Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Lenin, Stalin, Khrushchev, Brezhnev, Andropov, Chernenko, Gorbachev.

You knew them all. You could recognize them by their faces, their names popping up inside of your mind like the days of the week. Or the names of all the dwarfs from your favorite fairytale. It wasn't mandatory, of course. It wasn't expected of you in a way your boss would expect punctuality and concentration at work. It was more so expected of you on a more personal level. He'd want you to remember what he'd used to babble about.

Their portraits passing by as you slowly approach his office. They were all hung up neatly on the cloud grey walls, in thin golden frames. The distance between each portrait measured carefully. Thoroughly. How tacky.

You finally reach the heavy metal door at the end of the hallway. Bulletproof, fireproof. Some say it's even bombproof. A tiny camera perched just above the doorframe caught your movement from meters away, its dome-shaped shell whirring to life. With a smooth grace, it began to swivel, tracking your every step. You avoid having its lens right at your face by keeping your head straight, facing the silvery chrome of the metal doors. Thin, squiggly outlines of your body reflected from the door's surface. The mirrored image not being sharp enough to capture your empty gaze. You truly had nothing more to say, nor to think. This was it.

The doors slide open smoothly, barely making any noise. You step in. There's no need to look around. You already know the walnut desk and matching book shelves. The red carpet placed underneath his workspace to protect the marble flooring from scratches and footprints. The golden name plate on his desk and the ventilation system on the ceiling. How else was he gonna get fresh air inside of a room with no windows? What a paranoid man he's become. He stares daggers at you as you look for a good place to stand. There needs to be a distance between you and him, it's for your own safety.

"So..."

He begins to say. A greyish puff of smoke escapes his lips as he talks. His cigar is resting on an ash tray, burning away slowly. He picks up a piece of paper from in front of him and reads it quietly to himself. He must know the words by heart already, judging by the fact that he only has to read half of the text to finish the rest.

"....with the probability of paternity being 99.99%?!"

It's like he still can't quite believe it, even after his fifth read through.

"When exactly were you thinking of telling me about this, Y/N?"

"Oh, never, actually."

You simply reply. You are being honest. He shakes his head and sighs. It amuses you how quickly he can slip into the father-role, wearing that familiar expression of disappointed authority, like you'd just been caught sneaking out past curfew. You snicker. His nostrils flare up with anger, and his shoulders tension up. You can't tell if that was because of your boldness or because he had to find out through a paternity lab-test, years after the matter.

"Are you crazy, woman? Honestly, are you insane?"

Your snicker slowly transitions into laughter. The corners of your mouth twitching uncontrollably with sickening glee and your eyes watering, blurring your vision. You bite your lip to quiet down, but airy bouts of laughter still manage to escape through your teeth. It's only making things worse for you, but you just can't help it anymore.

"I'm just..."

you explain in between snorts and giggles.

"I'm just relived that it's finally over."

You swallow the last laugh and wiped your eyes.

"I've got nothing more to hide. I told you he's your son, Tord. Didn't I?"

...!!

"Good morning, Y/N. It's time to start the day. The sun is up an-"

"Aida, please!"

You groan pleadingly with your artificial assistance bot that your son convinced you to install inside of every bedroom about a year ago. The smooth female voice instantly stops talking after registering your voice and turns down the forest sound effects meant to gently wake you up (and boost your mood in the mornings). There was nothing mood-boosting or soothing about it. You miss the classic little alarm clock in your teenage-bedroom. You could at least punch the living hell out of it, but how were you supposed to throw punches at robotic female voice that is echoing through your bedroom walls? You'd look like a loony. You decide to let that thought go (for now) and drag your lifeless body to the kitchen downstairs. A coffee is gonna save you. You look around your clean and spotless kitchen only for your tired face to drop in disappointment at the sight of several dirty dishes left in the sink.

"Mikkel!"

You groan frustratedly. He must've been up all night again. You could tell because loading up the dishwasher was one of the very last things you did before going to bed. He's not gonna have the energy for today. You think to yourself as you press the start-button of the coffee machine. The machine beeps and instantly starts pouring freshly brewed coffee into your cup. You enjoy holding the cup as the coffee pours. It warms your hands. As you sit down to take careful little nips of your scorching hot coffee, your mind starts to wander. What a dream you think to yourself. Eerily similar to how it actually happened, back then. You distinctly remember him calling you 'woman'. His hands shaking with anger, his lips twitching and shaking. He was so mad at you.

