Too Young to Die || Peter

[Alfred F. Jones]

it's a

revolution

Word count: 848

Tags: @peanut

Notes: Not the best starter I'm afraid.

Alfred realized a little too late that he should've stayed home today.

Only the first day of festivities were required, with everyone getting a day off and being expected to attend. Alfred had used that day to socialize, flitting around from one person to another. He talked carefully, putting more care and thought into his words than normal. It had been his job to get people to be more sympathetic to the Freedom Fighters, to open up a bit. He never mentioned the name. It would be taboo here, at a government hosted event. But freedom? Equality? Mutants? Those were all topics that Alfred could talk about. He could gauge the level that a stranger could consider accepting those ideals. And that was important.

Of course, he was disguised as well. With green contacts and maroon hair, he looked very little like the man he usually was. Of course, if Alfred were to meet a close friend, it wouldn't take too long for them to figure out who he was. It would be too much effort to explain why he was dressed up. That was why he'd been avoiding them during the festivities.

...At least, that was one of the reasons.

The other was that Alfred was nervous about being watched. It was his first time really out in a social situation since...well, since that happened. He still couldn't really bring himself to say it aloud, as if saying it aloud would make it more real. Alfred was still having nightmares. He couldn't shake off the feeling that he was being watched. Whoever was watching him had good reason to, even if they didn't know it themselves. To talk to a friend? Someone familiar? That would...that would just put them in danger too.

After the first day of festivities, Alfred should've stayed home. That would be logical. But no. There was someone here, someone who would be here for almost the entire festival. Alfred had to see him, even if his brother didn't recognize him...

Alfred swallowed. Every time he walked past the cage that contained his mutant brother, he tensed. He hadn't looked at his brother (at least not directly), but he'd walked past the cage at least a dozen times in the past few days. Every time he walked past the cage, Alfred felt more nervous, more anxious, more angry. It would be easy, to just break Matthew out. But then what? They would get caught, there was no doubt about that. Alfred would get caught, and then Mattie, and then what? Matthew would be punished, Alfred knew that much. Alfred would be tossed in jail or maybe worse. He'd be interrogated about the Freedom Fighters at the very least. It was a standard protocol. And the fact that Alfred knew so much about them would not play in his favor...

At the very least, he could be assured that he would almost certainly never see his brother again.

It all just felt hopeless, more and more hopeless. Part of Alfred wished he'd never met up with his brother again, that his brother had stayed lost. Because then Alfred would know what to do, how to act. It would be okay to be reckless, because Matthew was out of harm's way. Now that his brother was here, Alfred felt helpless. He couldn't risk Mattie getting hurt. Not on his life.

Alfred slowed as he approached Matthew's cage again. No, he had to stop. This was going to get too suspicious. He had other agendas as well...even if this one did take priority...

Alfred turned and headed back in the direction he came from. He forced himself to look at the mutants. Look at them in the eyes. Their compliance. Their helplessness. The cages they were shut in, the indecency they were treated with, the humiliating outfits they were forced to wear. Look at them and take it in. Alfred felt his blood boil.

It wasn't just his brother, it was all of them. Alfred bit the inside of his lip. What would happen if he had to choose? Choose between his brother and his ideals? Alfred didn't know if he could choose, didn't know if he physically was capable of doing that. Would he just crumple to the ground because of indecision? Alfred was selfish. He wanted his brother. Matthew was the only one that mattered, the only one that Alfred cared about. He could give up the Freedom Fighters for that, couldn't he?

But could he ever look at himself again? Knowing that he had abandoned them that way? Having betrayed them, having betrayed his ideals and himself? Alfred had spent the last year working to become a new man, a better man. The Freedom Fighters had come to define Alfred. The movement had become his purpose, the only thing he cared for now that his brother was gone. Could he handle the knowledge that he'd returned to being the coward he once was?

Matthew would know what to do. Matthew always did. But Alfred couldn't talk to Matthew. Not now, anyways.

i suppose

by Worldie for Leia

[Deleted]

1155

Tags: Alfred F. Jones

There were only a few things that Peter didn’t like about being at the festival, and they were as follows: he had to wear a somewhat girly rabbit hat and an outfit with frills and ruffles (frills and ruffles looked good on fishes, but not male mutants!) as opposed to the school uniform he was originally going to wear, it was cold outside and the outfit left no room for his jacket or scarf (the fish, he assumed, were inside when he was not performing), and the cages.

The cages themselves, he had determined, were not the bad part. The proximity to other cages was actually a plus in Peter’s eyes, because it made him feel like he had company, even if no one was talking at the moment or they were technically a few cages down. He wasn’t bothered that he was in a different one each day of the festival- most of the prior Weeds kids to attend such an event had warned him he’d just be placed wherever there was room. The small size did not even bother him- he didn’t mind small spaces at all, no matter what the teachers said. He wasn’t claustrophobic, he just got all panicky when he was left alone for too long. No, he didn’t like that the bars separated him from the world. They were too thin to poke his hand between, a tiny curtain that stopped him from touching anyone and made him feel detached even when he was next to somebody else. It was a bizarre, almost painful sort of feeling, so he was glad that the cages were in the middle of the crowd and therefore crowded enough that he almost didn’t notice.

He held his hands to himself in a futile attempt to warm himself up a little bit (would the water they gave him be warmer than the air? Maybe there would be enough to sit in or something?). The frilly outfit was somewhat furry, since hypothermia was a concern, so he wasn’t so horribly cold he had to do that or something, but still, he was envious of the crowd’s own thick jackets and scarves. His jacket at home wasn’t so thick, but at least it was warm. Peter sighed and looked out at the crowd.

Each person that walked by was different, like all sorts of fish were very different, like different colors. One man, for instance, was very very ocean blue, and he fluttered between cages, smiling at the mutants and murmuring and checking price tags. He seemed like a good person. Another man was an angry grey, and he muttered and cried out and was angry at all the caged mutants, yet continued to come back and back- why, Peter wondered, was that? Yet another man was a shade of white, and this white was a sad sort of white that watched off into the distance, always remembering some invisible past but never remembering to think of the future.

When Peter got to be a grown-up, he wondered if he’d watch the people who came up to his cage then like that. Would they be an ocean blue or a grey or a white? Would they be the sort of green that was caring with danger within or the sort of red that shocks you with the vibrancy of their voice but kills you and leaks with blood in the corner of there smiles?

He’d probably be so happy, he reflected, that he’d see them all as a rainbow, and that that would be all that really mattered. What there true color was didn’t, really, after all, so long as Peter felt they were rainbow and good, because that was what he was meant to do.

