Never Shall Be Slaves part five

[dolevalan]

Title: Never Shall Be Slaves
Co-author Credit: abnormal_sea
Fandom(s): Richard Carstone is from Bleak House by Charles Dickens. Tom Jones is from the novel of the same name by Henry Fielding. Danny Sloane (Arthur's younger brother) also makes a brief cameo appearance.
Rating: PG-13, overall, for violence and some language.


Richard was up early the next morning, half from nerves, half from habit. He didn't let himself out, but got up and carefully peered out the window. Tom still asleep, but some part of him noted the movement and he mumbled a little. Tom was still asleep, but some part of him noted the movement and he mumbled a little. Richard frowned, moving away from the window before stretching and idly thinking how badly he could use a bath. Out of routine, he checked all his gear, making sure his gun was well-concealed.

Tom cracked open an eye. "Sir? What time is it?"

"Daylight, but not long after dawn." Richard's watch hadn't worked since the crash. "We should probably get moving."

Tom grumbled and began to slowly get out of the bed. It didn't take him long to put himself together and after a few minutes he poked his head out of the door. He pulled it back in and turned to Richard. "Shall we go down, sir?"

Richard nodded. "Once more, dear friend, into the breach." Reassuming his former, beaten persona, he stepped out and headed down, just in front of Tom.

The Germans all seemed very happy to see Tom and served both men a large breakfast. Tom smiled and nodded, looking bleary and slightly out of it. This made the older woman fuss over him even more than before, constantly putting more food on his plate.

But after a while the sounds of a truck pulling up could be heard. Tom tried not to tense and told himself it was for farming. Richard didn't bother trying not to tense, though he did keep his hands well away from his concealed weapon. Darting out now would just get him shot, and most likely Jones as well.

Tom tried to remain calm and concentrated on his food as the lady opened the door, telling the people outside how pleased she was that they had come so soon. When the men came in, Tom's heart leapt up and lodged somewhere in his throat. They were nazi officers. He gave Richard a look of sheer terror.

Quietly, gambling, Richard said, "If I listened to my superior officer's orders, I would keep my head down and try to look for a chance of escape. Too late for me, though, I guess," as if talking to himself, not looking at Tom, though his words were clearly directed to the cadet. His attitude was tense but defiant, though he looked down at his empty plate.

Tom wanted to mumble something in return, give him a look, anything, but one of the officers came up and clapped a hand on Tom's shoulder while the other went to secure Richard. He congratulated Tom on his good work. There may even be a promotion sometime soon. What was his name anyway? Tom stammered his assumed name and realized with horror that he had no clue as to his rank and therefore didn't know how to address the man. The other man seemed to notice this and looked at Tom suspiciously at about the time that the other nazi found Richard's gun.

As he realized the man was about to find his gun, Richard went for a distraction. He had been docilely accepting his fate, but now abruptly started attacking his assailant as best he could. He wasn't expecting to do much besides create a diversion for Tom, if even that, but considered that it would be hard for the situation to be worse. One of the officers barked an order out the door and even more men came in to restrain Richard. Tom remained rooted to the spot, unable to do much more than look confused and very frightened. Richard couldn't say or do anything to give Tom away. But he offered a silent prayer that he would be smart and lucky enough to play along until he had a chance to run, and that he had understood his tacit orders. For the moment, it kept him from considering his own position fully.

They had removed themselves from the house and were now trying with varying degrees of success to get Richard in the truck. The nazis had also found his gun by now and were interrogating Tom as to why he allowed the prisoner to have it. Tom stumbled and muttered his way through a badly constructed apology/explanation. They were starting to get even more suspicious and the grip on his shoulder had tightened. He hissed with pain. The officer noted how odd it was to have a wound but not even a rip on his uniform. Tom was on the verge of just running, but he knew he would get shot.

Richard resisted, but knew it was a lost cause, and finally let them shove him into the truck, a little blood trickling from his lip. He was breathing heavily, but his emotions again retreated, much as when he had first found himself shot from the sky, and he began trying to assess the situation.

It all fell to pieces when they asked to see his identification. Tom, of course had no such thing on him and when they discovered this he quickly found himself seated next to Richard, his hands tied behind his back.

He exhaled heavily. "Forgive me, cadet. I made the wrong call." It seemed to go without saying, but Richard still felt the need to apologize.

Tom was trying, and failing yet again, to remain calm. "I'm sorry, sir. I tried. I honestly did. But they asked for my papers and I didn't have any to show them and I never should have looked at those girls for so long in the first place and I shouldn't be here, it should be someone better like Seward. I shouldn't have survived and somebody else could be here now and we're going to die!"

"Jones. I will do everything in my power to keep us alive. The rest is in the Lord's hands. You did all you could. And if Seward were here, we wouldn't have gotten this far, as I know for a fact his German was much worse than yours, and he was swarthy to be a Nazi." Quieter, "This isn't your fault."