The caffeine already starts taking effect inside of your body as you approach your son's room. You knock at his door.

"Mikkel, honey. It's time to wake up, I made you breakfast!"

No answer. You sigh as you push the door open. The thick scent of stuffy air and hormones greets you as you walk in. You hated that smell, even back in the day when you were chilling at one of the guys's houses. Edd's especially.

"Mikkel, wake up."

You whisper gently as you shake your dear son awake.

"Breakfast."

You simply say, convincing him to finally gather up enough energy to at least open his eyes. He yawns and nods. You wish you could kiss his sweet forehead, but his breathe is scaring you away.

"I'll be downstairs."

Today was a toast-and-eggs kind of day. With bananas and apples cut up and plated neatly. Tea or milk, whatever he would prefer. Some butter. Maybe even ham. Simple. Mikkel drags his body through the kitchen door and sits down at the table. Half his face is covered, you can barely see his eyes poking through. He tends to do that when his bedhead gets out of control in the mornings. He pulls the hood of his sweaters over hid head as far as possible. You can understand that, but you don't really respect it. Mikkel yawns as he spreads some butter on a piece of toast. You use the opportunity to pull his hood down.

"Yo!"

He yells out, his voice cracking.

"Don't 'yo' me. I'm your mother, sweetie. And I wish to see my son's face."

You smile. He scoffs and shakes his head, paying more attention to the plate of food in front of him. As he's enjoying his breakfast, you admire his features. He was slowly starting to resemble his father, it was undeniable. As the baby fat in his face melts off, his grown-up features start to really show. Many of those features weren't really new to you, no. The sharpness of his cheekbones, the width of his mouth. The smile lines around his eyes, his facial hair pattern. The more you look, the more you notice. Even outside of his face. The shape of his thumb seems so eerily familiar. When he reached for the plate of sliced ham you felt like things had stayed the same and it made your chest feel all tight and heavy for a second. Now you're having to remind yourself that genetics are not your field and you should just stick to what you know. You need to stop overthinking your son's face. He is handsome. He has such kind and gentle eyes. And it's his face that is smiling at you right at this moment. Not his father's.

"You're starting to look so mature, my goodness."

You love that face so very much.

After breakfast, you tell your son to get ready. You walk into your own bedroom and open your closet. Your outfit for today is a knee-length pencil skirt in a silvery chrome-ish material and a matching sleeveless top with a high collar neckline. The fashion of the future. The new normal. Well, not exactly. It's already outdated for today's standards. You shake your head at the sight in the mirror. When was the last time you'd seen someone wear a pair flip flops? Or a polo shirt? Time flies. You keep your makeup simple by dabbing on a little lipstick. You apply what's left of it on your fingertips to to your cheeks. A little mascara and just the tiniest smoked out wing and you're good to go. But your reflection looks puzzled. Something's missing. Suddenly, your hear your phone ring. You pick it up from the bed and stare at the screen. Edd. You accept the call and watch as a little hologram of a driving Edd appears over your phone screen.

"Hey, beautiful."

Edd smiles.

"Hey, handsome."

You giggle back jokingly.

"You there yet?"

"Almost."

He replies, as he turns the wheel.

"Is she up?"

"I'll go check. Probably not, though. If she wakes up, please prepare her some breakfast. I prepped some stuff already, you just have to plate everything, basically."

"Awesome. Some left for me?"

"No, you can go and starve."

You snicker.

"Thanks again for babysitting today."

"Anything for my niece."

Edd smiles fondly. Suddenly, he honks at someone in front of him, his facial expression tightening up. You jump at the noise.

"What a tool!"

He curses.

"Alright, I'll see you in 2 minutes or so."

"Yep. Bye."

You hang up and fulfill your promise of checking up on Daisy. You make your way over to her room whilst being careful about every step. Quietly and gently you move. You manage to open the door without it squeaking violently and check up on your little daughter. She's still sleeping, with her hair messy and a little drool coming out at the side of her mouth. What an angel. You close the door again and go to Mikkel's room.

"You ready?"

You ask at the door.

"Mh."

He simply hums as he walks out of his room. His eyes are glued to his phone screen as he passes by and walks down to the hall. You follow him and get your purse from the hanger.

"Have you got your I.D.?"

