Mine

Chapter 11

~Tord's POV~

I still found it hard to believe, being saved by the Jehovah's Witness. He could've left me for dead or even killed me on that stupid island. I shook my head with a sigh, staring at the ceiling. If I was being honest, I was bored. Paul and Patryck left to go get new bandages which left me to my own devices. It had been around the ten-minute mark when I decided to take matters into my own hands and stop being bored. Slowly I hauled myself off the bed, wings tucked firmly against my back. I cast a last-second glance at the cloak I had used earlier before deciding against it, he already knew, there was no point now.

My steps felt unsure even to myself as I approached the door, thoughts bouncing around my head. Would he even bother to open the door? I had to believe he would, if not I could probably break it down anyways. That alone made me smile some, fingers gently turning the handle I found myself peeking out into the hall. When it remained quiet I stepped out, allowing the door to shut behind me. In no time at all, I found myself in front of his room. Why did I feel nervous? Grumbling a soft curse I knocked.

I could hear shuffling from within, and to my surprise, he actually opens the door. "Commie?" By the looks of it he had been sleeping, his hair not sticking up entirely straight and his voice a tad raspy. "I'm bored." I wasn't taking no for an answer so I didn't wait, sliding past him to settle on one of the beds. Tom groaned, closing the door before limping back over to his own. Silence. I twiddled my thumbs, what was I even supposed to say to him? "Why didn't you tell us?" His question made me stiffen. I already knew what he was referring to yet my mouth spoke against my mind. "Why didn't I tell you what?" There were a lot of things he could've said to that, my heart still sank when he voiced the one I didn't want to answer most. "Wings?"

A sigh escaped me then, wings tensing up even more if that was even possible. I had to pick my words carefully. "I didn't see a need to, I can't fly with them so why does it matter?" It was Tom's turn to sigh, his own wings curving slightly. I didn't think about it much at the time, looking at him now his wings were so much bigger than my own. Mine had remained relatively small from neglect while his were larger and obviously stronger. "Can... I see them?" He seemed unsure of the question, and I myself was unsure of what the answer should be. I figured I'd have to give him an answer eventually, might as well get it over with now.

I had to force myself to relax, I was way too tense over something like this. Slowly I opened them, my gaze finding the floor. I swear I could feel Tom's gaze burning holes through the already torn skin. "As I said before, they're nothing special," I muttered, fists tightening against my pants. Tom surprised me then, his hand suddenly against one of my wings. I flinched under his touch, gritting my teeth as the realization of what happened hit me. Weakness wasn't something to be shown lightly, I wasn't weak, I couldn't be. Tom seemed unsure by this point, his fingers hovering just an inch or so from touching them.

My shoulders slumped, bat-like wings curving slightly for his fingers to brush against them. The touch was foreign to me, I couldn't quite place the feeling I had. "I'd ask what happened but..." We shared a look, I didn't want to talk about that at all. "Instead... Why? Why the giant robot? Why'd you try and kill us?" An aggravated "Tsk." escaped me then. "You tried to kill me too." Tom gave me a dirty look for that. "You shot missiles at us and killed Jon." "You shot a harpoon at me and nearly impaled me, not to mention that caused my robot to explode and I almost lost an arm." The wounds and burns had healed about as much as they could've, leaving my skin tone completely different colors. The burns had healed paler than my natural color, and the vision in one of my eyes had worsened.

At this moment I truly hated having Tom's gaze on me. "You still didn't answer my question." He spoke finally after what felt like an eternity. I took a breath, I still wasn't sure how much I wanted to tell him. "My... parents made the army before I was even born... It was small then, not nearly big enough to take over the world." I paused, gathering my thoughts before continuing. "They knew if something went wrong they'd need someone to take over for them to continue their dream and so, I was born. Not like I was normal though." I had to tighten my fists against my pants to keep my hands from shaking. "When they saw I was born with wings they wondered if they could grow them artificially for the soldiers... They needed to know how strong natural ones were though." I was getting to the part I desperately didn't want to talk about. "When I became old enough to fly they ran me through training, I thought it was fun at the time but..." I had to stop, I hated this.

Thankfully, Tom seemed to put the pieces together to some extent. "So they experimented on you and this is the aftermath isn't it." I nodded, casting my gaze to the floor. "That doesn't explain why you captured us, you tortured us Tord." He sounded hurt, not like I could blame him. "When I learned I had to follow the rules to keep from being hurt I became more ruthless to protect myself. When my parents finally died the army turned to me for guidance, it's what I had been training for after all. I had to keep up the act, I didn't want to die Tomas." I had forgotten what it was like to feel safe, even when I was living with them in the past I didn't feel safe which is why I had left in the first place. "Paul and Patryck are the only ones that know the truth because-"

The door swung open, Tom taking a step away from me. "Tord! You weren't in the room when we got back so I got worried and-" "You made me have to deal with this." Paul cut Patryck off with a sigh, pulling his cigar from his mouth. A soft laugh escaped me, glancing between the two. "I suppose this means you found the supplies to fix up my shoulder?" Patryck nodded at my words, approaching with a bag in hand. I let him do as he wished, Patryck was as much of a motherly figure as Edd had once been for me... Telling someone your life story sure makes everything that you messed up that more depressing.

Tom had looked away when Patryck helped me out of my shirt, my old injuries on full display. The burns had spread from my hand up to my shoulder and even made its way onto some of my chest. The deep scar across my arm was also decently visible even now. Patryck worked quickly as always, cleaning before bandaging the latest wound in my previously non-wounded shoulder. When he was finished we sat/stood in silence, might as well have been twiddling our thumbs.

Silence.

Well isn't this awkward.