One of the odd people (and the people had been being odd for some time, so the oddness didn’t matter) was a sort of maroon red both in his hair and in his eyes- vibrant once, but greyed so much that they were unsure of themselves and angry at the world, and twinges of white danced across it. He kept on pacing back and forth right near where Peter was, and he felt the need to go out and touch him a little. Was that man’s color real? He wondered- would they be kind? And did they kill you with the blood leaking from the corner of their mouths?

Peter didn’t much like blood; blood was generally a sign that someone was hurt, and Peter hated it when people were hurt and he couldn’t do anything because he felt like he was abandoning them. He didn’t mind being hurt himself, really- that didn’t matter, not at all. He only really didn't like being hurt if he was all alone when it happened, because it felt like he was giving in to something and then he usually did.

The man was most notable in his pacing because he kept on glancing across the cages with the weirdest expression on his face. He seemed like on of the girls who kept on coming by all day today for some reason and whispering and saying things like 'oh, he's too cute to do that,' which made very little sense indeed. However, he had such a steely blueness in his green eyes that Peter frowned, confused. The man was certainly a redhead, no matter what color he thought his hair was. However, Peter kept on seeing his eyes as ocean blue instead of the green they were. That didn't matter much, either, though, because everyone said he saw colors that weren't there sometimes and that was why he drew everywhere. Really, white things should not be near him with no color, he though. It was quite so simple as that; why didn't people ever think of things like that?

Honestly, the boy sometimes thought that grown-ups, when they got all smart and things, had to start forgetting obvious things.

It was obvious the man was missing something, for example, and trying to find it for some reason. Peter personally thought the redhead had lost his sense if direction- he looked awfully lost, wandering around like that! As soon as the blue-but-really-green-eyed man made eye contact with him, Peter smiled and chirped "Hello! Are you lost?"

Notes: It's okay! Peter, you were reading him so well, too...

made by MISSO on IoF

[Alfred F. Jones]

it's a

revolution

Word count: 1132

Tags: @peanut

Notes: ...Don't judge me.

"Hello! Are you lost?"

Alfred almost didn't hear the oddly cheerful words uttered behind him. It honestly took him a moment to realize that they were directed at him.

Was he being that obvious? Alfred mentally kicked himself. He should've stayed home, stayed quiet. With recent events, that would have been the smart decision. Not that Alfred was known for making smart decisions, but he should've...

But it was his brother. Alfred couldn't just let his brother stay in a freaking dog cage and just...just wait. Alfred had to be there, even if his brother didn't know he was, even if they couldn't talk. Matthew's fight wasn't for several days. A fight. There was a lump in Alfred's throat, an anger that coursed through him. He hadn't let himself even approach the battle arena except to glance at the schedule. Recently, there'd been too many people he knew personally that had ended up on that list. Arthur, Gilbert, Mattie... Alfred's emotions had been a train wreck recently, constantly going up and down. He was volatile, simultaneously fearful and ready to explode at the same time. It wouldn't have been smart to stand in that arena and watch a fight. People he knew could get—no, would get—hurt. And Alfred couldn't just stand on the side and watch that happen.

Matthew...god, Matthew. If Alfred saw that fight, he would break. No, he would leave as soon as it started.

Alfred turned towards the person who had spoken to him. Alfred was confused for a moment. He'd expected some friendly stranger to be standing behind him, willing to provide directions. Or maybe someone who was supposed to be directing people...there were a couple of people who had been offering help in the first day or two.

His eyes finally settled on the speaker. And then everything seemed to freeze.

The speaker was a kid.

Alfred should have known, by the childish nature of the voice, but he hadn't been really thinking. Now that he saw the boy who spoke, Alfred felt a wave of anger wash over him. The boy was dressed up in some ridiculous outfit that all the mutant had been forced into, something that Alfred had been disgusted by. This boy in particular was in some pink rabbit hat and an outfit consisting of frills and ruffles. Alfred would have died before he would be willing to wear something like that. It was pure humiliation, a way of showing mutants that they were completely under the government's rule. It was a form of entertainment for some (maybe even most) of the humans. It was a cruel, twisted way to demonstrate the government's power.

But it wasn't the outfit that made Alfred's blood boil. No, it was the boy's age. He was tiny, half Alfred's size and he was young. Was he even in his teens? There was a childish look to the boy's face, a bright smile too. A smile. The kid was stuck in a dog cage and he was smiling. Alfred would have been infuriated. Well, they had to show the better behaved mutants, but...

A kid?

How had Alfred walked past him so many times? Maybe that was how this boy had recognized him, from walking back and forth so often. He needed to stop, he'd done it too many times. But had he been so distracted by Matthew that he'd forgotten to look around?

...Yes, that was perfectly possible.

But this...this was just cruel. Having a kid, paraded here, shown off, flaunted to a crowd. What sort of sick joke was this? Alfred would have liked to believe that the government had made a mistake, accidentally taken a kid out, but he was beyond believing that. Showing a mutant off to the public was hardly a spur-of-the-moment decision. No, the people in charge were probably laughing at their ingenuity. Show a kid who really believes in their ideals, who hasn't seen what lies ahead. The government was cruel, terrible, and corrupt. This just reinforced the idea in Alfred's mind.

How dare they.

All this flashed through Alfred's mind in a few short seconds. Despite the amount of anger that was slowly (or well, rather quickly) building up in Alfred's mind, he kept calm, putting on a warm smile. He was disguised, he was here to talk to strangers. Maybe he'd start with this kid. If he could get through to someone who could still smile out here, maybe there was a chance he could get through to others as well and then...well, then things would hopefully fall into place.

"No, I'm not lost," Alfred said. He approached the cage quietly, taking in more of this boy's appearance. Some mutants looked abnormal from the start, mysteriously sprouting wings or shifting into the form of a completely different animal. This boy looked fairly ordinary. He could easily have passed for a kid in the street that Alfred wouldn't have given a second glance to. His blond hair was spiky and messy, even under the stupid rabbit hat. He looked a little pale, as if he hadn't really been under the sun at all. Alfred wondered if he was cold. That outfit must not provide a lot of warmth. Not that the government cared as long as the mutants were still functional.

The boy's eyes were something special, something that made Alfred pause for a second. At first glance, they looked blue, but from a few perspectives, Alfred could see a tint of green. What Alfred concentrated on though, was the genuine cheeriness of his eyes. The naivety that seemed to consume the boy. He seemed happy to be here, as if he found it absolutely normal and fine to be stuck in a dog cage.

He had weirdly familiar thick eyebrows...Alfred's brow furrowed. Where had he seen someone who looked like that before? It tugged at him, a sense of déjà vu. He'd definitely seen eyebrows like that...and the spiky hair, now that he thought of it, was familiar too... Green eyes...

Arthur.

This boy looked just like Arthur. Alfred's eyes widened. Arthur had never mentioned having a brother. Was this kid his brother? Now that Alfred looked at him closely, he was the spitting image of Arthur. From the thick eyebrows to the spiky hair to the (faintly) green eyes...