Mikkel rolls his eyes.

"Yes, mom. We've done this like a hundred times, you don't have to ask me that every single time."

"Alright, alright. Just checking."

There's a moment of silence before you finally hear a car pulling up your driveway. You open the door to greet Edd with a hug. He puts his arms around you, his jet black coat swallowing you up completely. His comforting smell creeps up your nostrils and you let out a yearning sigh.

"Hey."

You whisper, enjoying every single second of your intimate embrace. It's not that often that you get to see your dear friend.

"Hello, you."

He slowly lets go of you and smiles at Mikkel.

"Uncle Edd!"

Mikkel yelps out happily. Edd ruffles his freshly styled hair and chuckles. 

"Hello to you too, little man."

Mikkel huffs and pushes Edd's hand away. He tries to fix his hair again, using his smart phone's camera as a mirror.

"Not so little anymore, eh? You're almost as tall as me!"

"Stop bullying my son, Edd and focus on my daughter instead."

You say as you put your coat on.

"When we get back, I'll order us all pizza."

You promise as you open the door.

"Daisy has some homework that she'll need assistance on. I'm sure you can be of help."

Edd nods, his eyes wandering, slowly loosing focus as he suddenly starts drifting away inside of his head. You lean into him. 

"Are you okay, Edd?"

"Yeah."

He admits. He blinks away his little dissociative episode and smiles at you. 

"Stay safe."

You pat Edd's back.

"It's okay, we will. Mikkel, come on." 

Mikkel checks his reflection one last time and nods. 

"See you guys later, then."

Edd says as he watches Mikkel and you leave. You both get in your car and buckle up. Mikkel rolls his window down and connects his phone to the car's speakers. He seems relaxed.

"Okay Mikkel."

You sigh. The grip around your steering wheel tightens. 

"Let's go see your father."

Chapter Text

Daisy was just a few months old when Tom noticed something strange happening to him. First, his sight began to blur. You would catch him starring at letters and bills. Squinting his eyes, putting the paper so close to his face. He had a hard time deciphering the letters and reading the sentences. They were codes for him. A complete mystery. He would rub his eyes a lot and blink more frequently. They would water at night and he would describe seeing a black dot on his left eye sometimes. 

"You think the ophthalmologist knows how to treat a patient with no eyes?"

"Honestly, I'm not sure. It's definitely worth a try, you might actually end up with glasses or something."

"Aw, sweet. People with glasses are smart."

"And sexy."

You placed your hands on your husband's chest and felt your way over his torso. He stared at you intensely, enjoying every touch. A needy groan escaped his lips.

"What are you doing?"

He asked.

"Nothing."

You replied innocently. But Tom was having none of that. He grabbed your chin and pulled you in. Breathing softly, he whispered: 

"It's been a while..."

You pushed him off of you and smirked. 

"And you're gonna have to wait a little longer, at least until the kids are sleeping."

As if he were summoned by that sentence, your son Mikkel suddenly appeared from behind you and slapped your back. He giggled menacingly.

"Hey! Don't do that, sweetie."

But his tiny hand flew across your back one more time. You replied by ambushing him, grabbing him and picking him up. He wanted a reaction out of you, something he'd been doing more frequently ever since Daisy was born.

"No hitting mommy."

You said as you lovingly stroked your son's little face. Mikkel only giggled harder and asked:

"What if I don't stop?"

"Then you're gonna have to put it up with dad!"

Tom snatched Mikkel from your arms and lifted him over his own head, roaring like an animal.

"No hitting mommy!"

He snuck between each roar. Mikkel laughed hard, rubbing his hands and feet together in excitement as his childish mind couldn't contain such intense emotions. You watched them play happily and wondered, if Tom could even see what he was doing right now. He really had to go see a doctor.
After Mikkel's birth, you and Tom started going steady. It took you some time to adjust to everything, but when you did, you finally let Tom inside of your heart. Your relationship with him was quite slow in the beginning, with a lot of space and insecurities. Intense emotional connections scared you. Combined with motherhood, you felt so helpless and vulnerable. Plus Tord's supposed death weighed heavy on your heart and grieve struck you down badly. But Tom was patient and supported you through it all. He was the only one who refused to leave your side during Mikkel's birth. He was the only one you wished to stay. He promised to you that he'd take good care of Mikkel, that he doesn't care for biology. If you let him, he'll be the best father to your son. It was an offer that touched you deeply and was simply impossible to refuse. And there you had it, your small family. You tied the knot just a few months shy to Mikkel's fourth birthday and finally saved up enough money to buy a small flat near Durdam Lane. Marriage suited you and the family life was healing. The good days were spent making core memories and smiling until your face hurt. On harder days, you could rely on two of the world's best uncles to step in. It was perfect, until it wasn't.