Tom shook his head. "It is, sir. I mess everything up. I've been doing it since the day I was born. I never should have volunteered and I never should have stayed for breakfast and I never should have--" Whatever he was goin to say next was cut off when one of the Germans, annoyed by his babbling, backhanded him. Richard tensed, clearly angry, but in no position to do anything about it other than mutter "Bastards," under his breath.

The nazis in the back of the truck noticed Richard's reaction and laughed. One of them punched Tom in the stomach and turned to the other Englishman with a grin, eager to see what he did next. Richard was angry, but knew that showing it would only encourage them to keep beating Tom. So he made a face, then looked down at his shoes, all broken spirit and despair.

Well, that was no fun. They gave Tom another punch for good measure, then formed a huddle on the other side of the truck to play a game of cards.

Tom lay gasping on his side, trying not to whimper. Under his breath, Richard said, "Sorry, Jones," breathing deeply to keep calm. Tom bit his lip and nodded. He retreated into his perfect world of medals and Sophy to try and calm himself, barely noticing anything else that happened in the truck.

He didn't even notice when they finally stopped. Richard looked up, trying to anticipate where they'd stopped. One of the Germans got up and prodded Tom with his foot, experimentally but not gently in the least. Tom whimpered a little, but tried to get in a sitting position. He finally noticed that they had stopped and the realization hit him that he was probably going to die.

"Look alive, man," Richard hissed, under his breath. "They need forced labour, if they're willing to transport us that far." He didn't know for sure, of course...he'd only heard the rumor. But he didn't want Tom giving up on him.

Tom did as he was told and finally sat up, his expression serious. He didn't resist much when he was hauled out of the truck and stood blinking in the sun. Richard stood by Tom, quiet but observant. Another nazi came up and looked him over, doing the same to Richard. The German turned to the ones who had brought them there. "What are they here for?"

The nazi who had originally congratulated Tom said, "This one was impersonating a German soldier," indicating Tom. "He preyed upon an unsuspecting family, pretending to have captured the other. We found the 'prisoner' armed and the soldier lacking papers."

Tom swallowed nervously when he heard what he was charged with, and looked the picture of hopelessness. "Please, sir," he said in German, "I don't want to die, but get it over with quickly."

The nazi snorted derisively at Tom's interjection, but simply said to his superior, "Do you think they can be of use, or should we deal with them here?"

Another critical glance at the two of them. "I suppose so."

Tom, meanwhile was being snorted at and ignored and wasn't enjoying one minute of it. "Excuse me..."

Richard, though he didn't speak German, sensed the dynamic that was building. "Jones," he hissed, "let be."

"But--" Tom was going to say, 'But I want to find out what's happening,' but he was interrupted by one of the Germans coming up and gripping his chin. The man turned his face left and right and pried his mouth open to look at his teeth, like one would with a horse. "Well, this one looks alright, almost like one of our boys," he scrutinized Tom's face again, "A little undersized, but strong. But it won't shut up. I'm not sure we can teach it to mind."

The first nazi said, with simple unembellished confidence, "If you want his muscles, we can stop his mouth, sir. What about the other?"

He repeated the procedure with Richard. "Height, strength, and fairly docile." The man grinned and patted his cheek. "Silent, too. This one we can use."

"Very good, sir. There's a road crew clearing rocks not far from here. We could process them and leave them there, unless you have a preference of where to put them."

Richard was careful not to meet the nazi's eyes. It hurt him, to be shamed this way, but survival came first. He silently willed Tom to keep that in mind.

"The road crew is fine. Proceed." He gave Richard another pat, then saluted and walked off.

Tom was scared and angry and not bothering to hide it. "What is going on?" He asked in German.

A German backhanded him, hard. "If you do not wish to die, quickly or otherwise, you will not speak unless asked a direct question. Understand?" Tom stumbled back a step and nodded, slowly. "Good." He turned to another man. "We need to get these men some uniforms and numbers. Radio the crew and notify them we're on our way." The other man saluted and walked off to do so.

Tom was still in shock and found himself unconsciously moving closer to Richard for what small protection and comfort he offered. Richard was bound, so he couldn't offer any physical support, but he unconsciously moved slightly closer, so that he was between Tom and the Germans.

"Sir." The other Nazi had returned. "The crew has been alerted and they now await our arrival. There were also some specific notes from the commander, regarding the prisoners. 'All personal effects are to be saved' and 'after the first work day of work the prisoners are to be brought back here for interrogation.'" While he was speaking the Nazi was already marching them to the place of processing.

"Very good. Bag their effects during processing."

Richard looked at Tom. He wanted to ask what was going on, but wouldn't risk it yet. Tom looked back at Richard and shrugged. He still didn't understand. Processing?

They got to a low building and moved inside. Tom stood blinking again at the rapid change from light to dark. One of the officers pushed Richard forward and into a chair. Tom was getting more worried by the second. He was certain they were going to kill Richard. Instead the order came to shave him.

