Keaton frowned. "Doesn't matter. They have a point." He growled. "Just appoint Erica as your Commander. And then maybe we can finally get some semblance of order around here."

Paul opened his mouth for a stinging rebuke, but before he could utter a word, someone else already beat him to it.

"Order?!" Paul started at the sound of Patrick's voice; he hadn't realized that the Polish man had snuck silently up to stand by his shoulder. "Keaton, shut up, the only disorder I see around here is you three questioning the decisions of your leader."

Glancing at Patrick, Paul saw the fire of fury blazing in his green eyes. For such a gentle man, he sure doesn't stand for any nonsense, he thought fondly. God, I love him.

Keaton immediately took a step back, wide eyed with indignation and at a loss for words. Yuu couldn't meet that searing gaze, while Helene was suddenly preoccupied with picking at her fingernails.

"I have an idea. Why don't we all get on with our duties and start minding our own business?" Patrick recommended. "That should put your minds at ease until Red Leader recovers."

"Sounds like a splendid idea to me." Paul agreed. Without waiting for a response, he turned and stalked away toward the Infirmary.

In spite of the Generals' harsh criticism of his leadership, Paul knew he couldn't afford to be upset. He has better things to do with his time and he needs to focus on what's truly important. If he were to crumple at the first sign of trouble then he really would be proving their point.

Still, Paul wondered how different things would be if a more capable Commander had been appointed to begin with all those years ago.

Say, if General Erica had been appointed in his place like so many seem to prefer, would the Red Army be in better shape than it is now? Paul looked around. Things seem to be functioning properly as they should, aside from everyone's constant worry over their leader. He can't imagine things being better than how they already are, but maybe he is not capable enough to see it through.

The doors to the infirmary slid open and Paul's gaze fell on Yanov. He held a clipboard in his hands, and was most likely doing his rounds checking every patient. The Russian paramedic noticed him and stepped closer to meet him as he approached.

"What can I do for you, sir?" Yanov dipped his head politely.

The paramedic was one of the few most supportive members in the army that seemed satisfied with Paul as a whole, ever since day one. He never explicitly said "ah, yes, Paul the great and powerful – all hail Commander Paul!" but he respects him and his judgment, and despite the jokes between them he still takes Paul seriously.

"How is Red Leader doing?" Paul asked.

"He's awake now, if you want to talk to him." Yanov informed. "He wouldn't stop nagging about having something to do so I let him tinker under careful supervision. All in all I say he's adjusting well to the loss of his arm."

Paul frowned. "So what's this I hear about his health taking a turn for the worse?"

Yanov looked surprised. "Excuse me?"

"Rumor has it that the Red Leader isn't feeling too well. Is it true?"

The paramedic shifted. "Not exactly…" He chuckled. "He had a bit of… fit during the night. I think our leader got a little bit too delirious by the phantom pain and he started yelling out names in his sleep and I guess it spooked some members of my staff. But nothing serious. These things happen, and he's feeling much better now."

Paul assented; relieved it wasn't as serious as the soldiers were making it out to be. "I'll go check on him then." He walked deeper into the infirmary, already accustomed to the inner workings and where precisely his leader was stationed at. He paused, and glanced back at Yanov. "You'll do well to keep a better eye on your nurses in the future. We can't have them spreading unnecessary panic in the army."

A shadow flitted across the paramedic's eyes, and he nodded. "Trust me, I'll get down to the bottom of this. It won't happen again, sir."

"Make sure that it doesn't."

Paul carried on down the white marble hallway and turned to the room to the right.

He found his leader, Tord, sat up in bed, half of his face and chest covered in bandages and gauze while he tinkered with a red robotic arm in his lap. His face was furrowed in deep concentration as he tried to twist a bolt with only one hand, while a nurse towered over him, holding the arm in place for him.

Paul smiled. "I'm glad to see you back to your old self, sir."

Tord looked up, his concentration broken. "Yeah, well… I am still not any better yet." He tsked. "With any luck, Yanov said I can begin prosthetic trials in two days. Good! The sooner I get accustomed to a new arm again the better." Addressing the nurse next to him, he added, "turn it over, please."

The nurse complied, turning the robotic appendage over for Tord to reach the other side.

"How's the army doing? You haven't crashed it on a cloudberg yet, have you?"

"Everything is running well." Paul responded. "The patrols are all in order, the trainees are hard at work, and supplies will be restocked soon. Everyone is eager to have you back, sir." He hesitated. "Although… the Generals have been wondering what our next course of action will be, since… you know…"

He didn't want to say much more than this. Not with a nurse overhearing everything they were saying. This was all classified information, but he needed a direct answer from his leader on the matter.

"I don't know what to tell them."

Tord stared at him. "Leave us." He addressed the nurse without batting an eye. "Commander Paul can look after me in your absence."

"Yes, sir."

The nurse quickly complied and left the room. As soon as the door clicked shut behind him, Paul spoke up again.

"The mecha was our plan B for our secret weapon. It's gone now. I have stopped all development in the other prototype mechas, as per your orders." He reminded. "What will you have us do now?"

"I'm thinking about it." Tord replied. "For now, just have the rest of the Generals wait until I decide something."

"How's the rest of your stay been going?" Paul cleared his throat. "Yanov informed me you had a bad fit in the night."

"Don't remind me!" Tord hissed. "I am embarrassed enough as it is. It's already bad enough being helpless in absolute everything I do – I need help to eat, to wipe my ass, I can't tinker by myself, and worst of all, I need someone else's help to shower! F#cking shower! I personally wouldn't mind skipping that part until I am well enough to do so by myself, but Yanov and the nurses insist I have to shower every day to keep my wounds clean and dress them properly! And it couldn't even be a hot nurse to do it – no! I get f#cking Yanov! Ugh."