Alfred held his composure, though he was somewhat surprised. "I'm just going back and forth and not sure what to do," Alfred said. Good enough reasoning, right? He'd caught a glimpse of Arthur's last name on the list of mutant fights while looking for Matthew. Kirk...wood, or something like that. It'd started with Kirk, Alfred knew that much. He paused for a second before asking. "What's your name?"

i suppose

by Worldie for Leia

[Deleted]

761

Tags: Alfred F. Jones

Peter blinked as the redhead (whose hair was maybe not quite red, perhaps more of an auburn, but still red enough) turned around to look at him. Huh. Whether the man intended to or not, he was a little bit concerned about something, or so it appeared. Wait. Maybe that expression was conflicted, not concerned? Well, whatever the look on his face was, it was only there a moment before it was cleared away to a soft, kind expression that was a bit of a change from the expressions most of the others who were walking around wore. There was a little bit of confusion in it, though, and that made Peter wonder a little bit. Was his hat crooked? Was he doing something wrong? The man said nothing, so perhaps there was equally nothing to worry about.

As the man continued to not-speak, Peter looked up at him, his expression somewhat crooked, and a little bit perplexed himself. This man was quite unlike any that Peter had seen before, or at least, unlike any but one or two of the teachers at school, and even then they had a somewhat more commanding air than this one had. It was almost as though he was trying not to be seen, but had so much of a certain powerful charisma about him that doing that was too hard to achieve- or maybe it was just Peter? It could easily be that. He had been told that he was a bit odd sometimes with the things he noticed. At any rate, he liked something about the man, even if there was an overhanging color to him that he couldn't place and wasn't sure he wanted to, wasn't sure he wanted to see.

Oh, he wasn't lost. That was good. Peter would have been able to point him to someone, but that meant that maybe he'd keep on talking to him! It would make him feel a little bit happier, a little bit less lonely that way. Yup! Then, after they were done talking, he'd soon go home, or perhaps go perform again! He thought he might, especially considering that people holding the day's program would often look his way and give him various expressions.

"That's good, that you aren't lost, Mister!" he said. Quickly this turned into a longer ramble: "I would try to help you if you were, but I'm not supposed to go anywhere so I'd have to point you to one of my teachers or something because I'm not that great at giving verbal directions. Apparently I use weird landmarks or something. I don't know. That's just what people say." He shivered again briefly as he finished talking. It was chilly- but not that cold! It wasn't like he wanted to go home or anything, just, he was a bit cold. Yeah.

He smiled again slightly, looking closer at the man's face (which seemed oddly surprised about something when he looked at Peter. Huh. How odd.) To fill the brief silence, he just started talking again: "Hey, Mister, did you know that I can control fish? I'd show you, but I don't actually have any fish. You need fish to control fish! Wow, I just said something really obvious, okay, didn't mean to do that! I've been performing for school here and it's fun!" None of this was terribly important, really, just space-filler. He didn't care if anyone heard. He just wanted to keep talking so that there was still a "conversation" going on so the other person would be obligated to remain near him.

Finally, though, the redhead talked again. Peter cocked his head. Maybe that's why the man was confused and upset. There was something going on nearby that he was horribly undecided about, by the sound of it. "If you don't know what to do... Just do what your heart thinks you should do, maybe. 'Cept sometimes your heart gets all confused. Then you need to really think, since that's when it probably matters the most to follow it." That, in Peter's mind, was fairly sound advice. His heart had rarely lead him wrong, except when it did, and that's when he was supposed to use what he'd learned at school. Since the man was a human, he didn't have a school to teach him just what to do (plus, he was a grown-up, and grown-ups didn't always have to follow the rules), so his heart had to be the only thing he used.

"Oh, and I'm Peter, Mister! Peter Kirkland! What's your name?"

Notes: This took far too long... Sorry...

made by MISSO on IoF

[Alfred F. Jones]

it's a

revolution

Word count: 806

Tags: @peanut

Notes: Not at all, you were busy.

The boy looked unbelievably happy, a bright, easy smile on his face. Alfred wondered how anybody could be happy under these circumstances. Or maybe it was because he had never known anything better? A kid though...a kid. Alfred swallowed, the anger simmering in his stomach. How twisted society had become...or, in Alfred's life, had always been.

When Alfred said that he wasn't lost, the grin on the boy's face only grew wider. Had the kid been desperate for some company? Alfred hadn't seen any other kids in the cages. Maybe this boy was the only one. How was that fair either? Hell, how was anything in this world fair?

"That's good, that you aren't lost, Mister!" The boy's voice was so cheery that Alfred didn't have a hard time maintaining his smile, even as he felt more and more angered by the fact that this kid was even here. "I would try to help you if you were, but I'm not supposed to go anywhere so I'd have to point you to one of my teachers or something because I'm not that great at giving verbal directions. Apparently I use weird landmarks or something. I don't know. That's just what people say." The little ramble made Alfred chuckle lightly. He could certainly understand that.

The boy shivered, an action that didn't pass unnoticed by Alfred. He must be cold...yet here he was, acting so...so...happy. Alfred wondered how he'd even be able to do that. Alfred certainly wouldn't. Yet...did he really...really believe in all of this? Alfred had, once, but how could you when you were face to face with it everyday? Alfred thought about the mutants he'd met before. Arthur, Gilbert, M...Matthew. They didn't believe in the society they had grown up in, but maybe they were the exception rather than the rule. No, they almost definitely were. Alfred remembered other mutants, those who actually believed in the system. This kid was another one of them. He hadn't seen the Underground...or the arena. He'd never been in a fight, never heard the crowd cheering for blood. He'd never...

The innocence, in a way, was nice. Ignorance was bliss after all. But you couldn't stay ignorant forever. And with something like this... Alfred didn't want to shatter this boy's illusions. But how could he believe? Just...just how?

The boy continued talking, seemingly oblivious. "Hey, Mister, did you know that I can control fish? I'd show you, but I don't actually have any fish. You need fish to control fish! Wow, I just said something really obvious, okay, didn't mean to do that! I've been performing for school here and it's fun!"

The boy's cheeriness brought Alfred back to the conversation at hand. Alfred laughed. "Yeah, I can see why that would be the case," he smiled. "That's pretty cool, controlling fish. Do you like the ocean?" Had he ever been to the ocean? It didn't seem like he would have. A mutant who so readily believed in this society probably had been raised in it from when he was young. Maybe he'd been sent to Weeds when he was really young. He wouldn't have experienced a life outside of the one he'd experienced in Weeds, would never have seen the ocean, perhaps would never be able to.

"If you don't know what to do... Just do what your heart thinks you should do, maybe. 'Cept sometimes your heart gets all confused. Then you need to really think, since that's when it probably matters the most to follow it."