Tom looked back at Richard and shrugged. He still didn't understand. Processing?

They got to a low building and moved inside. Tom stood blinking again at the rapid change from light to dark. One of the officers pushed Richard forward and into a chair. Tom was getting more worried by the second. He was certain they were going to kill Richard. Instead the order came to shave him. Richard didn't resist - at this point, resistance was a no win situation, and he could see it. He had, once again, emotionally retreated, dealing with the scene in a calm, detached way.

Another German started searching Tom for any items of interest to bag. This, apparently, included his photographs. Tom started speaking frantically in German. "No! I need those! You can't take those!" His hands were bound so he desperately tried biting the man searching him. He needed his photos. The man yelled, dropping the photographs in pain and surprise.

Another German drew his gun and leveled it at Tom, saying forcefully in German, "Freeze immediately." Simultaneously, Richard said, sharply, "Jones!" One of the Nazi’s hands 'slipped' while cutting Richard's hair, giving his ear a slice in an unspoken warning to stay silent. Richard hissed a bit in pain at the cut, but didn't flinch.

Tom stopped, more due to Richard than the gun. "Yes, sir," he said in English, clearly obeying his own leader, not the Germans.

The German with the gun walked over to Tom with a sneer. "Arrogant English dog. We should just shoot you now and save ourselves the trouble." He bent down to pick up the photographs, the first man ready to intervene if Tom tried to stop him.

Casually, the man flipped through the photographs, smirking a little here and there, especially at the pictures of Molly. Tom was getting more and more angry and only holding himself back because of Richard. They may have been mainly pictures of Tom acting stupid and goofing around, but they were pictures of him acting stupid in the places he loved, with people he cared about. It was as though the man was going through his very personal and private thoughts. When he got to the ones of Molly, Tom finally growled, "Halt," from between his clenched teeth.

The German looked up, coldly. "I thought I told you to be quiet." He glanced over at Richard. "Your friend doesn't speak German, does he?" Looking back to Tom. "It would be a shame if he never knew that it was your inability to control yourself that got him killed." He handed the photographs to the man Tom had bit, who hurriedly went over to wrap them up with Tom and Richard's other things.

Tom fell silent and looked over at Richard. They had finished shaving his head and he looked like a different person. It was Tom's turn and he went silently, but still slightly resisting. He wasn't necessarily vain, but he liked his looks and didn't want them changed without his consent.

The Nazis were already going through the next step with Richard. They thrust a bundle of clothing at him and ordered him to strip. Richard hesitated for a moment, and got a backhand to the jaw for his trouble. So he stripped and put on the ill-fitting gray uniform. He found himself alternating between worry for Jones and the sense of watching the whole scene from somewhere far off.

Tom sat still during his haircut, closing his eyes when Richard was told to strip, and reopening them later to glance at the other man. The change in appearance shocked and scared him. When it came time for him to do the same he silently shook his head. He had been told how prisoners of war were supposed to be treated and this hadn't been part of it.

Before the Germans could retaliate, Richard quickly said, "Do what they want, Jones," knowing the outburst would redirect their anger, if only momentarily. The Germans turned and one of them punched Richard, hard, in the stomach.

This only served to make Tom even more worked up. "Sir!" He dropped the clothes they had given him and tried to rush to Richard. Richard doubled over, wincing more at the failure of his tactic than the blow, though the punch didn't help.

The German who had gone through Tom’s photographs cocked his gun, pointing it at Richard but looking at Tom. "Are you stupid? Or do you not care if he dies?"

Tom stopped and began to take off his Nazi uniform and replace it with the one they had given him. "I am stupid," he mumbled. He finished and stood there awkwardly, wondering if it could get any worse.

Though he didn't speak the language, Richard gathered that they were using him to get Jones to cooperate. It wasn't what he wanted, but if it kept the other man alive, it was not a complete loss. Not that there would have been anything to do if he had wanted to.

The man who had taken their belongings bundled up their old clothes, and took everything outside to his superior. Tom moved until he was standing next to Richard and brushed one of his hands against Richard's, just for the contact. It was obvious from his trembling that he was scared beyond reason and he wanted to cling to Richard, so calm and above it all. The Germans didn't seem to notice or didn't care.

After a moment of waiting, the men were shoved outside. "The boss wants to interrogate them now," one of the Nazis said, to the other's curious look. Tom heard this and started quivering even more as they were marched into one of the buildings.

Richard thought, dimly, that perhaps he was in shock. But that was odd, because shock was for things like, well, getting shot out of the sky or shooting someone on the ground, and that had just been calm, both times. Unless they were shock too and he hadn't noticed. He wondered idly if one could ever know one was in shock while being in it. And all this time, he continued walking, sticking close to Jones and wondering if the other man was mistaking his shock for strength, and not entirely caring either way.