Paul had to curb back a grin. It was nice taking some time off to relax and go back to being the silly Red Army Commander again in the presence of his agitated leader.

But the feeling was brief. He remembered how the Generals had confronted him earlier, expressing their doubts on his leadership and overall position in the army. He couldn't help himself anymore.

"Sir, with all due respect… why did you appoint me as your second-in-Command?"

Although he always wondered that, he never brought up the question until now. Not even when he was first nominated as such. He just accepted the role without complaint. But right now he wondered if his leader hadn't made a mistake or regrets anything with his decision.

Tord stared at him perplexed and narrowed his eye. "Are you having second thoughts about the position?"

Paul bowed his head. "Not me, per se…" He murmured, omitting the whole truth. "But I always wondered… why me? There are so many more qualified soldiers up to the task. What did you ever see in me to think "ah yes, perfect to succeed me should something bad happen! Great idea!" And most of all, why the need for a second-in-command to begin with?"

He knew he was technically overstepping his boundaries by openly questioning his leader's judgment, but their bond wasn't just that of a leader and his commander. They are friends. Paul was by his side from the very beginning of the Red Army. If anyone can ask him about his decisions, it's him.

Tord stared at him for several heartbeats with his penetrating gray eye. "I admit, at the time the only reason I saw fit to nominate a second-in-command was because of the Generals' concern over the army should anything happen to me. Truth be told, I think they had hoped one of them would take my place as Red Leader in case I fell or something."

Paul nodded solemnly. He'd already guessed it as much, and yet having his suspicions confirmed still sent needles prickling through his innards.

"But now… with the army having grown so much, I see I couldn't possibly be able to keep track of every single detail by myself. I need someone to help me keep the order. It's what makes us ready and strong. Fit for anything. I often tell myself that I am the only one capable for the job, and that I need no one else to rule the army." Tord continued. "But then I see how good you are at your job, and I am always reminded how right I was to appoint you as my Commander."

Paul laughed. "Me? Good? Sir, need I remind you of all the planes I crashed in all my years of service?"

"That's irrelevant. I appointed you as my Commander, not a pilot." Tord pointed out roughly.

"I admit, at first I had my doubts about you. You're not always the most focused, and you tend to mess up more than once. I was slightly wary that you wouldn't take things seriously." He went on. "But I appointed you anyway because you have good people's skills. You listen to the soldiers' concerns. You care and make sure to meet everyone's expectations. I trust you to look after the Red Army in my absence because I know you will take better care of it than anyone else here would. You are determined, and I know how much the army means to you. It's your home. You have nowhere else to go, and you will treat it as such. If anything bad happens I know without a shred of a doubt you will fight for it with your very life. You will fight for it like nobody else will. That's what sets you apart from the rest."

Paul blinked back the tears that threatened to well up in his eyes. He laughed, sniffling. "I still wonder if I am even cut out for this job, sir." He said. "I don't envy you at all."

Tord snorted. "Welcome to my life, where nothing is ever easy." He paused, his tone softening. "Being in charge is no luxury. I am often exhausted, uncertain, and frustrated; I worry constantly. I put up a front that I am confident all the time in front of my soldiers. And while experience has eased the workload somewhat, there are still days where even I struggle to maintain order. That's where you come in."

Paul remained silent as he listened.

"You have a certain… charm. You always have a sense of humor, and it is uplifting given our line of work. You keep me level-headed and balanced." Tord pointed out. "If I wanted a greedy stick in the mud to rule and argue with me constantly I would have appointed Keaton as my Commander. As if that would ever happen!"

"Truth be told, I am not even sure why you even made him a General if we all hate him so much." Paul said.

"He's competent and the only one fit to organize our transport and communications operation. But mark my words, the moment he pisses me off and serves his usefulness he is as good as gone." Tord reassured. "Regardless, don't let him and the others get to you. If they can't see why you are the perfect choice for second-in-command then they are not allowed to determine your worth."

Paul was struggling not to cry by this point. Very unprofessional of him; to break down in front of his leader – even if he is his friend. "Thank you, sir. I won't let you down."

Tord dipped his head.

"I better get going. I need to check the lab to see how the latest weapon designs are going." Paul made up an excuse to leave. "I hope you get well soon, sir."

"And I hope you will remember our conversation the next time someone gives you a hard time."

Paul didn't reply. He gave a quick nod to the nurse outside and left the Infirmary in a hurry.

On the way out he crossed paths with none other than General Erica. "Commander." She dipped her head in greeting.

"Are you feeling well?" Paul asked, concerned. Last thing he needed was to appoint a stand-in General to take over Erica's roll if she falls ill. Her operation was a delicate one that only she has the strength to pull off.

"All is well." Erica replied. "I have come to see how the Red Leader is doing."

"Before you do," Paul began, thinking this was as good a time as any to confront his comrade, "what's this I hear about Keaton pushing for you to be second-in-command?"

Erica, who had started to move away, whipped around and stared at him, blank astonishment in her dark brown eyes. That look was all the evidence Paul needed that his comrade had known nothing about Keaton's demands.

"Excuse me?" She choked out.

"Keaton tells me that I ought to appoint you as my Commander while Red Leader is healing." Paul explained, his tone even. "And maybe even keep the position after Red Leader recovers, too."

Erica looked appalled. She wasn't someone who startled easily or was ever caught off guard by many things, but this news clearly shook her.

"Commander, I promise you, I knew nothing about this." She replied coolly. "Well—I heard one or two rumors, but there are always rumors spreading around the base, especially now that the army is unsettled, with our leader hurt. I paid no mind, and Keaton has never spoken to me directly. Is anyone else in on this?"

