All's Hell That Ends Well || Matthew, Tino

[Alfred F. Jones]

it's a

revolution

Word count: 1202

Tags: @maple

Notes: I lied and skipped everyone else. ALSO APPARENTLY TINO.

The smooth, cold barrel of a gun.

The silencer pressed against his temple.

The silence was choking him. The duct tape on his lips was suffocating enough. But the slow tick of the clock in the background, the stiffness in his shoulders, the raspy breathing just behind his ear...

He leaned forwards, though he didn't know why. He'd tried this a million times before—it never worked. The duct tape chafed his wrists, but he struggled anyways.

Had to...get out. Had to...somehow...

"How about your brother?"

He froze. He could still taste the blood in his mouth. Horrific thoughts flashed through his mind.

Matthew...

Anybody but Matthew.

Matthew was dead. Not because he knew it, but because Alfred had to believe it. Had to. If he wasn't...

If this bastard knew where he was...

"Wouldn't be nice if your brother was sitting here, da?"

He's dead, Alfred wanted to say. He's dead, he has to be dead. But fear seeped through the holes in his argument. He didn't know Matthew was dead. He really didn't.

"Still nothing? Mm, pity.

"We'll just have to start from the top then."

Alfred Fitzgerald Jones woke up in cold sweat.

He was okay, he was okay, he was okay. Alfred put a hand to his forehead, allowing it to rest there for a moment. He glanced at the clock by his bedside. 3:17 AM.

He wasn't getting anymore sleep that night.

"You're fine," Alfred murmured to himself as he stood to his feet. "It was just a nightmare."

Except it wasn't. Not all of it, at least.

He stumbled over in the dark, his eyes gradually adjusting as he searched for the light. Flicking the switch on, he flinched a little at the sudden brightness that filled the room.

At least he could see now.

Alfred made his way down the stairs and automatically headed towards the coffee machine. The silence was filled by the familiar whirr of the machine and Alfred's shoulders relaxed visibly.

The apartment, once Alfred's own private sanctuary, now seemed almost abandoned. Alfred had always kept things decently neat, particularly in regards to his job, but now the apartment was almost devoid of any signs of life. Each surface was clean, everything not immediately necessary was packed and organized. Everything was ready for Alfred to abandon at any instant. There was an urge to run, one that had yet to fade from his days on the streets. This time, it was not one that was completely unfounded. It would be smart to pack up and leave, change his identity one more time, maybe even leave the country. However, Alfred couldn't simply do that. He had work here to finish, work he would not back down from.

Not to mention he was under threat. One that might end up being life or death.

The locks had been changed a week and a half ago, yet Alfred still barely managed three hours of sleep a night. He only slept because he had to and he was essentially running on coffee.

It'd been three weeks already, yet nightmares entered his dreams every night. There was always that feeling of being watched, as if someone was keeping tabs on him. It made Alfred uneasy to venture outside his apartment, yet staying in his apartment was absolutely out of the question. He simply couldn't feel at ease in his home anymore, always glancing behind his back at some unseen assailant.

It'd been getting better. At least, better than the first week, where he'd avoided his apartment and only returned to sleep for an hour or two before leaving again to go do nothing. He felt trapped and he felt alone and Alfred...Alfred needed someone. Anyone.

Except that'd put them in danger too and Alfred wasn't about to do that to anyone he knew.

He had to start picking himself up again. Had to.

Which was why today...

Alfred swallowed the coffee, enjoying how it burned his throat as it went down. He splashed cold water on his face before running through the details of the day in his head.

He would have to take risks, take chances. More so than before, but in the end it all surmounted to the same thing.

Alfred refused to hide forever.

Walking to his wardrobe, he took out the guard uniform. He hadn't touched it in over a month and a half and his fingers hesitated before they gripped onto the fabric.

You're not allowed to be scared.

Never.

He caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. God, he looked terrible. He hadn't taken a good look at himself in a while. His fingers traced the new mementos that might be his to keep for the rest of his life. And...what else? Oh yes, glasses. He hadn't been wearing them as regularly for the past few weeks. He'd have to put them back on...

It was a robotic process, yet one tinged with anxiety. The regular procedures, fake IDs, fake passes. Lock picks, alcohol, some emergency cash, his gun. Everything, perfectly timed, perfectly placed. A familiar rhythm, but today, disrupted. Alfred fidgeted, he fussed, he took too long. Hesitation was written in his every action.

He double checked every thing for the seventh time before he was finally ready to go. The sun had risen, the night shift was just switching off. By the time he got to the Underground, the morning shift would have already be settling in their places and he could blend in easily.