You can't really explain why or how, but things seem to get really bad every time you're pregnant. When you finally felt like everything was stable enough to try your luck again, the news broke. The Red Army returned, and with them Tord. It seemed unbelievable, impossible even. You remember seeing his robot blow apart into a thousand little pieces right in front of your own two eyes. The explosion was massive and the damage undeniable. How could he have survived this? And more importantly, is he out for revenge? It was you and your friends that caused this whole mess for him, after all. Wait, would he... find out about Mikkel? Fuck.

The nights after the news broke were sleepless. It didn't take long for the Red Army to strike, after publicly announcing their comeback. It began with deadly bombings at historical sights and places in London. The British Museum, Buckingham Palace and eventually the Houses of Parliament. The Red Army spread their symbol all over England, as a sickening heads-up that their plans were gonna reach far bigger heights than just the capital city. INTERPOL and NPSA worked hard on locating Tord and his army, but their excellent planning was very evident as they couldn't find any traces of him. Closest they could do was to arrest some of his people at the sights of the terroristic attacks, if there were even any criminals left to arrest. It wasn't uncommon for people to risk their lives for Tord. There was an attempted kidnapping of the British Prime Minister and eventually rumors spread of the Red Army drugging dairy cows to poison the milk in the country, but these were really just rumors. International pressure was mounting, and the people were terrified to their core. You watched helplessly as Tord's army slowly took over your home. It used to be his home too.

It's been a few years since then and Tord had eventually managed to become a serious threat to the British Government. He manipulated the masses, convincing them of his ideas. New people were joining the Red Army every single day. They only became stronger. The political divide has caused a serious rift between the population and violence was the new normal. Tord seemed to brainwash people with his agenda effortlessly. 

"God damnit, I can't fucking read!"

Tom shouted as he tossed his tablet onto the pillow beside him. You picked it up and set it gently on your nightstand.

"It's okay. You just really need that appointment."

But to Tom, nothing really felt okay. He looked concerned, nervously fidgeting with the blanket. 

"I feel like something's wrong. Like, actually wrong with me, Y/N."

He rubbed his eyes. You turned off the overhead lights and slid into bed next to him. He sighed in relief.

"I get really irritated by all those bright lights. They hurt me."

"Sounds like this strange thing that people have at night when the lights of cars and stuff are super bright to them. They have to drive with sunglasses, then. 'Know what I mean?"

"Yeah, but I don't think it's that. It feels different. What a fucking joke. I don't even have eyes."

You thought for a second before taking his hand. You pulled it to your face and placed your lips on his skin, pecking him gently.

"We'll take care of it."

He smiled at you, and you could feel his trust. It settled over you like warmth. He placed a hand gently at the back of your head and pulled you into a kiss.

"Didn't you promise me something earlier?"

You looked confused at him.

"What?"

"You know, before Mikkel attacked you..."

Tom leaned in closer and brushed his nose up against yours. He breathed longingly out of his mouth, blowing a gentle stream of air against your lips. You stared into his eyes intensely.

"I'm hard, you know."

"Like, now? Already?"

He nodded and traced his finger over your tanktop, down to your breast. He stopped right at your nipple. You inhaled sharply.

"Tom-"

"Come on... you're so hot."

You pressed your thighs together and closed your eyes as his hand slowly found his way between your legs. He pulled the blanket away and started tracing his finger around your crotch. You broke, letting out a soft moan.

"This is bad."

You groaned as he slid his hand inside of your pants and began rubbing his middle finger against your clit. You couldn't help but arch your back at his touch. He kept your underwear on purpose, letting the fabric of it soak in your juices as you whined for more friction. He got on top of you and had his way with you that night. The next morning he scheduled that appointment he was talking about.
That's it.
And then you just had to wait. So you waited.
And waited.
And waited.
Then, the doctor referred you to another doctor for some more tests. And more waiting.

...

"It's cancer."

"I'm sorry, what?"

