"Dad, check this out!" Erick's voice hit Tom the second his foot left the stairwell. He sucked in a jittery breath before he even thought about looking up, mentally preparing for whatever his husband could be hiding down there.

Well, he figured what it could be, but that didn't mean he was any more prepared for it.

This lab was far bigger than Tom expected, the main room nearly the size of their house if the walls were knocked down, with four structural pillars standing at attention. Tord shingled them with blueprints, photos, whatever he could cram onto them. There was even a dartboard on the closest one, with a wanted poster of a man Tom didn't recognize tacked on with a dart. Some ginger, it wasn't Matt.

Since the floor plan was so open, Tom was able to easily spot a workout corner, along with a sprawling table piled with important looking paraphernalia, and a massive, fence-like cage gorged with even bigger equipment, held shut with a lock. There was a lone room that stood out in the far corner, closest to the exercise spot, the door shut tight.

"Dad, look!" Erick motioned his father over to the nook closest to that door (Tom noted that it must be under the garage), his giddy laugh vibrating off the high ceiling. Tom couldn't help but smile, seeing what his son was so excited over. "It's like Aliens!" He beamed, touching the leg of some sort of small mech. It was yellow, clearly a Frankenstein of forklift pieces, and over eight feet in height.

So Tord never gave up on engineering after his arm...

"Now I know why he didn't let you down here," Tom rolled his eyes, carefully lowering his son's hand off of the mech's leg. "He hates when people touch his stuff."

"Oh, crap!" Erick's eyes bugged out of his skull, and he giggled nervously, his cheeks growing redder. "I didn't think about that..."

"I won't tell him," The Brit smiled, offering a wink. "Just be careful, okay? We don't know what half of this is."

"I will, I will." Erick laughed, eagerly walking off to see more of his father's work. Eduardo called him over to the caged room, immediately asking what he thought the shit inside was. Their theories were beyond stupid, but some of them stuck out - a laser gun? A mini sentry?

God, what was Tord preparing for?

Tom kept a watchful eye on him for a few more seconds before turning back to the mech, taking in the detail for himself. It was strange - for some reason, Tom assumed that his husband being a homebody meant that he just took care of the house during the day, ran errands, or maybe hung out with his older friends from the neighborhood. For some reason, he didn't expect Tord to keep up with his antics from their younger years, especially at this scale. It was a melancholic kind of nostalgia, one that both warmed his heart and worried him sick.

If he never gave this up, there must be a reason.

Tom absently tugged at the colourful resistance band that hung from one of the mech's arms, chuckling at the visual of Tord doing pull-ups on one of his own creations.

He held onto it a little tighter as he thought.

Eduardo, his kids, and himself were all accounted for...

Where was Jan?

He was the first person down the steps, yet Tom hadn't caught a meager glance of the man, didn't even hear him speak. Where the hell did he go?

It wasn't that Tom didn't trust him, or at least, that is what he told himself.

He reassured himself that the Finnish man merely knew what he was looking for, and went straight for it without them. He was the one that wanted to get down to the lab in the first place. That being said, Tom had only known him from photos and a handful of calls from Tord, this man was essentially a stranger.

A stranger that knew more about Tom's house than he did...

Unless Tord managed to cram a second secret entrance into their home, there was only one place Jan could be.

Tom hesitantly peered through the doorway of the one closed off room, breathing a sigh of relief as his eyes locked onto that steely blond crown of hair. Jan was stooped behind a dark oak desk, rifling through one of its drawers.

"What are you looking for?"

Jan answered without looking up, the shuffle of Tord's documents almost drowning out his softened voice. "His address book."

"But I..." Tom slowed, watching Jan delicately slide the compartment shut to search the next.

Tord only had one address book.

Well, only one that Tom knew of, and it was upstairs. "...Already grabbed it, it's with Edd."

The Finn shook his head, finally meeting the other man's eye, his mellow blue gaze swallowed up by Tom's black hole of a glare. "There's a special one, Tom." The Brit neglected to respond, so Jan happily resumed digging. After a moment, he let out an upward hum of satisfaction, sliding a sleek maroon book onto the desk's surface, embossed with the Red Army's insignia.

The mere sight of it sent a shiver up Tom's spine.

Last time he saw that symbol, he was protecting Tord from some crazed impostor who called herself Sapphire. Though it was once Tord's symbol, neither of them saw it that way anymore, and Tom could never shake the pain and fear in his husband's eye from that day.

"Look, I hope I'm not overstepping, but how do you know all of this?" Tom leaned forward, unafraid to get into Jan's space as the Brit's palms pushed into the desk's smooth surface. Jan raised an eyebrow. "You've never visited us."

The blond simply cracked open the address book, pages fanning out until he smoothed them down, scanning intently. "Tord told me where it was, just in case." He said it quietly, yet matter-of-factly, like Tom was a moron.

This method of communication wasn't going to fucking slide with Tom. He didn't want to play mental hopscotch with a man two years older than himself. Jan seemed useful, and Tom didn't want to strangle him to death before he stopped being useful, just because he was such a hard-ass.

"Just in- Listen, I don't know what's going on, so you've better tell me."

"Tord wanted multiple disaster plans if something happened to him, I js-"

"No, Jan." Tom snapped, a little too harsh, a little too quick. "What's happened to him?"

He scanned over Tom's features rapidly, his fingers nervously dancing on the desktop. Silence ate away at the pair as Jan worked up a response. Finally, his eyes stopped, and his brows knit together.

"Look for yourself."

He gestured with a whole hand, past Tom and a little to his right. The Brit reluctantly turned to follow the signal, only to come face to face with something he could hardly imagine his husband creating.

