A thunderstorm raged outside the house. Tord couldn't sleep.

He rolled over to face Ylva as she slept peacefully, the soothing sight spawning butterflies in his stomach. Every exhalation caused a few loose strands of her hair to flutter, the soft noise of her breath laced with a hint of a whimper. Tord lightly placed his human hand on the side of her face, letting his thumb brush across her cute freckles from her nose to her cheekbone. He desperately wanted to know what was wrong with her so he could fix it and make her smile again, but she refused to open up to him.

Her eyes opened, fixing him with such an intense, blue stare that he found himself captivated unable to move. Ylva seemed unfocused and bewildered for a few, silent moments, but she soon went back to sleep. She instinctively snuggled closer to Tord, her arm moving so it lay over his side. His gaze gentled and he wrapped his arms around her, settling his head on the pillow above hers and closing his eyes.

He slept soundly for the rest of the night.

~

Everyone in the household went about their usual morning routines, with Matt, of course, taking over an hour in the bathroom to perfect his appearance in the mirror. Even though Tord was awake for a lot of the night, he felt quite refreshed and alert as he aimlessly traipsed through the house. Ylva, on the other hand, had half-closed eyes and seemed to be suppressing a yawn every time he glanced at her in a concerned way.

It was odd, because Tord was sure she must've got a lot more sleep than him, unless...

"Ylv-" he was cut off almost immediately as Tom entered the living room.

"Hey, did you two go out again last night?" He inquired and raised his silver flask to his lips; upon noticing Tord's unimpressed look, the Brit huffed, taking a sip. "Relax, Sunshine. It's coffee."

"Tom drinking coffee? What's next," Edd walked past with a chuckle, on his way to the kitchen with an empty mug in his grip. "Giant robots?"

"Very funny, Edd." Tord called after him, frowning slightly. "But no, the storm kept me awake for a while, but I never left the bed. Why'd you ask?"

"I heard a thud and the floorboards creaking upstairs when I went to the toilet... I just presumed you two were scheming again." Tom trudged across the room to stand behind the sofa, leaning on it and peering between Ylva and Tord. "You've been quiet," he observed and put away his flask in his hoodie pocket.

"I..." Ylva yawned again, blinking slowly. "I didn't get much sleep."

"Why's that?" The Norwegian stared oddly at her, trying not to get distracted by how sweet she looked when she was tired.

"I was out." She mumbled, sinking into her pink hoodie and folding her hands over her stomach.

Tord's suspicion increased. "Out?" He echoed.

She suddenly sat bolt upright, a look of horror flitting across her freckled features as she whipped around to stare at Tord. Her lips moved soundlessly as she fumbled for words, whispering 'oh God' repeatedly under her breath. Tom instinctively took a step back as she slammed a shaking robot hand down on the back of the sofa, stumbling off the cushions and getting to her feet in a clumsy manner that was very unlike her.

"I-I'm going to b-bed." She announced with a waver in her normally bold voice, striding from the room.

The boys watched her as she left. Tom clambered over the back of the sofa to sit in her place while Tord examined the carpet as he thought feverishly.

Why was she out?

Why was she so afraid?

Why did it look like she said something wrong?

"By that stupid expression of yours, I guess you don't know what's going on with her either." Tom crossed his arms, relaxing back and fixing his companion with a questioning stare.

"Shut it, Jehovah." The Norwegian growled back, but the commonplace malice had been replaced with worry. "I don't like seeing her so scared. I just want to keep her safe."

Tom suddenly seemed intrigued, raising his eyebrows. "Oh? Why's that?"

"She-" Tord caught himself, looking up and noticing his old friend's entertained countenance. "Why would you care?"

"Because it seems like little Tordie is in love with a certain someone." The Brit actually smiled, an expression so rare that it should've been cherished by the beholder.

"N-no, I'm not!" Tord retorted with a light groan of irritation, not willing to admit to anyone that Tom was right. "She's my bodyguard and my soldier-- she's supposed to protect me, and if she's afraid, I should be afraid too."

"Right," he continued to grin eerily, but it faded into a look of understanding. "Go up and check on her."

"Why?" Tord's gaze searched the man's for any sign of lies and hatred: there was only an unusual presence of compassion.

"I think you know why. Go on, I'll be here if you need me, for whatever reason... Tord." Tom focused his attention back on the TV as he turned it on, equally attracted and repulsed to the idea of being friends with the communist, and hoping to forget about it by watching Professor Why.

Tord drifted from the room and made his way up the stairs. He could faintly hear Matt singing something sassily from the bathroom, the sound bringing an unintentional smile to his lips. The attic seemed mostly quiet as he ascended the steps, emerging into the softly lit room filled with Matt's random rubbish.

A bundle of blankets took up most of the bed, and as Tord got closer he realised it was shaking an almost unnoticeable amount. The sound of Ylva's soft breaths indicated her presence on the mattress, not much more than her eyes peeking out from the soft layers of fabric. She noticed him in the room and made a futile attempt to stop her shivers as he sat on the edge of the bed, looking down at her with warm concern.

"You okay?" He asked, offering a smile and hoping it didn't look too grotesque with his scars.

She averted her gaze and rolled over to face the wall.

"I'll take that as a no." He sighed, unsure of what to do and inadvertently wishing Paul and Patryk were there to comfort her because they were so much more empathetic than he was. "Is there, um,  anything I can do to help?"

There was a slight bob of her head; he took it as a shake rather than a nod, heavily exhaling and playing with his fingers uncertainly.

"Right... We could... I could call Paul and Patryk to take you home, if... If that would make you feel better." He offered, delighted when she turned over again. "Does that sound good?"

"No," she mumbled, her voice heavily muffled by the duvet. "I don't have a home."

"You'll-" Tord stuttered momentarily, doubting himself before continuing. "You'll always have a home with me, Ylva."

She pulled the covers down from her face and tucked them beneath her chin, revealing an expression of surprise. "Oh."

He instinctively reached out and swept some loose strands of ginger hair from her face, brushing them back and out of her eyes. They continued to let the silence grow, unknowing of how to keep the awkward conversation going.

"I'll call Paul and Patryk." Tord finally decided, sitting up straighter and dragging his gaze away from her vulnerable state. "They should be here tomorrow to pick you up."

"And you?" She paused, "what about you?"

He shrugged. "I don't know. I'll stay and keep an eye on the Burning Tygers and report back any information."

"Why not come with us and send a spy to continue our mission?" She persisted slipping her arms from the covers and gently taking his hand.

"I..." He faltered, finding it difficult to look her in the eye. "I could... I don't..."

"I'm supposed to be the one keeping you safe, not the other way around." Ylva's tone was slightly pained as she stared pleadingly up at him. "Come back with us. Come home."

"What about Edd, Matt and Tom? What if they're attacked?" Tord looked at her worriedly, his eyebrows lowering and his eyes widening.

"They can handle themselves, I'm sure." She breathed out quietly, closing her eyes. "Please, Tord. I don't want to return without you."

~

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