"The MRI, the CT scan and the ophthalmologic evaluation all indicate a bilateral tumor growing at Your optic nerves. I am so sorry."

Tom had cancer and was said to completely loose his vision within a year. Treatment options were limited already, but with his case, having no eyes but somehow the needed anatomy to see, it was basically impossible to do anything. The doctors were afraid of treating him, they weren't really sure on how to go at it. So the only option left was: Blindness. They first shrunk the tumors with radiation therapy and medication. Then they took him into surgery to remove the tumors from his optic nerves, rendering them permanently useless. He awoke from the surgery in complete darkness. The kids were with Edd and Matt for a while so you could spend the first few days taking care of Tom. During that time, you'd limited your words to hide the fact that you were crying right in front of him. He couldn't see it, but he could have heard it. He needed you strong and patient, so in his mind, you remained that version of yourself through the whole process.

"I regret not looking at you more often."

Tom said to you. He chuckled. You spoke softly, to cover up the cracks in your voice. 

"I love you, Tom. We're gonna be okay. I promise!"

You thought that that would be your reality now for the rest of your lives together. You thought of your infant daughter and how she would never really experienced her father the way that Mikkel did. He'll never see her little face grow up. It was so unfair and cruel, but it was the only option. It saved Tom a lot of suffering. Slowly loosing his vision would've been much worse on him. Much more pain and panic. It was all over now and you could focus on adjusting life to the new changes, eventually getting used to it and learning to cope. That was the plan. Until one evening, right before the visitation hours at the hospital had ended, an unexpected guest appeared. You watched in shock as Tord walked into Tom's hospital room, with a big bouquet of flowers, all in different shades of blue. You let go of your husband's hand and stood up, grabbing the best thing you could find as a weapon; a butter knife.

"Hello, old friends."

Tord placed the flowers on a table and turned around to look at you. He laughed at your pathetic attempt at self defense. Tom touched his way around the bed and got up, putting himself in front of you.

"What are you doing here?! How did you get in here?"

Tord closed the door to Tom's room and grinned menacingly. You stared at his face in a mix of disgust and guilt. While one half of it resembled your ex partner from the old days, the other was completely scarred beyond recognition. The skin was bumpy and textured. It had a reddish, fleshy tint to it and lacked any noticeable sign of pores, wrinkles or facial hair. It looked like a thick layer of stiff wax and it went down to his neck, probably even further than that. The eye on his scarred side was covered with a black eye patch. It looked well-made. The stitching on closer inspection was clean precise, the fabric used for the patch had a little sheen to it under the direct warm-toned light of Tom's bedside lamp and fit on his face like a glove. You wondered if he even had an eye left hiding underneath it. Tord put his hands up in defense and smiled amused. He didn't take your husband seriously. 

"Relax, Tom. I ain't gonna hurt you. Or your wife. Congratulations, by the way. Such a shame that I couldn't attend the wedding. But I guess you guys could figure why."

Tom didn't move. He pulled you even closer to him and gritted his teeth at the sound of Tord's voice, like it was physically hurting him. Tord just laughed even harder.

"What are you guys gonna do about me, huh? I want you two to sit down, I'm just here to talk."

He opened his marine blue coat and slowly pulled out a gun from his chest. You screeched and backed away even further, but extended your arm to hold the butter knife in front of Tom. Tord placed the gun on the table and sat down. He crossed his legs and folded his hands over his knee. It was then when you noticed that one of his arms had been replaced by a robotic prosthetic. The guilt turned your stomach into knots and you swallowed. Tord caught your gaze, following it down to the smooth, metallic limb. 

"Yeah,"

He said proudly, flexing the fingers with a soft whir. 

"My own invention."

You opened your mouth, but no words came.

"I don't blame you."

He added, as if reading your mind. 

"Not anymore."

That just made your guilt worse.

"I'm harmless. Let's talk."

You thought about it for a second before you slowly leaned into Tom's ear, whispering:

"I think it's okay."
 
You both sat down on his bed. You kept the knife, though, holding it tightly.

"What do you want?"

Tom asked. He adjusted the dressing over his eyes.

"I'm here to see how you're doing. I got word of your condition and got concerned."

"Bullshit."

Tom growled.

"I'm sorry for all this. Must be hard. Can't imagine loosing such an essential part of your body."

Tord waved his prosthetic hand around while talking. He grinned at you.

