Never Shall Be Slaves, part ten
Jun. 18th, 2007 10:29 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dolevalanTitle: Never Shall Be Slaves
Co-author Credit:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
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.
And they were up at the crack of dawn the next day. Tom wanted to scream with frustration. "I think I'm going to go crazy," he said to Richard.
"If you do, you should try to do something amusing. Become convinced you're Napoleon or some such thing. The bastards would have no idea what to do with you."
In the middle of the inspection, Tom laughed and shouted, "I am Napoleon!" in a very bad French accent, just to see what would happen. The 'Briton's never shall be slaves' talk had gotten him his disrespect back, despite the welt across his face. Richard grimaced, funny as it was, because he knew no good could come of it.
The guard nearest Tom was shocked for a moment at the sheer absurdity of what had just happened, and glanced at the next closest guard for a hint of how to react.
Tom grinned and repeated it in German.
The other guard shrugged. His philosophy was hit it if it talks, sleeps, sings, looks happy, etc. Hitting it if it thought it was Napoleon had never occurred to him. The first guard turned back, and said roughly, "It doesn't matter who you are. Get to work." Though he said this with great conviction, it was still a very strange thing to have happened.
Richard tried not to smile. Tom did smile and continued to do so as he worked. He muttered to himself (still in his horrific French accent) as he moved rocks. When Richard passed he caught something about "...that damned Duke of Wellington..." This day was better than the previous one, though Richard was still in pain; partly because it wasn't raining, partly because the Germans didn't catch on to Tom's muttering or didn't care enough to stop it.
"How are you doing, sir?" Tom asked as they passed each other.
A weary smile. "I'm alright, Jones." On the next pass: "How's the invasion of Russia coming?"
"Not too well. It's colder than I thought it would be. And the communists keep getting in the way."
"Bloody communists."
"You'd think they didn't want to be invaded with the way they carry on."
"Ungrateful brutes, the lot of them."
"They shall have to be punished, of course. Any ideas?"
"You could always force them to listen the English sing 'Rule Britannia' incessantly. That should sap their will to live."
"Oh, yes. Especially if I get one of them...Jones, I think his name was, to sing. That will force them to surrender."
"Oh, to be sure. Though that may count as torture, you know."
"Desperate measures must be taken during war." Tom grinned and sang a few loud notes. "And I'm not that bad, sir."
Abruptly, there was a pistol shot that narrowly missed Richard. From his post several yards away, the guard yelled, "Silence! Next time I will not miss."
Tom looked scared and quickly shut up. "I'm sorry, sir."
Richard, though he kept moving, looked over at the guard with unmasked loathing. "Don't be, Jones."
"It was my fault, sir." Tom kept his gaze on his rock. "I won't do it again."
On their next pass, Richard said quietly, "The fact that the nazis are a bunch of bastards is not your fault, Jones."
"But if I just keep quiet they won't do anything."
Low, Richard said, "You don't know that."
"Yes, I do, sir. That's what they keep telling me." Tom didn't even glance up at him as they passed.
On the next pass: "And might it not be in their interest to sometimes lie to you, cadet?"
Tom was silent for a pass before replying, "I don't want you to get hurt because of me, sir."
"And I don't want you doing anything foolish to keep me from getting hurt." A pass. More quietly: "I knew the risk I was taking when I became a pilot, cadet, if it comes to that."
Tom was silent again for a few more passes. "I'll do what I have to do to keep us alive, sir."
Quietly, after a pass or two, Richard said, "As long as you don't sell them your soul, Jones."
"There would have to be a lot of sweets involved, sir."
Richard smiled. Tom didn't.
Co-author Credit:
abnormal_seaFandom(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.
And they were up at the crack of dawn the next day. Tom wanted to scream with frustration. "I think I'm going to go crazy," he said to Richard.
"If you do, you should try to do something amusing. Become convinced you're Napoleon or some such thing. The bastards would have no idea what to do with you."
In the middle of the inspection, Tom laughed and shouted, "I am Napoleon!" in a very bad French accent, just to see what would happen. The 'Briton's never shall be slaves' talk had gotten him his disrespect back, despite the welt across his face. Richard grimaced, funny as it was, because he knew no good could come of it.
The guard nearest Tom was shocked for a moment at the sheer absurdity of what had just happened, and glanced at the next closest guard for a hint of how to react.
Tom grinned and repeated it in German.
The other guard shrugged. His philosophy was hit it if it talks, sleeps, sings, looks happy, etc. Hitting it if it thought it was Napoleon had never occurred to him. The first guard turned back, and said roughly, "It doesn't matter who you are. Get to work." Though he said this with great conviction, it was still a very strange thing to have happened.
Richard tried not to smile. Tom did smile and continued to do so as he worked. He muttered to himself (still in his horrific French accent) as he moved rocks. When Richard passed he caught something about "...that damned Duke of Wellington..." This day was better than the previous one, though Richard was still in pain; partly because it wasn't raining, partly because the Germans didn't catch on to Tom's muttering or didn't care enough to stop it.
"How are you doing, sir?" Tom asked as they passed each other.
A weary smile. "I'm alright, Jones." On the next pass: "How's the invasion of Russia coming?"
"Not too well. It's colder than I thought it would be. And the communists keep getting in the way."
"Bloody communists."
"You'd think they didn't want to be invaded with the way they carry on."
"Ungrateful brutes, the lot of them."
"They shall have to be punished, of course. Any ideas?"
"You could always force them to listen the English sing 'Rule Britannia' incessantly. That should sap their will to live."
"Oh, yes. Especially if I get one of them...Jones, I think his name was, to sing. That will force them to surrender."
"Oh, to be sure. Though that may count as torture, you know."
"Desperate measures must be taken during war." Tom grinned and sang a few loud notes. "And I'm not that bad, sir."
Abruptly, there was a pistol shot that narrowly missed Richard. From his post several yards away, the guard yelled, "Silence! Next time I will not miss."
Tom looked scared and quickly shut up. "I'm sorry, sir."
Richard, though he kept moving, looked over at the guard with unmasked loathing. "Don't be, Jones."
"It was my fault, sir." Tom kept his gaze on his rock. "I won't do it again."
On their next pass, Richard said quietly, "The fact that the nazis are a bunch of bastards is not your fault, Jones."
"But if I just keep quiet they won't do anything."
Low, Richard said, "You don't know that."
"Yes, I do, sir. That's what they keep telling me." Tom didn't even glance up at him as they passed.
On the next pass: "And might it not be in their interest to sometimes lie to you, cadet?"
Tom was silent for a pass before replying, "I don't want you to get hurt because of me, sir."
"And I don't want you doing anything foolish to keep me from getting hurt." A pass. More quietly: "I knew the risk I was taking when I became a pilot, cadet, if it comes to that."
Tom was silent again for a few more passes. "I'll do what I have to do to keep us alive, sir."
Quietly, after a pass or two, Richard said, "As long as you don't sell them your soul, Jones."
"There would have to be a lot of sweets involved, sir."
Richard smiled. Tom didn't.