Alfred took one last look in the mirror as he settled his glasses on his nose. Okay. He was ready. He took a deep breath and headed out the door.

~~~

Things went as planned. Smoothly. Almost too smoothly.

Was Alfred paranoid? Yes.

There must be a chart dictating where each mutant was, but it was almost certainly around where the other guards would be or the Head Guard's office. Alfred had no intention of approaching either of those locations, deciding to veer off and explore the Underground on his own. Counterproductive, maybe, but Alfred couldn't really think. He didn't really care.

His mind subconsciously kept track of where he was in the Underground, having come here a number of times. Alfred glanced back and forth, attempting to be as inconspicuous as possible in his search. What if he didn't find Mattie? He'd search the whole Underground if he had to. How hadn't he seen his brother before? What if he'd been bought? All these questions came to Alfred, perhaps a little too late. His heart pounded in his chest. Maybe that was for the best. If Mattie wasn't here...he was either sold or dead. Either way, the chances of him being used against Alfred were a little lower.

He hated the thought, but Alfred almost wished his brother were dead as opposed to stuck here.

If he was here...if Alfred found him...what would he do then? Alfred didn't know. He hadn't thought it through, he should've thought it through but he didn't fucking care.

He had to get Matthew out. Somehow. One way or another.

An idiot's mission, perhaps, but Alfred had never proclaimed otherwise.

i suppose

by Worldie for Leia

[Tino Väinämöinen]

TO QUELL A REBELLION

you need to dampen the matches

Working overtime sucked ass, but there were worse things in life. Like getting harassed by a restless mutant named Mathias. Tino had wandered off from that section, hands in his pockets. Stupid asshole pissed in the hallway as Tino walked by. The Fin could have crouched a channeled 2000 volts into the puddle and fried the mutant’s genitals off, but patience was virtue and Tino simply mopped it up before relocating himself to a different corridor. Besides, Mathias and Hamish didn’t really cause trouble unless Tino was around.

Mathias evidently didn’t like Tino. The feeling was mutual.

Crossing his arms, he leaned against the wall and rubbed his temples. He wasn’t paid nearly enough for this shit. In fact, he didn’t even get control over most of his assets (seriously, what the fuck?). He was so, oh so tempted to drop the sweet and friendly act and make a demonstration out of the bone-manipulator. However, fear wasn’t the best motivator. They had tried that with the Arena and the threatened whippings. There were other ways to work mutants over, and so far, Tino had most people wrapped around his conniving little finger.

Quiet footsteps jarred Tino from his thoughts as his posture straightened. He was supposed to be pacing up and down the halls.

Tino’s sluggish mind began to reprocess the thought though. Hang on, most guards were on break. The Underground feigned a strict regime to the public, but in truth, most guards slacked off on their shifts. Mutant never went anywhere and usually behaved in their cells, especially when fed. It was the new arrivals that fought and struggled, always believing in change. It took time, but eventually, they broke and seemed to accept their roles. Only a few remained untamed, but even then, they usually didn’t stir up trouble. Thus, the veteran guards spent at least a third of their shifts playing poker, and another third eating meals and on smoke breaks. They instead ordered the less experienced guards to man the cells, understaffed and under-appreciated. It ended up working to Tino’s advantage; he could pull strings that otherwise wouldn’t be available to him if he were watched carefully.

Why was someone walking around now though? It was a Sunday morning, and Pyotr usually orchestrated a big breakfast where everyone brought something in (to which Tino was excluded because it was a reward earned with time). He was singlehandedly manning the cells, and with food and company in the staff room, no one should be passing through the halls.

Tino’s first thought was a mutant. But the echoing sound of the footsteps was not characteristic of the thin, slipper-like socks that the mutants were provided with. No, those were the boots of a guard, scuffling along the cobbled floor. Said steps were not typical either… they were withheld, reserved… as if someone were treading lightly, but the silence of the halls, aside from the occasional bout of laughter wafting from the mess hall, made the steps easy to detect.

Someone was here and trying to go by undetected, and it was no mutant.

Tino moved quietly and efficiently, with deliberate steps radiating quiet confidence. He didn’t want to hide, but at the same time, he wasn’t trumpeting his entrance with thundering stomps. His hands ghosted over his gun and he was tempted to draw it, but refrained. It was stored under his thick coat, and he could draw it faster than most assumed.

That wouldn’t be worth much though if this intruder was already armed and held him at gunpoint. If that were the case, things would get ugly and Tino would be forced to act and reveal part of himself to witnessing captives. He clicked a switched on his forearm, just under his sleeve. A red light glowed dimly as he covered it and removed his mitts. His taser gloves did not look irregular and he’d only have to concern himself with mutants like Feliciano, who might be able to hear the faint and nearly silent hum of the battery on his back.

Tino turned the corner, humming faintly. He could hear steps retreating. He followed them until he turned a corner and was face to face with the last person he expected here.

Alfred Fitzgerald Jones. That bastard.

“Oh!” Tino exclaimed loudly, eyes wide with surprise. “Sorry! I almost ran you over!” he said, holding his hands up in alarm. He didn’t want to touch the American, unless he wanted to lug and unconscious body somewhere. “I didn’t know anyone else was on hall duty!” Tino said sheepishly with a shrug, looking guilty as if humming was taking away from his responsibility as a prison guard.

“Wait...you must be new here too if you’re not a part of the Sunday brunch. I haven’t seen you around here before…” Tino said, trailing off as he peered curiously at the man’s face.

Jones looked half-dead, with dark circles under his eyes and dirtied, flat hair. Of course, Tino was more than aware why. He had kept an eye on the American, usually every couple of days. He hadn't been able to sneak into the man’s apartment, but from his position an scope in the building over, he had noted the fact that the man had packed his things. Tino had planned to leave a warning note, but Jones left his apartment so seldom that it would be impossible to break and enter discretely without being caught. But here the American was, wandering the Underground in an outfit that wasn’t his. What was his motive? Why now? He had been so goddamn spastic before, and this was a move Tino didn't anticipate.

Did it have something to do with a certain mutant in Block D? A mutant that Tino personally threatened during his interrogation of the American? Annoyance broiled behind Tino’s innocent face. Was this fucker planning to buy out his brother and run? Oh no no no, the Fin wouldn’t allow that.

“You don’t look so good. Are you feeling okay?” Tino said as he leaned back, genuine concern flashing in his violet eyes. “Have they been working you too hard? You can ask for normal hours you know…” Tino said, continuing to fill the air with irrelevant chatter. Why was Jones here? And more importantly, what would Tino do about it? Tino rarely made threats. Threats implied the possibility of death or injury. Jones was underestimating him.

Tino Väinämöinen didn’t bluff and Alfred Fitzgerald Jones was about to learn that the hard way.

WORDS: 1087

TAGGED: Tino and a dead man

NOTES: I KNOW I HAVE OTHER THREADS BUT I WANT TO KEEP TABS ON YOU ;_;

MADE BY SIRIUS OF GANGNAM STYLE

[Alfred F. Jones]

it's a

revolution

Word count: 1145

Tags: Tino, Matthew

Notes: I'm posting way too quickly, I'm so sorry.

No, no, no... Alfred walked quickly through the halls, mentally checking each and every cell. He didn't really know how the mutants were organized. Were the compliant ones put in a single section and the rebellious ones grouped together? Which would Matthew be? Alfred was inclined to say he'd be more compliant and a hell lot smarter than Alfred would be in his situation, but how did he know? Alfred bit his lip until it drew blood.

He was desperate, this was stupid.

...No it wasn't. What would've been stupid was sitting around like some helpless animal trapped in a corner. Alfred was not and refused to be a coward.

However comforting that thought might seem, it did little to ease his tension as he wandered through the Underground. Alfred usually walked with confidence in the Underground. It was the easiest way to get away with whatever you were doing and usually Alfred managed to pull it off easily. Today though, his strategy changed. Stay quiet. Keep a low profile. The sound of his boots on the floor made his presence too easy to detect, but so far, he hadn't run into anyone yet.

Was taking a breath of relief too soon?

The thought had barely occurred to Alfred when he picked on the sound of footsteps that didn't quite match the pace of his own. This was immediately followed by a light humming, some Russian melody that Alfred didn't know.

Crap. Of course he couldn't count on not meeting anyone, he never could. It seemed like fate enjoyed conspiring against him.

Already though, his mind was kicking into overdrive. Habits formed by many illegal visits to places Alfred was not meant to be dictated Alfred's actions. He double tracked, heading away from the footsteps.

Evasion. Alfred didn't like hiding. He liked facing things head on. But with cons, that wasn't always smart. And really, when it boiled down to it, this was pretty similar to a con, wasn't it?

It seemed to work, for a little while. The footsteps faded a little. Alfred almost tricked himself into believing that things were going to be fine, that he was going to find Matthew and get him out somehow and they could just leave. Alfred would leave, Alfred was willing to pack up and go. He could leave Archadia this very moment and he'd be okay. He'd look back on this moment with regret, perhaps. With a sense of guilt that he had, in the end, been a coward. That he'd run away in the hopes of saving his last piece of family. But maybe he'd be able to live with himself anyways.

Those thoughts though, were scattered when he turned a corner came face to face with a guard. Alfred's fingers automatically went towards his gun, hidden in his jacket. He only barely forced himself to pry his hand away, to pretend to flex his fingers and dust off an imaginary speck of dirt as he stared at the man before him.

Short, surprisingly, with scruffy blond hair and bright violet eyes. Alfred wasn't sure what he'd been expecting, but it wasn't this. This man looked young, Alfred's age maybe. There was the possibility that he was older, but Alfred found that difficult to believe. There was a rather kind look on the man's face, one that seemed rather uncharacteristic on a guard's face. It caught Alfred off guard and for a moment, he forgot everything he'd planned.