The three other walls were neat and tidy, lined with family photos and bookshelves. This wall however, the one with the door, held a world map that was tangled in red yarn, easily an entire skein. It was a spiderweb woven through thumbtacks, notes, and photos, all with scrawled writing on every country that wasn't drowned in string. And there he was again - the ginger from the dartboard, in low quality security footage and mugshot alike.

Jan stepped out from behind the desk, beckoning Tom closer to the map.

"He's been tracking a man named Winston Quell for well over ten years, finally locked down his most likely location." Tom watched as Jan plucked the photo of the man from the board, holding it where both of them could see.

Now, this Winston Quell looked nothing how Tom imagined - when Tord said his name, ranted and raved about the shit he did, Tom expected him to look powerful. Godly, even. All sculpted marble and muscle.

This man, however, was hardly half of that.

He had a neat crop of ginger hair, a strong, angular face, and a sour expression. His eyes were his scariest feature, milky brown, with nearly opalescent pupils. The skin surrounding those eyes was deeply burned, angry and pink like Tord's.

What the hell happened to him?

"We were planning to catch him before the year was out, but... He struck first." Jan gently returned the picture to the board, speaking softly, reverently, as he stared into the milky eyes of the photo. "We didn't even realize he was doing the exact same thing to Tord, tracking him."

"...What were you gonna do once you had him?"

"Finish the job." Jan's voice came softly, with a hollow ache that Tom could feel.

Silence loomed over the pair, daring them to speak as they scanned over the map.

Tom couldn't break away from those fucking eyes. Winston's weary glare was uncanny, a corpse's eyes pushed into a living man's sockets. He had to be blind. How the hell did he capture Tord?

Though Tord spoke plenty about him, Tom never actually saw Winston prior to this. The man that caused his husband physical pain from stress, the man who threatened their family before they even were one. The worst part was he didn't even look intimidating. Tom couldn't believe that a man this strange was Tord's biggest nightmare.

Another photo caught Tom's attention, and he reached up to it, drumming the paper with his pointer finger. It was grainy and poor quality, but Tom could make out that their hair was dark with a beard to match, and that they were toting a hefty gun.

"...How about him?"

Jan leaned in for a better look, nearly touching the board with his wavy nose. "Oh." He took the photo off the board, gingerly pressing it onto the desk. "We think he's a bodyguard. He's been spotted the closest to Winston, but Tord wasn't able to find his name."

"How would he...?"

"He's been obsessively hacking surveillance cameras around Kaliningrad for months since he first spotted the man, their quality just...hasn't been enough." A soft huff from his nose. "Once we got a clear image, we would've been able to find everything about him."

"...Kaliningrad?"

"Russia."

Tom felt the bile start to sting his throat.

"You're telling me... Tord's on his way to Russia right now?"

A nod.

Tom groaned, smearing his face with his palm, his voice muffled by the meat of his hand. "Fuck, why did he hide this from me? This is insane... "

"I know, I'm sorry I wasn't able to tell you." Jan's eyes were on the floor in an instant, scanning over the pale tiles. "He didn't want to scare you."

Tom couldn't help but laugh, a full-bodied jeer of disbelief that rattled his core. That's been Tord's mantra ever since the twins were born - the hoops Tord was willing to jump through to keep the Brit in the dark almost made him want to drink again. He was his husband, weren't they supposed to tell each other everything? Why hide something this massive, this life threatening? For his own fruitless pride?

...Did he not trust Tom?

The ceiling was the same shade of blue as the stairwell, with intricate, tiny constellations speckling it. Tom singled out one of the stars, deciding it could serve as Tord for now, and barked up at it. "Well, way to go Tord! I'm pretty scared now!"

Jan flinched away in an instant, covering his closest ear with a wince. At first, Tom wanted to turn all his frustration onto Jan, to laugh at the man for reacting so harshly, until he dug a small device out of his ear, unlooping the portion behind it. He fiddled with it, soft eyes meeting Tom's again.

"I...didn't know you had a hearing aid."

"Two, actually. I had the sensitivity too high. Essi mumbles." Jan murmured, poking at one of the buttons on the bigger part of the device. It let out a shrill beep with each press, getting louder until he was satisfied. He carefully tucked it back into his ear. "...We'll find him. There's people in that book that can help us."

"Like who?"

Jan softly laughed as he walked back to the desk. "You ask a lot of questions, Thomas."

God, Tom really wanted to strangle this fucking guy.

Jan's chuckling finally faded away as he pressed his palm into the crease of the address book. "He didn't give me any names for their safety, so I...guess we'll have to look for ourselves." Tom hurriedly joined the Finn, staring into the pages with a soft breath, trying to calm himself down. "He said I'll be able to tell."

Each page was flooded with strangers' names, their numbers and addresses, and their use to Tord. Dozens were scribbled out and part of Tom yearned to know why. Maybe they had died, maybe they crossed his husband. There were countless stories hiding within these pages, and Tom craved them. These were missing pieces in the puzzle of Tord's life, ones Tom never knew existed. His eyes fell to the photo of the bodyguard, daring the man's name to pop into his mind.

He slipped the photo into his pocket.

Jan stopped flipping pages just as suddenly as he began, scanning down one with his finger. The scarred digit tapped below one of them, a thoughtful hum warming the air between them.

Mercedes Larssin, Toy Box. Manchester.

"...Mercedes. We should call Mercedes. Same last name, right?" Jan murmured, poking at the name a few more times. "I'll let you make the call."

Tom scoffed, slapping his palm onto the book and dragging it closer to himself. "Thanks for the permission."