Paul tilted his head, thinking. "General Yuu . . . maybe General Helene. But it's Keaton who is at the bottom of it."

Erica quickly recovered her composure. "I have no interest in power, sir. I have had my taste of leadership while you and our leader were away on the mission to retrieve the secret weapon. I only did my duty. If I am ever appointed Commander, it's because the army needs me to step up." She declared. "I am loyal to the Red Army. If I think you— or Red Leader is about to do something particularly stupid, you can bet I'll be there to step in. But right now I see no need to do so. You are doing great so far taking up Red Leader's position, albeit temporarily. The army is running well with you as their leader. You have my full support." She paused, and then added in a curiously humble tone. "Do you believe me, Commander?"

Paul met her gaze evenly, feeling eternally grateful for her support. "Every word, General."

Erica dipped her head. "As for Keaton." She continued. "Leave him to me. I'll teach him not to speak for me ever again. And if I hear one more word of this, I'll make him wish he'd joined the circus like the clown he is. You know how he is always quick to complain." She went on. "Keaton would find fault in heaven if he could. Well, it's about time he learned he can't always have his own way."

Paul snickered. With a nod to the General, he left the Infirmary. Gratitude flooded over him to think that on top of all his other problems he didn't have to worry about a civil war breaking out in his own army, or soldiers undermining him when they ought to be giving him their full support.

He felt lighter than he could remember feeling in days. Tord trusts me with his army. Because I care about it more than anything.

He glanced up, watching the soldiers bustling about with their everyday lives. Are they staring at him a little too intensively, or is it just him? Paul stiffened. A few soldiers were seated on one of the benches, their heads bent closely as they conversed among themselves. Their eyes held judgment. They looked away as he caught their gaze. Were they talking about him? They must be… they are all watching him, just waiting for him to mess up.

Or… maybe Tord considered making Erica his Commander but she refused, so he had no choice but to settle for me. Maybe he didn't know who he could trust not to get rid of him for his position as leader, so he picked me because I would be too incompetent to do anything against him.

Paul sighed. That moment of tranquility hadn't lasted very long.

Incompetent. He heard his mind echo, reminding him of all the painful years he spent on his own, drifting from home to home, never wanted anywhere, and always screwing things up for himself.

"Commander!"

Paul snapped out of his thoughts. A soldier drifted to a halt in front of him. He looked surprisingly pleased to see him. "Yes, Lieutenant? What can I do for you?"

The dark haired Lieutenant dipped his head. "I am already organizing the events for the Shades Cup later this year, and I wanted to have your input, sir."

Paul smiled. Now here's something he can do effortlessly. "Sure thing!"

For a while, Paul could forget about his troubles as he helped organize the most anticipated event in the entire army. Every year he helped make it come true; coming up with new tasks and games to keep the soldiers entertained. It was his favorite part of being Commander. Bet Erica wouldn't do that, would she now?

All too soon, he was needed in the conference room.

The Generals were having a meeting with the army's supplier, Bing, to discuss the matter of the secret weapon. Paul wasn't looking forward to being stuck in the same room as Keaton and Bing; even if the latter is on the other side of a computer screen.

A murmur of voices drew Paul's attention as he entered the conference room. All of the Generals were already present, staring at the large screen that displayed Bing and his assistant, Larry.

As Paul quietly made his way into the room, Bing's querulous voice sounded above all the others. "Where is the Red Leader?"

"He's in the Infirmary, healing from his wounds after he failed to retrieve our secret weapon." General Helene responded calmly. "He had a… bit of an accident."

"Oh? So who is in charge of you lot while your leader is out of commission?" Bing asked.

"I am." Paul announced, making himself known as he stepped out of the shadows and took his seat at the head of the round table.

"You? Really?" Larry spoke up with a hint of amusement and doubt in his voice. "This should be fun."

"Well, now that you're here we can finally get down to business." Keaton started, turning a cold gaze on Paul. "What will we do now?"

Remembering Tord's words from the infirmary, Paul did not let himself be intimidated by the older man now. Not this time. "Red Leader has not yet decided our next course of action. He is still mulling over it."

Slowly Keaton switched his gaze from Paul to Erica, his eyes glittering with scorn. Paul swallowed nervously, wondering if he had said something stupid.

"Er, but… doesn't that mean you should decide for him?" Yuu explained, looking awkward. "We can't just sit around with no plan going forward."

Paul clenched his jaw. "I am only acting leader, in case you've forgotten. I can't make any decisions for our army without consulting Red Leader first. He has the final word in all matters."

"That's great and all, but your little group had ordered a shipment of parts and scrap from me, only for you to cancel at the last minute and now I have a bunch of junk lying in my basement." Bing cut in. "If all you're going to do is waste my time then I don't see why we should continue with our partnership."

"I assure you, it won't happen again." Paul reassured the mad scientist. While he'd rather get kicked in the balls repeatedly than to stoop down to Bing of all people, he knew he had to play nice and pretend to be grateful to be doing business with the most brilliant mind the world has to offer.

Tord is way more powerful and clever than you, you sly son of a b#tch.

"We still need a shipment of chemicals and components for our researchers to create more weapons." Paul continued. "If you would be so kind as to send them over, we will be more than happy to pay you for it and any further inconveniences."

"You don't have anything I want." Bing reminded. Then he paused, as if to reconsider. "Although… I would be more agreeable if you were to take the extra parts off my hands."

