Get Well Cards (Tomtord) (Left for dead au)

Chapter 1; Another Chance

Tord, badly shaken and injured, was left for dead. His orders were simple and clear, take the robot and leave back to headquarters. But no. He failed to complete his mission, and no one would salvage him from the shame and disrespect that follows him.
The ground surrounding him was tarnished in red metal debris, wires hanging from now foreign objects. The flattened grass below him was drenched in his own blood. And worst of all, a harpoon was lodged in his shoulder, which was already shredded from the explosion. On the 'bright' side, he couldn't feel it.
He couldn't feel a damn thing in his arm, or the limb itself. The only thing he felt was the searing pain and blindness in his eye. He had no idea how long it would last. He just knew he needed help.
His black and gold helmet lay to his side which he soon collapsed on, leaving his form and clothes utterly useless and torn. He accepted his death. Now, he'd just wait...

    After moving into his apartment, Tom sat on his couch, tired and mindless. Thinking about it, it seemed crazy how fast he moved in... weird.
However despite the comfort of his new home, something wasn't right... something deep down was unsettling him and Tom had an idea of what it was. Tord.
Through his rage and hate for the man, he couldn't help but wonder if Tord ever made it out alive. Or if one of his weird army friends came to his glorious rescue and would later end up having some badass robot arm or something. Just a thought.
His troubled mind pushed him out the door at what seemed to be late afternoon. He walked up to the mountain where he suspected the crash sight would be. Well... he was right.
On what used to be a plain and peaceful hill, was pure chaos.
Metal fragments of all shapes and sizes arched out of the ground or lay lifelessly on smaller debris. Wires cut short sparked in random timeframes, attracting Tom's void like eyes to dart around. It was chilling.
The site seemed unoccupied at the time, there wasn't anyone standing around or talking. It was just oddly silent with zaps from the wires and some crackles from small flames.
He walked a little further in and his feet became cemented to the ground. Tord.
The commie laid lifelessly on the hill, an alarming amount of blood bleaching the surrounding grass. His form was dead to say the least, no groans, no cussing, and it didn't look like he was breathing either.
His legs began in motion with bricks strapped to his legs, he observed his body close up. As he did, sickness overcame him.
His arm was purely shredded and mangled, coated in a deep red that stained his hoodie a darker shade. The source came from something sharp lodged in his shoulder... a harpoon..
Tears threatened, and he looked up to his face to distract himself. No better.
Half of his face seemed in the same state, only it was still intact. His eyelids draped over the eyes of a once deadly man, now, he seemed helpless and fragile.
Rigidly Tom brought two fingers to Tord's neck, shuddering at the feel of his clammy skin. "......badump........badump" it was barely there, and only getting slower by the second. Confusion overwhelmed Tom and eventually, he knew what he had to do. But he wouldn't like it. And neither would the others.

Tord woke up groggily and in searing pain, his throat was soar and his muscles felt torn. Besides that however, something felt... absent. He felt a little less than human for some reason.
It was only then he acknowledged the small beeping next to him on a machine he only saw in infirmaries, as the room was drowned in white with little color. He was curious... but tired. So. So tired.
His eyelids fell once more with a groan of pain.
From then on he drifted in and out of consciousness, one of the times being a short conversation with a nurse, talking only to answer questions. "Do you feel pain right now?" "Yes" "how bad is it" "horrid" , etc.

Eventually, he did wake up after what felt like years in a deep slumber. He woke in a different room, all alone with beeping machines. He was slightly propped up in a hospital bed, covered by a thin blanket which had no affect on the temperature drop.
He looked around. Still wondering what had happened, and what was wrong now. There was a small bedside table to his left, on it was a small cup filled with what he assumed to be juice or gatorade. He reached for it, feeling a weird restraint in doing so. He drank a small bit before putting the cup back on it's table.

After sitting in the waiting room for 10+ hours, Tom was finally able to see the state of the Norwegian. His procedure had taken so long he had a blanket and pillow and was sleeping uncomfortably in a chair.
He walked down identical white halls, following the nurses lead. Eventually, he arrived at a room that only one person occupied, Tord.
The nurse quickly said goodbye and stepped out, leaving the two in solitude.
He was watching television, his eyes tiredly fixated on it with a hint of something he'd never seen before, regret and dread. And Tom could tell why.
All that was left of Tord's right arm was a nub that reached down half his shoulder, wrapped in a white gauze tinted red. And the side of his face had the same treatment. He was in a baby blue gown and his caramel hair was a mess, and he wrapped himself under the protection of the rough covers. It was slightly obvious he didn't know of his presence.
Tom stepped a little further into view, looking into Tord's eye. "Hey." He said. Tord's head shot up to him, scared by the sudden intrusion. He soon calmed.
"Did you... bring me here?" Tom nodded, "But why? After what I did.." his voice was shallow and broke in many places.
"Got bored.." Tord scoffed and cracked a smile, "No, seriously Tom. I-" he cut him off. "Look, I don't know why I did it, but I did. Alright?" Tord looked into his eyes for a good few seconds with newfound feelings. "Ok." He said quietly.
It was silent a few minutes before Tom broke the ice, "So, when do they let you out of this place?" "No idea, my guess is around two weeks." He croaked. "Weird" "yeah."
    The room was silent and dark now, time had passed and the hour was late. Tord had fallen asleep out of exhaustion and Tom just watched over him. He laid lazily across a chair staring up at the telly, not thinking much of the show that was on. What would he tell Edd and Matt? "Oh hey guys, hope you don't mind that I brought home a communist refuge that backstabbed you. Mind if he stays with you?" He scoffed, Edd would shun him for the rest of his life if he found out what he'd done. Matt wouldn't dare look at him either.
    Tom let out a long sigh, "Oh, what am I going to do with you?" He spoke to himself, shifting his lazy gaze to the sleeping commie. It was weird seeing him not threatening anyone...
    His eye was closed and Tom could tell he was in a deep slumber, mostly due to the drugs he'd guessed.
    Tom thought about his apartment then, there was only one bedroom, and that was his own. 'Fucking hell Commie' he thought. Coming to a quick conclusion on what he'd do.
    Tord then stirred as the British man watched. Flinching and shuddering, almost as if he were in pain... the machine that occasionally beeped now sounded like an alarm at a fast pace.
    His crimson eye shot open and stared at the ceiling, coated in a worried glaze. "Woaah Tord, calm down."
    Tord looked to Tom, fearful...

             TO BE CONTINUED

(A/N; hey guys, how'd you like the first chapter? I'm really excited to be starting this series and I'm ecstatic to hear what you guys think. Any-who see you guys later.)
                       -Swingster