Alfred blinked. Do what your heart thinks you should do? Alfred knew exactly what he wanted to do. He wanted to break Matthew out. He wanted to run. Honestly, he wanted to start a revolution. But even Alfred knew that was stupid. Not just stupid—suicidal.

"That's good advice," Alfred said, smiling at the boy. "Maybe I'll follow it." Maybe...but probably not. Still...

"Then you need to really think, since that's when it probably matters the most to follow it."

When it mattered most, huh...

"Oh, and I'm Peter, Mister!" the boy said cheerily. "Peter Kirkland! What's your name?"

Kirkland...Arthur...they had to be related. Alfred wondered if he knew that.

"I'm Alfred," Alfred said automatically in response. He winced inwardly. Maybe he shouldn't have given his real name...no, this was a kid. Who would he tell? Though...no, he was being too paranoid now. "...Peter, do you...do you have any siblings? A brother maybe?"

Did he know that he had a brother? Maybe he didn't, if Arthur had left his family before Peter was born. Still, Alfred couldn't help but ask.

"So, Peter," Alfred said casually to the boy, "what're you up to around here? Aren't you supposed to be in Weeds right now?"

i suppose

by Worldie for Leia

[Deleted]

875

Tags: Alfred F. Jones

Peter was quite glad for the company he had received. The weird redhead seemed like a really nice man, and he had actually stopped to talk! People didn't normally stop to talk to mutants, which was silly. Certainly, mutants weren't on the same level as people, but either way they could make perfectly good company, and any company at all tended to be good company. Talking to oneself, after all, was generally frowned upon, and one had to talk to somebody. People looked at him weird sometimes when he said that, though. He didn't understand it. People were generally confusing from time to time, but Peter didn't think about that too hard. He figured it would make more sense when he got older, since grown-ups seemed to know everything there was to know about anything.

"Yup! It really is awesome" he commented. "I've never really seen the ocean, but I'd bet I'd like it a lot! I like water, at least. Is there an ocean near here? I don't know- I didn't learn much geography in school. I mean, I did learn geography, but I haven't memorized a map of the city or anything. That would be hard to do, wouldn't it?" He laughed slightly as he finished saying that. In hindsight, the nice man probably didn't need to know all of that. Ah, well, he didn't want the man to think he was uneducated! That would defeat the point of showing off for his school, if he seemed to be improperly educated! He just hadn't gotten to memorizing a map of the city or anything yet. Peter thought for a moment. That might actually be useful. That way, he'd always know where he was going. He'd have to try that at some point, except the school hadn't got any maps around it that he could remember, at least, not ones of the immediate surrounding area of Weeds. Apparently people had used them to run away once, but he'd never do anything like that.

Peter grinned again when the man complimented his advice. He didn't really feel the need to say more. Hearts were awful good at saying all the rest for both of them if they were needed to, especially on things like that. The man would either listen or he wouldn't, and that was all he had to say about that. Hopefully the man would. Peter really thought it would help- though sometimes, the heart could do stupid stuff. Generally you were listening wrong then, or so he had heard. Or maybe it was that the heart had listened wrong? He wasn't sure. It wasn't like Peter was one of those philosopher people. He'd never get all bought if he was- that would just be too annoying and too on airs for most people!

He smiled. So the man's name was Alfred. Alfred with no-last-name, huh. Well, that was a nice name! It sounded cheery in some way, full of energy, but perhaps that was just Peter. "Nice to meet you, Mister Alfred!" he chirped in return, smiling. "Er... I would shake your hand, but these bars are tiny and I can't get my hand out. I'll pretend shaking your hand, though! It's very nice to meet you, Mister!" He nodded his head, grasped the air, and proceeded to pretend to shake Alfred's hand. That seemed like a good enough substitute for him! Even if it wasn't, it was as close as they were going to get. Peter could understand security concerns, but it made it hard to say hi to people, and he could not touch people. He hated it.

His mind was brought off of his isolation again when Alfred asked about siblings. "A brother?" he asked, somewhat excited. "Yeah! I do have a brother!" He paused. "I've never met him, but I imagine he's really cool and nice, not at all the sort of person to leave people behind, and I bet he looks like me, and I bet that he'd love me a lot if he ever met me! And I bet that he's kind, and I bet that he's good. I think he was a mutant too, but I don't know much, only but for what I've been told, but I bet that my brother is one of the very best people that are out there!" He smiled at the thought. "One day, we're gonna meet, and it's gonna be amazing." He nodded emphatically at the end of this, because Peter was certain that his brother was going to be super cool, just wait.

He shivered for a moment, but for Peter it was just instinct now. He had mostly forgotten about the cold in his excitement to be talking to someone. Smiling up at Alfred, he said "I already told you I was here for school, Mister Alfred! I'm showing off. We did a show, and we might do another one! People keep on looking at me, too, which means that I must be doing something right- though the looks are awful funny ones," he commented, still smiling, though a little bit confused by those looks. It was almost as though they knew something he did not... But that was just silly, right?

Right?

Notes: Why don't I ever post at all? Also, stop being ironic, Peter.

made by MISSO on IoF

[Alfred F. Jones]

it's a

revolution

Word count: 1202

Tags: @peanut

Notes: Stop breaking his heart, Peter. ;n; Also I'm very late, sorry.

"Yup! It really is awesome!" Peter was so unbelievably cheerful. Alfred was cheerful himself, but he'd never been like this. The kid was in a cage for goodness' sake. "I've never really seen the ocean—" Of course he hadn't. Of course he...of course not. "—but I'd bet I'd like it a lot! I like water, at least. Is there an ocean near here? I don't know- I didn't learn much geography in school. I mean, I did learn geography, but I haven't memorized a map of the city or anything. That would be hard to do, wouldn't it?" The boy laughed easily, the words spilling out of his mouth. Peter seemed to like to ramble, which was something that Alfred could relate to. Certainly, he'd been reprimanded for similar actions.

Still, the words made Alfred feel angered inside. This kid, who could be no more than what 12 or 13, had never even seen the ocean. What had Alfred been doing around that age?

There was a sudden lump in his throat. 13. Right. That was the year...his mom...

Alfred blinked, trying to chase the thoughts out of his head. No, what was important here was Peter, not him. This kid seemed so compliant with society's rules, brainwashed even by the propaganda that had enslaved the whole world. Alfred might have felt a little bad about destroying this kid's fantasies, but it was better than having him believe in this nightmarish world. He would have to break it to him somehow, to hint that everything was not necessarily what it seemed. What one believed in started with what one was taught as a child after all. But how?

Well...there was the ocean, right? He could start there.

"Yes, there's an ocean near here," Alfred said. "It's not the prettiest ocean I've ever seen since it's very cold and not much fun for swimming in. But it's deep, which means that there are a lot of large fish that spend time over there. There's the port, where all the ships and boats are and there are hundreds of them. They all carry people who work there and make their living there and everyone is happy."