"Okay, okay." Paul tried to disguise his mounting agitation, but he couldn't help feeling he was just plucking solutions on the fly without any real thought. "We will- well- we-"

"We will take the parts." Patrick answered for him. "Even if the mecha is no longer in development, we can still use them for other experiments and creation of new weapons."

Paul blinked gratefully at the Polish man.

"But what about our secret weapon?" Keaton demanded. "We can't afford to waste any more time dawdling about."

"Do you have a better suggestion?" Paul challenged him. "If you know a better plan, why don't you spit it out already and share with the rest of the army? If you feel up to giving out orders without Red Leader's approval or input, please, don't let me stop you." A surge of fury made him long to spring at Keaton and fight, but he forced himself to stay calm.

Keaton scowled at him. "I am just saying; we would have a better notion on what to do next if we had a more competent leader like Erica-"

"Keaton, I don't need nor ask for your unwanted support. I can speak for myself." Erica cut him off abruptly, shutting up the older man who stared at her with a stunned expression. "And I agree with the Commander. If we want to take action we will have to bid our time and wait for Red Leader's full recovery. Second-guessing ourselves will do us no good. In the meantime, I think you'll find running the rest of the base just as time consuming and important as it always has been. Wouldn't you agree, Keaton?"

Keaton didn't reply. He couldn't even meet Erica's gaze.

"Are we all in agreement?" Paul looked around the circle of eyes and was relieved to see that they all seemed satisfied. No one spoke up.

The meeting came to a close and Paul went about his business. But his duty as temporary leader was far from over. Now… came the hard part.

"Let's do this."

Paul grabbed a pen and signed a piece of paper after carefully reading through all its contents, then put it aside.

"One down." Paul said. "Four hundred and nineteen to go…" He stared at the looming stack of papers on his desk. It's time to handle Tord's least favorite task as leader.

Paperwork.

Paul sighed and cracked his knuckles. "Let's get this over with."

He spent the remainder of the day cooped up in Patrick's study handling all the paperwork. He hardly noticed time flying by. He focused on nothing else but his duty. He just wanted to do everything right and be competent. He wanted to keep his comrades safe. Wanted his army to be healthy and prosperous. Is that too much to ask?

"Paul?"

Light flooded into the dim dark room as the door to the study opened. Paul hissed, his hand still signing away at the papers non-stop. Patrick peeked his head in, staring at him with concern. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah! Perfectly fine!" Paul exclaimed, with dark bags under his eyes. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"You missed dinner. And supper." Patrick drew closer. "And the fact you are currently signing air right now is also worrying."

Paul snapped his head toward his hand and realized it was off the paper, signing in repetition at nothing at all. Realization dawned on him that he hadn't been signing anything at all, and he'd been staring off into space for who knows how long as his hand grew used to the repeated motion.

Paul wanted to die.

He stopped the movement at once, hot with embarrassment, only to groan as his arm began to ache all over. "My arm is dead!" He whined. "How can Tord put up with this every day? Call Yanov; I am going to need an amputation after this."

"Do you even know what time it is?" Pat asked.

"Well, you said I missed supper, so… eleven o'clock or something?"

Patrick sighed. "It's two in the morning, Paul." His eyes softened. "Come. Let's go to bed, sweetie. You need to rest."

Paul wanted to argue to keep on working. I messed up again! Just like I usually do. But he couldn't deny he was exhausted from today's events, and he needed a good night's rest.

But how can I possibly sleep when I screwed up again?

"Paul, what's wrong?" Patrick had both hands on his hips. "Seriously, you have been acting strange ever since you took over as temporary leader. What gives?"

Paul dropped his head on his desk sullenly. "Patrick… do you think I am fit to lead the Red Army?" He asked.

"Now where did that come from? Of course you are!" Patrick responded calmly. "There is no better Commander out there."

"Is that what you think? Or are you saying that only because we are dating?"

Patrick stared down at him. "Don't give me that. You know I never let my feelings get in the way of my duties. The same goes for you." He said. "I think you are a wonderful Commander, and anyone else would have crumpled in your place."

Slowly lifting himself from his seat, Paul walked past Patrick and into their quarters with a heavy resigned sigh. Patrick followed him.

"It's not easy having everyone look up to you and expect you to deal with all the important aspects of the army all on your own. Especially when it's your first time doing so." Pat continued. "You have been doing a marvelous job in stepping in for Tord in his place. You don't deserve all the disrespect the generals have been throwing around."

Paul listened as he removed the coat of his uniform, arriving in their bedroom and collapsing onto the bed; burying his face on the sheets tiredly.

"Besides, it's only temporary. Tord will recover, and you will be able to go back to your old duties soon."

Paul flipped over, and stared back at Patrick. "But what if… one day…"

"What?"

"What if something really bad happens to Tord one day, and I have to take up the mantle of Red Leader?" Paul wondered, flitting his gaze blankly toward the ceiling. "The whole army at my command. Our world domination plans all come down to me. What if I fail to bring us the glory we want?"

Patrick sat beside him on the bed, looking down at him sympathetically. "Where did all this self-doubt come from?"

Sitting up, Paul turned his back on Pat and stared at the far wall, dangling his legs from the edge of the bed. He bowed his head. "Do you remember what I told you?" He asked so quietly Patrick had to lean forward to hear him better. "About my family?"

The Polish man stiffened.

This was a sore subject for Paul, he knew. Tord and him go to great lengths not to bring it up unless Paul himself did. And even then, he hardly ever does. He must be really down on the dumps if he is bringing it up now.

"I do."