“Oh!” the man exclaimed loudly, eyes widening with surprise. “Sorry! I almost ran you over!” The man held up his hands in alarm. Alfred's eyes flitted briefly towards his gloves, almost as if trying to reassure himself that there was nothing else there.

They're just gloves, Alfred chided himself. Not everyone is out to get you.

“I didn't know anyone else was on hall duty!” The man looked almost embarrassed, as if he'd been caught doing something he shouldn't have.

"It's fine, um..." Alfred blinked, trying to mentally process what was happening and failing. He...this...what? This guy seemed so...Why the hell was this guy working as a prison guard? Well, not a prison guard...but close enough. It didn't make sense in his mind. Alfred tended to stereotype all the guards in the Underground as desperate, sadistic, or both. This man seemed to be neither.

...Maybe it was his lucky day.

...Probably not.

“Wait...you must be new here too if you're not part of the Sunday brunch. I haven't seen you here before...” The man leaned in a little closer to look at him and Alfred subconsciously took a step back before he fully realized what he was doing. Alfred steadied himself before answering.

“Yeah, yeah,” Alfred said, nodding in agreement to the man's words. “Haven't been here very long.” The newbie excuse. Something that Alfred had played around with a number of times before. This was normal, Alfred could do this. “I've uh, got to go and find a friend of mine. I forgot where he'd supposed to be.”

No details. Only lies had detail.

He was about to go, hoping that this man, whoever he was, would leave him alone. Unfortunately, luck was not on his side. It seemed these days it never was.

“You don't look so good. Are you feeling okay?” The man seemed genuinely concerned. Under ordinary circumstances, Alfred might have appreciated it. Today though, he had somewhere specific to be and right now this man was in his way. “Have they been working you too hard? You can ask for normal hours you know...”

Alfred laughed a little out of habit, rubbing the back of his head as he did so. “Yeah, no, I'm fine. Just uh, haven't been able to sleep recently. And yeah, that might be a good idea. I'll go find someone later to see if I can have my schedule switched around.”

He nodded at the statement, smiling lightly and talking easily. Yet the need to get away and find Matthew tugged at him. Talking with someone for extended periods of time tended to burn your image into their mind. Short exchanges, forgotten within minutes, were always the best.

“But yeah, I'm fine. Just uh, gotta find this guy and be on my way.” Alfred gestured vaguely in the direction that the man had come from. If he was heading Alfred's way, then heading the opposite direction would mean a much smaller chance of them bumping into each other again.

How long would it take to search for Matthew? Already, Alfred's mind was shifting back to the main focus of his thoughts. The longer he stayed, the more dangerous and reckless this became, yet he couldn't go back without finding his brother...

“I've gotta go, sorry,” Alfred said, nodding once more at the man before beginning to walk away. “Nice talking to you.”

i suppose

by Worldie for Leia

[Deleted]

Matthew's life consisted of cycles; the cycle of food, the appealingly random cycle of the arena, the cycle of moving cells so your old one could be cleaned, the cycle of auctions, and the cycle of newbies that always came and were broken so easily. It was almost disheartening to see himself in those mutants as they appeared on the rosters and got to know how life really was instead of how it was outlined to be. Sure, it took months for them to realize that nothing was fair in this world, but it still happened and it was the most heartbreaking thing to watch for Matthew. Especially since at one point that had been him, scared and lonely, with the memory of everything about his past life still fresh and open. In a way, he had often almost wished that he had been taken as a kid instead of an almost adult like he had been. The kids at least had time to forget everything if they so chose, although he supposed no one ever forgot an experience like they went through, but at least they had time. Because, when it came down to it, Matthew knew that time was what faded memories. Not anything like what he could do with his eyes and his mind. What he could do was temporary and was quite iffy on it's usefulness as well.

But there was no whining about what he could or couldn't do to help him survive in such a place as this, nor keep his boredom at bay either. His power was social, and he was unfortunately very unsocial with strangers or the mutants in surrounding cells. It was often no use to make friends with anyone surrounding you when you knew that whatever cycle would take them away from you so that you wouldn't see them again until you were strangers with faded memories once more. Like the day before with that sweet little first year who still had hope for the changes around here. He still refused to acknowledge the truth around him, and for his sake Matthew hoped his next cellmate would be kind to him.

Yet, any affectionate ties to the kid were lost the day before. Sure he had been nice when he was in the class behind Matthew, but sometimes things were better to be left up to fate.

Taking in a deep breath, Matthew sat up in the cot he had barely crawled into last night and rubbed at his eyes. It had been long and almost sleepless nights since almost the first day he got here and he had grown up quickly, even more than the streets had made him. In fact, Matthew was sure that any one of his old friends would have been surprised and shocked at his manner and attitude. Gone was everything carefree about him and his old shy smiles. They still came of course, but they were always dry and never seemed to reach his eyes. No, he was pretty sure nobody would recognize him at this point, not even his brother.

He sucked in his breath at such painful thought as that, his eyebrows furrowing in the upset over such a stray emotion. Sometimes he swore he placed too much in his good old brother. It wasn't like he was ever going to see his twin again, and the more he thought about it, the more that it was going to just hurt. In fact, the best option at this point was to try to immerse himself more into the cycles and just go with the flow of it. They could care less about what you did as long as you didn't hurt the merchandise, and if he adopted the sag personality and accepted his role of merchandise, no matter how unsellable, he could at least pass through here with much more ease.

But he couldn't. He just couldn't forget his brother, no matter how much he wished he could want to, it just was not possible. While stray memories hurt him, forgetting him would hurt even more. No matter what he was stuck here with his memories while occasionally erasing everyone else's. How wonderful.

Mattie rolled off the bed, just barely catching himself before he landed flat on his face. Probably one of the worst parts of the Underground for Mattie was that there was never anything interesting going on. While that may have seemed coy to everybody but him, he just couldn't help himself. Guards occasionally passed by with nothing but the utterance about some absurd rule or another and threatening you for no reason. When they took you to the arena they made things a little more interesting with their threats, but since Mattie tried not to make them angry, he never really tried to see what happened if he actually pushed the limit of the rules. Not to mention the fact that when they usually took him to the arena, he was begging everything mentally to save him and take him back to the relative safety of his cell.

He was an analyzer, not a doer and it absolutely worked for him. Yet an analyzer was often bored when confronting nothing but the four walls around him and the occasional mutants in the cells surrounding or with him. There was nothing curious to watch, nor wonder about and he swore they were trying to see just how many of them would go crazy. He hadn't even been bought yet to see the actual world outside. Although, he heard there was snow and had seen some of it when at the school, but he desperately wanted to play with it. It wasn't enough to hear word of mouth, he wanted to touch it and play in it and build stuff with it and slide on it. He wanted to actually see actual sky and not just rock and crumbling pieces of rock around him. Not to mention the stench that seeped into everything.

But unless you counted all of this disarray as a welcome sight, Mattie was absolutely in a constant state of fidgeting. There was no food to eat, and there was no talent that he could practice with, nor complain about. He could only sit there and wonder about stuff that had happened to him or would happen to him. And that's when he decided, or rather it was decided for him, that he was going to try and get food. He hadn't eaten in a while, having lost almost every fight they ever put him in, and he wanted nothing more than something to quench the constant ache in his stomach. Matthew wanted out, but he didn't want to starve to death before he could get out either.

But did he dare cause noise? Did he dare actually put something into action instead of waiting for someone to talk into it?

Well, he could certainly try to at least express his displeasure in some way or another. Mattie touched the bars tentatively, dark blue eyes searching his surroundings carefully. Maybe someone would come if he called? It was a distant hope, but maybe he would get a nice guard who would give him food. Besides, he thought he heard voices just then and the hope of actually getting a small piece of bread that he would actually be able to eat made his body go rigid with excitement. It took a good ten minutes before he gathered up the courage to actually call out, reasoning with himself the entire time like he had when he was a little kid and too shy to ask for something.

"Hello!?" He called out, pressing his face against the cool metal. What if they only came when it was a disturbance? What if they just ignored curious calls? Biting his lip, Matthew tried to reason with himself, thinking about all the other things he could try if this didn't work.

Tag: Tag Here --- Word Count: 1328 ---
Notes:I am so sorry

[Tino Väinämöinen]

TO QUELL A REBELLION

you need to dampen the matches

What an impudent little brat.

Tino subtly studied the male as Jones seemed to hit a roadblock upon Tino’s image. There was no trace of recognition in his bloodshot eyes… Good. Tino always made sure to stay clear of the male, and if the Fin did tail him, it was always in some sort of disguise or with a hat or hood pulled over his platinum blond hair. Jones would not remember him well in this frame of mind either, but perhaps that was being optimistic. Tino’s proclaimed disposition seemed to get him noticed around these part, but what could he do? He wasn’t tall and intimidating like some of the other guards, unless someone really pissed him off. Commanding authority with a childish baby-face and short stature was asking to be laughed at, but then again, not many people laughed when a gun was drawn.

Tino itched for his, and he hadn’t forgotten Alfred’s spastic movement when they first crossed paths here. The American was on edge as well.