Okay, that last part might not be true, but it seemed to come to mind anyways.

"But that's not the prettiest ocean," Alfred continued. "No, the prettiest ocean is in Hawaii." Despite himself, Alfred found he was biting back a smile. "Hawaii is this island in the United States of America—that's where I'm from. It's a bunch of islands actually, all fairly little. It's nice and warm and always sunny, unlike here. There are a lot of volcanoes there...which are basically mountains that sometimes spew out really hot, fire-like liquid which we call lava," Alfred added as an afterthought since Peter might not know about volcanoes. "Because of the volcanoes, both aboveground and underwater, the sand in Hawaii is black. The ocean in Hawaii is gorgeous. There are these gigantic waves and they crash along the shores. People have these long boards that we call surfboards and they paddle out and stand on the boards and ride along a wave."

Alfred remembered visiting Hawaii. He'd been about Peter's age, maybe younger. He remembered running across the beaches barefoot and falling into the water and pretending (much to his brother's annoyance) that he was saving Matthew from some invisible shark in the waters...

"It's beautiful there," Alfred said. "Maybe you'll get to see it someday. A kid like you with your sort of ability could do a lot there."

And maybe it was possible, that Peter would see Hawaii someday. But not unless something changed. Not unless the core of the system changed.

The topic returned to introductions, and Alfred's face fell a little when Peter mentioned the bars and how he would have to pretend to shake Alfred's hand. They couldn't even interact that way... Which Alfred supposed made sense from the government's perspective but continued to infuriate him.

He was about to comment on something related to the cages and hopefully drive the conversation into one that might broaden Peter's perspective ever so slightly when Peter interjected. "A brother? Yeah! I do have a brother!" Alfred's mind clicked. So Arthur must... "I've never met him, but I imagine he's really cool and nice, not at all the sort of person to leave people behind, and I bet he looks like me, and I bet that he'd love me a lot if he ever met me!"

Peter's optimism was heartbreaking. Alfred had been equally optimistic once, but to see it in front of him made it difficult to keep smiling.

Arthur and Peter certainly did look alike, there was no doubt about that. Love was a different question. Love did not come instantaneously, but perhaps it could happen. Alfred thought back to Arthur. He was independent, strong-headed, and willful. Which Peter could become, if he could just see that life was not meant to be this way. If they could meet...Arthur might be, in a way, a good influence to Peter. Or a bad one, depending on your perspective.

"I imagine he's really cool and nice, not at all the sort of person to leave people behind!"

Leave people...behind...

The words twisted in his stomach.

Matthew.

If only he hadn't...

Not at all the sort of person to leave people behind...

Wasn't he a terrible sibling then?

"—and it's gonna be amazing." Alfred refocused on Peter, who nodded enthusiastically at the end of his sentence. He must've been talking about meeting Arthur. Alfred could hardly think of the circumstances under which that meeting would happen. In the Underground? In some stinky cell with Peter coming to terms with what happened to mutants when they grew older? In the sunlight, with both of them passing across the street with their respective owners, never able to say a word to one another?

Arthur was here, wasn't he? It seemed like his contract with Francis had come to an end, but Alfred couldn't be sure. Would they meet here? It was possibly the closest they could ever come to...but how?

The thought came to Alfred quite suddenly, leaving him with a gutted feeling in his stomach. In a fight?

...They couldn't. They wouldn't.

...They most certainly could. And perhaps they would.

A child though? Even the government kept mutant children in Weeds until they were 18. Yet Peter was here. It had to serve a purpose of some sort.

"I already told you I was here for school, Mister Alfred! I'm showing off. We did a show, and we might do another one! People keep on looking at me, too, which means that I must be doing something right- though the looks are awful funny ones."

Well that was because he was a child. A child. Here.

"Are you sure that's all you're going to be doing, Peter?" Alfred asked slowly. "Are any of your classmates around?"

Perhaps he wasn't being subtle enough, perhaps he was going too far, but Alfred pressed further. "Peter...do you know what's going to happen to you when you grow up? Have your teachers told you yet?"

i suppose

by Worldie for Leia

[Deleted]

1146

Tags: Alfred F. Jones

Peter cocked his head as Alfred blinked rapidly for a moment. Was it something Peter had said? He looked upset for some reason. He considered asking for a moment, but hesitated to. Alfred was real nice and all, but sometimes grown-ups got all upset if he asked them about their feelings and things. They said it was "impertinent for you little mutant kid to talk to a teacher like that!", so he didn't, so no one got mad. That was enough to make him hesitate to ask Alfred, because even if her was super nice he was still a grown-up and he was still a human and he didn't want to be impertinent, whatever that meant.

At any rate, he soon forgot about the odd man's odd expression when he told Peter that yes, there was an ocean nearby. He listened with rapt attention as he described the ocean. It was cold, and that wasn't fun, but oh, could Peter picture the deep blue waves, like he'd only read about in books, and oh, could Peter picture the boats like ships covered in legos carrying hopefuls to and from its shores like boats should, could he picture the rocking waves and the people and- wow. He wondered if his mom and dad (who weren't very nice people and who left him behind so he'd never ever let himself get left behind again he wouldn't) had come over on a boat like that, or if they'd taken to the sky on plane? He'd been on neither, but Peter thought he'd prefer a boat.

He'd hardly the time to consider it before a new description entered Peter's head, even more gorgeous than the last. Alfred had started to describe a beautiful, far-away land called 'Hawaii', which was in America, which was a big country if Peter looked at a globe, but he didn't know much else about it. They mostly taught Russian history at school, and glossed over even aspects of that, especially revolutions. Peter thought that was silly. Those were the most fun to learn about! They had battles and guns and willpower and bravery and everything! (Peter was, of course, just a boy, so of course the wars were more exciting than the rest of history. Geography was especially boring. Why would he need to know country names anyway?)

Hawaii sounded magical. He'd never heard of black beaches, and he'd only ever imagined volcanoes and even then couldn't really picture it, but most of all they sounded like they had warm, crisp, clear oceans filled with color and life. He wondered if the fish ever marveled at the black beaches. Probably not. Fish weren't very smart.

"It sounds gorgeous," Peter breathed.  "I've never seen anything like that before, not in my entire life. I've not even imagined it! Is that what the entire United States is like? Is that where you're from? I was born here," he added, "But... but my mom... was born in Scotland? I think my- my- my dad was born in England. They're both far away..." There was a large, pregnant pause. "I don't like them much..." And you know, it was impossible to tell whether it was his parents or the places associated with them that Peter was talking about at the end. It had changed. He didn't like his parents much, indeed, because he'd thought once that they were good and kind but that had been a lie, they'd left him behind and that was awful, and that was why he had to find his brother, because his brother was family and he was better,

right?