Paul took in a deep, shuddering breath. "Then you know how I feel about this. About my fear of messing things up." He murmured. "I know I had the misfortune to be stuck with bad people my whole life, and I understand it's not my fault, but sometimes I wonder if it was something about me in specific that brought it out of them. Like… it wasn't them, but me." He went on. "Maybe if I didn't mess things up so much in the past I might have had a better upbringing. Maybe I would have had a real home. But… I am a screw up. My own mother said so. What hope do I have with such an important role as Commander of the Red Army?" He finished. "Sooner or later I will mess up, and then Tord will realize he was wrong to put his trust in me."

Paul tipped his head up until his eyes stopped watering.

His life hadn't been the easiest. A toxic and absent woman for a mother who couldn't care less about him. A father that tried to be there but just didn't have the means to keep him; resulting in him being sent into foster care, drifting from home to home, school to school, trying his best to fit in only to be sent away to someplace else every time.

He never found his forever home by the time he was legally an adult.

From then on, he was always on his own. Finding a job in whatever he could to get by. A guard, a pilot, a worker in a power plant, retail; you name it. But eventually he got fired from all of them for some dumb mistake on his part.

For the longest time, Paul thought he was doomed to live a life of failure and repetition.

However, one day he was approached by an old friend. A former classmate of his. Tord offered him an opportunity he could not refuse. He gave up everything to make it come true, and worked hard to get to where he is today. And best of all; it led him to meet Patrick. The absolute best thing that's ever happened to him by a long shot.

"I really can't afford to mess this up, Pat."

"You won't." Patrick reached forward, gently placing his hand on his shoulder. "Your family… I'm not gonna sugarcoat it – they were all #$$h#les, hun."

This made Paul chortle.

"They don't matter. You are here, with me, and I love you."

"But don't you think there's someone else more qualified for the position than me?" Paul asked.

"You mean Erica?" Patrick prompted. "Paul, it doesn't matter if anyone else is better for the job. Tord picked you. He is a great leader. We all think so. He must've had his reasons for entrusting you with this duty. That's good enough for me!"

"Actually, I asked him about it when I visited him in the Infirmary today." Paul proceeded to tell him all about his conversation with Tord earlier that day.

"See? He trusts you! He doesn't regret anything." Patrick told him. "And we all mess up at one point or another. You think Keaton or Erica never made a mistake in their lives? It's a part of life, not the end of the world."

"But it could very well mean the end of the army."

"But that's the thing, Paul. When it comes to the army, you won't mess up." Pat said urgently, cupping his cheek with one hand. "Not on the large, disastrous scale that you fear so much. Because this is your home. You finally found someplace where you are loved and feel worthy, and I know for a fact you will do absolutely everything in your power to make sure you don't lose it. Tord may have founded the army, but you were there since the very beginning to make sure it became a reality. This is your army as much as it is Tord's. He knows it, too."

Paul stared at him, studying every trace of his face closely.

Patrick lurched forward and wrapped his arms around Paul's torso, pressing his face into his shoulder. "That's the great thing about you, Paul. You don't let the power get to you. You stay down to earth. That's precisely what Tord needs to keep him from becoming a potential tyrant." He said. "You maintain your personality, humanity, and most importantly your sense of humor. The soldiers look up to Tord to lead them to war and a better future for all of us, but when they need help with anything they come to you for aid. They respect you in a different way, is all."

Paul grinned. "I'm like the army's fun gay uncle, in a way."

Pat giggled and placed a kiss on his cheek. "Precisely." He said, gazing meaningfully into Paul's eyes. "And should the time come for you to take on the title of Red Leader, know you won't be alone then either."

Paul had to force himself not to tear up again. He leaned forward and pressed his forehead against Pat's. He smiled softly. "You know what would really cheer me up after today?" He walked over to the vanity where the vintage vinyl record player was and flipped it on. A soft tune began to echo throughout their bedroom. "A dance." Paul extended his hand out toward his boyfriend, wriggling his eyebrows.

Pat chuckled and took the offered hand in his. "I'd be delighted to."

Pulling the polish man into a dancer's embrace; Paul's left hand intentionally placed on the small of his back, Pat's hand resting on his shoulder, and free hands clasped together.

"~ You know I can't smile without you. I can't smile without you. I can't laugh and I can't sing. I'm finding it hard to do anything. ~"

They slowly began to sway in time with the tune in the way that lovers do. Their eyes intently fixed on one another's.

"~ You see I feel sad when you're sad. I feel glad when you're glad. If you only knew what I'm going through. I just can't smile without you. ~"

Paul twirled Patrick, grinning. "You remember when we first met?"

"God, how can I not?" Pat snorted. "Every time that I do I inwardly cringe at the mental breakdown that I had back then."

"~ You came along just like a song and brightened my day. Who would've believed that you were part of a dream. Now it all seems light years away. ~"

"By the second time we met I thought to myself: Oh God, I hope he forgot about the freaking breakdown I had right in front of him!" Patrick admitted as they went back to swaying along with the music.

Paul chortled. "Funny, because when we stumbled into each other again my first thought was: Oh hey, there's that guy who had a mental breakdown!"

Patrick grimaced while Paul laughed at his endearing expression.

"~ And now I can't smile without you. I can't smile without you. I can't laugh and I can't sing. I'm finding it hard to do anything. ~"

"Mental breakdown or not, it doesn't change the fact that I owe a lot to you." Patrick murmured, leaning closer. "I know you think of yourself as a screw up, and you have your silly tendencies every once in a while, but if it weren't for you I'd probably still be living In Poland; having not accomplished anything with my life and feeling utterly miserable with myself. So thank you, hun."

Paul ducked his head shyly. "Anyone else would've done the same."