He couldn't help it - something about seeing Jan's stupidly professional façade chip away with every snide remark made Tom feel a little better about the situation. The Brit hadn't acted like this in years, not since he first started dating Tord again. He decided it was justified, but only since Jan and Tord had hidden over ten years of shit from him. Though he'd probably regret it after all was said and done, Tom would cross that bridge when he came to it. It's not like they'd shoot him over a few snippy comments.

Jan merely smiled, giving Tom a hearty slap on the shoulder. "Of course."

Before they ushered everyone back upstairs, Jan suggested getting into that cage of equipment. Though he brought a few of his own guns, they were nowhere near as advanced as Tord's inventions. There was no key in sight, and Tom quickly realized that he'd have to rekindle an old skill.

"Hey, Mags?" He called behind himself, waiting until he heard her soft voice to continue. "Could I borrow one of your hair pins?"

Jan watched like a hawk as Tom silently picked the lock, neither of them breathing until it popped open.

"Where did you learn that?"

"I, uh...I wasn't the best kid."

The Finn strolled right in, while Tom gingerly bent his daughter's pin back into place. It wasn't perfect, and he cursed himself under his breath for messing it up, but he couldn't waste any more time - pocketing the pin and following Jan into the room.

The pair discovered quickly that the back of the room held Tord's main gun rack, along with dozens of devices that Tom couldn't figure out. The laser gun was an odd one - it transformed into a lowly Colt Defender at the press of a button.

They ended up trudging up the stairs with the address book, a few of Tord's handguns, the Colt Defender, and some sort of healing gun (how counterproductive...). They decided that they'd scatter them amongst the luggage of the entire group, just to keep suspicion down.

Though Tom asked for quiet during the call, that clearly piqued the group's interest, far more than he expected. Eduardo, Jan, Patryck, and Lars all followed at his heel to the landline phone that hung in the kitchen. Talk about nosy.

The dial tone buzzed into his skull, the group crowding closer to the receiver for a listen. After three hums, the person on the other end picked up, and Tom heard them gruffly clear their throat.

"Toy Box. Benz here, what can I do for you?" A woman's voice, and an exhausted one at that, with an accent thicker than Tord's. She must have been the receptionist, and Tom wondered how many of these calls she had taken today. The Brit took in a sharp breath, pasting on his best friendly voice, even as it shook with nerves.

"Hello, is there any way you could transfer me to Mercedes Larssin? I have an urgent message for her."

"You're speaking to her." The woman sounded bored, but the short noise of surprise Tom made had her breathily chuckling into the phone. "What did you need to tell me?"

"Well, I'm, uh-" Tom glanced amongst the group for something to say, Eduardo looking particularly frantic to speak.

"Just tell her it's Tord, she'll have to know." He whispered, Tom nodding to him before focusing on the phone. Tom had no idea why he was so nervous - they had the same last name, even if it was a distant relative she'd surely be able to help!

"It's Tord."

Mercedes was silent for a moment after that, long enough that Tom thought she didn't hear him. He opened his mouth to repeat himself, the words dying in his throat as she finally spoke.

"Fuck...Okay, what did he get into this time? Does he need to get off another wanted list? Money?"

"Well, I don't know if you know about it, but he-"

"I'll know." Mercedes cut him off again. "Shoot."

Tom's tongue felt weighted, fighting him to speak. "...He got kidnapped, and all of his information is pointing back to Russia. Kaliningrad."

Mercedes let out a soft hum, warming the receiver. "It'll be okay. Come to my office. It should be in Tord's book, which I'm assuming you have if you are calling me." She punctuated herself with a soft laugh. "Not just anyone gets this number."

Tom nodded, his fingers tracing the ink as he thought. Manchester. That wouldn't be too terrible by train. "I'm sorry, I forgot to ask, but...who are you to him?"

"I'm his mother. What about you, hotshot?"

"Wait-" Tom choked up, his brows furrowing. Something wasn't adding up. "I thought his mother's name is Helene? What do y-"

"Fake documents, that's not my name. Now, who are you?"

"...Husband."

"Ohhh..." The hostile, metaphorical grip Tom could feel on his throat finally eased off, and he breathed a sigh of relief. "You should've said something sooner, Tom, sorry for the hostilities. I'll see you soon."

"Wait, I-"

"Use the front entrance, okay?"

"Hold on, Merc-"

"If you have bags, bring them in."

Tom couldn't finish anything he wanted to say, Mercedes hanging up after she believed their exchange was over. How did she remember him? They'd only met twice! As far as Tom knew, she moved back to Norway after Tord graduated. And the name? Was all of it a cover-up?

The group around him leaned away, finally giving him some breathing room.

"Tord must've told her about you." Jan reassured, realizing how quickly the Brit was beginning to panic.

"Have you never met her?" Patryck massaged his temples, muttered from behind Eduardo.

"I have, but it's been, like.... twenty years."

Pat scoffed. "And how long have you been married to her son? Was she even invited to the wedding?"

"We invited her, but she didn't come, I..." Tom sputtered on his words, trying to shit out an excuse for Mercedes. "I guess she's really reclusive, okay? I met her when Tord first moved here, and he only called her 'mamma', and her name's Helene Larssin on every document we own." Tom pressed the phone back onto the hook, running shivering fingers through his hair. "I can't believe that this is what finally pushed me to reach out."

"You didn't have like- I don't know, her home address? You could've found her name through the deed. What about Tord's birth certificate?"

"Pat, drop it." Lars snapped, freezing the Polish man in his tracks, mumbling an apology, before the Scot turned his focus to Tom. "Y'didn't have her number before this, don't be so hard on yourself."