It was funny, then, how Alfred's face twisted when Peter mentioned this, mentioned that his brother wouldn't be like his parents, though he didn't say it in those words. Alfred had sunk to a shade of white or grey or just sad for just a moment. It snapped back, but Peter wondered if Alfred had a missing brother too, but he'd asked a teacher that once too and his teacher had just snapped and said "my family business isn't your business at all" and if Peter was feeling sad, he wouldn't want anyone asking either.

(Besides, Alfred looked more like he was thinking about Peter's parents that Peter's brother- or maybe some words had to be replaced there, but at any rate he didn't look very hopeful.)

That was about when Alfred started asking weird questions.

"Are you sure that's all you're going to be doing, Peter? Are any of your classmates around? Peter...do you know what's going to happen to you when you grow up? Have your teachers told you yet?" Peter frowned. What weird questions... He couldn't understand why they were being asked at all.

"What else would I be doing...?" he asked slowly, confusion lacing his voice. "There's not very much else I can do yet? I'm only thirteen. You don't finish school until you're eighteen and grown up and stuff." Surely Mister Alfred knew that? "And yes, Mister Alfred, there were classmates here, we were just all spread out and stuff..." It was honestly a little lonely over here by himself, and he hated that he couldn't brush his hand agains someone else or just be near one or really hadn't been talking much and yes, it was a little weird that he was alone but he figured they'd just run out of space elsewhere.

The second part of the question was what really threw Peter for a loop. "Everyone knows that, silly!" he said, still sounding horribly confused. "Yoy get sold to a nice person who takes care of you and everything else and you won't be lonely like that, not ever." That was the truth. Everyone always said it was the truth, except for the kids who weren't very good at listening, and Peter wasn't supposed to listen to them. Except, sometimes he couldn't help but wonder because some of his friends wondered and said there were other things but he didn't want to ever, ever be alone and he didn't want to ever, ever be lonely and so that WAS ALL THERE WAS TO IT, PETER.

"Except you've got to fight first," he added, now talking as though he was speaking to an especially slow person. "That's so people can see how strong you are. That helps you get people. You train a lot for that when you get older, but I'm only thirteen, so I'm not allowed to try to fight yet much. Really, why was this Alfred person asking these things with that odd panicked color? They were such weird questions! Alfred was nice and all, but he was either very stupid, or...

(...or he could be very onto something.)

But that was stupid and that voice was stupid and made Peter do stupid things so Peter never listened to that.

Notes: I give up. I shall never post quickly. *sigh*

made by MISSO on IoF

[Alfred F. Jones]

it's a

revolution

Word count: 994

Tags: @peanut

Notes: I thought I was doing well with replies but that's a joke.

Peter seemed amazed at the image that Alfred conjured of Hawaii, his green eyes lighting up in awe. He was listening closely, as if he had been starved of these images and color and joy. The only difference between Peter and a starved homeless man on the streets was that Peter didn't know he was hungry.

"I've never seen anything like that before, not in my entire life. I've not even imagined it!" Alfred had never quite been able to tame his imagination (he could not even dream of it), but perhaps it was hard to imagine when one had only four grey walls to base everything off of.

"Is that what the entire United States is like? Is that where you're from?"

Alfred was about to say no when Peter's tone changed, the joy in his voice faltering ever so slightly. "I was born here. But...but my mom...was born in Scotland? I think my—my—my dad was born in England. They're both far away..." Peter's voice trailed off before picking back up again. "I don't like them much..."

Alfred's thoughts briefly wandered to his father and his mother. Good memories, of his father and mother laughing and visiting his cousins and his father flipping burgers on the grill and his mother hugging him when he got his first A minus of the year in math. Of course, those happy memories were accompanied by terrible ones (his mother's death, his father's rage, the way he and his father had...had...) but at least he had good memories. Peter did not have that privilege, of ever having been loved, of ever having been special. He had been abandoned, tossed aside and discarded like a broken toy. And Alfred rarely thought of it, but as terribly as his family had ended up (as terribly as he had allowed it to end up), Peter had never even had a chance.

"Maybe one day you can go back there," Alfred mused. "Maybe not to your parents but maybe to England or Scotland. Maybe Hawaii. Maybe you could go everywhere."

A thought, a dream. A reality? Alfred wanted to make it so.

But enough about family, because family made Alfred uncomfortable, because despite how much worse Peter had had it, Alfred still had no desire to talk about his father, or his mother, or his brother. He disliked his mistakes, he wanted them to fade. Especially...Mattie...

Peter seemed confused when Alfred began to ask him questions about the future, about why he was in the festivities in the first place. "What else would I be doing?" Peter blinked. "There's not much else I can do yet? I'm only thirteen. You don't finish school until you're eighteen and grown up and stuff." Grown up. Was eighteen grown up? Alfred was twenty, technically an adult, but he didn't feel particularly grown up at all. He'd run away with Matthew before he turned eighteen...had he ever grown up? No one ever said that to him. "And yes, Mister Alfred, there were classmates here, we were just all spread out and stuff..." Here Alfred frowned, because he had not seen anyone of Peter's age or around Peter's age locked in a cage. It was like the boy had been singled out to be mocked, yet he didn't know it.

"Everyone knows that, silly!" The light tone that Peter used made Alfred wonder. "You get sold to a nice person who takes care of you and everything else and you won't be lonely like that, not ever." There was a confidence, an unwavering belief that Peter held in his words. Not being lonely...was that what they told all the kids or was that simply what Peter had surmised? He didn't want to be lonely or abandoned. Neither did Alfred, not really...but it wasn't worth giving up his freedom for, never...

"Except you've got to fight first." Peter's tone slowed, enunciating every word clearly and precisely. "That's so people can see how strong you are. That helps you get people. You train a lot for when you get older, but I'm only thirteen, so I'm not allowed to try to fight yet much."

Helps you get people...almost made it sound like mutants could choose who decided to take them home. Alfred almost wanted to laugh. What a joke.

"Isn't that unfair though?" Alfred asked. If Peter thought he was a bit clueless, that worked too. Perhaps when Peter was working through all these issues in his mind, it would occur to him that it was wrong. "I mean...what if the person you like doesn't want you? Why do they have to be the one to choose? Why do they get to do that? Shouldn't you be able to choose who you want to stay with?

"Or how about fights? What if...what if you fight you friends? I wouldn't like to do that...it wouldn't be fun at all, I don't think." Alfred talked slowly as if he was confused so that Peter could fully absorb what he was saying and come up with a reply.

Here Alfred paused though. Had he said too much? He didn't think so...but Alfred was a terrible judge on these matters. There were so many questions he could pose to Peter though, so many...

