Never Shall Be Slaves, part eight

[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.



The next morning came far too soon. A guard stomped in before it was even truly light out, shouting at the men to get up and outside. Tom sat up with a groan, holding his throbbing shoulder. Richard's arms and shoulders protested as he sat up, but the guard's continued shouting kept anyone from straggling.

It was a gray morning, and before long, it began to drizzle. They stood out in the rain for inspection first. The guards took as long as possible, making the men stand out in the rain while they smoked under a shelter, then started moving down the line.

Tom stood as straight as he could next to Richard, but after thirty minutes of it he began to shiver and started sneezing uncontrollably. Richard was shivering a bit as well, but he didn't have an open wound sapping his body's strength. He murmured "Hang in there, Jones," under his breath, but didn't know what else to do for the other man. Tom kept sneezing at odd moments, earning him a slap from one of the guards as they went by.

Eventually the men were given a piece of bread and a tin of water. Tom ate his this time without complaint. Once done they were sent back to rock clearing.

Rock clearing was infinitely worse with sore and cramping muscles, and the drizzle made Richard fear he'd never be properly warm or dry again. He kept an eye on Tom as best he could, but really had nothing he could offer the other man now except his own silent support. Regardless of whether Tom continued to call him "sir" or not, there was really no difference between them now, other than Tom's mysterious lessons.

After an hour or so, Richard involuntarily dropped a chunk of rock as his muscles seized up, very narrowly avoiding crushing his own foot.

"You!" One of the guards moved down towards Richard and grabbed him roughly by the arm. "Are you stupid? Pick it up!" He yelled in German and shoved Richard forward so that he landed in the mud next to his dropped rock.

Tom couldn't stop himself from shouting, "Sir!" and running over to help him up.

Richard's arms didn't lock properly to catch him, and he hit his head hard against the road as he fell. Blinking, he tried to struggle to his feet, not even properly registering Tom running over for a moment.

The guard, however, registered it fine, and turned, leveling his gun at Tom. "Get back to work!" he shouted in German. "And stay out of this." Tom looked from Richard to the guard and back again. After a moment's hesitation, he backed down and went to his own rock, still anxiously watching Richard. Richard managed to drag himself to his feet, though it took a moment. His arms felt rubbery and distant and his eyes were taking longer than they should to focus properly, but he stood. Satisfied, the guard waited for him to pick up his load and then left.

Tom coordinated his routine so that he was walking next to Richard. "Sir? Are you alright?"

Richard was walking a little slower than he had been, concentrating on making his arms obey him. His voice was a bit raw, but he said "I'm alright, Jones, thank you. Just got heavy for a moment." A small smile. "Not all of us have farm roots to fall back on. How's your shoulder?" During all of this, he'd been careful not to look at Tom, and to keep the fact he's talking as quiet and subtle as possible.

"Not so hot, sir." Tom was still working at a good pace, but it took him longer to pick up the rocks up and his arms shook every now and then.

"If they want you to translate, it'll be worth their while to heal you properly," Richard said with more conviction than he felt.

Tom sighed as he dropped his rock and went back to get another. "I don't know what they want anymore, sir." He pressed his hand against his shoulder. Richard glanced at the guard, who was looking straight at him with a glare that plainly said Stop stalling. Tom noticed no such glare, still busy trying to hold his shoulder together.

Richard fell back into a painful but steady rhythm of moving rocks. The hours seemed to drag hopelessly on, and the rain didn't let up. After a while Tom started singing again, quieter than before, but still enthusiastically. He wanted so badly to cheer Richard up. Richard managed a small smile, though he didn't join in this time.

One of the guards noticed, but instead of confronting Tom directly, he went to report it to a superior, as Tom had been earmarked and he didn't want to overstep in his punishment. Tom kept right on singinng 'Bei Mir Bist Du Schon.' Every now and then he would look over at Richard to make sure he was doing alright.

The guard returned, and moved towards them. Instead of addressing Tom, however, he said to Richard harshly, "Mach schnell!" Richard, though he didn't know the words, got the idea and struggled to move his rock faster, though his body was sluggish to comply. Tom glared at the guard and made his pace match Richard's, still singing in an encouraging manner.

The guard didn't leave, and a moment later said, to Tom "Tell him to hurry up. He's going too slow."

Tom glared at the guard again, then turned to Richard. "I'm sorry, sir. The bastard wants you to work faster." Tom started singing again, a little louder than before and a different song as well. He had now moved on to 'Rule Britannia.' Richard struggled to hurry up, matching his pace to the tempo of the song. The guard didn't leave.

Tom wanted to tell the guard to bugger off, but he didn't want to stop singing. So instead he kept singing 'Rule Britannia,' but he changed the words. The chorus (with extra emphasis on the "Britons never shall be slaves") stayed the same, but the rest of the song was now spent insulting the nazis. Richard couldn't help smiling at Jones' improvisations.