Tom nodded, albeit awkwardly, as he came to terms with his in-law knowing far more about him than he originally thought. He peered around the corner of the kitchen's doorway, looking over everyone in the living room - Essi and his kids on the sofa, Edd and Matt coming out of the hall, Mark nowhere in sight, probably in the bathroom. His opinion likely wouldn't sway anything, so Tom cleared his throat for their attention, taking a few hesitant steps out of the kitchen. "...Tord's mom is in Manchester. I'm thinking train, any thoughts?"

Patryck nodded, tapping away at his phone. "That'd be about..." He trailed off, tapped a few more times, before finally looking up. "Five hours. A car would be four."

"I'm willing t' give an extra hour if it means we stay together." Lars confessed, a soft laugh warming his voice. "We all flew in, rentin' at this hour would be difficult."

"Imagine the cab fare." Eduardo cracked, crossing his arms as he strode to Edd's side.

"We might still need cabs to the station." Edd corrected, rolling his eyes as Eduardo elbowed him.

"We'll have to change trains...three times." Patryck continued, scrolling through the website with rapidly scanning eyes. "...Eighty pounds per person."

"Holy fuck..." Jan breathed, smearing a hand down his face.

"Hey, you've paid more for me on holidays." Essi piped up from the couch, the twins following her head wherever it went. The three of them looked like meerkats.

"I know Es, but there's eleven of us, that'd be-"

Patryck cut in, holding his phone up so they could clearly see his calculator app. "Eight hundred and eighty total."

"We could cover that..." Lars muttered to his co-host, his face scrunched in thought. "Plus, vets travel free with proof."

Tom perked up a bit, happy to have something to add. "The kids have photocards, that covers their fee. That knocks five people off the fare."

"Four hundred and eighty pounds." Patryck nodded, "Lars and I can definitely cover that."

"Shit, you sure? You don't even know us..." Eduardo chuckled awkwardly, brows furrowed in disbelief. Pat nodded again, turning to face the other man.

"Our podcast is number one in every category we put it in, and on every platform we stream it to. We can afford it, Ed."

"Damn alright, alright." The Latino backed off, hands raised in surrender. He opted to wander through the house to find Mark.

"When is the next train leaving?" Essi asked, quietly gesturing for the twins to stand with her. She whispered something to them, the pair hurrying out of the room and down the hall.

The question was met with another, Lars standing behind Pat in an attempt to look over his shoulder. "What's the time?"

Jan answered quickly, not looking up from his watch. "Six-thirty."

Patryck pinched his lips together as he read over the screen, scanning over it multiple times to be sure he had it correct. "Next train is at seven."

Shit.

"How many cars? Raise your hand if you drove here." Tom asked quickly, watching the hall as Erick and Maggie reappeared with their book bags. He raised his own hand, scanning the room for anyone else.

Edd.

That's it?

"Eduardo drove too." Erick piped up, picking at the handles of his backpack. "That'd fit everyone with room to spare, if each car has five seats."

Maggie didn't want to chatter anymore and hurried to the door, throwing it open in front of herself. She yelled back into the house as she sped down the driveway. "Let's go, we have a train to catch!"

"Does everyone have everything they need?" Tom asked, watching the group hustle to grab their respective bags from the pile. A wave of yeses hit his ear, and he quickly joined them, grabbing his bag along with the twins' shared luggage that they abandoned in their rush.

"I can't believe we're gonna be on a train 'till midnight." Lars' voice shook with an air of disbelief as he slammed Eduardo's trunk shut, making the Latino cringe. "It'll be like we're twenty on the army transport again!"

"Don't remind me," Patryck whined, ducking into Tom's passenger seat. "This already really sucks."

Thankfully, their crappy caravan made it to the station without a hitch, spare for Eduardo having to be on speaker for constant directions. They managed to clamber onto the platform five minutes early, standing among the crowd of tired commuters with a bit more hope than they started off with.

"My, why are you dears traveling this late on a school night?" An elderly woman asked beside them, so sudden that Tom physically flinched. He looked down at her hunched form beneath her puffer coat - it wasn't even that cold out, but then again, she looked as if she were wasting away underneath it.

Erick adjusted his glasses for a better look at her. "We're visiting our grandma. How about yourself, young lady?"

Oh God, Tom mentally cringed at that.

The old woman, on the other hand, was very entertained by his wisecrack. Her dry, wiry laugh made her shoulders bob. "We're going similar ways, I suppose." She leaned into him in that odd way older folks do, yet Erick didn't shy away. Maggie, however, looked ready to jump onto the tracks. "I'm visiting my daughter."

"Nice." Erick hissed out the tail of the word awkwardly, facing the tracks again.

"Are you two twins?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Ah, I could tell! I'm sure your mother is very proud."

"Very." Erick drummed the straps of his backpack as she continued to speak at him, and Tom could tell he was begging for the train to be early.

"Oh, I'm their dad, by the way." He piped up, putting his hand on his chest. The spotlight of her eyes were on him in an instant, her expression souring in that wonderfully un-subtle, senile way. She seemed to lock onto his face, and it only took a moment for Tom to remember why.

"Well, they certainly don't have your eyes." She finally joked, letting out another dry laugh, almost nearing cough territory.

"I do!" Maggie finally piped up, definitely excited to confuse the old woman even further.

It worked. It shut her up until the train arrived.

The train itself was one of the nicer, newer models, though the lights were blindingly harsh compared to the dingy flicker of the station.