"What the fuck do you want from us, Tord. Make it quick."

You pleaded with him. You prayed that he won't mention Edd or Matt. The kids. Your parents. Whatever. Tord sighed and shook his head at your impatience.

"Fine. I have an offer that you might want to consider."

He leaned in.

"What if I told you that I have the means necessary to save your vision?"

"What do you mean, asshole?"

"Let's just say I have some connections. Excellent doctors with revolutionary treatment plans. It won't cost you any money."

Tom was smart and quick-witted. He saw right through Tord and chuckled at his offer.

"I'm guessing you want something else in return, then."

"Are you interested?"

That caught Tom off-guard, though. He opened his mouth, but halted, taking some moments to think to himself. He thought of the kids. He thought about being there, but still missing out on everything. Never being able to actually see them grow old. If Tord had a solution for that, it might actually be worth hearing. But could he really be trusted? No, of course not. Something's not right.

"Will you... threaten us?"

"Threaten you?! Hah, no! I got nothing on you, really. You guys are pathetic, there's nothing worth making a mess. Not even your kids."

Tom didn't like that. He got up from the bed and followed the sound of Tord's voice. Without further hesitation, he smashed his fist into Tord's face, but only managed to hit him in the jaw. Tord simply kicked him away with his leg, making him fall and crash into his bed frame. You got up and approached Tord with the knife, but he grabbed your arm and twisted it behind your back. He pushed you against the wall and grabbed his gun from the table, pushing it at the back of your head. The cold metal of the gun burned through your hair, sending a shiver down your spine. 

"Tom, don't move!"

You cried out. Your arm felt like it was gonna break off clean if Tord made one more sudden move and the gun at your head made it throb badly. Your grip around the butter knife finally loosened as your arm gave in and you dropped it to the floor.

"If I really wanted you guys to suffer, I'd get your kids and your little friends and shoot all of them dead in front of you. I wouldn't have to kill you. But you guys need to behave, or else. I'm really just here to talk, don't you understand?"

Tord twisted your arm a little further, sending a stinging sensation up your shoulder. You screamed. There was nothing you could do against him. 

"Y/N! Tord, let her go, now! Please!"

Tord glared at Tom who was still on the floor, hands up in the air.

"Please, Tord."

You turned your head slowly to the side to look at Tord. His eyes met yours. They were cold and sharp and didn't show any sign of remorse or hesitation. 

"There's no one here to help you. I made sure of that. Now sit down and listen."

Tord finally freed your arm and let the gun dissapear in his coat. You shook your arm and let a soft cry. Tom walked over to you and pulled you into a deep embrace. His shaky arms wrapped themselves tightly around your torso. 

"It's okay, Y/N. Fuck, I'm sorry."

"He said he'd hurt them!"

You sobbed, hands shaking, and burried your face in Tom's chest. Tord simply rolled his eyes at your loving embrace and sighed impatiently. You both sat back down on his bed again.

"I really meant it when I said that I could help restore your vision. I just need a favor, from all four of you. I want you guys to work for me."

"No fucking way."

"Tom, I know it sounds unbelievable, but I'm here to reconcile. I just want my friends back."

He knew that you two didn’t believe a word he said, which made him grin. Of course he wasn’t here to make friends. This was his game, his ultimate revenge plan. He wanted you to do the dirty work for him while he watched, untouchable and amused. 

"I'll even cover all the costs of this procedure. I can only imagine in how much debt you guys are in right now. I'll take care of it. Just imagine how nice some financial freedom would be. Plenty of time to save up money. You know, for when the kids want to have their driver's licenses, or when they finally go to uni. How cool would it be, if you could send them off to an international school? Looks excellent on their Resumes. I'm all about fair loans and proper benefits for my employees, believe me. And I've got the funds. I sell technology all over the globe, to the biggest cooperations. 'Made myself a nice sum of money this way."

"Quit your bragging and go on."

You hissed. Tord nodded.

"Alright. See, as you may know, I have a plan for this country. The media is misunderstanding my mission on purpose, making up lies and rumors and twisting the reality. You think I'm the corrupt one? You don't know the things I've seen behind the curtains of your so-called 'democracy'. I want things to change for the better. And when you're fighting a greedy, capitalistic, power-hungry and callous fucked up borderline monarchy, you will need to get your hands dirty. Hey, I'm not proud about all the bloodshed. All the innocent lives taken... but it's for the best. They're necessary sacrifices."