"I don't think it's fun being locked up like this either," Alfred said. He knew he might be going too far...but how could he not? "Wouldn't you much rather be able to walk around like everyone else? Go to Hawaii with your friends and family, with people you chose? I don't think it's fair at all...but maybe I'm wrong. Am I, Peter?"

Am I? Am I really? Because I think you're smarter than that, I think you know. That this isn't some natural hierarchy, that this isn't the way things are supposed to work. No, I think you know that that's not true.

i suppose

by Worldie for Leia

[Deleted]

1511

Tags: Alfred F. Jones

Peter frowned as he looked at Alfred. When he thought about it, he had clearly phrased his statement wrong. No, he had never been in England, nor had he been in Scotland- at least, he didn't think he had been. He barely had any memories of his time with his parents as a child. He supposed he should care, but from what he had heard he shouldn't like his parents anyway, and that was that. Right? There was no need to cry over them, since they apparently hadn't wanted Peter. (Or at least, there was no use crying over them anymore, and there was certainly some use to hiding the fact that he did, in fact, reel and hurt from having next to no memories of them. What did his mom's face look like? How about his dad's? How had those features blended together to make a Peter?)

"I dunno if it would be going back, Mister Alfred," he said quietly. "I don't actually remember being there... I just think that my- my parents were from there." That fact was soon replaced by an innocent confusion at Alfred's statement. Maybe he could go anywhere? That was weird. Of course he could (he would), right? It would be fine if he didn't, but he couldn't help but imagining the splashing waves in the place Alfred described and smiling slightly at Alfred's words- though not saying anything. He wasn't going to say anything.

True, that was weird for Peter, but he had a reason: something about Alfred when he said that made it sound like Peter would be doing the traveling by himself. Peter wasn't sure he trusted himself to answer that. He was going to hurt Alfred by insulting him, or Alfred was going to say more weird things and the voice of rea- doubt would crop up and they'd probably argue, and Peter didn't like fighting. He liked how kind Alfred was being, but Alfred was starting to get really confusing and it just didn't quite sit right with Peter. So he just smiled and nodded.

And then it just got worse as Alfred continued to not understand at all and asked confusing questions that were stupid and made Peter feel bad for some reason, like something was wrong when there was clearly nothing wrong. "Isn't that unfair though?" asked Alfred, and Peter didn't understand what was unfair about it- Peter didn't have to be alone and he would take care of a person and it would all turn out okay in the end if he just acted good, right?

But then Alfred just kept on going, and Peter's eyes just got wider and wider as his head spun and tried to think around it because Alfred was so horribly terribly nice but so horribly terribly odd and Peter didn't think he was a bad man so why did he keep on saying all of the things that would get anyone in trouble, whether they were a guard or a student or a teacher? Peter had heard a story when he was younger about a guard who had asked stupid questions and how a brave mutant had turned him in and- well, in the story the guard was actually a devil of some sort, temptation of some sort, read between the lines; Peter didn't doubt that there was a real man like him, though, trying to lure kids away from school to do awful things and you shouldn't ever listen to such awful things, you hear?

Except, Peter was certain that, for all of his oddities, Alfred was no devil, no demon in disguise waiting to tempt them away from the proper path. Alfred's voice was confused. That had to be all it was, right? So Peter's mind decided to humor the man because he liked the colors Alfred still seemed to be, he liked how genuinely concerned the man seemed to be for him. Even if his questions were confusing and weird.

It took Peter a moment to come up with a response, but in the end his response was an entirely constructed web of children's logical leaps combined with schooling. "How can you choose which person you like?" he asked. "They aren't the ones who are showing off. We're showing off! Besides, if someone chooses me, that means that they want me, right? And isn't it good to be wanted?" He paused. Even Peter could recognize that he'd fallen into the territory of questions no one had dared to ask and no one had dared to answer before, and it was terrifying. He wasn't certain he was answering right. There was a right answer, though, of that he was certain, it was just- "I mean- well... um... If they want me... I don't care if they're imperfect. I don't care if I wouldn't like them otherwise. Would you?"

A pause. Then, "And fighting... I don't know much about fighting. We haven't learned much about it yet. I don't think it would be fun to hurt my friends either, but we'd both know we were doing it for the right reason, right? It would be okay, right? I doubt we'd have to- have to- do that too often. Yeah. It's like showing off, just fancier." Peter hated himself for the waver in his voice as he spoke, the added desire for reassurance. He was the one teaching Alfred here. He cared what Alfred thought, but he didn't understand why his voice wavered, he was only saying the right answer- but no, he didn't know the right answer here. What was the right thing if he had to fight- really fight- a friend? In his head, he knew the answer was 'keep on fighting', so why did part of him keep on rebelling?

But then Alfred just kept on going and Peter was ready to explode, because Alfred was a good person who meant well and Peter could just tell but he was going to get them in trouble because Peter didn't know the answers. But finally Alfred stopped, and Peter found himself staring again with wide eyes and an expression somewhere between upset and confused and petrified, all at once. "...but maybe I'm wrong. Am I, Peter?"

Peter wanted to answer all of Alfred's other questions one by one. It would be so much easier than to answer them like that than to answer them all at once in the way Alfred had set up the question. Because, as much as Peter wanted to just say yes, his tongue wouldn't do it. He could hardly say no, either- saying no would be saying that Alfred was right, and Alfred couldn't be right, he was just confused! So why couldn't Peter just tell him that (like a good mutant) and tell him that he was wrong(because if you don't you're broken anyway, and no one will want you again)?

Finally, Peter just shook it off and started by ignoring the ending. He could deal with the ending last. That could be a thing. "I mean- uh, Mister- I mean, I don't mind being in here, really, only that I can't touch people like I want to and it's a little short, but otherwise it's fine, I swear! I mean, I'm a little cold, but everyone here's a little cold, I bet! It is winter!" Peter started to breath easier. See, he was telling the truth again. See, the truth was the same as it was ten minutes ago. See, everything was fine. "I mean... Wouldn't it be dangerous for us to just walk around the streets, uncontrolled? I mean, uh, I'm not very dangerous or anything, I mean, unless you give me poisonous fish but that would be silly! But I know this guy who can make, like, really big winds and stuff! He wouldn't want to blow down a house or something, would he?" Slowly, Peter worked himself back out of his panic. He'd be fine. He'd be fine. 

But he still didn't know how to answer the last two parts.

And then, slowly, he spoke up anyway. "Um, Mister Alfred... I don't know. I think that's just how things work, see? I mean, I'll find my brother and we can meet and be nice to each other, I'm sure! But... I think that humans and mutants... are supposed to be partners?" He paused for a moment. His brain caught up. And then he gasped and threw his hands over his mouth. "No! That's not really said right at all. Not really partners, just- well- isn't that the right way for things to work? Isn't it wrong for things to work another way? That's just right and wrong and-" Peter swallowed very hard.