Thankfully, the group was able to sit fairly close together - at this hour, they were the only large group, and they managed to snag the eight seats that faced each other on either side of the aisle. The twins demanded to sit with Edd and Matt, leaving Tom to sit beside Lars, Jan, and Essi. Pat, Eduardo, and Mark crammed into the rows behind them, awkwardly leaning around the seats to chat with the rest.

Once the train chimed and began to lug forward, the reality of everything greedily ate away at Tom's overwhelmed mush of a brain. While the others happily chatted and caught up, he sank lower into his seat, dragging his eyes from streetlight to streetlight.

Tord was in fucking Russia, taken by somebody who wasn't afraid to physically harm him. Winston tried before the twins were born, and after. Hell, he was probably over the moon to actually do it this time, not wasting a second. As much as Tom didn't want to picture his husband being hurt, his brain couldn't stop, playing out like a demented film.

Tom had a hollow feeling in his chest, a numbness he only endured before with alcohol. It had an awful familiarity, but was far from comforting - he hadn't felt this in years. He let his eyes wander across his seat mates, scratching his arm.

Lars was somehow already asleep, his cheek smeared by his shoulder as he delicately snored, sturdy arms crossed. Tom couldn't blame him, he knew how exhausting having young kids was.

Essi was on her phone, her hands jittery, but from what, Tom couldn't tell.

Jan looked the same as Tom... sunken in his seat, resting his chin on his scarred hand, his features soft and mournful as he stared out the window. He seemed to be spacing out, stuck in his own mind just as Tom was.

Tom only let the thought cross for a moment - it was odd, this man was an alien to Tom, he'd never visited, yet he was just as upset as the Brit was, if not...more.

No.

No, Tord would never. Tom didn't even want to entertain the thought. Jan was a friend and nothing more. This guy might not even be gay! Not to mention the gold band on Jan's finger, he'd be ruining more than one marriage if he actually did...

Tom felt like he was jumping the gun, ridiculing a man he'd only known for around an hour, but what else could he do? His frustration needed an outlet.

Tom refused to delve further into his own mind, forcing himself into a mindless conversation with the nearest person. Since Lars was quietly snoring away beside him, and he didn't particularly wish to start with Jan, that left Essi. She was texting, her phone case patterned with strawberries.

"Hey," Tom cleared his throat, still choked on his nerves. Essi's eyes flew up in an instant. "How old are you?"

"Who's asking?" Tom rolled his eyes and pointed to his chest with his thumb. Talk about a blast from the past. Essi accepted that, a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. "Twenty-nine."

"That's so funny, actually..."

She cocked a brow, scanning over Tom's face for some sort of answer. When she couldn't find it, she set her phone on the table, pinching her scarf to drag it lower. It was a beautiful garment, trailed in vertical stripes of soft, warm colours. "...How is a number funny?"

Tom shrugged. "That's how old Tord was when we got married, I just thought it was a funny coincidence."

Essi's confusion melted away in an instant, perking up. "Hey, maybe I can make it a streak. I could get married this year too." That tore Jan's attention from the window, his shoulders bobbing with an amused chuckle.

"You have to be dating someone to get married, Es."

Essi scoffed as if her brother just exposed her darkest secret - God forbid somebody be single! She pushed her scarf up over her lips again, slapping his arm. "What if I am, and I just didn't tell you?"

"...You tell me everything you do, everyday, the second I walk through the door." She smacked his arm again, only making Jan laugh harder. "You would've said if you had a partner."

Tom sat up straighter, crossing his arms over his chest. It was odd to him - Essi seemed so shy when the mysterious pair first arrived, but she was just as cocky as the rest of the bunch now that she settled in. Though Tom didn't know much about the duo, now was his chance.

"Oh, so you guys live together, then."

Jan shook his head. "I live with my fiancé, she just knows my schedule and calls when I get home, I just can't escape."

"Oh? When are you getting married?"

"Next summer," Jan's smile oozed off his voice as he tapped the ring. "His name is Mikko Savela."

Tom tapped at the table between them, trying to catch that damn train of thought again. So he was gay. Great. Fucking wonderful.

"That name sounds pretty Scandinavian, is he?"

A nod.

"Finnish."

Essi leaned in, snickering. "I love him, he drives me everywhere."

"He's Essi's chauffeur to my defense classes, I just can't escape her."

"You teach self defense?" Tom sputtered, catching himself as his body awkwardly tensed. "I mean, you look it, but-"

Jan merely shrugged. "I learned a lot of useful skills in the army, so I share whatever I can. I have my own studio."

Essi smiled brighter, leaning excitedly into Tom's personal space. "It's fun because I get to kick him for like, two hours and Mikko gets to watch."

Jan feigned disappointment, furrowing his brow and jutting out his lip for only a moment, just until Essi saw. He couldn't hold the charade, laughing as he elbowed her in the bicep. She elbowed back without a second thought, and Tom couldn't stop them before it became a full-blown elbow war.

"Hey, you're gonna-"

His warning wasn't swift enough, Essi letting out a loud wince as her elbow hit Jan in a perfectly awful place.

...Hit your funny bone. Tom finished the thought to himself, breathing a sigh as he hid his face with his hand.

Essi's noise was enough to wake up the last member of their quartet, the Scot squinting as he drew in a long breath.

"Who's dyin'?" He muttered dryly, his voice still scratchy with sleep as he stretched.

"My arm," Essi whined, slopping it onto the table in front of the ex-soldier. He rose a little more, watching her roll up her dark sleeve. "Doctor Lars, I think I need a cast."

Even as tired as he was, he scoffed. He reached across the bench, poking deep into the meat of Essi's forearm, only making her wince harder.