"~ You see I feel sad when you're sad. I feel glad when you're glad. If you only knew what I'm going through. I just can't smile. ~"

"You don't know that." Pat said as he was twirled again and brought against Paul's chest, arms enveloping his middle as they swayed. "You think Erica would've extended me the offer to join the army? Or Keaton for that matter? Had it been Keaton on that mission instead of you, I would've never joined the Red Army. Not in a million years. In my eyes, your compassion makes you way more competent than Keaton will ever be. So let him complain about you all he wants, because he can't hold a candle to you and he knows it."

Paul frowned pensively. "Not everyone thinks the way that you do. I may have helped you, but in everyone else's eyes I am just a goofball who should've never been left in charge of anything ever. I can't even take care of a freaking plant!" He nodded to the decaying plant in the corner of their bedroom, wilting and dying.

"~ Now some people say happiness takes so very long to find. Well, I'm finding it hard leaving your love behind me. ~"

"Well, thank God the army isn't a plant then. Or a plane for that matter." Patrick smiled with a knowing glint in his eyes as he turned around to face Paul again. "It's your home. Our home." He leaned forward and captured Paul's lips in his with a passionate kiss, hoping to express every ounce of love and respect he has for the Commander through the action alone.

"~ And you see I can't smile without you. I can't smile without you. I can't laugh and I can't sing. I'm finding it hard to do anything.~"

During their kiss, as the song reached its crescendo, Paul leaned forward and dipped Patrick in his arms.

"~ You see I feel glad when you're glad. I feel sad when you're sad. If you only knew what I'm going through. I just can't smile without you! ~"

As the song began to fade away in the background, Paul and Pat pulled away from each other, their eyes meeting yet again. They smiled at each other.

"Thank you, luv. I don't know what I would do without you by my side." Paul said earnestly as he pulled both of them upright again.

"Don't mention it." Pat blushed. "Is there anything else I can do for you?"

Paul hummed pensively. "I wouldn't mind a cigar before bed-"

"Paul." Pat immediately admonished, irked by the idea of smoking in their bedroom.

"Or maybe a shower will suffice for today." Paul smirked slyly.

Pat smiled. "Sounds good to me."

(Time skip)

It's been fifteen days since Red Leader has been out of commission. Paul let out a sigh of relief. It took some getting used to, but now he was finally getting the hang of this leadership thing. The army was settling down, and things were getting back to normal.

The army has now accepted me as their temporary leader. He thought with satisfaction. I've doubted myself and my competence so many times. But Patrick obviously thinks I am doing a good job. And maybe he has a point.

Now here he is. Conducting another meeting with the Generals to discuss all the individual operations like usual. This time around, Yuu and Helene have settled down with their remarks and have fully accepted Paul as their leader. Keaton, on the other hand, hasn't quit his insistent attempts to get him replaced. Even if Erica shuts him down each time, the man was persistent.

"Helene, report." Paul ordered from where he was seated at the head of the large table.

"The Recruitment Program is going well. We have had an increase in the number of new recruits – a 14% raise since last year." Said the elegant young lady with green hair. "And we've had a lot more new candidates volunteering for the program this year, too. If my calculations are correct, we can expect a raise of 22% by spring next year."

"Splendid." Said Paul. "Erica, report."

"The U.B.P.D is running well. We have found new leads, and I already have my best soldiers investigating its sources." Erica replied. "If all goes well, I believe we can land a devastating blow to the Black-market. The rest should scatter from there, but we can always hunt them down later. For now, I am more concerned with the big guns."

"That's great news! Well done." Paul smiled. "Yuu, report."

General Yuu straightened up. "Research and engineering are following as planned." He said. "We have produced over two hundred weapons of Red Leader's latest design this past month. We had a… bit of an accident with a nuclear power core that thrashed a small section of our lab. But thankfully no one was hurt, and we have cleared off that section until repairs are done."

Paul waved his hand thoughtfully. "That's a relief. A nuclear power core can be dangerous. We're lucky it wasn't more catastrophic." He mused. "Keep up the good work, Yuu. Patrick, report."

"Our stock situation isn't very good, I'm afraid." Said the Polish man. "Since our numbers increased so drastically over these last few years, we have had to order triple the amount of supplies we usually provide for the army in order to last us even a month. But food and other commodities drain at a rapid rate. While we're good financially, the amount of supplies we will have to order to last longer is devastating. I believe we won't be able to hold this out for much longer if this keeps up. We might not have finances for anything else."

"What do you have in mind?" Paul prompted.

"We might have to cut our losses. At least for a little while, until we are well enough again to supply each of us." Patrick suggested.

"Sort of like a damage control, you mean." Erica noted.

"Things like alcohol and cigars are not our priority. The soldiers won't like it, but we might have to cut them short for a while." Patrick went on. "Or alternatively, we can start ordering all supplies from Bing for half the amount we usually pay. However, I don't know what he will want in retribution for them."

Paul considered both ideas at great length. He didn't look forward to making any more business deals with Bing, but he will have to endure it for the sake of the army. "That can be arranged-"

"And give in to more demands from that egotistical rat? Absolutely not!" Keaton burst out. "And cutting the supplies short won't do at all. The soldiers might see it as a punishment and revolt for having their needs taken away."

Paul narrowed his eyes. "You have been pretty quiet so far, Keaton." He growled lowly. "Do you have any suggestions for us?"

"As a matter of fact, I do." Keaton hissed scornfully. "I say we cut the funding for our less important divisions and focus solely on restocking our supplies next month. That way we can have enough for a little less half a year, and by then our finances will be sufficient to keep our base operational."

His idea was met with cold silence. The Generals were exchanging perplexed glances, as if they suddenly grew to distrust one another.

Paul hummed in disbelief. "Oh, so I suppose you don't mind if I cut the funding for your division then? Since it is your idea and all. Very bold and honorable on your part, General. I like it."