Suddenly, he realized that he'd run out of words, but he didn't think he'd answered the question quite right. He looked down. He had tried, hadn't he? And wasn't that half the battle? Hopefully, it would go well (and his heart would stop racing against what he thought it said and running in the other direction).

Notes: ...

made by MISSO on IoF

[Alfred F. Jones]

it's a

revolution

Word count: 1380

Tags: @peanut

Notes: Sorry; this is late and probably rushed.

It was time to withdraw.

Alfred knew he'd said too much. Knew it was the words were coming out of his mouth. He could easily be arrested for this. He wasn't sure why he'd done it. Sure, he was here to talk about the Freedom Fighters, gauge which mutants might be on their side. Sure, it would have been dangerous either way. But Alfred took it to another level.

Maybe it was how earnestly hopeful Peter acted, maybe it was how much he believed in the system. Alfred watched as Peter fidgeted under Alfred's questioning. He felt horrible, in a way, because really, it was horrible. He was questioning Peter's ideals, Peter's life, everything that Peter had ever grown up believing. It was all Peter had, really, because mutants grew up with barely anything. And he was stripping Peter's faith away in that too. Debunking it with well placed questions.

It was like a debate. Not something that Alfred had excelled in during his brief stint in high school (not because he couldn't argue; he just didn't like formality much), but nevertheless, he saw it here. Still, this was different. More real. More...more...exactly what Alfred didn't know. He just knew it was very different from speaking up in a classroom.

He used to be happy when he crushed his opponents too. But a child is different. You don't destroy a child. You don't crush their dreams. Alfred didn't want to do that to Peter. Whether or not he would do that to other people...that was a different question.

He thought he'd changed, but people rarely do.

But then again...freedom was the right to tell people things they do not want to hear. That was why he had questioned Peter, tried to talk him over. But...

Peter's answers were heartbreaking as he spoke, impassioned, about being wanted. About why his choice mattered in the first place. Choices. Alfred bit his lip. His life was all about choices. He so often made the wrong one. But he had the freedom to make it. Peter didn't even have that.

Peter was shaking, his eyes wide with panic and fear and...and maybe something else. His green eyes were the same as Arthur's, yet so different at the same time.

If this was a debate, this was the point where you drove the argument deep into your opponent's skin, ripped them and their argument to shreds. But how could he even do that?

He couldn't stop here. Couldn't because this was the breaking point between whether or not Peter lived his life as a lie or if he chose to change. Alfred wasn't going to give up that.

For the first time, Alfred really realized what he was doing. Not just tearing down Peter's world; no, he had realized that a long time ago.

No, it felt less like a debate. It felt more like prepping a soldier for a war.

It was fine and alright to play with your own life. That, Alfred was willing to do. For Matthew, for freedom, for whatever that cost. It was his life after all. He could do what he wanted. But for the first time, Alfred also realized he wasn't just playing with his now. He was playing with Peter's. With everyone he talked to, every person he approached during this week. Asking them to question society, to question their beliefs and their government and in a way, their heart. And if they chose free will, if they chose equality...well then, he was playing with their lives. Daring them to stand up (and for a good cause), daring them to be shot down. Playing with them like they were putty in his hands. Molding and shaping them into little toy soldiers ready for a war.

The more Alfred thought, the more despicable it seemed.

It was for the greater good, which Alfred had always believed in as a child, and was gradually learning to believe in again. But even so, what was the cost? Alfred was willing to pay almost anything. But were these people? They had families. They had lives.

Peter...Peter had happiness. He was happy, in Weeds it seemed. Wouldn't it be cruel to take that life away?

...Weeds wasn't a life at all.

Peter talked about the cold and about how that was okay, because everyone was cold too and maybe that was true, but Alfred wasn't cold like Peter was cold. Had Peter ever known warmth? He'd never had love or family...

Greater good...

If any of the people Alfred had ever spoken with ever died for freedom, that was his fault. It didn't matter if he gave them orders or directions or information. Didn't matter if he even had only waved at them once, or smiled. Whether or not he pulled the trigger was inconsequential. He was responsible in his own way.

Did they know, Alfred wondered, when they came, that this was what it was going to be like? That they might lose everything they'd worked for? Because he wasn't going to lie to them about that. The world doesn't work like that. Life doesn't work like that. Stories that ended happily...those didn't really happen. Life always ends in death, and that has never equated to happiness.

Greater good...

Freedom was worth it.

Not for him, maybe not for Peter...but they had to get somewhere. For everyone else. For people who would live decades from now. Alfred didn't want to die warm in some hospital bed, having ignored his beliefs for security and safety. He couldn't live like that.

He watched Peter, as he tried to sort things out. He was right on the edge, right on the edge and...

"No!" Peter gasped. "That's not really said right at all. Not really partners, just- well- isn't that the right way for things to work? Isn't it wrong for things to work another way? That's just right and wrong and-"

Peter's voice faltered as he finally ran out of rebuttals, of words to say. Alfred let the silence linger in the air for a moment.

When he spoke, his voice was gentle, soft.

"What's so wrong about it?"

Time to go. Peter could crack the glass himself, because Peter was smart. Alfred knew what he had done. Like in Inception. He'd spun the top. And Peter? Alfred had a feeling that Peter had a sense his world wasn't quite right anymore.

...God, how could he do this?

Maybe he wasn't that different at all.

Just fighting for the other side.

Alfred swallowed and straightened. "I'm sorry, Peter," he said, trying to smile. "I know...I know that was a lot of questions. And just...things don't make sense a lot of the time, y'know? I want to have my own ideas and my own opinions and I just...I believe the world should be better. I'm trying to figure out how.

"But, please, don't worry yourself about it too much. I shouldn't have asked you so many questions about it." I'm sorry. "I just really wanted to try to make sense of everything." But I'm also not.

"I have to go now, Peter." Alfred hesitated, blue eyes meeting green. He didn't want to leave Peter like this. He wanted to tell him that it was okay. That things could be made better. Because they had to be.

But he had to leave. The guards would be suspicious; it was a miracle they hadn't put an end to this already. "Stay safe, okay? Take care of yourself. It's important. Things will be okay." I hope.

He wanted to do something more. If the bars were wider, Alfred would have squeezed Peter's hand. If the guards weren't here, he might have given him his scarf. But that wasn't an option.

So instead, Alfred walked. Slowly, deliberately, walked. He glanced back once, to look at the little boy.

He felt protective of him, like he was of Matthew. As crazy as it was, Alfred thought of his lock pick, hidden on him.

...No. No. Definitely not. He'd traumatized the boy enough. It was just time for him to think about what Alfred had said. Think and then...maybe, if Alfred was right, react.

Stay safe.

Please.

i suppose

by Worldie for Leia