"And I need a pillow." Lars paused before snorting a laugh. "Unless Tommy-Whommy wants to offer me his shoulder."

Tom didn't have to offer - as everyone else nodded off, Lars' head found his shoulder just fine.

The Brit, on the other hand, couldn't sleep. He just couldn't. Tom knew that the moment he closed his eyes, his mind would drown him with the morbid thoughts he was desperately walling off. He knew Winston wouldn't hold back, so his only comfort was hoping that Tord wasn't in his possession yet.

Matt's awful snore was almost a memory, until it was vibrating the cabin walls for all three train transfers. Thankfully, he was awake for the cabs. He even made the mistake of rolling his window down, happily inviting in the earthy, chemical-reek of the city to assault the other passengers.

Tom took the liberty to research Mercedes' address after he read it to the cab driver, just so he would know what he was getting himself into. It was a standard run-of-the-mill office, tall and glassy. Nothing that warranted a spot in Tord's top secret journal, and it certainly didn't fit the 'Toy Box' bill.

Come to think of it, what would consider any building a toy box?

Most of its indoor lights were off at this hour, spare for the lobby and one of the higher rooms, likely hers. He couldn't choke down his nerves anymore, his hands jittery as he unloaded the cab's trunk, handing off the luggage just as Mercedes requested.

Tom had no clue what she would look like now - it was easily twenty years since he last saw her... She'd probably be in her sixties, maybe even older. Why wasn't she retired yet?

Tom gently nudged his exhausted children onto the sidewalk, earning a symphony of annoyed groans.

"C'mon, let's meet your grandmother."

The lobby itself was pristine - ornate tiles webbed around the front desk, and a warm and inviting light flooded down from a crystal chandelier. The entire group stopped flat to gawk at the spectacle of it all, until they heard someone gruffly clear their throat off to the right.

"Hello, everybody!"

She stood in front of the equally gaudy elevators, unmistakable. She even had Tord's hair horns.

Mercedes looked stunning for her age, a warm smile pulling at her lips. She was dressed in a sleek and professional white suit, and Tom wondered, just for a moment, what her job was.

It was uncomfortable coming to terms with how little he knew about Tord's side of the family. He barely spoke about them.

"I'm sorry it's so late, but you all made great time." Mercedes smiled, the clack of her heels echoing around the lobby as she strode towards the group, her long, wispy bob swinging behind her, the silvery-brown tresses threatening to untuck from her ears. She stopped a few feet short, brushing her bangs away from her brow as she stood before Tom. She was tall, the heels only adding on as the kids stared up at her, awestruck. "Wow, Tom, you've bulked up since I last saw you!"

"Well, I was seventeen..." He laughed sheepishly as he looked up at her, offering a shrug. God, she was even taller than Tord. Tom raised an eyebrow. "You know what my job is, don't you?"

Mercedes nodded with a grin, scanning over the group with her manicured hands clasped together.

"Tord's kept me updated, I'm sorry I haven't been the best grandmother."

"Wait, where have I been sending the Christmas cards? The envelopes are always addressed to Oslo."

"No, Tord always hand delivered them, but I..." She snickered, leaning down closer to Tom. "I don't think he ever gave me envelopes, that's funny."

That little-!

"Oh!" Mercedes chirped as she locked onto her next targets. "Lars, Patryck, I'm a big fan. You boys are hysterical!"

"Are you kidding me? She listens too?" Eduardo cracked, Patryck's laugh nearly drowning him out.

"Yes, I know all about you army boys thanks to them." She teased, pointing a slender finger around the group. "Of course, I know Tord's friends already, but I am excited to catch up. How are you, Edd?"

The brunet, who was bordering on falling asleep where he stood, flinched to attention. "Animation school." He blurted, making Mercedes snort a laugh.

"Did you find any new information on Tord?" Jan piped up from the back, flinching as Mercedes' grey eyes honed in on his.

"I cannot talk details until we're in my office." She said simply, looking to the rest of the group. "Can you all cram into one lift, or should I send two?"

Pat rose his hand, catching her attention to speak, despite how she chuckled at the gesture. "Ma'am, I don't want to die in an elevator crash after that whole ordeal."

"Of course," Mercedes waved them closer to the elevators as she walked off, leading them further into the building. The group was on her heel in an instant, the deep rumble of their luggage's wheels trailing behind them. "I'll ride with the second group, I need to put the floor in."

Tom held the twins back by their bag's handles, letting the rest of the group file around them to reach the open elevator. He wanted to ride with Mercedes, even if it meant clogging the path for the others.

The neighbors, Edd, Matt, Lars, and Patryck squeezed into the first elevator, an awkward puzzle of people and luggage. Mercedes had Patryck hold the door open as she slinked her upper body into the car with them, tapping multiple buttons in rapid succession. She waved as the doors shut, stepping to the side to call another elevator.

"How long have you been in Manchester?" Tom asked softly, finally letting go of Erick and Maggie, the pair walking hesitantly to their grandmother.

"Since 2009. I've been in the UK since 2006, but you knew that, you were always in my basement." She lightly crossed her arms. "Remember how you used to come by to teach my son english?"

A nod.

Mercedes laughed softly to herself, tapping the side of her nose. "I knew what you two were really doing."

"Oh, ew!" Maggie gagged, turning Tom's face as red as Tord's old hoodie.

The elevator chimed as it opened, just as ornate as the lobby, though its floor was red. Mercedes motioned everyone inside before joining them, blocking the buttons with her body.

"I didn't see the direction light, are we going up?" Erick asked, his voice uncharacteristically tight with nerves.