If only he knew…

Jones’s excuses were laughable. Really, did he expect to fool anyone with that act? Tino raised his eyebrow, because only a fool would believe such a nervously placed person. This was the kid that stole financial records and siphoned money from the accounts? How the hell did anyone fall for it? Unless… Tino mentally recalled some of the footage he watched. Jones didn’t behave like this before. Jones was off his game. He was falling apart, all thanks to yours truly. Tino could have curtsied.

Jones spoke quickly, and before Tino could protest, he was heading down the hall where Tino had come from. “But everyone’s…” Tino trailed the sentence off. Jones had disappeared around a corner. “… in the staff room.”

The little shit. He was going for his brother, wasn’t he? Tino narrowed his eyes, pursing his lips before he clicked off the electricity to his palms. He paused for a moment before leaning down and untying his boots. Once through the knots, he loosened the laces enough to slip his feet out from each. The concrete floor was bone-chilling; Tino’s cotton socks offered little insulation, and his neoprene suit ended at his ankles. Aw well, no matter. He picked up his boots and moved silently along the floors. Few took note of him; Tino had done this a few times before due to blisters (but at that time, he had switched shoes). The Fin knew where a certain Matthew Williams was being kept, and he could get there without crossing paths with Alfred (if the American had any sense of direction). Tino would hide in the shadows of the wall, at the end of the corridor where the light wouldn’t properly reach him.

Out of sight, out of mind.

Tino would only bring himself forward in between the brothers and the exit if Alfred attempted something as foolish as a jailbreak.

WORDS: 488

TAGGED: Tino and two brothers

NOTES: I won't be posting here anymore until the end maybe. Have fuuuuun

MADE BY SIRIUS OF GANGNAM STYLE

[Alfred F. Jones]

it's a

revolution

Word count: 1114

Tags: Matthew, Tino (ish)

Notes: Somebody stop the idiot muse before Tino does.

By the time Alfred turned the corner, he was back on track.

The sound of his boots against the concrete floor echoed through the halls, reminding him of precisely where he was. Running into the guard back then had reminded him of what an idiot he was being. He hadn't done well at all, his lies nearly transparent. If he'd walked in any other day with this act, he'd be in jail.

...Maybe he'd strike lucky with the newbie guard. He hoped so.

Okay. He'd be fine from now on. Just had to remember this was basically a job, just one that hit much closer to home. Where had his clean cut confidence gone? It had to still be around somewhere. Alfred closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He was just a guard, just a typical guard with a somewhat altered purpose.

Seconds seemed like minutes, and minutes like hours. Alfred checked his watch obsessively, trying to remember when guard shifts ended. He could probably slip out when the shift changed...in fact, if he stayed it would only seem even more suspicious. That gave him some time to find Matthew.

A sound drew Alfred's attention and he stopped in his tracks, fingers creeping towards his gun. It didn't sound like a guard, certainly the characteristic clomp of boots was missing, but you never knew around here. A mutant? Maybe...

Alfred began walking in the approximate direction the sound had come from. It most likely wasn't a guard—he'd have heard them a long way off. Yet minutes passed by with no other sound. Had Alfred just been so desperate to believe that he'd heard something? It was impossible that it was Matthew...right? Who knew how many mutants there were down here...the sound could've come from any one of them.

Alfred was starting to think he had imagined it when he heard a voice call out. "Hello?"

Alfred froze. Was that... Alfred didn't dare even think about it that way. What if it wasn't? He didn't have anything to lose, did he? What if he was wrong?

His pace quickened and he turned sharply around a corner. The voice had been from here, he was almost sure of it. C'mon, c'mon, c'mon... Alfred's eyes flitted from cell to cell, trying to distinguish separate figures in the dim lighting. Who had spoken? He could've sworn...

There.

"Matthew?"

It was him. Alfred was certain, he believed it completely. Not a single cell in him doubted that it was indeed his brother behind the bars. He hadn't wanted to believe it until now, hadn't dared believe it, but there he was.

Matthew's hair was dirty and longer, his frame even thinner than it had been when they'd been on the streets. There was no warm, characteristic smile on his face, no kind eyes to be seen. His glasses were speckled with dirt, his body no doubt covered with scars and bruises. He had lost so much weight. Gone was the healthy, strong twin that Alfred had known his entire life. In his place was a man who looked as if he'd been locked away for his entire life.

But he was there. He was alive. And, for the most part and considering the circumstances, he seemed alright.

Alfred's eyes widened and it was only the fact that they weren't too far apart that he didn't break into a run. He stood in front of Matthew's cell, not completely sure how he'd got there and not really caring.

"Matthew." It wasn't a question this time, but a reaffirmation. "Matthew...god...you're alive. You're alive. You're okay." A smile broke out onto Alfred's tired face despite everything. He laughed a little in disbelief. Matthew was alive. Matthew was alive. Matthew was...

...alive.

Panic set in as quickly as relief had come, draining out his thoughts. Matthew was alive, truly alive and real and there. Alfred grabbed his brother's wrist as if trying to confirm the fact. He could even feel a pulse under Matthew's skin. Alive.

Which meant...it hadn't been a lie. The man hadn't been bluffing.

Which meant...

Alfred swallowed, thinking of everything that could happen now. In his belief that his brother was dead, Alfred was able to be as reckless as he wanted to be. There had been next to nothing to hold him back from doing exactly what needed to be done. There was no one he needed to protect. There was no one they could hold against him. And perhaps that was terrible and lonely, but it had also been Alfred's greatest weapon, the knowledge that he had nothing left to lose.

All of that had changed in an instant.

The happiness had disappeared, in its place only fear. What if's began racing through his mind. He couldn't leave Matthew in here. God knew what would happen to his brother if he did. Every single move that Alfred made from now on could result in terrible repercussions to his brother. That was one thing that Alfred could not bear, the knowledge that Matthew suffered from his actions. That had happened enough. Alfred had sworn it would never happen again.

Before Alfred could fully process his thoughts, he'd already let go of Matthew's wrist. In his hands was his lock pick and he began to work at the lock desperately. His hands shook and refused to steady no matter how much he tried. Alfred wanted to yell in frustration. The Underground locks were better than most, but still. Alfred had picked so many in his life, he should be able to pick this one lock for the sake of his only brother...

All logic had been tossed out the window. Alfred had no plan, no escape route, nothing to fall back onto. And he didn't care. All Alfred could think of was getting his brother out.

"Give me a moment," Alfred found himself saying. "Just let me...I'll get you out of here, Mattie." The nickname came to his lips as if they'd only seen each other yesterday. It'd been years, years... It all came back to Alfred in a flash. The day he'd found out, the day they'd run, the day they'd been separated. The times he'd come down here in the vain hope that he could find his brother down here somewhere, the agonizing disappointment when it turned out to be a lost cause.

The lock pick seemed to mock him, refusing to bend to Alfred's will. He grew increasingly panicked the longer it took. Usually he was good about staying calm under pressure, but today, he couldn't even try. "Just...I swear, just give me a second..."

i suppose

by Worldie for Leia

[Deleted]

There was no immediate disappointment. At least, not a first there wasn't. Matthew simply just kept living as if he had never shouted in the first place, as if that single moment in time had never happened. And for all he was concerned, it actually didn't. If there was going to be no food, that single second that it took for him to call out was completely useless to anything but the purpose it fulfilled the moment the call echoed into the dark hallways. Maybe it wasn't such a waste of time when he was actually able to fulfill an act that he thought would have been impossible for someone like him. But it still didn't mean he would get any bread, and Matthew was left to simply wonder what he was going to do next. The ideas were limited now since eating and/or any conversation he could have shyly participated in was clearly out of the question.

At some points Matthew truly worried that he was going to go crazy. It was ridiculous some of the unreasonable thoughts and ideas that popped into his head sometimes. But nothing was to be helped and if he went crazy that was everyone else's problem at that point, definitely not his own.He moved his hand from his hair to his face, scrubbing his rough palm against his eyelids as he decided it would probably be best just to get back into bed if there was nothing else to be done. It was then that he heard the clomping of the guards boots, a sound that made every inch of him stiffen in preparation. Were they mad? Or was he actually going to get someone with a little bit of charity? He bit his lip as the steps slowed, almost biting through it when he heard his name, spoken by a voice he thought he would never hear again. Whirling around, Mattie stared at his brother with wide eyes, unable to smile quite yet at the familiar face. It had been a long time since he had smiled a real smile, but if it was ever going to happen it would be now.

He pressed his face back against the bars, smiling shyly at the only person in the world he wanted to see. "Alfred." He whispered, testing the name out on his tongue again, unsure of himself in such a situation as this. Why was he dressed like that? Mattie wasn't quite sure he would be able to take his brother seriously as a guard around here, and he had to admit that he felt a little sliver of disappointment about his brother not being someone important but a lowly guard. Because in his mind's eye, he deserved at least a government job. But, other than that, he looked okay. He was still strong, still fit, his face looked okay, except he seemed a bit more subdued than normal, which he immediately tried to stop himself from fussing over.

As much as he wanted to, now was not the time. Everything could turn so bad so quick, and he needed to know everything about his brother's situation before he could rest easy, which of course required only essential questions. He couldn't help but smile a little bit more at his brother's admittance that he was alive. Alfred still existed, his twin was here and even though he was more than unhappy about that, he couldn't complain about seeing him again.