After a moment or two, the guard barked, "If he can smile, he can work faster."

Tom stopped singing for a moment and sighed. "They want you to work faster, sir." He picked up his own pace a little, but stayed close to Richard and kept singing even louder than before. Richard tried, but he was, at heart, a city-dweller. He picked up the pace, but it quickly became clear to all three of them that he wouldn't be able to maintain it.

Tom finally stopped singing and turned to the guard. "Stop it! He can't do this!"

Richard didn't know what Tom said, but managed, "Jones..." before the guard cut him off.

"He will do what we order him to do. He may slow down if you do not sing, do not talk, and pay attention to your work, and not otherwise."

Tom looked at Richard and then turned back to the guard and nodded. He went back to work, trying to find a loophole in that statement, finally settling on humming. The guard returned to patrolling, though he kept a close eye on the two Englishmen. Richard slowed a bit when it became clear the guard would allow him to, glancing at Jones, both grateful and troubled.

Tom didn't look up at Richard, afraid that he would have to work faster again. Instead he took out his anger on the rocks, moving them faster and faster, and when he dropped them he imagined each one was the dropping on the guard's head. He was so wrapped up in his fantasy that he got a twisted grin on his face and laughed each time he put down a rock at the end. Richard was growing progressively more worried about Tom, but was not in enough of a position to have the spare breath to ask him about it. For now, his energy was going into not collapsing.

After what seemed like forever, they were given a short break and a little bit of food. Tom moved over to Richard, sweating despite the chill and the drizzle. "I'm sorry, sir."

"For what, Jones?" Richard was attempting to stand without further straining any of his muscles, with little success.

"I...They were making you work like that because of me."

Richard frowned, shuddering just a bit in the cold. "Why punish me for what you were doing?" He glanced over at the guards.

"I don't know, sir. But I am terribly sorry."

"It's alright, Jones." A small, weak smile. "I can't blame you for wanting to foil them as best you can."

"I'm sorry, sir. I was just singing." Hoping that no guards were looking, he gave Richard a quick hug. Tom may have been British, but he wasn't very restrained Richard was startled, but returned it, surprised at how badly he wanted the human contact. And the fact he was using Tom to partially support himself. His muscles were really in worse shape than he wanted to admit.

Tom clung to Richard tighter, noticing that the other man was using him for support. "Maybe this will be it for today, sir..." For Richard's sake he desperately hoped that it was. "It looks like it may get dark soon, sir." He was still hugging him, hoping to give Rchard's muscles a rest.

"Thank you, Jones. I'll be alright. Though you should try to ease your shoulder during the break, if you can."

The same guard from earlier shouted, without coming over. "Back to work. Quickly!"

"We have to start again, sir. You can lean on me if you need to."

"I will try to go on my own steam for now, Jones. I wouldn't want to get either of us in more trouble." A weak smile. "The wing commander would be disgusted to see what poor physical shape I'm in, I'm sure."

Tom looked skeptical but he let Richard go. "If you say so, sir."

He went back to his own rocks, checking up on Richard frequently. Allowed to go slower, Richard managed, concentrating the task. He would not give them an excuse for more brutality. Not that they needed one, apparently.

Due to the rain, it got dark even earlier than usual so the nazis forced them to work into the night. After far too many stumbles and bruises for Tom's liking they were finally herded back to the barrack and given their nightly meal. Tom, again, got substantially less than Richard. Richard ate, but then offered part of his soup to Tom. "You need your strength, for the wound."

"No. You eat it, sir. I'm afraid it doesn't agree with me." He smiled. "And I'm sure I'll get more candies tonight if I'm a good little lad."

"Ask them if you can have some proper medical care instead of the sweets," Richard said, a touch bitterly, though his anger was clearly not for Tom.

"I'll try. I was so confused last night, sir, that I didn't even think of it. It is such an odd situation. Like I'm in school all over again."

Quietly, "As long as you remember not to trust them, Tom." The use of the other man's Christian name was much like the earlier hug - more a need for something human than anything else.

Tom blinked a bit. "I won't." He thought. "I'll try to get you a job somewhere else, sir. I know that they need a new typist."

"Your shoulder is more important, to take care of first. I'll toughen up in a day or two."

Tom didn't look like he believed him. "Not with the way they're feeding you."

"I'm young, and my health was good to start with. If your shoulder gets infected, you won't be able to work for long either way."

"I'll see what I can do, sir."

Tom lay down and tried to sleep for a while before he was taken off again. Unlike last time when he had gone of terrified, this time he turned and gave Richard a smile as he left. Richard returned it, though his stomach clenched a bit as Tom went.