"No." She didn't turn to face him, feverishly tapping buttons in an order that didn't make sense. "Hold on to your sister."

"What?" Jan raised an eyebrow as she pushed the button to close the door. Even though Mercedes' warning wasn't for him, he firmly grabbed Essi's forearm.

The elevator chimed, lurching in a far from normal way that made their stomachs jump.

"It's a code." Tom blurted, squeezing Erick and Maggie's shoulders tighter. "Mercedes, where are we-"

Tom's words died in his throat as the elevator leapt again, backwards, a frantic squabble breaking out among the riders.

The movement stopped, all sorts of mechanical buzzes and groans coming from the shaft around them. It easily just slid an entire elevator's length back...were they in another shaft?

"Do not worry, it's just reconnecting." She reassured over their voices, as if that made a lick of sense.

Tom's stomach flew into his skull as they launched downwards without a warning, the group only growing more hysterical.

"What's happening?"

"Are we crashing?!"

"No, but hold on!" Mercedes giggled, her voice straining to be heard over the screaming. "I programmed it to be faster, the descent was way too long before."

The gears in Tom's head finally turned enough to click together, and he groaned. "Now I know where he gets it from!"

The car began to slow, Tom's body freezing up as their voices quieted away and left nervous whispers in their wake. It chimed one final time before the doors slid open, revealing the first group in front of them to be just as closely huddled and bewildered.

"Welcome to the Toy Box, ladies." Mercedes jeered, stepping out onto the concrete. "Leave your bags here, I'll give you the tour."

For their second hidden lair of the day, Mercedes' was far more extravagant. Though the walls consisted of dark, corrugated metal, the ceilings were high and the tight space in front of the elevator was decorated simply. The room beyond them was so vast, so flooded with shit, that it could effortlessly be described as a warehouse.

"What the hell is this?" Edd demanded, still rattled by the lack of warning about the ride.

"Let the others out and I'll tell you." She bowed her head to Edd, turning on her heel to motion Tom's group out of the lift. Once they were free from their death trap and their bags were huddled beside the doors, she began to speak again. "So, you know how other mothers keep their kid's drawings on the fridge with magnets?"

"Yeah!" Matt perked up. "My mum kept all mine!"

Mercedes smiled warmly to him, gesturing for the group to follow her as she walked. There was a wide path etched in yellow on the floor, either side lined with machines that Tom couldn't even begin to fathom. The air hung heavy with burnt rubber and oil, crinkling up his nose.

"That's what the Toy Box is to me. This room holds everything my son built, at least until he moved out."

"God, he's a genius!" Essi gawked, craning her neck upwards to follow the body of some lofty contraption.

"You could say that again." Mark muttered behind Tom. "This is bordering on overkill."

"Tord didn't want it all to rust away, so I've been servicing them and renting them to clients that he trusts." She turned to face them again, walking backwards around a corner made of smaller boxes overflowing with gadgets and wires. "If you'd like, you could borrow a few, but I have a policy where you need to sign them out."

"Oh hey, I think Tord told me about that one." Patryck chuckled, his eyes staying on an open box as he passed it.

"How do you get anything out of here?" Jan's voice came softly, genuinely curious. "I mean, I don't see any way."

"There's a garage door parallel to the elevators, leads to a nice little underground web of tunnels, plenty of room." They finally reached a clearing, almost like a crop circle in a corn field. "I actually have airport clearance for most of these, so if I have to fly, I come up there."

"How much did he build?" Erick asked with an excited jitter.

"Over fifty working machines, with plenty of duds and duplicates. Then, there's my work area, where I have my own personal projects. The total in this room right now is probably hovering around..." She hummed in thought, baking up the number before her mouth chimed the answer. "One hundred types, give or take."

"Wait, oh my god! I remember Tord talking about these!" Pat stopped suddenly, pulling a small device out of one of the boxes. Thankfully he was in the back, sparing the others from crashing into him as he dug deeper into the box. He gasped. "They're both here! Mrs. Larssin, can we use these?"

That made everyone freeze.

He held the two devices at arms-length as Mercedes looked him up and down, nodding. "They're unfinished, but yes, you can mess with them all you'd like."

"...A watch and a..." Tom raised an eyebrow. "Is that the twins' old Speak and Spell?" Tom raised an eyebrow, earning an amused laugh from Mercedes.

"Those are the shells, yes. They're actually for time travel, believe it or not."

The group buzzed with excitement, chattering amongst themselves like a squabbling huddle of birds.

"How did he tell you about them, Pat?"

"Over coffee, he..." Patryck's hand snaked up to his necklace, rolling the bullet between his fingers. He looked away. "It's dumb now that I'm remembering it, I jus-"

Eduardo cut in. "Why don't we just use them?"

Patryck sputtered, the group's eyes falling to the Latino. He waved his hands, trying to coax the words out.

"To get Tord. Why don't we just fix one of them up and stop him from ever being taken?"

Mercedes pressed her hands together, breathing a sigh. "You'd have to find their blueprints, the supplies Tord listed, and manage to rebuild one without completely destroying it. That takes time."

"What if we can't even fix them and we lose Tord?" Edd added.

"Hey, hey," Lars' hands floundered around the group, waving for their attention. "Oi, no dog pilin'."

Jan's voice came softer, a stark contrast to the squabble that was starting. "I can work on it."

Eduardo stiffened, gazing up at the man like a scared, beaten puppy. Tom didn't expect anyone to side with Eduardo, let alone the grizzled army veteran. "Really?"

A nod.

"It's not going to be top priority, but I'll try to fix it for you."