But he shouldn't be there. He had wished that his brother was safe somewhere, cleaned up and in a good job with maybe a relationship or something. He wanted him to be happy again, to have forgotten everything about the wrong parts of their childhood and homeless days. Mattie wanted to be forgotten by Alfred if it meant that he could have been happy. But he was here, working a sucky job as far as Matthew knew with that haunted look in his eyes. That look of fear that had suddenly replaced everything. Why was Alfred so afraid?

Biting back the uneasy and worried questions of the overprotective role he used to play, Mattie tried to focus on what was essential once again. He almost lost it when Alfred called him 'Mattie', the old childhood nickname sending his thoughts into a scatter of worry. No. He shouldn't be here, why was here?

"Alfred...what are you doing?" He managed to ask, suddenly coming back into focus at the sight of his brother holding a lock pick and desperately trying to jimmy the cell open. Mattie bit back the surge of hope and excitement, shoving it back against the wall behind him for the sake of his brother. Now was not the time to be selfish, he had already been selfish enough by letting him stay here. He should have told him off and sent him back up those stairs. And, if he had been free, he would have personally put him on a plane to somewhere safe where he could be happy. This place was most definitely not safe.

"Alfred please stop. I don't know what you're doing here, but I hope really hope this isn't your permanent job. It's not very good.. How about you find yourself the next plane out of here and forget about me, eh? Try to go home and find a nice girl and a good job." He fidgeted, playing with his fingers as he sat praying for once that he would just listen to him and not be the bull-head he used to be.

"But I missed you." He let out the words as if it were a relief, a gust of his admittance to guilt. "And why are you so freaked out? I'm sure it will be okay whatever it is." He tried to smile at the last part, although he knew so many horrors that could be possible and dreaded every single one of them for his only kin. With nothing left to do, he slid down the line of bars and touched the other part of the padlock, trying to stop him with the limited range of movements he was allowed.

Tag: Tag Here --- Word Count: ### ---
Notes: Whoops

[Alfred F. Jones]

it's a

revolution

Word count: 1156

Tags: Matthew

Notes: Alfred, don't threaten your brother.

"Alfred."

Just a whisper, and perhaps it was better that way. They didn't exactly want to get caught, after all.

"Matthew. Hey Mattie," Alfred tried to bring a smile to his face, though it didn't quite reach his eyes. He wanted so much to reach over and hug Matthew, because even with his brother right there, even having taken his pulse, Alfred wasn't sure he was willing to believe that he was real.

He could get Matthew out, it was more than just a dream now. They could run again. Maybe they'd head somewhere warmer this time, the tropics maybe. Nah, they wouldn't really blend in quite as well but maybe... Maybe Canada? Matthew liked Canada, right? It would be much closer to home, which was a bit dangerous, but they wouldn't have to worry about language barriers. And it was far, far away. Another continent, essentially another world. Alfred could forget about everything there, perhaps. Perhaps not easily, but it could work.

And perhaps he was being an idiot and dreaming of impossibilities again but Alfred did not particularly care.

But the first barrier to whatever possibilities lay ahead was the lock, if only his lock pick would work. If only the stupid lock would just get out of the way... Alfred wanted to rip it from frustration. He was half tempted to just try to ram into the door with his shoulder except he'd probably dislocate it with his luck and that would be no fun. Alfred supposed if it came down to it he could find another method of breaking his brother out, but it would likely be noisy and disruptive and had a much better chance of getting them caught.

"Alfred...what are you doing?" His brother's worried tone came to him. Of course Matthew would worry, Matthew always worried. In the past, it had annoyed Alfred; today it made him smile. He had missed it.

"What does it look like I'm doing?" Alfred asked, fixating his gaze on the lock and fiddling with it. His hands were steadier now, his movements smoother and more rhythmic. The first part of his goal in coming down here had been fulfilled, perhaps the rest of his agenda was feasible as well. Alfred was not an optimist for nothing. "Keep an eye out for me, will ya?"

The Underground locks were, unfortunately, much more difficult to pick than most ordinary locks, and probably for good reason. If one could pick a lock with the most basic tools, the mutants would have been long gone. Granted, the locks weren't quite as high-tech as some of the better offices around Archadia, but that was probably because the government didn't give a shit about investing money in the Underground. Which, today, would play in Alfred's favor.

He might need to use a different pick though, to finish the job...Alfred mentally began calculating which pick would work better.

"Alfred, please stop. I don't know what you're doing here, but I hope really hope this isn't your permanent job. It's not very good.. How about you find yourself the next plane out of here and forget about me, eh? Try to go home and find a nice girl and a good job."

Alfred glanced up at his brother briefly, watching as Matthew fidgeted, as if unsure what to do. Concern was etched into his brother's face, which Alfred could sort of understand.

"Do you really think I would work this kind of job?" Disgust was evident in Alfred's voice. "After everything that happened? I would never–I could never." Alfred refocused on picking the lock, taking out his half-diamond pick and exchanging it for a different one. Goddamn it...he couldn't afford to spend more than a few minutes working at this lock... A drop of sweat trickled down his neck. The longer he stood here the more likely it was that he'd get caught.

"And I couldn't leave you behind either," Alfred continued. "I could never do that again. Besides, you know I can't go home." That much at least was true. If Alfred went back, not only would it be abandoning Archadia without his brother, he would also most likely be arrested as soon as he set foot in the United States. Of course, there were ways around that, but whatever they were, Alfred refused to return without Matthew.

"But I missed you." Alfred paused for a moment, letting those words sink in.

He still hadn't gotten over the guilt he had felt when he'd left Matthew behind, and yet here his brother was. Alive, relatively healthy, and not only willing to forgive but missing him.

"I missed you too," Alfred said quietly. More than you can ever imagine.

"And why are you so freaked out? I'm sure it will be okay whatever it is."

"I'm not freaked out, I'm fine," came Alfred's automatic response. There was no thought process to his words, they simply slipped out. Perhaps a tad too quickly, but that couldn't be helped now.

Alfred had forgotten, over the past few years, how easily Matthew could read people and perhaps in particular, him. Alfred didn't want Matthew to detect the thinly veiled fear he held for his brother. He wasn't supposed to be scared but he was. Fear though, would not get his brother out. And right now, that was all that he cared about.

Matthew's words brought Alfred back to the situation at hand. Because things would not be okay, things would not be fine if Matthew stayed here. Matthew probably knew that as well, and was probably only saying that in an attempt to comfort Alfred. He thought back to everything that might happen, that probably would happen if he left without Matthew. Perhaps it would be what had happened to him, perhaps worse. And Alfred would cave, he knew he would.

He had to get Matthew out and he had to get him out now.

Suddenly, a hand slid in front of the lock and Alfred nearly dropped his pick in surprise. He looked up at his brother in disbelief. Matthew's worry and concern radiated from him like a beacon. His brother had always been too selfless for his own good. Or perhaps too logical...or perhaps he was just too impulsive. To be quite honest, it was probably the latter.

"Matthew, let me help you," Alfred all but begged. "I can't leave you in here, it's not happening." The determination in his voice was difficult to miss. "I have to get you out of here even if it kills me. Hell, I'll knock you out and drag you out if I have to. It'll work better if we work together. Please." The last word was tacked on, if only to highlight Alfred's desperation.

Leaving Matthew behind would be equivalent to leaving his brother to the wolves. He'd done that once and Alfred was not about to let it happen again.

i suppose

by Worldie for Leia

[Deleted]

Matthew fell silent now, his eyes locked on the bars holding him in. Call it an impulse or perhaps just the human mind sensing something, a shift in the air or perhaps in the way things moved around him but he knew in that instant that Alfred wasn't down here for no reason. He wouldn't be here just for a casual visit and he wouldn't be doing this right now if he didn't have a reason. No, there was something amiss enough that he was here threatening him just for the sake of getting him out. It hurt but he had to acknowledge that this was the same person who ran from him when they were caught, even if Matthew did give himself up. Alfred had a life up there whether Matthew wanted to think about it or not, and he definently wouldn't be down here if he didn't fear something enough. It was an admission that made him feel both sick to his stomach and elated at the same time. He didn't blame his brother a bit, he just couldn't in this moment in time. Maybe later when he had more time to think and do nothing but think would he finally be able to allow everything that this meant hit him full on and feel for the first time in years a semblance of anger towards his last kin. But right now standing in his presence after so long and trying to be mad at him was just too much to juggle at the same time.

He slackened his grip a little bit, the thoughts of outside world and things going back to what they used to be flashing in his mind and pushing him towards losing his grip and just letting Alfred do his thing. He was down here for a big enough reason to want to save Mattie right? What if this was the last time he saw his brother? But as much as he wanted to cling to those images and thoughts, they flitted away from him as quickly as they came, dancing away from his reach and cowering under the bigger weight of rationality and reasonability. This was impossible as much as he didn't want to think so. There was no way that Alfred would be able to get them out when Matthew looked just like a mutant escaping and Alfred like a fake guard helping. They wouldn't make it past the first guard they met and even if they did make it onto the street, there were people. People just don't let escaping mutants and fake guards do their thing. People will freak out and call somebody to take care of it.