"You sick, sick bastard!"

You screamed angrily.

"I'm not the bastard here, they are! Just think of all the people that were failed by the system. Left to rot in sickness, poverty and neglect. I need to change things in this country."

Was this really Tord’s purpose? You weren't sure. Parts of his little speech felt genuine. He had that look in his eyes, the kind that comes when someone truly means something deep down. But then again, thinking of the past, you didn’t really know anymore when he actually meant something. Trust had become a fragile. You glanced over at Tom, who sat there, silent and tense, his jaw clenched as he wrestled with whatever thoughts he had brewing inside of him. You reached out and gently placed your hand on top of his.

"What do you want us to do, exactly?"

"I wouldn't send you out bombing and shooting people, that's for sure. But I do need people I can actually rely on to... complete some favors for me. You see, I have my enemies. And I have my ways of making sure that I get what I want."

"I'm guessing you need people to be your hitmen."

"Exactly. I need people to handle my affairs. But not just that, I need protection. And someone to manage my paperwork"

He winked at you. That damn sexist. 

"I'm sure you guys are right for the job. Remember the zombie apocalypse? Man, you fought like warriors."

He chuckled. A bitter smile was plastered across his face as he recounted old memories. You were surprised that he even remembered any of that. He seemed to remember it fondly too, but that's only because he was a completely different person back then.

"I couldn't imagine better people for my mission. Please, work for me. We don't have to be friends again."

"Did you... talk to Matt and Edd yet?"

Tord shook his head. Typical of him, never announcing important news to you all, only a select few.

"I know when they get home."

"Totally not creepy at all."

"Shut it, no-eyes. Yeah, I'm gonna tell them tomorrow. Are you guys in?"

"Tord, we might have to think about it... but honestly, we could actually need your help. Tom's gonna loose his job and-"

"-Y/N!"

Tom cut you off.

"You're not seriously considering his offer, right?! Remember the last time you guys doubted me when it came to Tord? Nothing good ever comes out of associating ourselves with this menacing fuck!"

"Easy, man. Times have changed, okay? I've spent a long time in recovery reflecting. I'm a changed man."

"You don't even believe that yourself! The answer is no."

"Tom! What else are we supposed to do?! We're fucked! We need the money, and you could maybe see agai-"

"-Definitely. My doctors are excellent."

"Whatever. You could maybe see again. Wouldn't that be nice?"

You couldn’t see the actual expression, but you were pretty sure he was staring daggers at you in that moment. His bottom lip trembled out of sheer anger, and he curled his hands into tight fists, his knuckles whitening with the effort to hold back the storm inside.

"I'm sorry my condition is such an inconvenience to you."

You gasped, truly offended.

"That is not the issue, how dare you?! Please, I'm just trying to be realistic. What else are we supposed to do?"

Tom knew you were right.

"Tick, tock, man. My time is running out."

"Alright. Fine. I'll say yes if Matt and Edd are down. But don't tell them that we accept the offer."

"Perfect."

You sighed in relief, hoping that you would all jump on board, so you could have an actual chance of saving your asses. You watched as Tord stood up and walked towards the door. He looked back one last time.

"I'll tell them. If they agree, you will be contacted again soon with further information."

You nodded slowly as you watched him leave. Tom simply scoffed.

"He's gone."

"Yeah, I can hear that."

"Oh, sorry..."

Tom pulled the blanket over his torso and laid back down. You put your hand on his head and stroked it gently. You could feel his body relaxing underneath your touch and smiled.

"Are you sure we're doing the right thing?"

"I don't know. I'll have to tell him about Mikkel. I feel like he deserves to know, somehow. I used to feel so guilty about not being to tell him."

"I guess. I'd be bad if he found out on his own."

"Yeah..."

You placed a soft kiss on Tom's forehead.

"I love you."

"I love you, too."

"I'm so sorry for making you feel like your condition's a burden on me. It's not. I was just trying to help you, I don't know."

"I know. It's okay, I was just pissed off. Sorry about that. It's just- I fucking hate that guy."

"Yeah, I know. Me too."

You both laughed. You then got up and turned off Tom's nightstand lamp. The flowers Tord had brought were placed in a vase. 

"I'll go now, okay? Goodnight, honey."

"Goodnight, Y/N."

You left the hospital and didn't see any staff on your way out.