Tom could see Eduardo's defenses crumbling, the latino nodding awkwardly as he tried to accept the help. "...Thanks."

"Oh!" Mercedes gasped, a few people flinching in surprise. "Hey, did you all pack sleeping bags or blankets?" After some murmuring, only Mark, the twins, and Patryck had their hands up. "...I'll fill in the blanks. You're welcome to stay here, I think I forgot to mention that over the phone."

A soft smile found Tom's lips. "You did."

She beamed right back, crossing her arms. "Well, now I've mentioned it. I don't want you at a hotel, that would be a traceable record."

God, she sounds like Tord when he was pregnant. Were they really this similar? Tom couldn't kid himself - the labs, the precautions, the hair, even the way they spoke... He really was her son.

"What do you mean?"

"Winston knows where you live, Tom. He has no clue that I'm here, and unless he's anal enough to check every cab fare on this side of the country, he's not going to find the Toy Box."

Wow, Tom didn't think about that. He hadn't been doing much thinking at all, actually, spare for mulling over his entire morning with Tord.

The group murmured to themselves, while Eduardo hesitantly bowed his head to Mercedes. "Thank you, ma'am. I know half as much as these guys, I just... Thanks for keeping us safe."

She radiated light as she smiled, patting him gently on the shoulder.

"It's the least I could do. I'll take care of you until you get my son back."

Jan stood up a bit straighter as he remembered. "Wait, now that we're here, can you fill us in?"

A nod, and a small gesture to follow her deeper into the Toy Box.

"Since we have a lot of new faces...I think I need to start on Winston himself. Our ex-doctor, Mr. Winston Quell, is a deeply troubled individual. He's been this way ever since Tord had to reeducate him for the Red Army's use."

"Reeducate?" Edd echoed, his voice jittery.

"Brainwash." Mercedes nodded. "Tord erased who he was, spare for his medical education, and it ruined him. He's been obsessed with Tord, it has to be all he knows. It's his normal."

Patryck had disgust dripping off his features. "I never knew he could brainwash people..."

Jan picked at his cuticles.

"Do you know what he wanted with Tord?"

"No, but I can imagine it's not all sunshine and lollipops. If he's still how Tord spoke of him, Winston will do anything to get his way, we just have to hope."

That wasn't what Tom wanted to hear. Mercedes was supposed to tell him it would be okay, not confirm his exact fears! The room felt lopsided, his head heavy as he tried to hold it all in, as the blood pounded in his ears. He couldn't scare his kids, not more than they already were.

He couldn't. He just couldn't keep his damn mouth shut.

"God, fuck....What if he's already gone? What do I do?" His voice was weak and shivering, a child in trouble.

"We're gonna find him, don-"

Tom cut Matt off before he could even finish, slapping his comforting hand away as he exploded.

"Of course we'll find him! His map leads us right to him, I get that! I get all of it! But what if we find a body instead?" The Brit took a few harsh, teary breaths, his voice echoing off the high metal ceiling. "I-...I can't lose him. We've already wasted five hours. He could....God..."

"Tord's a fighter, Tom." Mercedes softly reassured. "You know that. He's been preparing for this for years, he'd never just lay down and die because some asshole with a gun told him to."

"He could've told me, I could've been ready! I just-... This is ridiculous, all of this."

"He's going to be fine, we can't give up yet."

"I know, I know, I just..."

Mercedes crossed the small sea of friends, rubbing Tom's back as she stood beside him. Tears seared trails into his cheeks as they slid. "You don't have to explain it, it's okay. I can't even imagine how much you must be feeling right now."

"I..." Tom wanted to fight, wanted to scream his frustrations until his head was clear, until Mercedes knew how terrified he truly was, but he couldn't, hanging his head as he shook with adrenaline. "Sorry, everyone."

Erick and Maggie hurried to their father, squeezing him into a teary hug. Tom desperately pulled himself together, silent tears still rolling down his cheeks as his kids sobbed into his shirt. Everyone else was silent - looking at the floor, covering their mouths, or joining in with fresh tears of their own. Mercedes hesitantly pulled away, the warmth of her hand lingering as she addressed Tom's friends.

"You all need sleep, and Tom needs a moment alone. We can talk about this in the morning." She slowly moved on from the group. They broke up slowly, trickling behind her with a heavy guilt that couldn't be fixed. Tom silently thanked her as she passed. "There's bedding in one of the planes, could I have a few volunteers help me carry it here?"

Patryck gasped, wiping his eyes. "There's planes in here?"

"Woah, not for you." Lars snickered, slapping the Polish man on the back. "I know yer track record."

"Did you think I had airport clearance for the boxes? Imagine that, flying with the flaps of a box. Or better yet, whipping wires around to fly like a helicopter!"

Their voices trailed away, leaving Tom and his kids alone in a sniffling huddle. The Brit held them as if they were the only thing keeping him on earth, his head hung as his silent tears dripped onto their arms. It was a raw, terrible, ugly feeling.

"Dad, what are we gonna do?" Erick whimpered.

"We-..." Tom choked up. What could he tell them? There was no direction in this. Nothing he could say was set in stone and that upset him beyond belief. For the first time in his life, Tom was truly, utterly lost. He couldn't be the hero. He couldn't be anything.

His hands slinked up his children's backs, cradling the back of their heads just as he did thirteen years before.

He felt sick.

"We're going to do everything your grandmother says. No matter what."

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8931 words

Ohmigosh I've been so excited to finally introduce you all to Mercedes XD Apologies that this took so long, I had a lot of characterization I had to iron out. Hope you like it, see ya soon for the next part!