So what if Alfred was running from something? Weren't they always? Matthew wasn't apart of that kind of life anymore, he was caught and convicted. He was stuck. And much to Alfred's obsolete panic, he was actually quite safe. Sure he was mistreated and starving, just waiting for his last moments down here in this stinking hole. But he wasn't going to die. So Alfred was down here for another reason then. It had to be something that meant he was either here to say his last goodbye and try to get him out for the last time, which sent a pang of fear through every muscle, or something that involved yours truly. Biting his cheek so hard that it hurt, he crossed his arms in stubborn glory, stepping away from the door. Fine. If Alfred was just going to throw his life away on some suicide mission, he could go ahead but he was not going to get a single ounce of help from him. This was his decision and Matthew wasn't going to be the cause that they both ended up being the ones behind bars.

"You won't knock me out." He challenged, narrowing his eyes as his own determination flared up. With each heartbeat, gone were the visions of hope, flitting away as if they were never there. And as far as Matthew was concerned, they never occurred in his mind in the first place. The Underground was not a place for hope, especially not right now when it could possible hurt somebody. "I'm not going to help you just make everything harder for yourself. Can't you just go find something to do that won't hurt yourself for once? It's enough that one of us is stuck in prison."
He bit his tongue so hard that it hurt, shocked at his own words. Was he actually yelling at his brother right now? Wow, way to be calm Matthew. "So what are you doing down here anyway if you aren't working? You didn't just come here yelling about breaking me out for no reason. If I could take a wild guess it has something to do with what you're so afraid of." He shifted his eyes up again, trying to be a little bit more gentle with how he phrased his logic towards Alfred. Maybe this would go a whole lot better if one of them stopped being so stubborn. And as usual Matthew automatically volunteered.

"Either way I'm still not letting you bust me out today. If you do I'll-" He stopped, almost afraid to say the last of his threat. "I'll make you forget me." He whispered after a pause, dropping his eyes to the ground, unable to look up into Alfred's face. It was the worst threat Matthew could ever pose to anybody, and it was one even he wasn't sure he could actually put into action.

Tag: Tag Here --- Word Count: 938 
Notes: late again

[Alfred F. Jones]

it's a

revolution

Word count: 1109

Tags: Matthew

Notes: I feel like posting, so yes I shall post~

Seeing Matthew loosen his grip encouraged Alfred to resume his lock picking. The quiet sound of his pick scraping against the metal was all Alfred could hear echoing through the halls. Such a small sound, yet he couldn't help but wonder if anyone in the vicinity would notice. Fear had begun to wane since Alfred had found Matthew, but it still lurked in the corner of his mind.

Determination though, came above all else. Determination to get Matthew out, by whatever means possible.

The problem then arose as to how he was going to smuggle his Matthew out. Perhaps Alfred could sneak into the showers and steal another uniform. Might even be able to get Matthew cleaned up...that innocent-looking guy had said that most of the guards were resting, right? It'd been a while since the shifts had switched, which meant that the guards should be done showering by then...

"You won't knock me out." Alfred looked up again, frustrated. He blinked a little, surprised to see the challenge in his brother's eyes. Matthew had retreated a little from the door, as if that would dissuade Alfred from breaking in.

"Oh yeah?" Alfred's eyes narrowed as well. "I just spent the last two years looking for my brother and until a few weeks ago, I thought he was dead. I'll do whatever it takes to get him out. And since the legal means aren't exactly an option for me, this is how I'll do it."

Matthew's harsh words made Alfred wince a little. It'd been years and yet they were sinking into an argument again. Alfred didn't want to argue with Matthew. Why couldn't his brother just understand he was trying to do what was right? Not just because of the interrogation (though that was a large factor) but because he was trying to make up for his mistakes. Why was his goddamn brother so goddamn stubborn?

"No," Alfred said obstinately, setting his jaw back. "I can't. Or at least I won't. Not without knowing you're okay." And even then, Alfred thought to himself, I'll still work for the Freedom Fighters once I get Matthew out. Regardless of the costs.

Matthew's tone changed, softer now, as if he was trying to calm himself down before the sound of them two talking gave them away. It was comforting, in a way. Alfred had forgotten how much he hated when Matthew yelled at him.

"I'm not scared of anything," Alfred insisted, eyes concentrating on the lock and avoiding Matthew's gaze, "except for repeating my mistakes. And obviously I'm down here to get you out. Like I said, this was the only way I could do it."

There was a hesitation again, as if Matthew was thinking. Alfred tinkered at the lock. He was almost done...

"Either way I'm still not letting you bust me out today." Alfred was half-tempted to comment that it wouldn't really matter whether or not Mattie let him. "If you do I'll—"

Matthew paused, hesitating. Alfred felt curiously confident. There was little his brother could threaten that could stop him from continuing to bulldoze what was likely to be a path of idiocy and destruction. And if that was what it took to get Matthew out, then hell yes, he would do it.

"I'll make you forget me."

The threat came as little more than a whisper, but the words sent a wave of shock through Alfred. Alfred's head shot up, his eyes widening. His fingers froze where they were, the halls of the Underground finally falling silent. Matthew refused to meet Alfred's gaze, looking at the ground instead.

"You wouldn't." But there was doubt in his voice. Alfred's eyes bore into his brother's skull, asking for confirmation, a sign as to whether or not he was serious in his threat.

Would he really? Really...make Alfred...forget? Alfred swallowed. He didn't want to believe it, yet his mind explored the possibility. What would it be like...forgetting...everything? About Matthew? His brother's existence...erased? Completely and utterly gone? What would happen to the last five years of his life? Would there just be a void there or would it be filled with false memories and illusions? And what about him? The Freedom Fighters, Archadia, even the interrogation...how would he remember them? What kind of person would he be—oh god. The very thought sent chills down Alfred's spine. Would he simply wander Archadia, lost and without a sense of purpose? Or worse—would he return to being the man he once was?

That wasn't going to be his future, a future without knowing his brother. Alfred refused to consider that a possibility, absolutely rejected the idea. And perhaps Matthew was capable of making it a reality, but Alfred was not about to let him do so.

"You wouldn't." This time it came out clearer and Alfred straightened. He had to reason with Matthew, some way, somehow. "It would just land me in even worse of a situation. I wouldn't have a clue as to why I was here. And then what would I do? Approach another guard with questions? Explain where I got this stolen uniform from? Why I'm in the Underground? You'd definitely land me in jail—and without any idea as to why I was there in the first place."

Alfred believed it more when he said it out loud, but the possibility still haunted him. To forget...Alfred had never witnessed the full extent of Matthew's abilities. His brother had always refused to use them in his presence, convinced that it would someday give them away. His selfless brother, still the perfect child even after all these years.

And if that was still the case, which Alfred very much believed it was, then it was beginning to dawn on Alfred that Matthew might just resort to such desperate measures. Matthew was not going to let Alfred simply have his way. Stubbornness might not be a word that people associated with his quiet brother, but Alfred knew better. If Matthew thought that wiping Alfred's memories would be better than having him caught breaking Matthew out, he would do it. Alfred bit his lip.

"C'mon, Mattie," Alfred changed his tone, his voice softer, almost pleading. "They'll hurt you in here...I can't protect you in here. We can go on the run again...we can go to Canada or something...far, far away. I'll draw up some papers and we can leave as soon as I'm done. I'll come back and wrap up a few things...but you'll be fine there. We can be together again. Please, Matt...just let me do this."

i suppose

by Worldie for Leia

[Deleted]

The silence filled the air in a way that Matthew wasn't exactly sure he would ever be able to forget, the kind of silence that tried to press you into the ground and wouldn't let you up. He was sorry. He was so sorry, but how could he take it back now? He was desperate. And his brother just wasn't going to listen, locked up in his little fantasy of justice and happiness. There wasn't going to be happiness for either of them if they made it. Sure they would have little pieces of it here and there, and perhaps they could make it out there if they tried hard enough, but what were they supposed to do? They couldn't live their entire life like that. Eventually someone would want to settle down, or they would find something that was just too precious to lose and then they would be separate and Matthew would end up dead or caught again. More likely dead, since he couldn't see himself getting caught again. He wouldn't let it happen for one thing, and for another he couldn't imagine someone that was fifty in the Underground. Unfortunately mutants just didn't live that long in this world.

He moved slowly, pressing his palm against his eyelids, against the raging headache at this whole situation that was starting up. The doubt, the uncertainty that laced every word was killing him. It felt like he was an animal now, one that had the potential of hurting something and Alfred was simply reacting to it like any sane human would, as instinct of survival took over. Every inch of him was stiff and he balanced on the balls of his feet, hovering in the air for a minute before rocking back to his feet. It was enough that the rest of the humans in this proximity treated them like dangerous animals to be kept under lock, but now Alfred was worried about what he could do? Fuck, even the guards here weren't scared of him. But then again, they didn't know what he could do and his ability didn't really affect them anyway. They probably wanted to forget they had a job here.

His argument was invalid. Matthew knew that it would be as soon as it was out of Alfred's mouth. But then again, what would the guards actually do if they found him down here? Obviously Matthew would grab a hold of him and keep him there while calling for someone. He could just tell them that Alfred was some crazy guy that had accidentally wandered down here and was talking about something that Matthew had no idea about. But how would that explain the guard uniform? Well, that was complicated, but Matthew was almost positive that they wouldn't question the validity when Alfred was totally confused and stumbling. They wouldn't put him in jail, would they? Maybe he could reason with Alfred afterwards and give him instructions on what to do and how to get out. It would screw the rest of the mutants since they would obviously step up security for a few weeks after this, but it would still help. Maybe he could talk Alfred into taking off the uniform, which would help with the whole crazy argument.