A chuckle ran around the assembled Generals, easing the tension.

"What? No!" Keaton shouted. "My operation is the most important one! Without it, we wouldn't have contact with our other bases nor a way in or out of here. I need the funding so we can invest in better vehicles." He glanced around the room. "Cut Helene's funding! Her division is the one that got us into this mess, so now it falls on her to get us out of it."

Helene looked at him indignantly. "How dare you?!"

"We won't be cutting funding from any division."

A voice boomed over the conference room, startling all Generals to attention. Paul had to curb back a grin of amusement as he caught the terrified, dead eye look on Keaton's face. From the entranceway, two figures stepped into the light.

"Red Leader!"

Paul felt a massive wave of relief at the sight of his friend, but couldn't help wonder what brought him here. He thought he would be stuck in the Infirmary for at least another week. Then he noticed that, in place of his severed stump he now adorned a dark gray robotic arm, and an eyepatch over his face. He never looked more menacing or regal in all the years they've known each other.

"Greetings, Generals." Red Leader spoke. "I come bearing great news! I have been discharged from the Infirmary, and am now free to mingle with all of you once again. Under Yanov's careful supervision, of course."

Beside him, the Russian paramedic assented and made himself known to the rest of them.

"You will have to forgive me; I am still getting the hang of my new arm." The Norsk continued. "But rest assured I have been deemed well enough to return to my rightful duties."

It was wonderful to see Tord up and about again, safe back where he belonged. But also, Paul felt the tension in his body snap and give way at the thought of not being acting leader anymore. What a relief it would be to give back the responsibility to the one who was so much better able to bear it!

If one could die of relief, Paul would have died twice over and gone to Heaven.

"It's great to have you back, sir." Erica was the first to speak.

"I'm glad to be back, General." Red Leader responded.

"How do you feel?" Helene asked.

Keaton gulped. "Perhaps now you can finally take the time to shed some light on your most recent failure, sir." He suggested. "We are all dying to know what went wrong in your mission."

Rather than answering any of their questions, Red Leader walked with purpose toward Paul. His gray eye glittered with curiosity. Paul bowed his head to his leader and friend in deepest respect. "Welcome back, sir."

"Thank you, Commander." He replied. Tord then blinked at him thoughtfully and added in a low whisper. "You have done well. In fact, between running the army and those pesky Generals, it sounds as if your leadership has been a great success. I obviously made the right decision when I chose you as my second-in-command!"

Paul didn't know how to respond so he nodded, feeling acutely embarrassed.

"I appreciate you taking care of things while I recovered. But now I am ready to take back my position as leader once more, if you don't mind."

"My pleasure!" Paul gladly moved away and back to his old vacant seat, to the right of Tord.

Red Leader sat down at the head of the table with a pleased sigh. Yanov took position to his left, never letting their leader out of their sight. He bent down to whisper something in his good ear, but Tord flicked his hand dismissively.

"So… where were we before I so rudely interrupted, again?"

Paul cleared his throat. "We are having a financial problem with our supply stock, sir."

"Ah yes, that stupid suggestion I heard when I walked in." Red Leader said. "No, Keaton. Under no circumstance are we to cut funding for any division. They are all important in their own right, and maintain the army in balance. Cut one down now and we will face serious problems in the future."

Keaton looked like he wanted to argue, but wisely reigned in and bowed his head in resignation.

"Instead, we shall go with Patrick's second suggestion." Red Leader went on. "Keaton was right when he mentioned the soldiers' displeasure once they find their needs have been cut short. And frankly, I for one can't deal with you lot without a pack of cigars to get me through the day."

A chorus of chuckles echoed throughout the room.

"Bing is a pain in the #$$, but I can handle him." He continued when the laughter died down. "He will most likely want one of my inventions in exchange. That's all well and good to me."

"Speaking of inventions, sir." Erica spoke next. "Have you come up with a conclusion regarding our next course of action?"

"Indeed I have!" Red Leader responded. "Since our plan B went to sh#t, I have come to the decision to go back to the drawing board and resume the serum experiments."

"But… didn't you say they were a lost cause that were going nowhere?" Yuu reminded.

"Well, my time in the Infirmary has given me a lot to contemplate and I got a few new ideas I haven't tried before. So I have hope that this time things will be different."

Yanov cleared his throat loudly.

Tord sighed. "And I will get to it as soon as I am physically fit and don't overexert myself." He added with a pointed glare at the paramedic. "General Yuu, I want you to cease all activity in the Beta laboratory in two months' time. That area will be strictly off limits once I restart the experiments."

"Yes, sir!"

"Now will you tell us what went down on your mission, sir?" Keaton demanded.

Tord fixed the older man with a cold, calculating glare. "What's there more to say? I think Commander Paul explained the situation to you already, did he not?" He said. "I managed to infiltrate into the structure and acquired the mecha as intended. I took flight, but got shot down by enemy fire. That's it. Other than that I don't know much else."

"You didn't see who did it?" Erica prompted.

Red Leader shook his head. "No idea. Could've been the British army, but we can't be sure."

Paul stared at him dumbfounded. Even though his plans had been ruined, Tord is still going out of his way to protect the identity and involvement of his friends in the situation.

Of course, if the Generals found out who exactly interfered with the army's agenda there would be drastic consequences. One that would mean the persecution and eventual execution of said interference.

"I believe we've covered everything." Red Leader lifted his chin. "Anything else?"

No one answered.

"Good! I am personally eager to announce my return to the rest of the soldiers."