Matthew would take the uniform and hide it somewhere probably, let whoever wanted to find it, find it. But what would happen when he woke up? He would be furious probably, but that might be a good thing. And Alfred would wake up from the memory loss eventually, Matthew just didn't have enough energy to keep a hold of him that long and with that much distance weighing on every fiber of his mind's construction. Even thinking about it, he felt the headache worsen and he could only imagine the pure pain of it for the amount that he would probably have to hold it. Eventually he would have to drop it, and it would only be a wish he dropped it when Alfred was in a safe place.

He winced at the desperate scrambling his brother was doing right now. It felt like betrayal for him to act like this, and Matthew bit back tears of anger and misery. This was so unfair right now. He stiffened at the mention of a plan, every bit of it sounding appealing. He knew his brother wouldn't be able to protect him if he had to leave, this was a one chance kind of deal and every minute of this realization made him feel sick to his stomach. But the mention of Alfred leaving him to come back here for a little bit made up his mind.

"Alfred." He mumbled, still unable to even glance at him. He had already looked up to see his expression and it had somehow been able to hurt him enough. "I know you can't help me. And I wish I could go with you, but I can't." He paused, swallowing back the bitter taste in his mouth as he realized that this was the moment he was never going to be able to return from. No matter what happened he would never see the sky again, and here was his ticket out of here and he was refusing. He was crazy, he was stupid, but he just couldn't let himself go. Matthew hated himself.

"Just please go back to whatever you were doing and just be patient, okay? I promise that as soon as I see the opportunity to leave I will, and I won't look back, but for right now I just don't see the reasonability in this situation."

He left out the fact that he hadn't been outside in the last three years, and that he probably wasn't ever going to get another chance like this ever again. But if it gave some inch of comfort, you better believe he was going to throw it out there. "I'm tired and you should leave." He was shaking now, ever inch of him like a leaf in the cold wind, but he couldn't go back. He had already chosen what he had to and there was no going back. Once you committed to something, you had to give it all or you were going to fall.

He blinked a couple of times, summoning up his eyes into the glowing mess that they often took on. He wasn't sure if he ever showed Alfred this before, but hopefully it was scary enough to send him off. Hopefully his memories were more important. Matthew wasn't about to wipe his memory, but intimidation certainly helped. With the violet spreading out in strands, he watched his brother, hoping this would be enough, that he wasn't actually going to have to do something that was almost impossible for him. Was his stance giving him away? The uncertainty that he was almost positive was plastered on his face right now? He was honestly really scared right now.

He felt the pressure start to spread as the minds around him crowded and shoved their way into his head. He had been practicing this, learning about this since he was a kid, he probably knew everything there was to know about what he could do. Unfortunately, that didn't include using it against his brother.

Tag: Tag Here-- Alfred Word Count:
Notes: 

[Alfred F. Jones]

it's a

revolution

Word count: 1244

Tags: Matthew

Notes: Breakdown? Ish? Whoops.

It would take thirty more seconds to break the lock.

Thirty more seconds, and that was being generous. Thirty more seconds and they could run, they could leave, they could...

They could...

Alfred stared at the lock.

He didn't have thirty more seconds.

Alfred could hear his brother's words washing over him, the reason and logic pouring out steadily, slowly, chipping away at him. Why was Matthew always right? Even as kids...always, always right. Alfred saw two things. He saw what was right ahead of him and he saw the grand dream, the ultimate goal. Matthew...Matthew saw everything. He saw the good and the bad but more importantly, he saw what was real. Even now, even after Alfred had thought he'd grown up, left the little kid behind, he was still so...Matthew was still the better brother, even after everything.

Stupid...stupid...stupid...why. Why did his brother have to be so...

Stupid's your word, Alfred.

Shut up.

How long had he been standing in front of his brother's cell? Five minutes? Ten? It felt too short; yet it felt like an eternity. Alfred might be pessimistic on a lot of things, but he had always believed with every ounce of him that if he did find Matthew, he could get him out. Not because he was smart or because he had a plan or even because he was determined, but simply because he was guilty. He had spent three years regretting that split second decision, how could Alfred just...

Leave? Again? Abandon his brother again? The thought caught in his throat. He wouldn't sleep, he wouldn't sleep, he wouldn't be able to sleep. Not three hours, not two, not one. Knowing that he'd found his brother just to lose him again... Knowing that he'd been a coward and...

He couldn't do that. Not now. Not now. Yet his hands remained frozen where they were, staring at the lock that he knew would never open.

"I'm tired and you should leave."

His brother's words, a rejection, were cold, colder than the Russian winter could ever be. Alfred knew Matthew was trying to be reasonable, trying to save him if he couldn't save himself because he was stupid and sacrificial and stupid and...

He hadn't spent years looking, hadn't changed his entire world, hadn't run just so Matthew could end up here.

Alfred stared up at Matthew.

He was Matthew's brother, wasn't he? Alfred was supposed to be the older brother. He was supposed to protect and help Matthew, not the other way around.

And he was failing; because Alfred was always failing, always always failing.

Matthew's eyes began to glow, that curious purple glow that had given away his status as a mutant that first time. It was the one and only time that Alfred had seen his brother ever use his power in Alfred's presence. In all honesty, Alfred wanted to run. To leave. Because he was a coward at heart, wasn't he? Still the kid who, when it came to having real courage, would turn around and flee. But he stood there, watching in...defeat? Curiosity? Fascination? Alfred couldn't tell...

"Mattie, stop." Alfred swallowed, as he straightened, taking his lock pick out of the lock. He stared at his brother and he felt hollow. Matthew's face looked uncertain, almost fearful of what he was about to, preparing to do. It was always, always Alfred hurting Matthew. He couldn't save Matthew; he'd come so close, he couldn't save anybody. Not his mom, not his dad, not his cousin, not his brother. What was he thinking, trying to save mutants when he couldn't even save his family?

What was Alfred's face? It just felt blank right now.

He wanted to do something, his every fiber itched to move. Alfred wasn't used to standing still, he wasn't used to waiting.

Alfred turned until he was facing away from Matthew and he took a shaky breath.

What was he supposed to say?

He just wanted to sit on the ground. He wanted to go back and back and back. Back to the beginning, wherever that was. Back to when things were simpler and good, when he was just a kid and Matthew was just a kid and their dad was just their dad and their mother was just alive. He wanted to go back to the beaches of Hawaii and the family reunions and the smiles and the sunshine and the...and the...the...

"I can't just leave you again."

Alfred leaned against the bars, stuffing his shaking hands in his pockets.

"You're my little brother."

What if he just stayed here? Screwed the rules? Stupid...stupid...but Alfred was always stupid, wasn't he? What if he just sat here? It wouldn't help anyone—not Mattie, not the FF—but...

"I'm in a lot of shit," Alfred muttered quietly, the bars pressing into his shoulders. He stared at the ground in front of him, staring at the folds of the stolen uniform and the scuff marks on his boots. "Alright?" He didn't want to tell Matthew, he wasn't going to tell Matthew, not most of it. Not what he'd been doing in the past three years, not what had happened in the past few weeks. Even though his brother was always too good at reading him... "And it's kind of through that shit that I found out you were alive. So I came down to get you out and I wasn't going to leave until I had because this time for the first time I actually had solid proof that you were at least breathing."

There was a sound in the hallway and Alfred's head snapped towards it, his hand coming out and towards his jacket. Then there was silence. Alfred kept his hand in his jacket, lowering his voice and speaking more quickly.

"I can't let you get hurt and they are going to hurt you because that's all that's going to happen to you down here. All that 'I'm gonna be fine' crap? That's bullshit, Matt, and you know that.

"But I can never get you out, can I? Can never..." Alfred wanted to laugh. God, he wanted to laugh. "Couldn't do it in the U.S., couldn't do it now...I'm ten fucking feet away from you and I still can't..." He wanted to choke.

"All I can do is watch, Matthew. Watch as you all die. What's gonna happen, Matt? When I leave here like you want me to?” Alfred swallowed. “When I'm back to not knowing if you're dead or alive? Or worse...when I know that you're in pain and it's because I fucked up because I always fuck up? I already spent three years like that, Matt. Three years wanting you to be alive and wishing that you were dead because it was better than this hellhole.

"So what do you expect me to do? Especially now when—" The thought of his brother going through what Alfred went through and worse—his very much alive and breathing brother sitting in his place—made Alfred want to puke. "When things can only get worse. How can you expect me to go up and pretend things are okay?"

He was angry, Alfred realized. But it was more than that. Alfred was desperate. Desperate for an answer.

"You're the logical one, Matt. You've always been; you'll always be. So tell me this. How can you expect me to leave?"

i suppose

by Worldie for Leia

[Deleted]

Matthew was shaking, the inward struggle taking it's toll quickly. There was just no way for him to succumb to it safely, although it seemed a better alternative now than anything else. It was like a taut rubber band from disuse over the years and it resisted the strain he was putting on it; but Matthew doubted that something you've been able to do all your life would just easily snap and break because you haven't been using it. It would be nice if it did, but it would also be nice if mutants could live in the real world without the limitations that they faced. Sometimes things just weren't nice.

He remembered a time when he had tried to come up with an argument for why his brother and father shouldn't be hunting mutants. It wasn't right in his mind, although he could never justify himself to them and knew deep down that no argument he could ever come up with would make anything right if they found out what he was. However, he would give anything right now to go back in time and be a secret again, to get the chance to change this outcome and the bleak outlook he was now facing without a doubt.

If asked whether or not he would change if he had his power, he would have hesitated for a very long time. It was tough because he was stuck in here and he couldn't think very clearly when it was in use because of all the tabs he had to keep track of. It also wasn't easy to stay out of his brother's head, from greedily snapping up all the memories he had just to find out what has happened to him so he could live in the outside through Alfred or give himself some relief at his brother's safety or find answers that he wasn't quite so sure Alfred would give him. It also wasn't good for giving him an easy way to deal with any outside upsets. Like when his brother asked him to stop. That sent every single ounce of control he had crumbling and he pulled out and aborted the use of his ability so that he was left standing there, feeling very sick and dizzy and wanting to beat his head against something to make it stop. Instead, he very slowly crumpled into a sitting position and shut his eyes in a willful concentration of not making any needless sounds to attract attention.

Even when he had known that he was going to be caught, sometime very early in their stages of running from the authorities, he had still kept going because he thought he could protect Alfred in some way or another. Even now he was still trying to protect Alfred. Yet, he was still being as stubborn as ever and insisting that he be the one who implemented the heroics and not leave him. Did he not think this was any less hard for Matthew? If given his way and if this wasn't going to hurt anybody other than himself, he would already be up on the main street walking around like a normal person and ducking away from people who looked like they could take him back. Yet this was only going to end up getting someone hurt, and that was the last thing he needed when it would only end up getting him thrown back in here with a much more guiltier conscience than before.

So what did Alfred expect him to say? Matthew wanted to provide some sense of hope or at least something to those he tried to encourage or provide comfort for. He wasn't going to tell him that it was hard not to go crazy down here or that food was short or that it was freezing and he couldn't see a happy ending at all. No. That was not something you told your brother when you were trying to reassure him that everything would be okay if he did the right thing for himself and simply left. Things could always be worse for Matthew, and he knew that and was therefore grateful for every chance given to enjoy a pleasure.

He opened his mouth to tell Alfred exactly what he thought when he began to speak again. Matthew would be lying if he didn't feel the familiar surge of annoyance at the interruption. He remembered tolerating it as a child, but that didn't mean it didn't annoy him or bothered him any less now. The frustration didn't keep his attention for long though, the tone in his brothers' voice much more interesting for Mattie to focus on only to realize that his brother was actually angry and snapping at him right now. Well, stress made things tense and it was to be expected, he supposed. However, his head was splitting and he was almost thankful they were sneaking around so they couldn't raise their voices enough to make it worse.

It took him a moment to finally realize he was expected to answer and another moment to construct something coherent. "I think I missed the qualifications for being the logical one right now." He chuckled, remembering ironically how he used to be the one that was supposed to have everything figured out. Well, that sure worked out well for him.

"I'm not expecting you to do anything actually. I'm hoping that you'll do what's right for you and what I think is right for both of us and turn around and walk out of here. However, I'm also hoping that you'll stay and finish lock picking the door so I can try to run for it again. I don't think I would make it though, I'm not exactly in a good shape to be running anywhere right now. However, I'm not going to stop or help you either way like I said before. I can't honestly help you ruin your life without guilt; kind of like you said you can't leave me without guilt." He shrugged, wondering mildly how long they had left before someone eventually heard them. Probably not long.

" I don't suffer the worst here and I think I'll be alright for a time. They won't hurt me because they don't think I'm a threat. I would worry more if I spoke up and was dangerous." He spread his hands open, raising an eyebrow as if to question how dangerous he could exactly look to someone. "But I do think you need to do something quickly; we don't have much time here and I really don't want to see you get caught because I have the feeling that it would just cause an even bigger headache for me." He attempted another smile, although it probably looked like a miserable excuse for one.

Tag: Tag Here-- Alfred Word Count:1138
Notes: not my best, but here's some mattie reassuring and some illogical logic

[Alfred F. Jones]

it's a

revolution

Word count: 1054

Tags: Matthew

Notes: This is...so late. Let's ignore crappiness.

Matthew listened, just like Matthew always listened.

Alfred hadn't realized until these past two years how much he had relied on that. On having his twin there, beside him. Even when they'd been on the streets, he'd always had Mattie. And now he'd found him again.

It shouldn't have to be a decision. He'd had two years to think this over. But it still was.

Matthew was silent for a moment after Alfred stopped ranting. Alfred glanced behind him at his brother through the bars. For the first time, Alfred noticed how pained Matthew looked, even as he forced out laughter. He looked dizzy and a little sick and Alfred couldn't remember if he'd been that way when Alfred had first got here at what felt like an eternity ago.

You could get him out. Get him out of all of this.

...And then what? Because Matthew was right, Matthew was always right. Alfred should have known that by now.

"I'm not expecting you to do anything actually. I'm hoping that you'll do what's right for you and what I think is right for both of us and turn around and walk out of here." Turn around and walk out of here...without Matthew...after two years...how could he...how could he possibly... "However, I'm also hoping that you'll stay and finish lock picking the door so I can try to run for it again." Alfred looked up, a flash of hope running through him. He thought of the lock pick. It wouldn't take long, not even a minute... "I don't think I would make it though, I'm not exactly in a good shape to be running anywhere right now. However, I'm not going to stop or help you either way like I said before. I can't honestly help you ruin your life without guilt; kind of like you said you can't leave me without guilt."

"You wouldn't ruin my life," Alfred said hopelessly. The conviction had left his voice. Matthew wouldn't leave with him...just...he wouldn't. No matter what Alfred said. It didn't matter what Alfred said. His brother, stupid brother, thought he was doing the right thing. And so did Alfred. Trying to get Matthew out of this shit hole...that was the right thing. Yet still Matthew refused. Because he thought he was going to ruin Alfred's life of all things; as if Matthew's existence hadn't been torn apart by the Underground...

"I don't suffer the worst here and I think I'll be alright for a time. They won't hurt me because they don't think I'm a threat. I would worry more if I spoke up and was dangerous." Matthew's voice washed over Alfred, soothing and calm. Alfred remembered when they were kids, when Alfred would come home with some problem or another and Matthew would listen. Even when Alfred was jealous of Matthew, even in his failures, Matthew had always been there. Alfred thought he'd been taking care of Matthew, but really, for all of their lives, it had been the opposite. Matthew raised his hands with a shrug, as if trying to show Alfred that in the eyes of anyone else, Matthew was essentially harmless. Even now, Matthew was still trying to take care of him.

Why wouldn't he just listen to Alfred for once? That sense of frustration returned. He just wanted to get Matthew out. That wasn't a bad motivation. It simply couldn't be. Why couldn't Matthew just see that all Alfred wanted was what was best for him?

He...was he just wrong again? Wrong like he'd always been wrong?

It seemed like some things never changed.

"But I do think you need to do something quickly; we don't have much time here and I really don't want to see you get caught because I have the feeling that it would just cause an even bigger headache for me." Matthew gave Alfred a small smile. Alfred's heart sank. He was trying to play it off as almost a joke, he...

"Matt..." Alfred tried one last time.

He didn't want to have come so far only to turn back, but...Matthew wasn't about to help Alfred help Matthew. But how could Alfred go back? Walk back into his apartment, knowing he could have, should have gotten Matthew out but in the end, had fallen through?

"I...just..." Alfred bit his lip. How could he leave Matthew here in this dump?

Again, Alfred heard noise coming down the halls. He had to leave. With or without Matthew. He had to go...or else he'd be caught. And then he couldn't rescue Matthew at all.

"I'll come back," Alfred said decisively. "I promise, Matt. And I really, honestly don't care what you say about it. I'm gonna get you out. I'll find a way. Some better way than, well, this.

"I..." Alfred hesitated, trying to figure out what he wanted to say.

Was it that much better to have time to say goodbye? He'd had so much time to think about this, to figure out what he'd do if he could do it all over. But now that he was here, Alfred didn't know what to do.

Alfred swallowed. "Stay safe, okay? You're smarter than I am. If anyone could get out of this hellhole it'd be you." His eyes searched Matthew's worn-out face for some semblance of hope, of promise. "I'll come back. But if you get the chance...run. Run and don't look back and come find me and I'll help get us out. Make sure to do that."

His fingers twitched a little, aching to just grab his lock pick, to just finish the job and get the hell out of there. Alfred stared at Matthew's tired face, his thin frame. He thought of the lock and the door and the number of guards that were likely stationed along these corridors.

They wouldn't make it out onto the street.

...He would just have to live knowing that he'd been so close. That he could have gotten Matthew out...could have...

Alfred squeezed his eyes in indecision. He wouldn't sleep, wouldn't know what to do at all. He opened his mouth. He was supposed to say goodbye.

But how could he? Again? After two years?

It was unfair.

But it seemed that that was life.

i suppose

by Worldie for Leia