The meeting came to a close. Paul and the Generals gathered the soldiers to the Great Hall for a reunion. Everyone was confused but could easily guess what this was about, and the hallways filled with excited murmurings.

On the way to the stage, Tord intercepted Paul on his tracks and confronted him again. "I was being serious when I said you did well. You'll make a fine leader if anything happens to me. The army will be in good hands." He said. "But I sure do hope that day never comes to pass. Or at the very least, it will be a long time from now!"

Paul was pleased by his leader's praise, but uneasy at the same time. "That's the thing, sir..." He began cautiously. "With all due respect, I think if this experience has taught me anything, is that I don't look forward to being the next Red Leader any time soon."

"Oh, come on, Paul..."

"No, I'm serious! It's not that I don't respect the position, or that I don't love the army. I love it with every fiber of my being." Paul interrupted. "It's just that I feel more comfortable supporting you than being the one to make the big decisions. I am more of a 'yes, man' rather than a leader. It's… too much responsibility. A responsibility I don't think I am anywhere near ready to handle on my own. It's a lot of pressure, and I am terrified of letting everybody down. All it takes is just one wrong move on my part. Maybe, if I have more time to learn from you, I'll feel one day that I am better prepared. But right now, I don't. But I'll defend and fight for the Red Army to my dying breath! I promise you, Tord, I'll never leave your side! And who knows? Maybe I will feel differently one day. But as for right now…" Paul grasped his leader by the shoulders tightly. "Please don't ever die!"

Tord stared at him for a long time. "You still have a lot to learn before then. We have plenty of time." He conceded. "But does that mean you wish to step down as Commander? I'll understand if you want me to choose someone else in your place."

Paul shook his head at once. "No. My place is here. The army needs me to help keep the order. And more importantly, you need me to keep the head between your shoulders from getting any bigger." He said with conviction in his voice. "I am ready to learn more from you, sir. And one day, if need be, I will take over for you and make sure neither the army nor your legacy perish in your absence."

Tord nodded. "We must work together if we are to lead the army well. Never be afraid of sharing your worries with me, Paul. I know we joke a lot, but I trust your judgment and will listen to whatever you have to say." He said. "Is this your final decision then?"

"Yes, sir." Paul affirmed, and grinned. "After all, I am the army's fun gay uncle. No one can take that away from me!"

Tord fixed him with a strange, funny look for several heartbeats. "O-okay?"

He moved away to get ready for the gathering, leaving Paul alone to his thoughts. He peeked out from behind the curtains.

Seeing how eager everyone seemed to be to see the Red Leader again, Paul felt even more certain that he wasn't meant to be leader. I've been forgotten so fast... He thought with a wry twist to his mouth.

But one man hadn't forgotten him; Patrick paused beside him on the way to the stage and squeezed his hand comfortingly. "You did wonderfully."

Paul had to take a few heartbeats to think of a reply. "Honestly I am just glad I don't have to make all the big decisions anymore." He admitted with a low chuckle. "Don't know how Tord can handle it, but he seems to genuinely enjoy his work. Good for him!"

"You may not be leader anymore, but the army needs you just as much." Patrick kissed his cheek.

Side by side they took their positions on stage among the other Generals. His whole body tingled with relief that this time he wouldn't have to take Tord's place conducting the gathering as leader. Red Leader is back, and everything is as it should be. Paul drew in a deep breath, feeling truly relaxed for the first time since they returned to the base. And he allowed himself a tiny prickle of pride.

After all, I led the army for two weeks and it didn't blow up!

Silence fell over the stadium as the lights dimmed down and the spotlights zeroed in on the figure that stepped out from the curtains and onto the stage.

A round of thunderous applause erupted with cheers of welcome and surprise as the Red Leader revealed himself and walked to the podium. Paul guessed, given the rumors, that some soldiers thought it was the end for their leader and they would never see him again.

Flanking his leader, Yanov followed him out onto the stage as though he were Red Leader's own shadow. Never letting the stubborn, injured man out of his sight for even an instant.

When the clamor began to die down, Red Leader waved with his robotic appendage. "Thank you all for the good wishes. I admit I never expected that it would take me so long to recover, but I am well now and have returned as your rightful leader." He announced.

Another round of applause broke out.

Tord signaled for silence. "I'm sure most of you have been wondering my whereabouts these past few days." He went on. "Two weeks ago, I set out on a secret mission to acquire ourselves a secret weapon. Unfortunately, however, the weapon was destroyed and I was wounded in the blast. Since then I've been too injured to carry out my duties as leader. Thankfully, I have an excellent Commander who took the responsibility on his shoulders. Truly, the army is lucky to have such a competent, brave, and witty Commander at our disposal."

Paul glanced away as murmurs of approval rippled through the crowd.

He leaned into Patrick, burying his face in his chest. "Why is he making such a big deal out of this?" His voice was muffled by the Polish man's uniform. "Anyone would have done the same."

"But 'no one' didn't, silly." Pat rubbed his back soothingly. "That was all you."

As Paul looked up again, tearing up, it seemed to him that every soldier in the stadium had raised their voices to chant his name.

"Paul! Paul!"

He pressed his face against his boyfriend's chest again. He shuddered with unquestionable giddiness. "I really don't deserve this."

"Of course you do." Patrick murmured, narrowing his green eyes affectionately. "If it's any comfort, it won't last long. But for now, shut up and enjoy it."

Paul never liked being the center of attention. But he had to admit, he liked seeing the massive frown on Keaton's face as the whole army cheered for him. He wiped the tears from his eyes and straightened up, puffing his chest out with pride. He can only hope he will continue to do better for the army, and bring about the glory they deserve.

His home deserves all the best, and fortunately, Paul is the best Commander for the job.